Since I can't figure out how to make these one blog...

Here we are after aerobics class.
Our very crowded makeshift classroom at La Courneuve.

More of classes.

Watching the kids. By way of explanation, I don't have a dryer, so my pants are expanding out of control. That's the reason they look so balloon-like in this photo.

And that's all I've got for now. I look forward to provinding a minute-by-minute account of the wedding of the century in the days to come. Until then, Au Revoir.

A few more pictures...

Here are some of the kids at La Courneuve. In the back, you'll see a baby sitting in a baby carriage. I asked this baby's brother what her name was. The boy answered, "Poopy-peepee". I'm assuming he was mistaken.
More of the kids. The one who's squatting here gives me a lot of mental anquish. I can't figure out its gender, and I feel that it would be inappropriate to look inside the diaper. Sometimes, it wears girl clothes--for example in this picture, the kid is wearing a pink sweatshirt that reads, "Flower" and then, the day after wore a t-shirt that said, "World's Best Brother."

Starbucks in France. If you're going to pay 5 dollars for coffee, why not do it in style?

I'm now a volunteer with the 9-14 year olds at church. Here we are playing that game where you have to hit someone over the head until they scream the name of another person in the room. I hate get-to-know-you games. We really should just have balls like they did in Jane Austen's day.

Making crepes for the Crepe party at church. The little girl in back said, "Oh I love making crepes. It's something I'm very passionate about." I thought that was very funny.

Hello America!

As I write this, I'm sitting in my old Indiana bedroom, which smells exceptionally good and feels exceptionally good and is just exceptionally nice in general. I'll be here for a week and two days for my brother's wedding, and I'm just soaking up American life. I love France, and I love Pontault-Combault, but I have missed Indianapolis. I've missed the canal and Circle Center mall and the library and genuine Mexican restaurants and useless celebrations for useless holidays and parents who take me out to eat for free. I keep spontaneously giggling, because I just almost can't believe how Paradise-like Indiana is. Today, I went to the bank and almost hugged the teller. I hadn't seen that woman in two months, and I mean really, she's the woman who gives me money, and let's face it: I've missed her. I just stood there behind the counter and talked and talked to her, and though we've never been super friendly before, I found out how she's preparing to move and why she's moving and what her kids have been up to lately. I later went to Walmart, and the greeter was so friendly, and he brought over a shopping cart for me, and I got tears in my eyes, and said, "Sir, that is just the nicest thing you could do..." I went to the hair salon to have my hair cut, and my stylist asked question after question about my life in France, and I got the mouth diahrrea and started telling her everything--frustrations with teammates, about the poor guy on the train who got robbed, about the crack down the middle of my toilet seat and how it pinches my leg every time I sit down. I went to Starbucks and when they handed me that Apple Chai Infusion, this weird screech came out of my mouth--something I've never heard before. And everyone was looking at me, so I tried to pretend it was just my ring tone on my phone. And I sat down next to a man in a suit, and I told him how great gift cards are and how unfortunate it is that I couldn't find a Starbucks at the Philadelphia airport. You see, the great thing about America is this: though the world doesn't really care what's happening in your life, they certainly pretend to. I love customer service.
But I've missed overhearing other people's conversations the most.
The other day, I was on the train with my boyfriend, and he was listening really intently to the girl a few seats over. After she got off the train, he said, "Did you understand what she said?" I said, "No." And he told me that the girl and her boyfriend agreed that they don't want to officially marry, so instead of having a legal wedding, they've planned to stage the whole event. She'll wear the big white dress and he a suit. They'll have flowers and wine and everything, but they won't have any of the official documentation. After he told me this, I felt deflated. If I missed a conversation that great, I probably was missing even greater conversations on a daily basis. That whole week, when I heard people saying, "No way!", I kept thinking about what might possibly have been said. What sort of tragedy or triumph had happened?
Though my French is steadily improving, I still can't "overhear" things. To understand, I need to be abnormally close to the speaker, and I need to be looking at the speaker's lips, and there has to be no background noise. When you think about it, this makes eavesdropping tricky, and by "tricky", I mean "Impossible."
So anyway, today, I could listen to my heart's intent--while I waited in line, while I had an emotional crisis over which of the million cereals I should choose (I don't get these kind of options in France)--all the time! It was unquestionally one of the greatest things to happen so far, apart from seeing my family, of course.
Speaking of language difficulties, here's an anecdote to end with: on Saturday night, I was talking to my team leader about how classes were going. I was mentioning how hard I'm working with my women, and how sometimes, they just don't retain anything from one class to another. She said that there's a woman at one of the tables who has been in the beginner's class for 7 years, and still, when you ask her what sound A makes, will just smile blankly and shrug her shoulders. Then, she added, "Elle etait a Mecca", which I know now means, "She's been to Mecca." However, I heard, "Elle etait un mec," or "She used to be a man." So, I thought she was telling me that the woman was having learning problems due to her recent sex-change operation. Finally, after providing a few obligatory nods, I confirmed that the woman indeed had transferred the gender card, I learned I'd really gotten a little lost in translation.
Anyway, I'm going to be an 80 year old woman and go to bed at 9:00 tonight. I'm just so tired. Jet lag has not been a friend to me.

A few pictures

While I added that last photo, I thought I should add a few others, showing all the touristy things I've had a chance to do on the weekends. Here, Margret (my old roommate--on the left) and Celeste (who also teaches literacy classes) and I headed off to Montmartre to see Paris from the sky.

Here we are in front of the Sacre Coeur.

We had a picnic together in Celeste's apartment. Margret and I headed to the Louvre for a little culture.

The beautiful Louvre at night.

Well, it's been a while...

So, these last few weeks (or rather, this month since I've last written) have finally started to get really busy. Back in February, I was still mostly observing what everyone else was doing. I was following people around in order to learn how to get from our house to the train station or from the tramway to the church where we have classes. I was still mostly in spectator mode, but now, I'm pretty much doing everything on my own which is both terrifying and exciting. Now, I have my own class of women that I'm teaching without an observer (hallelujah. It isn't that fun to have someone looking over your shoulder and critiquing your teaching style). Generally, 5-6 of these women come regularly. We've been working on the letters "d", "b", and "p" lately, and it's been a real struggle since all three look and sound exactly the same to them. After several very long, very painful sessions where pushing out that "p" sound must have felt to them like pushing out a child, I think we're finally on the right track, and yesterday, when one of them recognized the letter "p" as the first letter in "pere", I was very relieved.
And for me, I've made some strides in the recognition department as well. At first, I was so frustrated, because every single one of these women looked alike. From the head scarf to the burka, I was completely unable to make a distinction between the Fatima from Morocco on the left and the Fatima from Morocco on the right (seriously, 2/3 of the women are Fatima from Morocco, while the other 3rd is made up of the more diverse "Fadma", "Famida" and "Farika"). Usually, I recognize people by hair cuts or hair colors, but clearly in this situation, that's not possible. But last week, only 4 women came to class, and I started seeing differences--a mole on the bridge of the nose or a birthmark on the forehead--and now, I'm happy to say that I can tell the difference between everyone in my class.

Another nugget of big news: I'd applied for my one-year residency card (my carte de sejour) on February 24th, but after receiving the papers stating that I was in the process of receiving my card, I found out that I would not be allowed to leave France until my carte de sejour arrived. From most of the members of my office here, I heard that it takes about 2 or 3 months to receive the card. For me, that was a huge let-down. My brother is getting married on April 4th, and I'd already bought my plane ticket, my bridesmaid dress, my shoes, etc. My short-term visa expired April 1st, so it wouldn't be still valid when I returned. I was devastated, because from what I understood, I was going to have to miss the wedding. Everyone here at the office started researching other options--second passports, short term aller et retour visas, and other things. No options seemed to pan out. So, we'd been praying for the card to come for several weeks.
Last Friday, I called the prefecture to say that I wanted to check on the state of my carte de sejour. The woman looked up my number and said my card was ready, and i could pick it up Monday. This was an enormous shock...like I mentioned earlier, it should take 2 months or more to receive the card. Still, not wanting to look the gift horse in the mouth, I rushed to the prefecture yesterday morning and waited in line. I waited several hours before they called my number. I walked up to the woman behind the desk and said, "I talked to an employee here on Friday and she said my card was ready." The lady at the desk took my papers, typed in my information, and said, "May I see the results of your medical exam?" (Well, I've never had a medical exam. I hadn't received the convocation to go get the exam.) So, I explained this and she said, "Mais si! Si! You have received the convocation. It's marked on the computer." I said that I'd checked my mailbox just the day before and it wasn't there. She, thinking I didn't really understand what she wanted, gave me my card and a piece of paper with the state medical doctor's number. She told me to call the number right away, but that she'd give me my card anyway, trusting I'd call the number. I promised to call, and I took that card and ran out of the prefecture, before anyone could stop me and say, "Wait. That's not right..."
I got home and called the doctor who said, "But I haven't sent you a convocation yet. How do you have your carte de sejour?" I explained what the woman at the desk had told me, and he just kept saying, "Impossible." He said that he'd only received my file on Thursday, and that he hadn't had a chance to send me my convocation yet. But we set an appointment, and all is fine now, but someone somewhere made a huge mistake in my favor. It's next to impossible that someone would mark on my file that I'd received my convocation when I really hadn't. A mistake this big can only be God's grace towards me. So, I'm incredibly thankful today. I won't have to miss the wedding!

So, those are just a few great things that have happened lately. I'd better head off and get ready for classes this afternoon. But in the meantime, I'll post a picture I took Saturday with a few friends I made in Paris' Catacombes.