| It's good to be back |
[14 Mar 2008|01:29pm] |
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 happy |
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Applause
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[29 Feb 2008|11:13am] |
Arrived in Carcassonne yesterday, right now I'm a McDo (as they call them here) waiting for Sigh to arrive and then we'll do more exploring of the medieval city and tonight we head to Montpellier (happy dance).
I was in the medieval city last night as the sun was going down, it was brilliant, bats circling my head, and it was almost deserted. I made a girl scream really loudly when I popped out from behind a corner to quickly.
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| Went to Lourdes... |
[06 Feb 2008|01:05am] |
...bought this pen.
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| My week in France |
[02 Feb 2008|05:31pm] |
Been here a week and so far I've learnt how to:
- fish
- get off a chair lift
- light a real fire stove
- drive one of these:
All the while speaking ace French like a native and quaffing lots of wine and eating lots of goats cheese.
Not bad seeing as I'm not even supposed to be on 'holiday'.
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| Back to France... |
[22 Jan 2008|01:45pm] |
I'm crazy bored here in Liverpool so on Saturday I'm heading to Toulouse (via Gatwick - boo!) to stay in the house that's Sigh's working on in the middle of nowhere. We're planning to spend a day or two on the slopes...
And I'll be job-hunting, either for office/teaching jobs in Toulouse or a bar job in a ski resort. I'm also really hoping Jenny and Sylvie and come visit.
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| Yuck, what a horrible evening. |
[30 Nov 2007|01:55am] |
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 melancholy |
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Well, I've been having misgivings about this job for a long time now, in fact I intended to give them my notice as soon as I got back from the half-term break, but there'd been some kind of change in Pablo and I was actually enjoying spending time with him, so I put it off.
Something changed last Friday though. We were playing Monopoly and at the beginning I was winning (for once). As normal, he was trying to cheat so I was watching him closely (I don't care who wins, but I hate cheating, there's no point in playing if you do that, and he's well old enough to learn). He didn't like this and started getting nasty. Everything I'd say he'd correct, and not in a nice way, he'd say stuff like "why do you say that? that doesn't mean anything, it's stupid" which leads me to try and explain that I'm not bloody French and it's not easy for me, to which he'd say "well the last au pair didn't make mistakes like you. She did at first but by the time she'd been here this long she could speak better than you". This really smarted, cos I'd been dead flattered a couple of weeks ago when he told me my French was much better than hers!
So I was sitting there having my language and my Monopoly skills insulted, which I agree isn't the worst thing in the world, but it was completely relentless. I felt overwhelmed and bruised by the end of it.
Luckily, I spent excellent Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights out with my friends which really cheered me up.
But Monday came around and he was being quiet and distant with me, so I just let him be. But as the days went on it got worse, every time I tried to start a conversation or even ask a simple question I got shot down. He just spent loads of time alone watching TV, which he doesn't normally do. So my mind was now thoroughly made up to quit. I don't want to be here, it didn't look like Pablo wanted me here and I didn't think Michele would care either way.
So tonight I took Michele aside and told her, look, I'm not happy, Pablo's not happy, there's other stuff about this job I'm not enjoying so I don't want to come back after Christmas. I should have prepared myself better, after all she's a top journalist and knows how to argue. In her eyes, Pablo's been miserable this week because his dad's been away (even if this was the case, still no excuse to be horrible, in my opinion). Also, when I tried to argue it seemed better for Pablo if I left, she used the argument that the best thing for Pablo is to have as stable a home as possible, seeing as his parents are splitting up (a situation which wasn't spelled out to me before I came). Well, then you should have checked my references, lady! Then you'd see that if consistency and staying-power is what you were after, I'm not your girl! I know when you take a job looking after children you have to have a degree of loyalty to them, but it's not an uncommon thing for au pairs to quit or change families. You can't expect everyone to just turn up and live somewhere for a year when they hardly know anything about the place or the family beforehand.
So I spelled out to her that I was very much under the impression that Pablo wasn't happy with me at the moment, and moreover the entire time I've been here I've felt more like his servant than his boss. But I made it clear that I didn't think he needed to be punished, it wasn't his fault he was unhappy, he just needed it explaining to him that his behaviour can't go on like that. So she said she'd talk to him, and asked me to wait a couple of weeks before I decide to leave or not. I could only say yes.
Then, when I was back in my room, there was a knock on the door and she came in with Pablo, who had obviously been crying. Apparently he'd heard a lot of what we'd said - brilliant. Then she made him look me in the eye and apologise. I cringed - this wasn't what I wanted, really, and I certainly didn't want it to seem I'd been telling tales. I was less bothered about my hurt feelings from the insults than the fact he's felt the need to be so petulant and sulky lately. Then, she said absolutely the worst thing to him - if your behaviour doesn't get better in two weeks, Helen is going to leave.
I still feel like staying here even UNTIL Christmas is going to be unbearable, but know he's going to feel like it's all his fault when I leave. He sees his shrink(!) tomorrow, I only hope he does him some good.
P.S. Also, I tried to mention to Michele how I don't think his piano lessons are going very well because his teacher is too strict and Pablo isn't very enthusiastic anyway. She said, "well no children like piano lessons, you can play piano, didn't you hate it?" I couldn't believe that! I taught myself piano, I'd have loved to have had lessons. When I was a kid I always had a musical instrument of some sort in my hands, I was addicted to making noise. With Pablo I practically have to strap him to the piano stool. I think forcing him to take lessons does more harm than good, I really can't see any point to it.
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| Divan du Merde |
[11 Nov 2007|06:27pm] |
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I'm on a bit of a downer about France, especially Paris, at the moment. I already knew I hate living in the suburbs but I'm not even sure I'd be happy if I lived in a massive apartment overlooking the Sacre Coeur.
I had a great time back in Liverpool last week, even though I didn't get out much and just had a few low key drinks in a couple of pubs. But I think it just reminded me how much of an outsider I am here.
Jenny, Sylvie and I ended up in a nightclub last night called Divan du Monde. The night was called Pigalle Rock Party, and when we walked in they were playing 'Who put the bomp..." by Le Tigre so I thought we'd found somewhere pretty decent. I should have known by the clean, kinda expensive decor that it was going to be crap. Good clubs have crap decor... c.f. the miss-matched pub stools in Le Bateau.
Ok, so the French don't have binge-drinking, but instead they're incredibly amateur drunks. Bad dancing, falling over, and worst: extreme lechery. We spent a good two hours trying to get rid of a gag of nobheads who started out amusing but ended up bordering on sexpests. In fact, every bloody group of French blokes we met yesterday felt impelled to tell us how beautiful we were (this stopped being even remotely flattering in no time at all, however, when the very last nutter we met told me my French was good, I turned all coy like a schoolgirl. *That's* the way to flatter me!).
Also, apparently the law here says you can't play music too loud. That meant we were able to talk to each other all night without shouting, but it also made it pretty hard to get into the music. Which was shit anyway. Bah! I need to dance and work up a sweat!
p.s. special mention should go out to the guy in the internet café singing karaoke hits from James Blunt to Shaggy. I tried to video him but it didn't work, gutted.
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| A lesson learnt. |
[27 Oct 2007|10:54pm] |
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 miffed, but grinning |
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So. I spend the day in Paris, tout seul. I find myself drawn to Montmartre and the Sacre Coeur to watch the sunset, imbibing the odd kir on the way. Near to Place du Tertre an Irish bar beckoned me with it's terrace and Guiness sign. I settled down with a half of the black stuff and listened in on a conversation between a few tourists on the tables next to me and a portrait artist on the pavement.
The artist was holding an audience, he was a great raconteur. Then, one of the tourists pulled out the picture that this very artist had done of him, and it was incredible. Total photorealism. So then the idea hatches in my brain to get one done. I become intrigued as to how I'd appear in the eyes of an artist and figure that it's a fun thing to do and I'll get 20 minutes of French conversation out of it at the least, and maybe even end up with something that might replace the goddamn photos of me aged 7 that my parents still display on their walls.
Unfortunately, Monsieur Popularity was soon snapped up by some other tourists, so the I waited for the next guy with easel in hand and asked him how much. "Normally, I charge €50, but for you, €25". I told him I'd pay €20 and we had a deal.
It was quite awkward, he looked at me very closely, but of course you think that's part of the game, what with him being an artist and whatnot. Although maybe I should have worried when he took off his gloves to reveal shaking hands. Anyway, the ordeal was over surprisingly quickly. The result I can only say was well worth €20, although not because it will grace anyone's mantelpiece for generations to come. From the moment I saw it I did nothing but grin.
( Mona Wilk )
I can't help but think it serves me right for having the vanity to want my portrait done. All the same, I don't think I can draw but I'd have thought someone plying their trade anywhere would be better than me. I got home and did a quick self-portrait, the first time I've doodled in years. It's no work of art, but is it worth €20?
( my attempt )
The only thing that smarts is that I went to the actual Place du Tertre where artist have stalls set out with samples of their work, and asked one guy with some really good examples how much he charged, and he told me €30.
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| Further to my previous post... |
[19 Oct 2007|03:42pm] |
Clamart, the town where I live, is twinned with Scunthorpe.
:(
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| Something I'd never thought I'd miss... |
[17 Oct 2007|10:21pm] |
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Wetherspoons. Well, cheap locals anyway. Spending the majority of my time either alone in the house, with French speaking people or with a French speaking child makes me crave grown up, English speaking company. Add to this that my working day is normally around 5pm - 8pm, when the evening arrives I'm wide awake but I have nothing to do.
Well, I have homework to do but I can't do that unless it's the very last minute. But unless I can be bothered to spend an hour on buses and the metro (and another hour on the way home) to go into Paris itself, there's nowhere I can go to get out of the house in the evening. I already spend 2 hours a day on public transport when I go to college. There's just nothing to do around here. I know plenty of other girls who also live out in the suburbs, but they're even harder to reach by public transport.
I used to complain about Reading that London had sucked all the interesting stuff away from it, but nothing is as dull, or unattractive, as a Parisian suburb. I'm much closer to Paris than Reading is too London, but the nearest thing to nightlife around here is a drive through McDonalds.
I hate being restricted to having a life only at weekends. I hate it even more when I find out at the last minute I'm working on the weekend. At the moment I'm taking a good hard look at why I'm here.
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| Ok, don't panic, we have this situation under control... |
[08 Oct 2007|07:17pm] |
... and relax.
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| My Monday |
[02 Oct 2007|03:03pm] |
I had to work all weekend, which was dull. I even tried to take Pablo out to the cinema, but one of his friends came round so I was just stuck in the house all day. Anyway, I got Monday off and made up for it.
First I visited the Marché aux Puces. It was a really great place to wander around, but I'm not in the market for antique furniture, doll parts or stuffed animals at the moment, so I didn't stay all that long. I took the metro to Belleville. I read in my guidebook that Belleville and Ménilmontant are 'the centre of alternative Paris' but besides a small Chinatown, all I found was cheap and tacky shops. I had lunch in Quick, I had an Anelka burger...
I really needed a winter coat, I'd seen one in good old C&A for €100 but ended up with one from H&M for €80. Had to lug it around with me all day though. I stopped at the Cafe Deux Moulins, where Amelie was filmed and had a Tango 1664, which is lager with cordial in it. It was great. I also stumbled upon the bit of the canal where she skims stones...
Ok, things you see in France that you'd never see in England: an advert for an exhibition on love and sexuality for 9-13 year olds, themed on the popular cartoon character Titeuf.
I finally managed to find La Droguerie, an amazing yarn shop/haberdashery near Chatelet des Halles. All the yarn is hung up on the walls and you buy it by weight and they wind it into balls for you. I bought some gorgeous mohair for €6.20 (I also bought a couple of balls of multicoloured 100% wool from Monoprix, I love that place).
By the evening, I decided to head to Shakespeare & Co, the English language bookshop. It was good timing. I'd just managed to find 'Ignorance' by Milan Kundera and a street map of Paris when an author's reading started. The guy was called Leonard Pitt, he'd written a couple of books, one called 'Disappearing Paris', and he showed us lots of photos of Paris now and at the turn of the century. The other was the history of this guy from Ireland who was some sort of faith healer. I don't believe in faith healing or the supernatural, but he had some great anecdotes about searching the planet for rare 17th century books and them turning up in his local bookstore in California.
I was supposed to have tonight free as well and I was going to meet some other au pairs for hot chocolate, but now I'm looking after the Brat (I could really do with a break from him after the weekend...) although it looks like we'll all be meeting tomorrow instead.
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| Get me, I'm a stoodent |
[28 Sep 2007|12:47am] |
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 accomplished |
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I started my language class on Tuesday, and I love it. It's just the right level for me, I understand everything being said but I also learn lots of new things all the time. I realise now there's a huge difference between being taught French, and just trying to struggle along and pick things up. I was getting absolutely fed up of speaking and listening to it, but now I'm interested again.
Anyway, today I had some homework. I'm also knitting some gloves. I told myself, 'do your homework and then you can do your knitting', and that's what I did. I'm so proud of myself. It's the first time I've done homework not at absolutely the last minute, in fact it's one of the few times I've managed to do homework at all.
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| Where I live |
[21 Sep 2007|02:22pm] |
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| Social life |
[17 Sep 2007|01:44pm] |
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cheerful |
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How much better is this job than my last one? Loads! Via the magic that is Facebook, I met up with a group of English speaking au pairs on Saturday for a picnic at the Eiffel Tower, followed by the Technoparade at the Bastille (we climbed the monument...) then super-cheap wine and semi-naked French thugs by the Canal St Martin. Then it gets a bit blurry...
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| Wooooo! |
[11 Sep 2007|07:14pm] |
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 stoked |
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YES! I can now skateboard all the way to the end of the street! It's brilliant! I've also been having ago on Pablo's scooter, which is boss too.
As I've now tried snowboarding, surfing and skateboarding all in the same year, I now believe I am qualified to call myself a 'boarder', cover everything I own in O'Neill and Ripcurl stickers and employ the terms "gnarly" and "stacked it".
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| Picture update, Summer 2007 |
[11 Sep 2007|12:05am] |
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reflective |
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| Feel the force and do it anyway :) |
[10 Sep 2007|11:16pm] |
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 tired |
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I'm 28 years old and never watched Star Wars. Since I've been here though, I've had my first (of many) light sabre fights and I've played the Star Wars Lego Playstation game and it's ace.
Also, why don't grown ups play hide and seek anymore? Why do they go to gyms and run nowhere, with no one, in an air conditioned room? Do you remember the last time you had to really, really run for it? It's totally exhilarating.
With Pablo being an only child, and French, most of his games are a bit complicated and don't seem to have any ways that I can win. It's actually frustrating me now that he's trying to teach me how to fight (I have that purple belt in ju-jitsu godammit!). I think I impressed him a bit too much with my nunchaku skills, as a result we don't play with them anymore.
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| coooool day |
[02 Sep 2007|12:17am] |
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tired |
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Got up early-ish and went into Paris. First I stopped off at Le Bon Marche to check out the knitting department. It was wonderful. I got a bit ripped off though, I spent the equivalent of about £6 on a ball of wool that normally costs me £4.25, but look at them... they're so beautiful...
Then I took the Metro to Barbes-Rochechouart and struggled my way through the crazy-hectic market. A guy at the very first stall offered me some melon. I bought a bag for €10 that I've been meaning to buy since I was last here.
I had to head back to Place de Clichy for the bus home, so I made my way on foot. First I stopped for a cheese and ham pancake in the cafe at the bottom of the Sacre Coeur, then I saw some guys doing capeoira outside so I filmed them for Pablo, cos he does it. Then when I stopped to watch some weird living statue woman a guy called Camera from Senegal latched onto me and made me a friendship bracelet (there's always a lot of guys doing that there). I didn't mind, it's quite cool and we had a nice chat where I got to practise my French, worth a couple of euros.
I needed a haircut and eventually found this place in a quiet street that looked deserted, except for a woman listening to classical music. She was lovely, the place was also a kinda hippy therapy place and I got a gorgeous head and neck massage too. She'd lived in London and had been trained by Vidal Sassoon. She talked about how she misses Marks and Spencer and had to keep nipping upstairs because she was in the middle of making jam.
Further along on my way back to Place de Clichy, I came to an oirish pub that had a blackboard outside advertising Liverpool v Derby at 4pm. Lo and behold it was spot on 4pm! So I watched the first half with a coffee. It was 2-0 when I left, it ended 6-0.
When I got home I played Pro Evo Football and Lego Star Wars on the Playstation with Pablo. Michele went out for the evening so I gave him his tea and put him to bed. He was pretty well behaved - in fact if he was too well behaved I wouldn't like him as much. We had a play fight just before he went to bed, and he kept running into my room and farting on my pillow. What a kid!
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la_wilk's journal
