Housewife In Training: Complete

Tonight is my last night here in St Michel and I realized my transformation into a housewife yesterday. As I have said before, here at St Michel, the women do the "women's work" and the men do the "men's work." After 2 months I am STILL yet to see Philippe do a single dish. Even if he needs something that's dirty, he seems to find something else that is already clean and will work well enough. So yesterday, after I went to the bakery for bread, went on a walk with Brigitte, did some laundry and grocery shopping...I decided to go back to the spot where I had seen cherries growing during our walk. A weird urge came over me to bake a cherry pie. This has never happened before. You are probably imagining me skipping down the street in a sun dress with sunflowers, rainbows and hearts on it and carrying a perfect little basket with a small dog running behind me, but I actually looked quite the opposite. Now I say, "housewife in training" because I still had not completed my certification as of yesterday. When I went to pick these cherries, I was still dressed in my walking clothes (nothing pretty) and I was jogging to the cherry tree with a plastic bag from the hardware store. When I got there, the tree was very much taller than I remembered when we had passed it earlier. I had made the trek though, so some cherries were comin' down. I climbed up a ways and found myself surrounded by sticker bushes that stuck me all over real good. I nearly fell and rolled down the hill through them trying to reach a high branch, that was just one of the close calls I had from going cherry pickin'. I managed to get some cherries into my plastic bag after lots of jumping, getting cherry juice all over me and being bitten by plenty of weird things lurking in the grass around me. Not enough for a pie though. Fail. Once I make it semi-safely back to the road I narrowly avoided being shit on by a gigantic bird. It would have taken a looooong shower to clean off after one of those. That was the second close call. Then as I am heading back, I feel rain drops and lately when it has rained, it has POURED. I get nervous and start sprinting back to St Michel. It's up hill, so I get tired quickly. Luckily though, the rain stops and the sky breaks out into sun. That would be close call  the third. It feels like a pretty good day after I realize I have at least, some cherries, did not fall into sticker bushes, wasn't shit on by an over-sized flying animal and then rained down upon as I trudged uphill home. Anyway, I am now an expert gardener, painter, bed-maker, dish do-er, table setter, grocery getter and who knows what else. But with having a cherry pie making urge and completing my last full day at St Michel, I would say I am housewife ready...if that type of crap were anything I was interested in. NOT (please see the above picture...not the one with Jessica Simpson).

French Bikers, Death Rap and Ping Pong...? Ya, That's Right.

Sorry this week has been so busy! I ended up at a "Garden of Imaginery(translates something like that)" Then we went to a 14th century city and off to an awesome old castle. I need to get pictures up soon! So the last few days have been busy with work, checking out the surrounding areas and the usual drinking.

This weekend was the busiest I have seen it yet at St Michel. Brigitte overbooked us, so I was sleeping at the neighbor's place with her daughter and Brigitte ended up sleeping  in her office last night. It's a bit hectic at night to say the least. On Friday night 6 French bikers pulled up and parked their shiny new rides in the barn. I think if there was a way to sleep on their bikes they would have, or maybe even just lay the bikes down and spoon them in a circle. This morning Philippe said he saw them shaving outside next to their bikes. Oh Putain! Friday night though, Jean, Andrew and I went to the bar/barn to play some ping pong and relax and then once dinner was totally over, all the bikers came to check on their bikes (as if they would go anywhere). Andrew had his I-Pod on random, so we would go from a random funk song to death rap, I don't know if the French speakers understood much of the music either way. So we started getting into some ping pong with the bikers and this lone French couple that looked very proper, I have no idea how they came along for the party, but they arrived and were ready to hang. The woman kicked ass at ping pong. It was a pretty funny sight to see this woman with orthopedic looking shoes and an ankle length dress owning at ping pong. The badass guy with the huge biker jacket wasn't so badass anymore. That is most likely why he gave up and went back to stroke his motorcycle and talk about how fast it can go. We went to get another couple of bottles of wine to keep the party going since the bikers were about ready to make their own with whatever they could find around the barn. As usual, I wished that I could understand them, but I'm sure I would have been just as confused listening to them talk about motorcycles. The next day I woke up pretty sick and not with a hangover. I think that's what a few people thought, but it was more of me not being able to breath all night with congestion. It was awesome. I could hardly move in the morning so I slept most of the day. Last night I put together an "Irish Cure" as I called it and got some odd looks yesterday, as well as, today. It started out with some white wine (Philippe told me it would work), then I added a shot of whiskey (the real Irish part) and then red wine and then Brigitte helped me out with another special mix to cure my cold. Altogether, I woke up this morning feeling much better. I have a new recipe to cure any cold now. Yet another thing I learned in France. I am always staying educated.

Drinking, Swearing, Drinking and More Drinking...Am I Alive Right Now?

This weekend the Chambres D'Hotes was PACKED with loud drunk French people. Good LORD was this random group of people a terrible combination. After Brigitte and I busted our asses to feed this high maintenance bunch of assholes, we relaxed equally as hard. The wine was flowing, we were cheersing for everything and giggling like school girls. While the guests finished up, we figured it was time for a much needed French lesson. This lesson was all about bad words since we only had bad things to say about these guests, but it was the explanations that were the best. We were trying to translate between the French words for hookers, whores, and different "body parts" I will say (mom sensor, please use your imagination) for women in these professions. Never have I ever shot any sort of liquid out of my nose, but I managed to shoot red wine out of my nose and the corners of my mouth simultaneously. It was a terribly disgusting site and painful as well, hopefully no one else will ever see me do that again. Then I got the good idea that once Brigitte's son Jean arrived the next day, I should try out some of my new words. Brigitte is a fantastic mom, so she loved this idea. I had forgotten until the next day at lunch that this was the plan, but I quickly remembered when Jean made the mistake of making a fat joke while I was eating. Bad move, Jean, bad move. I leaned over to Brigitte and asked her to remind me of the meanest word we learned the night before, she got a little red, but then whispered it in my ear. In front of Brigitte, Philippe, Jean's sister and cousin and of course him...I looked him straight in the eyes and called him something that I don't even think I can translate, but I was assured that it was terribly mean. The table got quiet...I wasn't sure if I was going to get punched in the nose or throat, but luckily the silence turned into laughs and the swearing just continued. Phew! If there is a souvenir I want from France, it's not a black eye and so far I can still say, no black eyes for me.

Now, onto the drinking and more drinking in the title (mom, if you email me again about the evils of drinking, so help me sweet baby Jesus...).Anyway, this wall that was built and has been celebrated with at least a dozen bottles of wine already was to be celebrated yet AGAIN. Two English couples came over on Monday for lunch to toast the completion of the wall. I am finding out, that everything more impressive than a giant shit is celebrated multiple times. Why not? It gives a reason to drink. So starting at noon, we get into about 6 bottles of champagne. Then we have duck and pig skewers waiting, along with salad, some sort of "Catholic" dish that Philippe's family has been making for years (he is not even a little Catholic, neither is Brigitte but he always talks about the Catholic tradition) and apple pies made by yours truly. There was more food, but all of the drinking kind of blurs it all together. We manage to kill off the 20 liter box of wine, along with cognac and some sort of concoction put together by Philippe once the red wine was out. I checked the clock once we started cleaning up, it's 5pm. Oh Putain! We all head to our rooms for nap time. Then I am awoken, told to get my pants on, we are off to visit some family for more drinking. How am I alive to write this right now you ask...? I have no idea, but it's time for another nap I think.

Past Work-awayers

American Bitches

THIS is St Michel?!

Of course there were the girls from America that make us all look bad. These girls showed up in tall boots and made up like they were going to LA, not the country. This would have been the first sign for Brigitte to send them on a train to Paris and not kept them around in the first place. She let them stay and obviously they were not prepared for what they had gotten themselves into. Now, Brigitte loves to ask questions about religion and politics, just out of curiosity and to hear other people's opinions. Brigitte asked these girls why we have the president swear on a bible when church and state are supposed to be separate. Now, Andrew and I both thought this was an interesting question to ask. Andrew and I explained that he isn't praying, but still that the two should be separate but we do an absolute terrible job of keeping it that way. (I am doing my best to keep my religious views to myself right now, I don't need to go and piss off my mom after being sent to Catholic schools my whole life. That sure turned out as planned, haha.) Anyway, these girls got all weird on Brigitte and the English guys that were sitting there too thought that she wasn't offensive at all. When Brigitte took them to the train station to leave, they said nothing the whole way and Brigitte told them if they wanted to arrive at the train, that they had better make conversation (I love Brigitte). After these girls got out of the car, they looked at Brigitte and told her that she "hates America." I wish I could have seen her face because even now when she tells that story, she looks shocked. I have heard this story MANY times over wine and the story always ends with, "Oh Putain."

Cheese Machine

Urkel says it all

I just heard this one today and could totally picture this guy! So Brigitte doesn't sleep much and usually ends up waking up at weird hours during the night. She said that one night, she got up around 2am and noticed lights on, so she headed towards the kitchen. With all the lights on, in the corner near the cheese cabinet was a workawayer destroying the cheese. Apparently, this was like a nightly thing too. Brigitte said that everyone else could always wake up on time, but this guy was NEVER on time. I guess if you are up eating cheese all night, it's hard to wake up on that full stomach. I asked her if he was one of those sleep eaters, but nope, he just loved his cheese. My next questions was, "Was he fat? Brigitte said, "OH YES." And so then, I needed to know, "Was he American?" I know our reputation and it's that we are fat, lazy, and love things way too big. This guy sounded like he fit the description, even though I was hoping that he was from another country. Luckily, he was from Canada! We got lucky on that one.

Chinese, Australian, German Exchange Student

Not the actual girl, but looks like she's being weird enough to be her

As you know, this girl just left. We still have a good laugh about her though. She had her quirks. Most of the time she spent alone, with her computer, watching Chinese soap operas or something and laughing terribly loud at them. She also liked to sing to Chinese music with her I-Pod in. Andrew and I had to shush her a few times, she really was not good. She also had weird eating habits. She LOVED the rind on the cheese, which I don't think you are supposed to eat. We usually gave that stuff to Owen the dog. I told her to grab one end with her teeth and have Owen get the other and they could fight it out. Then she liked the bread to sit out and get hard also. She mainly liked to eat the stuff that gets thrown out and desserts. While I had gone to Bordeaux the second time, she baked a cake, took it upstairs and ate it all on her own, no sharing. I am sure Brigitte will love to share stories about this girl with other people that come threw.

Me

Je ne sais pas

I am finally allowed to drive Brigitte places since I haven't killed myself or someone else...yet. She now considers me able to drive the car. I figured this situation must have happened before since America is full of people that can't drive a manual car. Nope, Brigitte assured me that I am the ONLY person that has arrived in St Michel and had to learn to drive. I'm sure there are more weird things that I have done that have given her stories, but I will for sure be remembered as the American girl that couldn't drive the car. When Brigitte tried to teach me to reverse, I nearly killed her. She wanted to hold onto the open car door (bad idea). I slammed on the gas and shot back, hitting her with the door, which pushed her back against the flower bed and bounced her back against a stone wall. UGH. I would nearly kill the poor woman. And I am a total asshole and used every ounce of strength to not laugh, since it was a little funny. It was terrible and funny at the same time. Now we can laugh about it, but I know Philippe wasn't too happy with me for almost putting his wife in a wheelchair. All in the name of learning though right?

Brigitte....Did You Grab My Ass?

Sorry, somehow there is a good kitten picture for EVERYTHING

Sorry, there was no ass grabbing, I guess it would have been more of a pinch though. Rocks were being shot at me and it was not enjoyable. Since there are no men around, Brigitte and I were forced to tend to the lawn the other day. This lawn is not small or easy to take care of. I was in charge of the gigantic lawn mower with a Honda engine...bad idea. And Brigitte had the weed cutter that straps on like a back pack. We looked pretty badass and ready to cut some grass but the actual work of doing it was a bit rough. This lawn mower I had looked super old but my arms were sore after an hour of trying to hold onto the damn thing. It felt like I was walking 20 big dogs. If I didn't pull back on the mower, I was going to be pulled through France by this thing, it was pretty mean. And then Brigitte's weed cutter would hit rocks and shoot them through the yard. We had to close all the shutters around the doors so that we didn't break the glass. This meant that I got hit by the rocks instead though. I would get a sharp jab somewhere, often straight to the ass, and realize it was just Brigitte with the weed cutter. I was getting used to the whole "womens work" thing and starting to like it. Now, they have to send a woman (me) to do a man's job.

I already had one, so why not two?

Today I got to wash cars for an upcoming inspection, that surely hadn't been washed or vacuumed since the last time they had to be inspected. I think this "control" that cars go through every 2 years is similar to our emissions tests. Yesterday, Philippe was explaining to me how to clean the inside of the car, which was absolutely ridiculous but it's a good thing he showed me I guess, because there is no way I would clean a car how he does. According to Philippe, you wash the cloth seats of a car with a soaped up sponge and you cover everything else with this horribly toxic spray. It didn't seem to make sense what he was telling me to do, but I did it anyway and he seemed very pleased when I was finished. Luckily tomorrow I get to be a girl and bake apple pie most of the day.

Oh Putain!

To start, "Oh Putain" translates to "Oh Damn" with the google translator but out here I was told it means "Oh Shit" instead. This is also the phrase that I hear the most throughout the day.

This morning I finally convinced Brigitte to start going on walks with me. We both came downstairs wearing all black and Owen the Dog was coming along also (a black dog) so I told Brigitte we were the 3 ninjas. Unfortunately, I am sure she hasn't seen the actual "3 Ninjas" movie with Tum Tum and the gang. Either way, the week before, we had dubbed Philippe "The Last Samurai of St Michel," so together we sound pretty badass. Now, Brigitte isn't a big woman but she also isn't in much shape.  In a little over an hour of walking, she swore up a storm and the only words we spoke were "Oh Putain." We made it to the end though and she is willing to give it another go with me so that's good. I need all the exercise I can get out here!

Then, this GD hornet has been haunting me for days now and it only shows up when I'm in the shower and helpless. I never see the damn thing until I see it crawling into my running shorts or shirt. I hate bees/hornets and anything that can sting so I am too scared to do anything about it and I don't want bee guts in my clothes so I justs keep leaving him to his business. I leave the window open all night, but alas, when it's shower time, he shows his ugly face. "Oh Putain!!!" I HATE bees.

My last big "Oh Putain" of the day was at dinner tonight. Brigitte always tells me I have to finish things, so I usually attempt to if I can and she really pushes it if she knows I ran that day. She doesn't seem to understand what I am trying to do by running. I certainly would rather be sitting on my ass or napping. So at dinner, Brigitte fried up some fries, which I thought was bad enough. As I was finishing them off, she asks me if I have ever had anything like this before. Considering I had only had salad, fries and some cured ham so far, I thought she was referring to the ham (they butchered, salted and hung the pig themselves). And I tell her that the pig isn't too common, but you can get it and that I haven't had dressing like that before but fries are EVERYWHERE in the US. Her next question is..."OH, they fry french fries in duck fat in the US?" "Oh Putain!!" I should have known by now...not only were the fries fried, but they were fried in duck fat. They were so good, I could have guessed. BALLS! I am starting to wonder if Brigitte just wants me to fit the stereotype of the fat American. If she comes at me with a fanny pack, consider me on the next train outta here!

Where Would I Be Without St Michel?

First things first...I found a very important article that you should read. ESPECIALLY if you are at work right now and not wanting to work. Thank me later, here you go...http://www.forkparty.com/scenarios-that-would-be-awesome-to-drive-the-batmobile-to/

It feels SO GOOD to be back home to St Michel. I love me some adventures, but it's hard to beat it here. Andrew and Philippe had just finished re-building this super old wall the day before I got home, so I was just in time to celebrate. Earlier that morning Andrew had whispered to me that they randomly found some fancy bottle of pink champagne and that they decided it was for the wall. Around lunch time (when all the important things happen), we gather by the wall and start popping champagne like it was New Years. Our English friend Simon stopped by and the neighbor David also. We had a nice little gang going on for it being noon and all on a Monday. I kept my cool with the drinking though since I had to manage to drive to the boulangerie and to take Andrew and I on an adventure to some caves later that day. Andrew got to keep chuggin' down the wine though, so I got to pull another "Driving Miss Daisy" and haul his ass around. We arrived at the Grotte de Tourtoirac and had to wait for a lame French group to join us (this means not much explanation in English). Once we took the elevator down though, I didn't give a shit what language our guide was talking in, I was too busy being in awe of this ridiculous cave I was in. I felt like I was in a deleted scene from "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

The stalagmites and tites looked like marshmallows and shiny candy. I told Andrew to hold me back if I got excited and tried to lick anything. I figured I should prepare him. And of course there were no pictures allowed but the French bitch in front of me kept snapping shots, so I decided to use her as my shield while I took my own photos. It was so crazy to go from daylight in a little building on land, to taking an elevator underground into the dark to these outrageous caves. I was a total nerd and loved it. That was about the extent of that day, besides dinner of course (always good), since I had to be up at 4am to take Andrew to his train.

Bordeaux Part Deux

Arcachon

This trip to Bordeaux involved much more relaxing and much less walking. I am uploading some awesome beach and dune pictures as I type! I have never been out to gigantic dunes like the ones we went to on the west coast here. The climb was just about straight up and with how much you sunk each step, it was like you climbed this thing at least twice. I don't think anything has ever exhausted me so much and so fast. And then it's so easy to go down hill, you just slide, but then at the bottom you realize that you have to go right back up it to get back, ugh. The views were awesome though and worth all of the hiking. We didn't stay too long since it was getting a bit windy, so we stopped by a little seaside town called Arcachon. It was just as beautiful as this picture looks. It is definitely a rich little area and there were lots of old people with fancy little dogs. There were younger people too and lots of boats out, but there were for sure lots of retirees hanging around. I was absolutely freezing as it got later and was not prepared with the correct clothes since it was way hotter the day before, stupid me. The ice cream looked way too good though and the guy selling it even spoke English so I HAD to get some. I was a complete ice cube by the time I was done but still happy with my choice. When we got back to Bordeaux everyone came back over to Jean's (where I was staying) and played Mario Kart until like 4am. I love me some Mario Kart but these guys were way too out of control about it. I think I chose to pass out around 1am and let them continue screaming in French while I heard Mario screaming in English a bit quieter in the background. Always a good way to fall asleep. The day before though was way warmer and most of the day was spent on the water in Bordeaux sipping wine with a fabulous gay man that I have invited to come live with me whenever he wants! If you see my pictures, he will be the one with the big captain hat and his apartment is the one we are at with the amazing views of the city. He is crazy and I love him and he made for a very entertaining visit. I will be sure to see him again soon! Other than that, my visit involved more wandering, eating and visiting with people. I haven't been able to practice my French too much though and every French person that meets me wants to try out their English. I am sucking so bad at learning French! I have my key phrases and then I get fast responses in French and have to apologize for being American and ask if they speak English, fail.

My Big Fat American Hangover

Me but in a bed.

Close enough

Sorry I've been gone, had to go back to Bordeaux, I have a rough life. Anyway, the day before I left was spent with Andrew cooking our American feast. Of course we couldn't find all of the right ingredients out here so everything was adjusted and the BBQ wasn't much of a BBQ so poor Andrew had to spend about an hour getting the shit started while I busted my ass in the kitchen. Again, the stereotypical man and woman duties were set into place. Anyway, after far too many hours of cooking and the surprise that we were cooking for 11, instead of less like we thought, our meal turned out fabulous. How could it not though...? I was the one in the kitchen. For the first course I made some west coast style crab cakes and I also candied some bacon (it's not American without bacon). Then Andrew brought out his famous coleslaw and after that I got my roasted garlic mashed potatoes with Andrew's BBQ chicken and homemade BBQ sauce. Lastly, was of course, an American apple pie for dessert. The Irish couple also brought a "cheesecake" which was really some sort of awesome dessert with LOTS of Baileys in it. Now after cooking all day and preparing everything, you bet we were ready for some hardcore drinking. Every time I looked away, I came back to a full glass of wine. I'm no waster, so I just kept drinking and then we managed to find bourbon at the store so we busted that out at the end. Andrew and I finished whatever everyone couldn't, which was a very bad decision on my part. As I am about to pass out in my "cheesecake," I keep getting nudged to wake up to either drink more wine or more bourbon. And we got treated like monkeys at the end and were expected to show some sort of talent. The Chinese girl pulled out some typical awesome piano skills and Andrew was able to play along a little bit. This left me with zero entertainment skills..."Luckily," I know Philippe's love for Michael Jackson, so I threw that on and attempted the moon walk, pulled Philippe up with me, managed to make even him blush, so I sat my ass back done and went back to drinking. I didn't think it was possible to make Philippe blush, but I can do anything and so I did. I know it's rude and I was the chef and all but I definitely snuck off to be around 1am and passed out with shoes and everything on. It wasn't until about middle of the night that I realized I was highly uncomfortable and should take off my chucks and jeans and get something more suitable for sleeping on. That day I was also informed that I could go to Bordeaux for a few days and hadn't packed yet and didn't know what time I had to leave. Waking up was awesome, I had the spins, stabbing pains through my stomach and just felt like pure shit. I made it downstairs by 10am and with Philippe and Brigitte still asleep, I headed right back up to bed. Then, I was woken up around 11 and told I had an hour, which seems like a lot, but not when you want to hurl the entire time. I managed to throw a bunch of crap together and head off to the train. Oy vey! It was definitely a rough night and rough morning, but it was worth it.