Our weekend at the retirement home

So, Chuck had a really great idea. He suggested that rather than try and write a complete entry everyday, I should take a photo and post that photo every day. I'm not sure if the "every day" part of this will work out so well (see last post for more details) but I'll definitely do my best.

So, to begin with, I thought I'd post a picture of my bedroom. Nothing like hanging your dirty laundry out on the internet, huh?
And next, the lovely city of Pontault Combault. I took this picture from the upstairs bathroom window, so it's mostly just rooftops, but still, it gives you an idea of what my city looks like.

This past weekend, we had to go on a team-building weekend, and we stayed at this retreat center (I'll have to add a story about that later.) But here's the room I shared with two other ladies.

Another view of the retreat center, from my bedroom window.

And now for the good part: the retreat.

This past weekend was a holiday weekend in France. If you've ever taken any metro, any tramway, really any transportation in France, you start getting the idea that May 8th is an important day here. Seriously, everywhere you turn, there's a stop called 8 mai 1945. It's Victory in Europe day, or according to the very reliable Wikipedia, "the date when the World War II Allies formally accepted the unconditional surrender of the armed forces of Germany and the end of Adolf Hitler's Third Reich." Anyway, all this to say, it was a long weekend in France.

So, we had a mandatory "Get to Know your Coworkers" weekend. I wasn't really very excited about the weekend, because I had about a million things I wanted to do, and spending a weekend with people I see everyday wasn't at the top of my list. But before you think this will be a complaining post, let me just say that the weekend went really well, and I had a lot of fun. But that isn't what I want to talk either...

Friday morning, we were supposed to meet at the offce (not hard for me since I live here) at 9 in the morning, and we'd drive to Le Mans directly. So, four of us--Carolyn, Jennifer, Dominique, and I--were all in the car together, counting how many McDonald's we passed, singing along with the radio, and altogether trying to pass the long three hours.

We were a few miles within Le Mans when Carolyn asked Jennifer where exactly we'd be staying in Le Mans. Jennifer seemed hesitant at first to share any sort of information, and after a very awkward silence said, "Well, it's a place where some...aged people stay and there are...interesting things to do...and food and beds and..."

Carolyn interupted after this, and said, "I KNOW we're not staying at a retirement home." Jennifer started blushing (she'd been involved in the planning of this whole event) and said, "You know, it isn't JUST a retirment home. I think there'll be plenty of fun things to do there."

Carolyn groaned, and Jennifer quickly added, "There are ponies and walking trails and..." she continued to describe the place, and Dominique, Carolyn, and I looked at each other a little helplessly--a required "fun" weekend at a retirement home.

We arrived at noon and entered Les Terebines, a retreat center/retirment home. Conference rooms on one side, physical therapy rooms on the other. Very interesting combination.

One day, we were sitting in the dining room, eating lunch, and the servers had left the kitchen door open, and after a few minutes, a heavy, white headed woman in a walker meandered through the kitchen into the dining room. One of the servers quickly ran over to her, grabbed her elbow, and said, "Madame, your dining room is just down this hall." The woman looked at us all, certainly confused, and turned to head in the other direction.

In any case, I found this combination funny, and that's really what I wanted to write about.

As far as the weekend, it was packed with name games, human pyramids, talents shows and song competitions.

We were all ready to be home again by Sunday afternoon. As a side note, when we first arrived, Dominique, a distinct London city girl, opened her car door, propped her sunglasses on the edge of her nose and demanded, "What is that smell?"

Jennifer said, "I think it's the countryside."

Sure enough, we were surrounded by farm life.

When we packed up at the end of the weekend, one of our French collegues walked us to the car, helped us pack up, and as we were shutting the car doors, said to Dominique, "Now, you can get back to the wonderful smells of the Paris banlieue."

Dominique smiled and said, "Thank goodness."

Now, we're back in Pontault for the week, and this weekend, home will be coming to me. A team of girls from the US are coming to work with the alphabetization classes this week. I'm excited to take my tour guide skills out for a test drive, and on a selfish level, I've asked for Cookie Dough Pop Tarts, Cherry Cheese Danish Pop Tarts, and Shopaholic Books. Let's cross our fingers and hope for the best.