Liberating Nudity: Disrobed Adventure

I've always been intrigued by French customs, most prominently the topless custom. I remember visiting the beaches in Normandy and Brittany with my family when I was a kid, being shocked and awed by the sheer numbers of topless women, both the old and wrinkley and beautifully ripe types. Without any choice about it, I felt a bit prude and stand-offish, especially when asked to strip down on the beach in front of everyone in order to get into my bathingsuit. Looking around, finding NO changing stations, I cried out: "HERE!?!?!" asking my grandmother how I COULD ever DO such a thing, in front of so many strangers. I guess she just as shocked as I - that a young kid could have as many hang-ups as I did about nudity, though she kindly entertained my fears and held up a towel to hide my young body from lingering eyes.

As I grew older, I continually tried my best to be open about body, whether it be in changing rooms, school lockers or what have you, as I became more and more intrigued by public exposure of one's physical attributions; just like Normandy dairy products and Parisian PDA (public display of affection) nudity too, had become a "symbolic" custom of France, to which I had become drawn-in.

Having said this, it was my goal to be 100% "OPEN" about my physicality while living and working in France this year. Initially, I promised myself to visit nude beaches in the South of France as soon as the opportunity was made available to me. I imagined myself laying out on the crowded beaches of Nice and Cannes amongst hundreds of gorgeous men and women, without a hang-up and without a care.

Unfortunately, when travelling to the South of France (Nimes, Avignon, Montpellier) I did not incorporate Cannes or Nice into the itinerary - for reasons according to financial, scheduling and weather problems.

However, when April rolled around and passed me by, I was committed to going nude, somehow, knowing it would be tricky with the 3 1/2 weeks of cold rainy weather hitting France.

So, I looked up German baths, having heard rumour that they too believed in going nude. That is, thanks to several collegues of mine, I caught the name and remembered hearing about Caracalla, which was located in the small roman city named Baden-Baden in the Baden region of Germany.

I planned to bike out from Strasbourg, France to Kehl, the neighboring German city across the bridge, where from I'd catch the train to Baden-Baden. From there, I'd be navigate through the black forest on bike to the famous spa in order to carry out one of my remaining goals before returning home to the Puritanical States...but due to scheduling problems, I didn't catch the train, and was forced to take a bus (subsequently leaving my bike behind.) The way there was long, but enjoyable. I was psyched to relax and unwind in the hot baths, and to check out the massage options at a spa; after all, I've never treated myself to a day at the spa, nor to a professional massage (with the exception of the free one I received after completing the 50mile bike race in southern Maine, years ago.)

I got to Baden-Baden and followed the signs to the spa, and what a quaint town it was! Beautiful, ritsy, classy as any city I'd ever seen. I enjoyed the city stroll to the spa and the stroll continued throughout the afternoon, having realized that I wouldn't get in a massage appointment until 8:00pm that night...(that is, since the spa charged by the hour, I decided to enjoy the baths for the 3 hours prior to getting the massage, putting me in the water sometime around 4.)

After climbling the hills, walking the back streets and snapping photos of the Black Forest mountains in the distance from the hilltops, I built up an appetite and grabbed a late lunch at some Lebanese kebab joint. (YUM YUM lemajun/lebanese pizza!)

With about an hour's time to work off the calories before getting into a bathingsuit, or stipping down to my birthdaysuit, I visited the famous Baden-Baden casino, and parks before returning to my destination.

Around 4 I checked in to the spa. 15 euros for 2 hours...45 mins or so downstairs with the huge heated (indoor and outdoor) pools, and then 1 hour 15 upstairs with all the nudists...

The pools were pretty awesome, especially considering how cool the spring air was. Heated whirlpools and olympic-sized swimming holes were just what I needed to relax after a long schoolyear!

Yet, I grew bored after 45 mins and I decided to go upstairs. Before entering, I read the sign demanding nudity upon entering: NUDISTS ONLY. "Awesome!" I thought, as I stripped off my wet bathingsuit, disrobing to my bare skin.

I found the upstairs to be more interesting than the downstairs portion for sure, as it was incredibly adorned with all sorts of luxurious spa options such as 100% glass-encased steam rooms, heat-lamp lounge charis, bubbling personalized jacoozis, cool pools and cold shower rooms...and not to mention nude men and women of all ages...delightful!

The absolute highlight was walking nude to the outdoor segment of the upstairs nudist spa and to the gardens where there was located 2 rustic wood-burning saunas (literally with crackling fires) at increasing temperatures. 5 mins in each building was enough to break into the best sweat of my life. It felt AMAZING! Sweating beads on ever inch of my body paid off when I exited outdoors again, into the crisp mountain air. AHhhhhhh. I sat outside with a towel wrapped around my bottom for a couple minutes before returning inside.

I laid down for about 30mins next to a bunch of other nudists, and remained quiet. It wasn't one bit awkward or strange; it was BEAUTIFUL...it was liberating. I had never felt more beautiful, or free about my physicality...about others' perceptions of me. In fact, I didn't care all of a sudden about anyone looking at me. It didn't matter! There was nothing to hide and there was nothing to lose.

When my 2 hours were up, I robed myself again and headed over to the bar, just outside the spa area, in the same building, in order to enjoy an over-sized German beer before treating myself to 25 min professional massage. I read a little bit of C.S Lewis' The Great Divorce while making interspersed conversation with the bartender about Boston and Strasbourg and skipped up to my appt, which was much more than relaxing. I near fell asleep. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. The art of massage - definitely one of my FAVORITE things!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was beginning to grow dark after finishing up around 8:40, and I thought it was about time to make my way back to Strasbourg...I had to work the next day, and I knew I'd have a bikeride from Kehl to Strasbourg ahead of me before hitting the pillow...

Unfortunately, I had grown much too relaxed to be concerned about checking out the train schedules. Purposefully making sure to have a relaxing day of enjoyment and fulfillment, I didn't want to worry about anything like that, but I paid the price when I shivered for 3 1/2 hours outside an abandoned train station in Germany, half-way between Baden-Baden and Strasbourg, where there was not a store, nor a person in sight for miles...

I filled my time with walking aimlessly and reading, while shivering, nearly forgetting how relaxed I had been just hours before, when finally around midnight I caught the LAST train to Strasbourg (having decided to leave my bike at the German border in order to catch my shud-eye, which would at least allow for a pleasant run over the border the next day to get it back.)

The next day at work I ranted and raved about the spa, and begged my friends to return, and though others had expressed interest, it never happened.

Instead, I made plans with my friend and collegue, Petra, to make a trip to Basel, Switzerland to check out the city-life and mountain-views down there. She was up for it, though a bit deschevaled when meeting at the train station, when coming to find that she left her wallet behind...so much for catching the train to Switzerland!!

We decided to drive instead, abandoning the thought to get correcting finished on the trainride. Though I didn't want to force her to drive unwillingly, I was happy to have a car-ride. I love carrides (they're indeed one of my favorite passtimes, especially when they're shared with good company!)

We planned to hit up the Beyeler Foundation to see whatever exhibit was on display, and considering the BEAUTIFULLYYYYYYY gorgeous, sunny weather, I suggested taking a walk along the Rhine river.

Luckily though, Petra knew of a better idea: SWIMMING down the Rhine!

She packed a fish (a little buoy-contraption into which you can place all your personal items while floating down the river) and a bathingsuit (as did I, just in case...) and we made out way into the cold, Alpine mountain-chilled waters of the Rhine...

It was a perfect end to a perfect day, a delightful disrobed adventure in Basel, Switzerland. I let out a terrible SCREAMMMMM when dunking my head under, and floated down alongside Petra, while laughing and paddling for my life, feeling my limbs going numb.

To finish up our day, after walking around the museum and getting chilled, we took down a couple more over-sized German beers while (finally) getting down some corrections and school paper-work (which had too "swum" down the Rhine with us in the fish-contraption!) amidst random conversation and laughs.

At sundown, we caught one last glimpse of the city, eclipsed and shadowed by the sun setting behind the Alps and it was breath-taking. I wanted to take 100 pictures, but limited myself to three...the memory of these disrobed adventures would have to stick within the realm of my imagination...

"Keeping in touch"

I've had a long history of "keeping in touch" with family members afar, with friends and ex's had, and with my own histories and stories passed (that is, aside from the very practice of WRITING this blog, from time to time I cannot help myself from looking at old photoalbums and scrapbooks just for the sake of "keeping in touch with the past.")

I guess I could say it's obsession of mine, stemming from childhood; having realized what pains ensued when friends did not -or could not- keep their promises to "stay in touch when I moved away, I wanted to take action on this: I would avoid unnecessary pain by playing MY PART. Yet, I suppose this desire to "stay in touch" with friends of old is -or at least was- ultimately a childish need to HOLD ON; it is unquestionably the inability to "let go."

However, my experience in France forced me to "let go" to some extent. After all, I knew in leaving US soil that I'd be leaving my friends and family behind, and this time by choice, as opposed to moving around by force.

As such, I could live out new experiences as they came; I was able to "keep in touch" with the present moment...that is, with reality...by going with the flow... except for when I didn't :-)

The persons with whom I corresponded frequently both saved me and grounded me to the past. Though I would have liked to have had the strength to go with the flow 100% of the time while I was living my dream in France, I frequently experience rushes of disappointment, anxiety, and with feelings of extreme loneliness when thinking of my decision to "let go" of my family, friends and most painfully, my dog. Rushing towards the present, I was simultaneously holding onto the past.

Luckily, Jason, my closest friend and confident, reassuured me that nothing had been lost - that no one was gone. Keti kept me in the loop, always reminding me that I was missed. My sister and my father acted in familiar ways, both debating with me and asking me all sorts of questions, as though I had been sitting with them at the dinner table all along. Billy wrote to me from time to time after Christmas, which brought much excitement into my heart, looking forward to my eventual return.

So the paradoxical question remains to be whether ot not one NEEDs to be reminded of the past in order to better live the present? And, if not, why are some of us so apt to do it? What is so comforting about old pictures, old stories, familiar faces and personalities? And WHAT is so painful about losing touch?

After all, the benefits of "LETTING GO" are more numerous than are those of "holding on." I felt this too, while in France; for when I wasn't feeling lonely, disappointed or uninteresting, I took on a completely different attitude towards the moment, and thus was able to meet new faces and plenty of new experiences. I did things I never thought I'd do, and saw things I'd never be ABLE to see had I focused my eyes and consciousness on the past.

Ironically enough though, I confronted and met so many wonderfully new people and experiences only to lose contact with them again!) Anabelle, Petra, Nenad, Xavier, Simone, Sophy, Mathieu, PPN, JS...who's to say I'll see them ever again?

Though it's a rather inappropriate truth to admit to blog-space (given its personal nature) I here should say that my greatest FEAR was made known to me while in France...

Oddly enough, the most obvious & reasonable, or traditional fears meant very little to me; the propects of travelling, fending for myself, earning a living on my own were not very frightening at all! Rather, my greatest fear I realized, was the feeling of being forgotten in the midst of it all.

A fear of being forgotten, while alive or dead, being plainly erased or cleared from the consciousness of others: all friends, family members and acquaintances had. God knows why I am so scared of such a silly thing, but nothing changes the fact that I am; hell...some people are scared of slugs or spiders - that's silly too!

In a way though, my fear relates to a hope, a hope that one lives "eternally" through the minds and energies (consciousnesses) of other living things. This is not to say that I believe (or disbelieve) whole-heartedly in the existence of a soul, nor in the reincarnation or resurrection of spirits. Indeed, it's a hope in the connectness of all living things; a "circle of life" of sorts. And, if it is true that we can have a positive influence on other living things - animals, plants or persons - just in BEING oneself (that is, without attributing any sort of individuality/personality) then the "chain" of positive energies can be passed-on and remembered.

If people are connected to one another in any other way than genes, I suppose they're connected by these rememberences; heart-felt experiences, both good and bad. I hope to have had enough of them to be unforgettable and will continue to strive to make more "connections" as long as I hold such hopes and fear such fears.

In any case, my being away in France did help me to gain consciousness of my own fear, and having recognized this fear, I feel more comfortable dealing with the pains involved in "letting go." After all, the pains caused by NOT keeping in touch are ultimately caused by this FEAR, rather than the actions (or inactions) of others...

Nevertheless, my appreciation is never-ending to those who were more than willing to humour me :-) I'm still glad they "kept in touch."

These are a few of my FAVORITE things!

After lugging myself up a long and tretcherous hillside in Barcelona, Spain (with a heavy, broken-wheeled suitcase in hand, an increasingly dizzying fever, as well as an endlessly-running nose and thick mucousy cough) I sat myself down at a cafe with the most wonderful of views.

Without much money to spare after completing a decent amount of traveling, I treated myself to a cup of coffee while overlooking the coast of Barcelona. It was the most gorgeous day I had seen in a long time(and of course it was my LAST day in the city before returning north) and despite my sweats and regrets of walking in the rain days prior to this one sunny day, I found myself thinking very pleasant thoughts.

Though I had plenty of corrections to complete before going back to work, I took out my journal and began writing. The only thing that came to mind was pure appreciation of the beauty before me, and so I began making a list (I'm quite a "list" person...)

These are a few of my favorite things...
- Enjoying adventure, nature and every moment the way my dog does & in her company.
- Running, walking or sitting in the warm rain on a summer's day
- Great heights with breathtaking views
- Fast-speed movement and heart-stopping rushes of adrenaline
- Wandering around hoping to catch glimpse of some hidden treasure/spontaneous event
- Admiring the look of quaint side-streets, corners, tiny cafes and bars
- Lurking street-performers and talented vagabonds
- The sound of waves crashing, lake waters rippling and rain-drops plunking on a
myriad of surfaces
- Cobblestone walkways, ceramic tiles and old stone walkways, walls and architecture
- Hand-made glass jewelry shimmering in the sunlight
- Giant-glass aquariums (underfoot or over-head, lighted by an unnatural/surreal
luminescence.)
- The much-appreciated sunshine, ripening your cheeks and shoulders on an early-
spring day, imagining it ripening the grapes in the vineyards and strawberries in
the fields
- Hot steaming showers and humid mist and fog
- Smooth marble surfaces, and thick-glass countertops, pleasant to the touch.
- Bubbling fountains of any sort or size
- A heaping glass of velvety full-bodied red wine served in a wide-bellied Bordeaux
wine-glass
- Fresh green salads with farm-fresh goat cheese, strawberries, tomatoes and
cherries sitting atop a pool of sweet balsamic vinegar, olive oil and red wine
dressing.
- Bakery-artisinal baguettes and farm-fresh butter alongide a coffee mixed with farm-
fresh cream.
- Dark chocolate fudge-brownie cake drizzled with english cream, caramel and french-
vanilla ice cream
- Having a full-day ahead of me without plans, demands or expectations
- Placing my winter-hibernating feet for the first time on hot sand or crisp grass.
- Dimly-lit streets, old-fashioned street lamps and long, empty boulevards at night
- Being a stranger, people-watching at bars and cafes from the corner-seat, back
always to the wall
- Friendly, smiling strangers who are spontaneously polite or kind for no reason.
- Glass-lamp lighted rooms, accented by the glow of candle-light and cigar smoke.
- The look of a sailboat or large wooden ship in the distance on the vast blue sea.
- Sitting in front of the campfire, feeling my skin tightening and warming and
cheeks reddening.
- Writing and receiving long, hand-written letters and post-cards from all-over.
- Getting lost without the pressure of being anywhere else & finding my way back,
reminding myself of Seuss' childish wisdom in "Oh! The Places You'll Go!"
- The rush of feeling music and dancing to its melodious rhythm
without thinking, worrying, or trying to move my body in any way.
- Getting slick and sweaty while running, dancing or making love.
- Family-traditions & gatherings as well as ritualized "hellos," "goodbyes,"
"thank you's" and congratulatory, life-celebrations
- Big dinners and bbq fests that continue late into the night, enjoying good food,
drinks, pleasant company and conversation, without the rush of washing dishes,
clearing the table or thinking of being ANYWHERE ELSE or doing ANYTHING ELSE.
- Playing cards, pick-up sports games and having friendly but serious competitions
- Feeling like I REALLY have understood something, someone or some happening
- Expressing myself & FEELING heard & well-understood.
- The first realization that all the trees have reached their full "green potential"
in the summer, or their full autumnal color in October.
- Flowering cherry blossoms, peach trees on walkways and hillsides, and pollen
filling the air, sun filtering throughout
- The romance of fully-grown weeping willows, oaks and platain trees alongside water-
banks, ponds and lush back-yards, reminding myself of "The Giving Tree."
- Exotic and strange cacti, plants and flowers that come from the tropics
- Letting my long hair catch the wind with open windows with loud music blasting
- Comfortable nights on a cozy-couch, and lounging in bed while watching x-amount of
movies with a bowl-full of ice cream or a pack of delicious gummy-bears without
feeling guilty about it.
- Unexpected violent storms and crackling thunder and lightening
- Feeling like I "CAUGHT" a moment in a photograph, or in memory
- Flexible schedules and people!
- Public transport and cleared bike-paths for lonesome meandering :-)
- Canoeing or boating down narrow, calm water-ways
- Taking in a gulp of water and a slice of melon or orange after dreaming about it
on a hot and sticky run
- Freshly-made iced coffee, iced tea and fun coctails in the afternoon
- Unique scarves and sweaters
- Gargoyles
- The scent of cologne on a man
- Feeling accomplished
- Spooning with someone I love (including my dog, Byndee!!!)
- Tickling-sensations anywhere (head, arms, legs, neck, back)
- Deep-tissue massages
- The scent of sweet lilacs, eucalyptus branches and fresh pine

Serge Gainsbourg style - A BBQ ruined and a Party SAVED.

A BBQ ruined, A night saved...surely a day to remember all in all; OH how I love being surprised!!!!

The BBQ for which I had planned and prepared one Sunday (just a week before my departure) was to begin at 4pm, but just before then, the clouds came rolling in and thunder was rumbling in the distance. Since I had bought and lugged over SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much stuff (food, music, games etc), I decided not to cancel. And in any case, everyone seemed pretty optimistic that the storm would blow over; Strasbourg does not often get thunder storms...the gray skies simply go pee pee/tinkle/drizzle ever so faintly.

We were wrong, of course - an INCREDIBLE storm proceeded to cloud the picnicing area at the park, where unfortunately, we had parked ourselves, very far from our parking spots. Consequentially running hands-full to the cars, we had become SOPPING wet. After not even 15 minutes of actual "BBQ" picnic-time, the BBQ was really ruined.

Saving the day nevertheless, one of Xavier's friends (PPN) invited us to his place to do a "BBQ-do-over." Since he lived the next town over,in Shiltigheim, we all had to manouever different ways of getting there. Typically, I would have biked there, but there was a lot of moist food to be lugged over and consumed...so, I hitched a ride with Anabelle and her bf JS after getting a change of clothes. We got to PPN's house around 6:00.

His house was huge, and seemingly unwelcoming in the beginning. His 5 roommates were really STINKY hippies (literally very stinky) and were roaming around, seemingly with NOTHING to do except STARE, evidently wondering what we were about to start up. Trying to make the best of the situation, I offered them cocktails, which seemed to work to break the ice. I prepared my favorite: Relaxers, aka "Bay Breezes." After organizing some snacks and drinks, things were rolling into place & the stinky hippies were all smiles.

We chowed down on chips, burgers, hot dogs, kebabs, and LOTS of cocktail, snd German and Belgian beers of all sorts to follow. Xavier and Paul (Petra's boyfriend), JS and PPN were doing the grilling in PPN's backyard despite the pee-pee rainy weather, while I was trying to keep the incoming traffic satisfied, making drinks and conversation with Simone, and Anabelle. Yet more and more people kept streaming into the house....friends of friends and friends of roommates. I couldn't keep things straight, but it was fun to try...

I had my eye on one guy from the moment he started being sly with me. Or at least, after enjoying a couple drinks of my own, I got the sense that he was being sly...? OH MY, in the very least, I cannot say it was the alcohol that had caused me to see him as being so "VERY handsome....for SOOOOOOOO handsome he was. Perhaps it was his cracking jokes about this and that, playing "wise guy", while shining his cute dimples and sharp eyes at me, but there's no denying an immediate attraction.

I didn't have makeup on though, my hair was ruined from the rain, and my change of clothes made me look like a bum...I fit in with the hippies I guess. But, after a couple drinks, we ended up passing one another remarks, at which point I didn't care how I looked; I was simply having fun - making drinks, joking around & talking with the crowds of people...getting to know strangers and their lives.

When the boys were done with the grilling, I proceeded to make SMores for everyone, displaying some "American Pride." The cute kid, Matthieu followed me out to watch me/make conversation. The Smores were a great hit, along with the brownies and cake the others had made, and it wasn't before too long, that people (per request) were taking out their guitars, harmonicas and drums.

Circling the kitchen table, we all started singing/humming/ playing the bongo drums, or listening to an array of live musical tastes and talents. Seriously - an amazing time...so unexpected!

It was like a dream, and in realizing this, I decided to make a toast (having bought some champagne for the occasion) and almost cried doing so (partially because I may have had a couple drinks already) and also because I was having such a good time - at such an incidentally (LATE) moment in my stay...I really wished I had met these guys (men and women) some time BEFORE...

People started to head out around 12...Monday being a working day for many; but I REALLY wanted to stay myself, even though work was previewed for 11am the following morning. Trying to buy myself some time to talk to the cute guy, I made a deal with Anabelle's boyfriend to come pick me up later; that is, after dropping Anabelle off. Yet it turned out that HE was too drunk to drive, so Anabelle ended up coming BACK herself to get me (even though she was the one who had to work at 9am the next morning). Half-guiltily, I told her that I wanted to stay. (If it hadn't been my last "party experience" I would have gone with her, considering her generosity in having come all the way back for me) but she didn't seem upset with my honest decision to stick around; simply not READY to go, I told Anabelle that I'd crash on their couch and that I would find a way home at some point in the morning...no worries.

A handful of us were talking in the living room about ALL sorts of interesting stuff. Turns out, the cute guy was finishing up law school with another one of the musicians sitting next to me, and they were going on & on about liacity (non-secular) Alsacian laws, and then about law school, about France, then about Serge Gainsbourg (we were listening to a selection of FRENCH FRENCH music, per their request).

The handful of us soon turned into a 3some: me, the cute guy (named Matthieu), and his friend Vincent (also very cute and friendly) and we were listening to music in the candle-lit living room while storms were passing us by through the night hours.

After listening contently to an hour's worth of Serge Gainsbourg, some dance tunes came on, and we all got up to dance. We were feeling pretty good, doing our own dance routine.

When some crazy salsa music came on, Matthieu said something about not being able to dance to the kind of music that was playing, which appeared to me as some kind of challenge to show him otherwise (I love a challenge), which (of course) I undertook immediately. I took his hands, and we started dancing salsa, which later turned into a hot and steamy dirty-dancing session...

He politely whispered to his friends' ear that he "thought he looked really tired" and his friend got the hint and left us in peace some time around 4am.

From 4am to 6:30, Mathieu and I had an AMAZING time together listening to music, dancing, and kissing REALLY passionately. After taking off a couple layers of clothing (one gets awfully sweaty playing these games), one thing led to another.

We didn't sleep a wink, yet the morning came all too quickly, and the kisses did not cease, nor did the ROMANTIC exchange; I'd never think a stranger (let alone a French guy) could be so passionate and generous with another stranger - but it was a GREAT surprise.

I was surprised too with myself, for having been so comfortable engaging with a stranger, and so easily, especially after the Italian-incident in Venice, I never thought I'd experience such "singlehood adventures" in my life, but then again, these are the highlights of being single; there's nothing to feel badly about - no guilt, no demands and no expectations. Life without these elements is rare as it is, and I can tell you that it's not every day that one can be so delightfully surprised and thrilled by one's sudden encounters...taking it up AS THAT (for what it is) makes it a beautiful encounter, and a wonderful surprise.

Around 7am, I found 2 of his roommates were already up and about...so we decided to clean up, and he told me how I could get home. It was a little awkward saying goodbye because we KEPT kissing one another, all the way up to the moment before my departure. Without an exchange of information...without any questions or demands...the night was officially over and that was the end.

I started to walk out the door at 7:30 and his friend, Vincent told me he'd walk me to the bus stop. We laughed about the unexpectedness of the night, and we were both happy to have met one another. I got Mathieu's phone number, and was hesitant to leave a message, but decided to leave him a text telling him that it was a pleasure meeting him, and to be in touch if he'd like sometime before I leave.

I didn't think I'd receive any word from, though he DID say the pleasure was shared via text one day later. Too bad we never got to see one another again in my week's stay...but then again...maybe that would have killed the memory all together - my night with Serge Gainsbourg and other fantastical moments in passing :-)

FINALLY: FRIENDSHIP IN FRANCE :-)

Though I gave toast to several friends this past sunday, I think I owe at least one blog's worth to their great contributions to my life.

I can recall my first couple of interactions with acquantainces back in September. They were quite awkward and forced...

And though I am NOT shy by nature, I was quite insecure about meeting new people, having felt intimidated by my accent/my poor vocabulary and my rather negative state of mind/frame of reference. (That is, between learning my new trade, adjusting to my disppointing break-up with C, and while working on my French, I wasn't in "TOP FORM.")

Putting my awkwardness right out in the open, I had told some collegues that I didn't know ANYONE in Strasbourg, and had asked them if they would like to join me for a drink or two some evening after finishing up work. I felt like a weirdo asking young girls out on dates...so it's no wonder why I got turned down :-) haha

But not by all. One collegue at the Gymnase was openly welcoming and charming right from the start; an older fellow - a Classics teacher (Greek, Latin, French)asked me if I'd be interested in joining his theater group. Though I wasn't able to find time to do just that (due to babysitting) I was able to enjoy many an outing over one year's time with him- noon-time lunch outings every other Friday as well as random hiking/biking & cultural excursions. I didn't take him up on his invitations to go to Protestant celebrations, but Thanks to Marc (this was his name) I was able to see my first Professional Opera in Strasbourg. Marc also helped to cultivate my taste for French wine, and French poetry. A real CLASSY man, along with his classy wife named Martine.

In addition, yet another collegue of mine, shortly after being turned down earlier in the school year, told me that she'd organize a little outing with some of her friends so that I could "get myself out there." I guess she pitied me! :-) Though I didn't quite FEEL LIKE it, I knew it was important to try and do just that. That first group-outing was less than ideal for reasons I still cannot understand, yet little did I know that it was just the beginning. When you're alone in a foreign world, NOTHING feels like "just the beginning." Even for an optimist, it's difficult to see the horizon.

Consequentially, having given up temporarily on forcing friendships with the majority of strangers, I looked forward to hosting an acquaintance named Travis at my place (who ironically, I had met in Germany during June 2009 through friends of C's, even though he attended, Boston College as had I) while he was to attend a philosophy conference at the University of Strasbourg.

Thanks to Travis, at the end of 1 week's visit, I was able to meet an acquaintance of his, named Xavier (who HE had met at the Goethe Institute the year prior.) Travis, knowing and sympathizing with my state of mind, had encouraged me to get to know Xavier, along with his friend, Sophy & I'm sure glad I took his advice.

Xavier and Sophy first and foremost introduced me to a GREAT bar downtown, and to the local-hub in Strasbourg named "Freres Berthom." They also invited me to join the CREW team in Strasbourg, and though I ended up backing out (having been much too busy taking French classes after work on top of babysitting) I was able to appreciate OTHER physical and non-physical activities with them. Xavier, for one, was a history buff and was of PROUD Alsacian heritage. For me, though, he was much more than this, because he represented/exemplified what a DECENT FRENCH GUY is all about :-) A fantastic (and single for those who are interested) speciman. Personally speaking, I was only interested in engaging a friendly relationship, which allowed for great ease even biking out, and listening to a music festival together at the ZENITH in Strasbourg (Rodrigo y Gabriela, and Archive!) among other groups...

Sophy, on the other hand, was a young and lovely architect and sports-enthusiast (yay rugby!) Consequentially, in having met them both, I learned a lot about the region of Alsace: having visited the Alsacian musuem), the chocolate museum (which I visited by myself, per chance, during one of my bike-rides through the countryside), and having learned about the little-known mythologies of the Cathedrale, and funny sterotypes about the French...

Through babysitting too, I was able to meet a Brazilian au-pair, who took care (near full-time) of the same girls for whom I did weekly babysitting. Between our long conversations about babysitting, children, and about our general impressions of France, we passed many long nights together - during which we danced, drank, and visited local hot spots, on bike or on foot. Dancing and eating, whether shared in the company of her previously-upcoming/hidden, to her outwardly-established boyfriend, named Bruno - another Alsacien Frenchie - were definitely our most preferred activities, if I can speak for all of us!

It wasn't much later, when in October, 2 English professors from my workplace (one with whom I did that first outing, named Anabelle) had asked me to join them to eat several times at an IRISH pub (The Dubliners) after which point, both had encouraged me to be in touch for other events and activities. Whether it was to watch the television series called "How I Met Your Mother" (which I had was unaware of, despite the fact that it is an American television program...) or to do l'accrobranche" (advanced tree-climbing), karting, or chilling in the school's computer-lounge (while grading, listening to utube clips and other nonesense way beyond working hours) we passed many a good time together, to say in the least. Anabelle was an inspiring teacher, and yet also a realization for me - that I'd NEVER "be" THE teacher she had proven herself to be!

With the other quite "exquisite" English teacher named Petra, (an American originally from DC) I enjoyed sharing lots of movie-nights at the old-fashioned theater, intimate sushi dinners over pyschological talk, and going on quick runs. Whether it was all together, or just the two of us, we'd sit and eat & have a couple cocktails (or non-alcoholic drinks) talking about this and that: ALWAYS the most randommmmmmm conversations, however!

However, these two professors, among being good companions for one activity or another, helped me to figure out some French customs...for one, what to avoid...

Most strikingly, one man at school seemed to have the hots for me, and though I had taken him to be married (aged 40-45 or so) and thus "harmless," having ALWAYS spoken about "the lady at home," it so turned out that the "lady at home" was his MOTHER, and that his invitations and outings for dinner downtime were thought to be "romantic." Knowing this character fairly well, I was advised to be DIRECT rather than "sincere" or "charming" in telling him - without a smile - that I wanted a PROFESSIONAL relationship ONLY.

I was also informed about the pitfalls, and advantages of French culture; thanks to all my new friends, having learned that I OUGHT to be more "up" on customs and traditions if I were to be "accepted" by the posh society in which I was living/working...in Strasbourg. (That is...a FRENCH community that didn't even believe or engage in watching le foot! WTF!?!)

To fix this problem/issue, Petra thoughfully introduced me to some French intellectual friends of hers with whom I did a language exchange; avec Jean-Francois I worked on my French, and in exchange, with the wifey, Emmanuelle I was able to work a bit on HER English. The two were MORE than interesting, and generous persons; I loved passing evenings at their home over simple (scumptious) dinners and good conversation...something to be missed.

Needless to say, come Decemeber of last year (2009), or once my repetoire started to build, I felt more and more at ease with people from work, as well as with strangers. My attitude, or facial expressions must have been obviously altered for others to see; after all, collegues and strangers started to join in on some outings!

And as a result, my small group of friends began to expand, most notably when Xavier introduced me to a couple MORE of HIS friends, PPN - "petit papa noel" (aka Matthieu), and JS (Jean-Sebastian), another two OUTSTANDING French guys, whose company and fun Frenchie personalities I will greatly miss.

Indeed, one evening I took it upon myself to introduce JS to Anabelle, having thought they'd hit it off, and chances had it: I was actually RIGHT this time around; in fact, it wasn't even the first time they had crossed paths...what a small world. I look forward to hearing how things end up between them...? I hope PPN will meet someone lovely, as he too deserves to be with someone special, and not to mention Xavier!

Speaking of which, PPN impartially (accidentally?) ended up introducing US to a bunch of HIS friends just ONE week before my departure (which is a whole different story - detailed in the posting entiled "Serge Gainsbourg style.")

And still, I regret to have avoided contact with a handful of other acquaintances, including one young man from Kehl, Germany named Peter from the French class I had taken from October-Dec of 2009. I had the sense he was looking for more than I was willing to offer, be it in the very least a friendship...I just wasn't interested.

However, Ana from the very same French class at C.I.E.L, was a GREAT contact, with whom I had little ACTUAL "contact." Luckily I managed to have just one opportunity to dine with her, at which point Ana helped me to organize my trip to Spain. Having invited me to dinner at her apartment in Strasbourg, I was grateful to learn a thing or two about Spanish hospitality :-) A nice change in the mix, I should say. Along with the parents for whom I did babysitting, she too worked at the European Union in Strasbourg...an evidentally TIME-DEMANDING JOB.

And speaking of time-demanding, this is one thing I'll never understand: the art of staying in touch...but I'll save that for a different posting altogether.

With many fond memories, fantastic photos, and hopeful wishes of days to come, I am very greatful to have met these listed persons, who most notably SAVED me from being TRULY "Alone in Alsace."

They vacuume TREES here?

One ordinary Saturday morning in late October, I left my apartment on bike to go do my Saturday grocery shopping, as I had done every other ordinary Saturday morning since late August.

Biking half-attentively along the familiar route, down tree-lined streets, I noticed something strange: there was not ONE TRACE of a leaf anywhere to be seen...though just days prior, the platain trees were more than lush and thriving...

"WTF>? Did I sleep through a freakin' HURRICANE last night? Perhaps a TORNADO?"

I continued biking along, laughing to myself, feeling a bit strange. It was like a dream...it was as though I had imagined something.

All the other trees in the neighborhood still had their leaves, and the weather certainly had not indicated any drastic changes...so I reached the conclusion that someone had removed the trees' leaves, perhaps due to some biological plague...(?)

About 4 days later, leaving work on bike, I noticed another line of trees whose leaves were missing...and when I say these trees were BARE...I mean BARE; it was like the Ren and Stimpy episode where Ren loses his teeth thus exposing his loose gums and nerve endings...

figuring there was some plague hitting the treets in Strasbourg, I tried inspecting the trees. They looked fine...? SO STRANGE!

It was not until one late night, leaving from a bar, a little bit tipsy, that I found the answer to this phenomenon! Tracing my steps back from a public square near my workplace, I spotted a truck with a ladder-lifted plank risen in the air, upon which a man stood with a gigantic vacuume. A TREE VACUUME.

"VOOOOOOM!" little by little, the guy SUCKED OFF every leaf from the tree with his over-sized white vacuume contraption, leaving the branches bare and twiggy.

I wanted to ask WHY THE HELL he would do such a thing, but I figured I'd sound like a "silly American" (not that I didn't hear that or feel that way every day) and decided to keep my mouth closed.

I resolved to ask some collegues what was going on, and at first they acted like I was crazy. "What do you mean? The leaves just FELL!" they told me. I couldn't tell if they were joking...but, I realized later that they had not noticed the bare trees lining the streets. I guess the advantage of biking and walking around so much is that you pick up on these things...

Pointing out to a collegue one afternoon the absence of leaves (down the same street I had initially travelled down that ordinary Saturday morning) I insisted that the city men had taken the leaves away...(again, feeling like a paranoid crazy-lady, searching mysterious for "the others,") but it was quickly understood:

"Oh sure, THOSE trees' leaves are removed to prevent their naturally-slow fall. If they remove them now, the city avoids the monotonous task of sweeping the streets."

Though I knew very well at this point how well-kept the city parks and streets are in Strasbourg, I didn't know why the leaf-covered streets were of any concern, but my collegue explained that pedestrians could easily slip on the leaves, given the amount of rainy, slippery days in Strasbourg...

"OH sure!" I thought to myself..."HOW CONSISTENT!" Paris doesn't have ramps, handicapped access, operating elevators or escalators to access the most crucial of desintations, but Strasbourg worries about old people walking around the leaf-covered backstreets going nowhere!!!! hahaha. I love the French.

Sunday Moldy Sunday...

Weekends in Strasbourg have been pretty darn really relaxing; especially when compared to my "previous life" back in the States which entailed super-packed weekends and minimal "free-time" for myself.

Though it was certainly an unseen/unplanned aspect of my time in Europe (that is, previously having thought I'd be sharing my experiences here with C), I've learned to be/live/pass my time ON MY OWN, and have grown particularly fond of all this time to myself! (Especially since now it is well-spent in my own quarters/my OWN space! Living alone is such a treat, I tell you!

Walking around naked, eating when (and what) I like, and exercising like a madwoman only to chow down on sweets to follow, all go unquestioned/unseen by "judging eyes."
Better yet, organizing, reconfiguring or DITCHING "my schedule" completely affects no one for the worst; I can waste my day, or live it up to its absolute fullest without being pressured by someone else to "follow the herd," to "turn in" or to "get going." And these are just some of the advantages; doing this all in EUROPE has added benefits for sure. I've done and seen more things ALONE than I EVER could have done in company...and for that, I'm quite glad things didn't work out "to plan."

When I'm alone, I dare to risk; experiences are rich, and adventure are valuable. Whether it be going to the opera dressed to the nines, tanning nude in Germany's Roman-baths, taking 10-hour bike-trips, trekking sleeplessly across international borders to create fantastic travelling-memories and ravish the random romantic affairs (see "vacation" entry), I don't think I would have had the chance to do a lot of the things I've managed to do, had I been "in company."

However, my particular situation (living alone in Alsace) has come to offer just as many disadvantages as it has advantages. Before explaining why, I will have to do some retracing:

Back in October, I gave my notice at "Rue de Bitche" - my old apartment, with less-than-ideal living conditions (see blog-post entitled Rue de Bitche for an explanation,) and between adjusting to a new job, waiting for my pay check and health insurance (see "Administrative Problems" blog posting) I was feeling the pressure to hunt down a new apartment.

Sundays were entirely dedicated to hunting...all over again (after all, I had JUST moved to France 2 months prior) and when I had no HITTERS after 4 consecutive Sundays, I resolved to hop on the first opportunity that arose:

Sometime in November, a man showing an apartment just north of Strasbourg told me he had a property that would be opening up in December (and this was after telling me the apartment I had originally COME to check out had been already taken...) "PERFECT TIMING," I thought! I would need to move into a new apartment by late December, or early January...

We checked out the other property just a tram-ride away, and I immediately decided I'd take it once I laid my eyes on it; a fairly good-looking/shapely building off the main drag, but near public transportation, ground-floor with a small garden-space, a "furnished" studio with large bathroom...too good to be true!!

Come December, though, I had to arrange to pay rent for the new place (in order to hold my spot) as well as my OLD apartment's "last month" rent - and not to mention the last sum for the month of January - ALL BEFORE taking a trip back to the States for Christmas...(which was an expensive journey in and of itself!)

It was finals time at school, and I was completely loaded with corrections to finish and hand-in; stressed and with little time to BREATHE, I managed to squeeze in 1 Sunday to make the big move before leaving on a jet plane to the States.

A collegue of mine was generous to come meet me with her car to speed up the moving process (though I didn't have MUCH stuff - just clothes and books - it was really helpful!) since I knew I'd have to settle in quickly.

Unfortunately, that SUNDAY turned out to be much more than a move...which ordinarily don't stress me out whatsoever...

My collegue and I arrived to the building to find an abandoned cat roaming around in my EMPTY (NOT "furnished" studio apartment) !!!!!! AN ABANDONED CAT!!!!!!!!!!!! WTF????????

The cat was really a KITTEN though- a male, in heat (they start young I guess?) and though he was SUPER-sweet and SCARED as hell, I had NO IDEA how to react. SURE: I felt TERRIBLE that he had been left BEHIND without water or food (who could DO such a thing? The fucking animal - and I don't mean the cat!) but the poor thing had pee-peed on the floor (and had done who knows what to the mattress that had been left behind). All I could think of was...'where do I put my stuff?' WHAT NEXT????????

A part of me wanted terribly to watch over the sweet little thing, but 1) I didn't want to get attached to the animal, since I owe my loyalties 100% to my beautiful baby that awaits me at home - MY DOG, Byndee that is- and 2) I don't like cats ALL that much... 3) I gag at the scent of kitty litter: BLECK! and 4) I'd have to leave for the States 2 days later & wouldn't be able to get anyone to watch over her in that time, let alone finding a new home for him once I moved back for real.

So, I had to react quickly, and decided to get in touch with animal authorities rather than waiting for my (conveniently ABSENT and "missing" landlord), which had been MIRACULOUSLY open that Sunday for a donation-drive (the most miraculous part of that day for sure!) By noon, the services scooped him up & assured me he'd be given a nice home...leaving ME a place to begin MY OWN place called "home."

Yet my collegue scolded me, insisting that I couldn't even consider moving into the apartment under such horrible conditions. "A HOME!?!?" She only laughed; for there was not even a toilet seat left behind...no light fixtures (well, except the 1 light bulb that had been left behind - along with its exposed wires hanging down from the ceiling) and not to mention the left-over cat-pee. I knew it was SICKENINGGGGGGGG.

But after letting out some tears and sobs, I told her that I'd have no choice but to accept and make the best of it all. THIS WOULD BE MY HOME. (Realistically, there was NO WAY to move out after throwing out so much money that month, and after having already bought my tickets to go home for the holidays!)

She left, and I got to my NEW place. I spent the ENTIRE day cleaning my head off, and crying that Sunday...I felt MORE ALONE than I had ever felt in my life.

But luckily - since I had still been PAYING for my old apartment - I went back to my old bed to get some shud-eye. (After all, I couldn't yet SLEEP in my new apartment since I had no way of buying anything on a SUNDAY to furnish the place, let alone get ready for WORK the next day!)

Ahhh...SUNDAYs in France: all the stores are closed. This of course is geared towards the familial-life; all the families stay inside, which is lovely in theory, but pretty shitty for a single (American) woman :-) Indeed, at the time, it seemed like double-punishment/a dummy-wammy- a SLAP in the face: I was not ONLY alone...but I was without resources.

In any case, the lack of eventfulness on Sundays brings me back to TODAY:
A random SUNDAY in MAY:

Being given the time, I managed to complete a thorough inspection of my apartment space this morning, due to certain suspicions that my APARTMENT has been causing me to fall ill all the time...

That is - ever since I returned from the States last December (and moved into my new place "officially") I have been getting NASTY colds - especially when returning home from x or y travel destination- and I mean really nasty colds!

If not for the "timing" reason, there are several other reasons to believe this is the case:

Reason 2: Since it's been so damn rainy here, I've stayed in a lot (as opposed to going running and biking) which has caused me to feel EXTREMELY TIREDDDDD and lethargic (and not in the normal "I've done nothing today" kind of lazy way...)

Reason 3: a heightened cold started this past Thursday...perhaps due to this event: Having washed by hand and put to dry in my room (well, my STUDIO, lol) an over-sized sweater last Tuesday, I chose to throw on the sweater and get to work the following Thursday. I got to school at 8am realizing the sweater was DRENCHED (and terriblyyyy smelly) due to mold, or fungus. I took it off immediately, although it was really cold outside still, and subsequently found a little rash on my arm. Unfortunately, Thursdays are long days at school, so I didn't get home until later to shower up. I scrubbed down, thinking nothing much of the mold.. until I felt worse on Friday...

This weekend, in looking around my apartment, I've realized that the walls are moldy - just COVERED in paint. Every chance I get, I open the 1 window I have (a door-window) but since it's been raining, it only adds to the moisture in my ground-floor apartment...not to mention the invitation it leaves for ants and bugs to come on in!! UGH!!!

Instead of freaking out, I'm trying to enjoy my free-time...after all, quotidien Sunday-living DOES have its high points/advantages in France :-)

While the families go to church/the temple in Alsace (it being the most religious of areas in France, whereas the rest of the country is very "liaque"/secular) and make their ways to their Sunday dinner tables over televised sports-games...I, a single woman with few friends (hehe, enjoy watching movies, listening to music (REALLY LOUD), cleaning, catching sights on the travel channel or the news on TF1 or EUROnews. These are surely Sunday delights (at least when it's permanently rainy and gray!)

Over coffee with fresh cream from Normandy, or in today's case - tea with milk and honey (to help my nasty, unending cold...arghhh...) I chow down on delicious (fresh) buttered baguettes from the bakery, chopped seasonal fruits, and sparkling water...only to look forward to the next meal :-)

Correcting papers, prepping classes, writing my blog entries, and emailing has also been really soothing during a heavy task of JOB-hunting and applying (all over again...) which I continue to do on my Sundays, ritualistically...

And if I weren't feeling so darn sick (if not due to mold, it's damn positive that it's the stagnant valley that holds pollution in Strasbourg) I'd go to the movies as well - which is seemingly a French Sunday rituel for singles...

Maybe next Sunday. Hopefully it'll be less...MOLDY.