Stranger In A Strange Land

Canal Street, NYC

2011-03-05T23:27:00.001+01:00

Canal Street, NYC a photo by NoellieBellie on Flickr.

Stand Up Comedy

2010-11-22T23:51:00.000+01:00

If you haven't already figured this out, I am a person who likes to challenge myself with new things and put myself in strange situations that normal people would avoid at all costs. I also like to laugh and, more importantly, make other people laugh.

So after seeing a couple of friends perform at amateur stand up comedy shows, I thought I should give it a try. I mean, why not? I have plenty of material to work from (ie - my day to day life) and at the very least, this would give me future material to write about.

I figured it could be a 2011 project, something new to try in the new year. So I announced it on Facebook at Twitter, you know, to make my friends hold me to it. And within 24 hours my friend Clinton (whose show a week ago inspired this insanity) had emailed me with information about the school he went to.

But rather than starting in the new year, it started tonight. Well I figured there's no time like the present, right? Why wait until 2011 to pursue some form of insanity and self-abuse that you can start right now? So I signed up. Did it as an early birthday present for myself.

On Friday night I received an email welcoming me to the class and telling me to prepare two minutes of material. TWO MINUTES?!?! Even I, someone who is used to speaking in public and generally making a fool of myself, knows this is a long time. And what to write about? Sure, I have lots of stories to tell, but that's not the same as getting up and telling jokes.

So I went with what I know. And what I know is funny. My husband. And you know what? It went pretty well. I was one of the first ones up - I like to volunteer early to get things over with and also to avoid any possibility of following someone amazing - and while it was certainly nerve-wracking, it was also a heck of a lot of fun. People laughed, and I got some tips on how to make them laugh more next time. The people in the class are all ages, from all over the place, and all hilarious in their own way. And I found myself immediately thinking of new jokes, new angles, new stuff to try. What can I say. I'm hooked.

Anyway, how is it possible NOT to get hooked when you're taking classes in a building filled with studios of people dancing, singing, rehearsing, and writing, all just off the Great White Way and around the corner from the Letterman Show. File this one under "yet another reason I love New York."

Shred Violin, or Why I Love New York

2010-11-16T07:50:00.000+01:00

On Saturday night I somehow tore myself away from Call of Duty: Black Ops to join a handful of my fellow IESE classmates for a killer dinner at BonChon Chicken near Koreatown. If you haven't tried it and you like fried chicken, I highly recommend it - just don't get the spicy version if you don't want to have chapped lips for the next three days.

As we were getting out of the subway at 34th Street to meet our friends, I heard the most astounding noise, which I then realized was a dude with an electric violin. And as we got closer, it became apparent that not only was he totally shredding, he was playing Michael Jackson's Smooth Criminal. AND MOONWALKING.

Once I snapped out of my openmouthed stupor, I managed to capture the end of his performance on my iPod. A little YouTube search revealed that Michael Shulman, Shred Violinist, is quite prolific. Here he is, for example, shredding some Depeche Mode and Guns N Roses.

Earth to Noelle....

2010-10-06T00:32:00.000+02:00

Apologies for the extended blogging delay. When I started this blog, it was all about my experience at IESE Business School and living in Barcelona. Then I finished school and it was still about living in Barcelona and a bit about IESE since Frenchy was still studying there. Then we moved to France and it was about being an American in France, but I had less and less to say because more and more of my time was consumed by work, and work is one of the areas I just won't write about.

Then we moved back to New York, my old stomping grounds, and sure I have loads of funny stories to tell about day-to-day life here married to a crazy Frenchman... but still, most of what I share online these days is about videos or photos I come across that are worth sharing, or about our pup Ellie, or about weird conversations I have with Quentin.

I haven't even written properly about our wedding. Or the process of buying our first home. Or our trips to Turkey, Venezuela, and Tahoe. There just hasn't been enough time.

But truth be told, I miss it. And even more importantly, I still do it. So that's what this post is all about. To tell you where to find me even when I'm not regularly updating the blog. Exciting, isn't it? So here we go:

You can follow my random 140-character musings on Twitter. And check out my photos on Flickr. You can check out my microblog on Tumblr. And if you want to work with me (and really, who wouldn't?), you might want to first look me up on LinkedIn. Need a simpler place to see everything at once? Hop over to my Flavors.me page, where it's all in a tidy package.

And don't be a stranger! Drop me a line.

Mini NYC!

2010-03-04T22:05:00.000+01:00

Absolutely gorgeous tilt-shift timelapse videography. I would love to see a collection of these from various cities!

The Sandpit from Sam O'Hare on Vimeo.

Snow Day!

2010-02-10T15:02:00.001+01:00

Working from home today as a major blizzard hits NYC, and after 7 hours sitting at my laptop in my underpants at the kitchen table, I decided it was time to get some fresh, snowy air. Not in my underpants...

This. Is. Awesome.

2010-02-07T02:51:00.002+01:00

My friend Lauren showed me this yesterday, and I think I've now watched it six or seven times. Can't jam with your friends because they're all in different countries? No problem. Some webcams can do the trick.

I need to remember this when Frenchy and I are sad about our band being spread all over the globe.

Super Husband

2010-02-04T23:05:00.002+01:00

Over the past several months, I've slowly indoctrinated Frenchy into the ways of American football. Or, as we call it, football. And I'm impressed by how he has taken to it. He even commented, after one game, "Soccer players are such pussies. They barely get touched and they roll around on the ground. Football players get hit like crazy and just bounce up and keep going."

He also impressed me by cooking dinner one Sunday evening while I sat on the couch drinking a beer and watching the Chargers.

But I digress.

The Super Bowl is this Sunday (OBViously) and, while I'm very disappointed my Chargers got knocked out of the playoffs weeks ago, I will still watch the big game of course. And Frenchy is getting more and more excited about it as well. As evidenced by the email he sent to an IESE friend of ours, who invited us to his place to watch the game:

Hi Sam,

We are very excited to join you for the super ballon! This will be my very first super ballon in the US so I hope that you are ready to cope with my excitement...

Please let us know all the logistic details (where, when, what kind of beer you like, your favorite pizzas...)

Looking forward to it. yeah!
Q.

*Sigh* My husband is the awesomest.

The Truth of News

2010-01-29T16:18:00.003+01:00

Back when I was in film school, I did a couple of internships in local news in San Diego. Funny for a film major, I know, but San Diego isn't LA and those were my options if I wanted to be home for the summer.

I learned a lot those two summers. I learned that production and and news crews are pretty fun, the news floor is simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting, and that I never wanted to work in news. Ever. To this day, I can't watch a reporter or news anchor without feeling a slight queasiness. That weird, unnatural way of talking. Those strange hand gestures. The awful, shellacked hair... for both men and women. And, above all, their ability to appear sad or serious while reporting something heartbreaking or devastating and then turn around once the clip starts rolling and joke with the crew or other news casters.

In other words:

The Gayest Star Wars You'll Ever See

2010-01-15T03:18:00.003+01:00

And surprise! It's French!

Before we get down to the nitty gritty, a few important questions. Why is C3PO the main character? Who on earth "choreographed" this crap? And why didn't they use that snazzy bridge in the real movie soundtrack?

To quote Frenchy: "What. Was. ZAT?!"

New Year, New Resolutions, New Miscommunications

2010-01-05T19:53:00.001+01:00

So here we are in 2010. Hooray! I didn't get to write as much as I'd have liked in 2009 and frankly, it bothers me. Eventually I'll get around to writing up all the funny things that happened, as promised, if only so I remember them for the grandkids.

Anyway, I made many new years' resolutions for this year, as usual, and among them were to get back into the blogging saddle and write regularly again. I have missed it, and apparently some of you random strangers have too. Others haven't at all because they read my Facebook status updates or Tweets and feel like they hear more than enough from me. But enough about me and my resolutions. (If you really want to know about them, I suppose I can always write about that later, too.) The point of all of this is that the new year has already brought some fabulous little tales. Most of which, if they hadn't happened to me personally, I wouldn't believe.

Today, for example, I got the following message on my Facebook page from my friend Christele in Paris: "Hi Noelle, received a text from you yesterday... Tu me demandais l'addition... ** Was kind of funny, in a 4th- dimension-y way, as it came out of nowhere, in the bleak midwinter..."

** You asked me for the check.

Naturally, my first response was to freak out and prepare to call AT&T and demand to know why my phone is sending out international text messages. Stranger things have happened in my time with AT&T mobile. Instead, I wrote the following response: "WHAT?! Are you serious? From which number? I definitely didn't send you any texts..."

And Christele responded: "Bizarre... It read "La addition je vous ple?". Thought it was a private joke, sent to me by mistake. The sender's number ended by 0587. Could it be a number u used in La Jolla? I did save it under your name. Then, it might have been your dad's answer to my happy 2010 SMS :-))"

I should have known. My father only knows how to say one thing in French - how to ask for the check at a restaurant. I've told him for years that he should stop volunteering that phrase or he'll end up picking up checks for other people all over the place. But clearly some habits are hard to break.

I guess I had used my dad's phone to call Christele at some point during the week of our wedding, and she saved his number as mine. She then included his number when she sent out a mass "Bonne annee!" text to all her friends as the clock struck midnight in Paris. And my father didn't do as most people probably would, ignoring the message or writing back "WHO IS THIS?!?!?!"

Nope, my dad asks for the check!

But first...

2009-11-18T20:26:00.005+01:00

Over the three months that Frenchy has now lived in the US, I've tried to be a good guide to Americana. Which is why, many mornings, I turn on the Today show while we are getting ready for work. (Also because it's the best way to do your ab workout - you can do LOTS of crunches before you even realize it because you're so engrossed in a story about a woman was attacked by a chimp or the fact that Sammy Sosa is turning white.)

But I generally leave the house by 8am, so I don't get to watch most of the Today show. So I didn't actually see this particular clip live. And that's why I say THANK GOODNESS FOR THE INTERNET.

And now, time for a poll!

2009-11-12T22:20:00.002+01:00

It has been over three months since I have updated the blog. That is not good blogging practice. I've received emails, facebook messages, and blog comments asking when I'll get rolling again. And as each day passes, I only feel worse about it and there is just more to write about... more I haven't written about.

It's a horrible feeling. And knowing how much there is to write, it has become a daunting task. So I decided to help myself out a little. This is an interactive environment, after all. So why should I have all the say in what goes on here? I mean just because this blog is about my (weird) life doesn't mean I should be queen of the world.

So I'm opening this up to a poll. I will, hopefully, eventually get around to writing about everything below, along with everything that comes up on a daily (and sometimes minutely) basis. But I need help deciding where to start. Won't you help a girl out? Vote on which of the following you're most BURNING to read about, and I'll get started on that first. Okay? Here we go! Can't wait to see your responses!

A. Ryan and Cristina's fabulous wedding in Alicante, Spain.
B. Our fabulous wedding in San Diego.
C. Confusion over international variations of "Rock, Paper, Scissors"
D. The wedding dress I bought on Craigslist and (and the tux Frenchy got for 50 bucks) and the crazy day we spent taking photos.
E. A Hawaiian Honeymoon
F. Bedbugs
G. Ian & Ceylan's fabulous wedding in Istanbul
H. Our pre-Istanbul adventure in Cappadocia
I. "This Is It"
J. My colleague's dog Waffle, with whom I've fallen hopelessly in love.
K. The fact that I have (again) signed up for the Paris marathon in April... and the fact that having just written that makes it much more official
L. Why you shouldn't dry your socks in the microwave
M. Anything I might have forgotten that you think is more interesting than the above. (Suggestions welcome!)

POLLS NOW OPEN!

I am a horrible person

2009-08-03T21:14:00.000+02:00

And I am, really. Because the last post on this blog is over a month ago, and I have so many things to share. I'm mostly horrible because I know that in a year's time or more I'll look back on this and be annoyed with myself that I didn't write it all down. I mean, hopefully you only plan a wedding once in your life!

But not only have I been planning a wedding, I've been doing far too many other things, like helping launch a company, living far away from Frenchy, dealing with green cards and shoulder surgery (for him) and wedding dresses and apartment setup (for me). It hasn't been easy, but I still find myself frustrated that I couldn't set aside just a few minutes each day to write down what has happened.

Maybe that's because each day is too full of stuff to write. Well I do plan to go back and jot it all down. It would be a disservice to myself not to, since most of it is so ridiculous and hilarious, I know I'll laugh about it later. For now, anyway, a few of the things that have happened in the past 3 months since I relocated to New York, in no particular order:

21 flights, 1 cancelled, 1 missed connection, 1 near missed connection, 5 more to go
34 trips to the airport
3 dress fittings
4 flights carrying a wedding dress and suit (best way to travel)
1 cake tasting
1 wedding (not ours)
4 countries
4 US states
1 bed delivered
0 sofas delivered
1 sofa needed
3+ months away from Frenchy
4 trips to Paris
1 mom's birthday
2 lobster burritos
2 trips to florist
1 bionic shoulder (for Frenchy)
2 haircuts
400 invitations sent
1 castle visited
1 refrigerator not stocked
1 cavity filled (boo)
36 rice cakes eaten
23 boxes opened
14 boxes still to open
1 move from Paris to New York
1 flight delayed due to vomit (not mine)
1 airport commotion due to large woman fainting
1 elevator out of service from 10pm to 7am (not good when you get home at 10:05 and live on the 8th floor)
746 flights climbed
1 wedding planned... almost

How NOT to spend a Friday evening

2009-06-27T02:09:00.003+02:00

I haven't been home in nearly two years (since Frenchy made his first visit there, in August 2007) and I haven't been there at the same time as my parents AND my sister in over three years. Shocking but true.

So I've been pretty psyched about the prospect of a weekend at home in the sunshine with my parents and Nicole, and also to get some much-needed wedding planning in. So tonight I went to the airport in order to take a 7:30 flight to San Diego. I left at 5pm, sat in traffic for an hour and a half, and barely made it to JFK by 6:30, in time for check in.

But I shouldn't have worried. By the time I got there, the flight had already been delayed to 8:30. And then, within a few minutes, to 9pm. So I settled in for a long wait - a supposed severe thunderstorm hadn't even shown up yet - and decided to treat myself to a beer. A big beer.
And the next time I checked the departures screen, my flight was leaving at 10pm. So I signed up for an hour's worth of wifi, and did my best to entertain myself. The next announcement I heard told us that our plane had landed finally and was just waiting for the gate to open up and the passengers to unload.

The minutes ticked by. People got more and more annoyed. And another announcement told us our gate had changed. So we all packed up and rushed across the airport terminal. Only to learn that the plane hadn't landed at all, and was still circling over JFK. I felt sorry for the people on the plane... they'd been on a 7-hour trip from Chicago, complete with an unplanned stop in Virginia. At least I was in airport with beer and wifi.

Except that the restaurants and newsstands had all closed. And my wifi connection was no good at the other end of the terminal.

When our flight was delayed until 11:15pm I started to think the worst. You see, San Diego airport has a noise curfew, and thus planes can't land after 2am. Planes that are already en route can, but not planes that haven't even taken off in time to arrive. The thunderstorm had long come and gone and, admittedly, it was impressive. Dozens of flights had been cancelled. And yet we were delayed again, until 12:15am, with a scheduled touchdown in San Diego at 3am.

And around that time, the pilot announced that the flight would be cancelled because the crew would have been on the clock for over 24 hours by the time we'd land. Whoops, time to run again. This time to the Delta ticketing counter, where we were unfortunately the last mob of people to have had a flight cancelled. Meaning nothing was left.

I have an 8am appointment at our wedding location and a 10am dentist appointment. Not to mention a cake appointment, plans to see two bands, and of course the whole hanging out with the family thing. And MEXICAN FOOD! I want Mexican food!

Ugh. So I waited in line, sat on hold on the phone, no luck. Nothing that would've gotten me to San Diego for longer than 24 hours. And as crazy as I might be, I'm not THAT crazy. Fortunately, that's when my dad stepped in. My dad of a gazillion frequent flier miles. Next thing you know, I have a flight at 6am out of Laguardia, stopping in Chicago, getting me to San Diego by 11:30 in the morning. And with upgrades to first class, no less!

And nearly nine hours after leaving my apartment, here I am again. And I'll sleep 2 hours and then try again. Fingers crossed this time...

Say say say it ain't so, Michael

2009-06-25T23:37:00.001+02:00

I honestly don't even know what to write. I'm so sad.

Michael Jackson was not only one of my all-time favorite performers, musicians, singers, dancers, all-around badasses, but also one of the favorite things that Quentin and I shared. The number of hours we spent watching MJ videos on youtube is shocking. And the number of times we've listened to Michael's songs borders on obsessive.

I've moonwalked in every country I've ever been to. And Quentin can even do the sideways moonwalk. One afternoon I mentioned to him how I wished I could do that move, and he looked it up on youtube and mastered it in moments. He showed off his new moves nonchalantly in the Calatrava lobby as we waited for the elevators that evening. To say my jaw dropped would be a ridiculous understatement.

And of course, just last December, I celebrated my birthday in Paris with a Madonna-Michael Jackson party. Their 50th, my 30th. Thank goodness I did it then, because this year it would be in rather poor taste...

This very afternoon, I was on a quick video skype chat with Quentin, who had finally managed to purchase THE white suit for our wedding, and he was so enthused over it he couldn't help but do a few tried and true favorite MJ moves to the delight of my work colleagues.

And as Quentin and I have tried to decide on our wedding song, we've been debating between Michael and Stevie. Because, while we love them both, our whole incredible relationship started because one night back in February 2007, he dragged me from one room of Otto Zutz to another because Billy Jean was playing. And we had dancing to do. And kissing.

So... thanks Michael. Your music always lifts me up and makes me dance. And I credit you alone with the fact that Frenchy and I couldn't help but must a move together that night in Barcelona. I've been walking on the moon ever since. Rest in Peace, Michael!

Sideways moonwalk at 0:23, 1:23, 2:15, 2;29 3:52, and 5:17.

How NOT to start your day

2009-06-24T22:08:00.003+02:00

My doctor ordered some routine bloodwork on Monday afternoon and said I could stop by the lab anytime from 8-5, Monday through Friday. Considering I have to be at work by 8:30 and that I couldn't eat before having the blood drawn, I thought it would be a good idea to go there at 8am to get it over and done with and be able to get on with my day.

So I left my apartment extra early, jumped on the train, and headed for West 14th Street. I arrived at 8:05 and of course the waiting room was already full. Wouldn't you know. So I put my name on the list and took a seat. I think I was 7th or 8th on the list, but people with appointments take precedence, so getting there early wasn't really THAT much help. Particularly since I happened to go there the morning that only one person was working.

I've been to this place before. It's usually pretty quick - two little stations and two nurses - but just my luck, this morning with only one nurse there, it was S-L-O-W. Not anyone's fault, just unlucky that nurse number two happened to be trapped on a subway somewhere. Fortunately I had already alerted all my colleagues to the fact that I might be a few minutes late, but as the clock ticked toward 9am, I really started to worry about the time.

And that's also when I realized that, in my rush to get to the clinic this morning, I'd left the iron on in my apartment. In Brooklyn.

Now each minute that passed felt like three as I imagined burning the whole building down. I sent an email to one of my colleagues explaining the situation because not only would I certainly be late, I also would have to go back home to unplug the alarm before coming back to the office, but on top of that we had a presentation for a pitch to prepare. My timing is awesome.

Meanwhile, there was a Puerto Rican woman with two kids, a boy and a girl, in the waiting room as well. And it was clear that these kids hadn't ever had blood drawn before and were very nervous about it. But instead of telling them things like "It'll be ok" or "don't worry," she was saying things like, "Don't be a baby" and "You better not start crying," in a mix of Spanish and English. The poor kids were getting more nervous by the minute, saying they wished it was already tomorrow so the whole needle thing would be over. I understand. I wanted it to be tomorrow too, so that the whole DAY would already be over.

Finally it was their turn, and they had a drawn-out spat over who would go first. Somehow it ended up being the boy, who we could hear whimpering from the cubicle as the nurse tied the rubber band around his arm. The wimpering turned into full-fledged moaning and sobbing, and then once the pin prick had happened, we could hear the nurse say, "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" To which he responded, "YES IT'S BAD IT'S HORRIBLE I'M GOING TO DIE I'M GOING TO DIE I'M GOING TO DIEEEEEEE!!!!"

Which is about when the girl reappeared in the waiting area, crying and hoping no one would notice she was hiding in the corner so she could escape the whole ordeal. Instead, her mom and the nurse came for her next and she started crying and screaming and saying she didn't want to do it. We were all waiting, everyone late for work, and so finally the nurse gave up and said she'd take the next patient. Thank goodness. And amazingly, nurse #2 finally appeared at exactly the same time.

The next patient was, mercifully, yours truly. And as I waited at the counter for my paperwork to be processed, I asked the little girl if she wanted to come with me while I had my blood drawn to see how easy it would be. She tearfully declined, saying "You're older than me, so of course it hurts you less!"

So of course I was in and out in about 90 seconds (why do you always have to wait SO LONG for things that are SO QUICK when it's finally your turn???) and nurse number one was trying to convince the little girl to get it over with. Finally she said, "Okay well I've tried to do this the nice way but we're going to have to do it the not-so-nice way, since your doctor said you have to have this done!" Since I was passing by on my way out, I somehow got wrangled into a child wrestling session. She was so adamantly opposed to the whole needle thing that it took four of us two hold her down. She sat on her mom's lap, the first nurse getting the needle ready, the second nurse doing I'm not sure what now that I think about it, and me holding her non-needle arm and trying to convince her to talk to me rather than looking at what the nurse was about to do.

But she insisted, and screamed and writhed right up until the second the needle went in, at which point she calmly said, "Wow." AND THEN STARTED LAUGHING.

I mean really. I waited an additional 30 minutes for that?!

Anyway everyone was really grateful for "that nice lady's assistance," and then I was off on my merry way. To race back to the subway, back to Brooklyn, back up to my apartment, unplug the iron (which hadn't set anything on fire and actually had an auto-off feature, but I wasn't sure), and then BACK into the subway to get back to the office.

If you don't want to suffer from high blood pressure, I recommend you start your morning in an alternative fashion. Frenchy just read this post and asked via skype, "How to finish your day?" To which I replied, not purposely, just magically at the right moment:

Long Distance Wedding Planning

2009-06-24T04:06:00.004+02:00

You know what's totally awesome? Finding the love of your life, your perfect companion. You know what else is awesome? Planning your rad beach wedding with said perfect companion.

Not so awesome? When you're in New York, Perfect Companion is in Paris, and the wedding is in San Diego. Talk about complicated! Thank goodness for parents! Mine have been so helpful in organizing our wedding while we're spread all around the globe.

It's been particularly tough since I've moved back to New York, because Frenchy and I are doing our planning via phone and skype, which is something most couples get to enjoy doing together. Like, in the same physical location. But we are making the most of it, doing the best we can, enjoying the time we do get to spend together (two weekends so far since I left Paris, every three weeks), and also utilizing the latest in mobile and computing technology.

For instance, this morning, I received the following poem via email:
I love you
C'est tout
Juste un petit poème
Pour te dire que je t aime

And why, on Saturday morning, I woke up to a couple of incredible emailed images on my iPhone, like this
And this

He's pretty foxy, huh?

Well, unfortunately, his white wedding suit dreams were dashed yesterday evening, when he received a call from the shop salesman informing him that no, he could not buy pants that are a different suit size from the jacket. You see, Frenchy is rather well-endowed, according to Calvin Klein standards. In the rear.

Which is why, later this afternoon I received the following beautiful poem via email, entitled "Wedding Suit Research Conclusion":

My big butt
Screwed me up
What the f*ck
That sucks

The Little Things

2009-06-23T21:38:00.000+02:00

Of course there are big things that make me happy, just like anyone, but sometimes it's those little things that make all the difference.

I've been back to New York for nearly two months, living and working, and while all of that has been great, it's also been a little ... complicated. I'm not talking about the fact that Frenchy and I area separated by an ocean, though that can be complicated too. I'm talking about the fact that I leave my apartment by 7:45 every morning and rarely return before 9pm. And, in my particular building, while there is a doorman and a super, if you want something delivered you actually have to be there to receive it. And if it's a piece of furniture, that requires the freight elevator, which can't be used for big stuff on the weekend.

I think you can guess where this is going. As I write this right now, in fact, I'm sitting on my "couch," which is actually a folded up moving blanket left behind by the guys who brought the stuff from my storage space, a pillow against the wall, and arm rests made up of boxes of CDs. The most comfortable couch, it is not. But it works. And until my better half arrives from France and can wait for a delivery while I'm at work, it'll have to do.

What HASN'T worked so well is the lack of coffee in the apartment. And so on Sunday afternoon, when I was at Target and saw a little Bialetti Moka coffeemaker like we have in Paris, I knew I had to have it. Because, you see, there also isn't really any counter space for a proper coffee machine in our "kitchen." Which, in typical New York City style is actually just a wall on the other side of the living room.

Sunday night as I was talking to Frenchy via skype, I showed off my new purchase. I was beyond excited about the prospect of having a cup of coffee before leaving the apartment on this Monday morning, and Frenchy said, "Oh, so I don't have to pack our coffemaker in Paris! Great!" Then he paused, and said, "Maybe you should go back and buy a second one."

Anyway, I would be lying if I said that the coffee I had this morning before work wasn't one of the best I've ever had.

Best Barcelona Haircut - L'Adresse

2009-06-11T02:36:00.000+02:00

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you may know that I had a rather disastrous hair experience in Barcelona during the first year of my MBA.

Interestingly enough, I wasn't the only one. In fact I had several conversations with other expats in BCN who'd run into hair catastrophes. Finally one of them told me about a French guy she'd found at a salon aptly named Le Salon, who had given her not just a normal haircut, but a GREAT haircut. And as such my love for Damien was born. Unfortunately, he vanished from my radar during my summer in Bucharest and during my second year I was again adrift in the cruel waters that are the Barcelona haircutting culture. (Anyone who has been to Barcelona knows that the favorite hairstyle is the mullet.)

But, magically, I found him again! He fortunately had my mobile number on file and so when he opened his very own salon and sent out a text message announcement, I realized who it was and called him immediately. His space, L'Adresse, has been open for about two and a half years now, and it's gorgeous. Fabulous decor, great music, a tea selection he brings back from his monthly trips to New York, and awesome cookies. Oh yeah, and did I mention he gives fantastic haircuts and does amazing color? Men, women, kids, he does a great job with everyone. So much so that people (including me) actually fly to Barcelona specifically to see him!

So, whether you're someone who reads this blog regularly, or a random who has happened upon it because you googled "haircut Barcelona," I recommend you give him a call. Oh, and he speaks Spanish, English, French, and some Catalan. So never fear, your hair is safe with Damien!

L'Adresse
C/ Córsega, 204 principal 3ª
Barcelona 08036
+34 934 100 329

Vote for my Blog!

2009-06-05T22:50:00.002+02:00

Hi everyone!

The kind folks at Lexiophiles and bab.la have nominated my blog as one of "the hottest blogs about International Exchange and Experience from all around the world, submitted by Lexiophiles readers and bab.la users." Which is really nice of them.

And you know what would be really nice of YOU? If you'd click on the little thingy below to vote for me! My blog shows up toward the bottom of the list, Stranger in a Strange Land of course! Thanks for your love and support!

Overheard on the Subway

2009-05-27T23:19:00.001+02:00

The New York City subway has it's pluses and minuses. Pluses: it has heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer. Usually. And most lines run all night. Normally. But it can also be cramped and crowded just like subways anywhere.

But one of the best things about the subway is the random conversations you overhear.

For example, last night on my way home on the Q train from Chinatown, I happened to sit next to an Asian-American couple. Well, they weren't a couple, they were just a guy and a girl. And they started talking about a friend of theirs, who is apparently very wealthy but never wants to spend any money. And from there, it went like this:

Girl: Maybe it's a religious thing.
Guy: Well that doesn't even make sense. I mean, that RELIGION doesn't make sense. All religions make sense except for that one. Even Greek mythology makes sense! Like, it all comes from nature! Zeus created all the other gods out of the different elements
Girl: But where did Zeus come from?
Guy: He came from the elements too! And then he made the others.
(A pause.)
Girl: What about Ethan?
Guy: Huh?
Girl: You know, the name Ethan. What do you think of it? I was just thinking about baby names...
Guy: Why are you thinking about THAT???
Girl: I don't know. I guess... you're a guy, you wouldn't understand.
Guy: Well anyway Ethan is a guy with skinny pencil jeans and unwashed hair. Really scummy. Like Ethan Hawke! Have you ever seen him in person?
Girl: No....
Guy: Well he looks like a bum.

Parisian Spring Weekend

2009-05-25T09:55:00.002+02:00

I love Paris in the springtime. Hey, that's catchy. Someone should write a song about it!

So I'm back in Paris for four days with my Frenchy, who had shoulder surgery nearly two weeks ago. Being away from him during this time has been difficult for both of us, but it makes this long weekend together even better. And the amazing weather doesn't hurt either. We've strolled through the Marais, had dinners and brunches with friends and family, eaten ice cream, taken pictures, and eaten plenty of baguettes and croissants. (And wine and cheese.)

I woke up this morning with very mixed feelings about going back to New York tonight. One very obvious reason - Frenchy won't be coming with me (but hopefully soon!) But this is also the first summer I won't spend in Europe in nearly four years. Actually, it's my first summer away from Barcelona in years, and with this gorgeous weather, I feel like I should be packing up my beach towels and jumping on the scooter and heading to Barceloneta....

Add to that the fact that next weekend is our IESE class reunion (for both my class and Frenchy's) in Barcelona AND Frenchy's birthday, and being too far away to jump on a weekend flight leaves me feeling strangely claustrophobic. Claustrophobic in New York. I never thought the day would come...

However, one of the great things about New York is that friends pass through town all the time. So even though I'm now quite a bit farther away from most of my IESE friends, I'm much closer to all my old New York friends, and hey... IESE can come to me. And New York will seem a whole lot better again once Frenchy gets to town!

10 Years Ago Today

2009-05-15T04:42:00.002+02:00

Yesterday I was having a quick bite to eat at the Grey Dog with an old friend when a guy walked in wearing a purple cap and gown. A brand new NYU graduate with his parents at lunch. And it was at that moment that I realized I graduated from NYU Film myself ten years ago this week. Is that really possible? I tried to convince myself it's not, but... well it is. I finished college ten years ago.

In fairness to me, I graduated a year early, but still... geez. Time flies. It doesn't seem that long ago that we were all sitting in Washington Square Park for the massive graduation ceremony (the more intimate Tisch School of the Arts graduation was held the following day) shrouded in those purple outfits ourselves. Quincy Jones was one of the speakers. And I remember another woman accidentally said "NY Jew" instead of NYU during her speech... no idea who that was, but her slip up certainly stuck with me.

As did the couple of fim students who yelled "MILLENNIUM!!!" every time a speaker mentioned that we were the last graduating class of the millennium. Much to the chagrin of the prissy law students who, unluckily for them, were seated next to us. And what sticks with me most from that day? The obnoxious business school students who had written their graduating banker salaries on their caps in white tape. I despised them and swore I'd never be one of them.

And here I am, ten years later, a filmmaker with an MBA. MILLENNIUM!!!!

Truly a Stranger in a Strange Land

2009-05-11T22:33:00.000+02:00

I had to change the title of this blog when I moved to France last year because, well, while I'd gone to Barcelona, I clearly wasn't there anymore. So "Noelle Goes To Barcelona" wasn't gonna cut it anymore. And neither was "Noelle Goes To Paris." What if I moved again? And move I did, back to New York City, where I have definitely felt ... weird, at times.

On the second day back, I informed a woman in French that she'd left her headlights on as she was getting out of her car. She gave me a blank stare, which I returned, until I realized what had happened and repeated myself. This time in English.

It's so great to be back, and so easy and normal in so many ways, and yet also so bizarre. So much is the same as it was four years ago, and so much has changed - a lot of it as a result of the recession, frankly. Favorite shops and restaurants are closed, and nothing has sprung up in their place. And of course I'm living in a new neighborhood - Park Slope - in a new borough - Brooklyn - and so there's lots to learn and figure out. I certainly won't be bored while I wait for Frenchy to arrive.

But it has only been a week... and I'm sure the strangeness will eventually wear off. And it will be at or around that time that I'll probably be ready to seek out a new and strange destination!

Good Morning New York!

2009-05-04T11:35:00.002+02:00

Well it's 5:30am here in Brooklyn and I'm wide awake, and have been for an hour now. I love jetlag going west... going back east, not so much.

Last night I arrived just after 7pm at JFK, but I think we might have accidentally landed at Newark because after landing we drove for about an hour to our gate. Ahhh, New York.

Then we finally got off the plane and into immigration, where hundreds of mask-wearing Chinese travelers reminded me - yet again, in case I forgot! - that swine flu (or Mexican flu if you're French) is seriously freaking everybody out. After waiting a good 40 minutes for my suitcases (ufff, I haven't packed this heavily since I moved to Spain!) and then another 20 to get through customs, I was finally in a taxi headed for my friend's house in Brooklyn. Within 3 minutes I'd already been nearly thrown through the windshield, and for the rest of the ride the driver intermittently pressed and released the accelerator every 5 seconds. I almost hurled. Ahhh, New York.

And now the sun is starting to come up - well not really, because it's cloudy, but at least it's getting light out - and I guess I might as well get this party started. At 8:30 I meet my boss for breakfast and then the rest of the day will be a whirlwind of paperwork, new blackberries, new offices, new colleagues. But hey, at least it'll all be in English this time around!

At some point today or tomorrow hopefully I'll get keys to the apartment I'm renting which, incidentally, is unfurnished. And then I'll be camping because I won't have any furniture yet. But it's cool - always an adventure. At least I won't be bored this week. Okay, up and at 'em. Here we gooooo!

Farewell Paris (For Now)

2009-05-02T23:49:00.000+02:00

Tonight is my last night in Paris. Frenchy and I spent the morning working on our wedding invites (and when I say working, I mean working - this marriage stuff is a lot of work!) and then decided to go into St Germain and enjoy a day which wasn't nearly as nice as the day before, but still not bad. As far as Paris is concerned, if it's not raining, it's fantastic. And if the sun comes out, WOW.

Anyway we wandered around rue Moffetard and finally settled at a cafe. His friend arrived whom he hadn't seen in a while, and my colleague Manuel came by as well. Manuel and I have worked together since November 2007, when he was transferred from Lisbon to Barcelona. We went through the long-awaited move to Paris together as wel, and tomorrow we're both off to the US. Me to NYC, and Manuel to Miami to launch an office there. It'll be so weird not to see him next week...

Anyway one beer led to several and finally we decided it was time to head off to the 16th to watch the end of the Barcelona-Madrid match with some of the girls from my soccer team. We drove my scooter right through the heart of Paris, along the Seine, and up Avenue Kleiber, and I'm not exaggerating when I say I don't think Paris has ever looked more beautiful. The sky was clear and just starting to go dark at 9pm, the buildings were lit, the river was sparkling. Paris is certainly the most beautiful city in the world, and I will miss it.

Last weekend in Paris

2009-05-01T23:11:00.000+02:00

It's Friday night and I find myself packing again. It was a year ago this week that Frenchy was finishing his MBA at IESE and I was asked to move to Paris to join the global team of our fledgling sports and entertainment network. Of course, it took until October 1 to be fully set up here, after several months of back-and-forth between Barcelona and Paris, and plenty of anxiety over "when, how, where", etc etc etc.

And before even arriving in Paris I had already set up our next adventure - a move back to NYC to help launch another office there. And again, the waiting and wondering as our start date was pushed from December to January and then to March and to April, and finally to May.

In other words, Frenchy and I have been in a sort of transfer state for a year now, all along telling ourselves, "If we just make it through these next couple of months, we'll be fine." And again, we're telling ourselves exactly the same thing. Between now and September, I will move to New York while Frenchy will stay in Paris to work, Frenchy will have shoulder surgery, we will plan our wedding and get married in San Diego, we'll try to get a green card for Frenchy... All while living on different continents. If we can just make it through the next few months, everything will be fine...

Third Time's A Charm? Not in Paris!

2009-04-30T11:48:00.003+02:00

So yesterday was my last day at work in the Paris office because Friday is a holiday here in France (like basically every Friday during the month of May... why am I leaving again?) and today I'm taking my last ever RTT - you know, those extra free days off French people get in order to make the 35 hour work week a reality.

And as such, it was of course fitting that we have a few drinks after work. Some work people came by, some soccer girls came by, and some random friends came by. A nice little evening, all in all. And despite eating more than my fair share of croque monsieur, I think I also drank more than my fair share of red wine, so this morning when we decided to make one last attempt at getting me a carte de sejour (French working and residency permit) I can't say that I was incredibly excited about it.

But we went for it anyway. By 7:30 we were up and showering and by 8 we were making sure all the papers were in order and I realized that somehow one of my photos was missing. First stop, rush to Porte Maillot metro station to take more pictures. At or around this time, any slight impression of what could have been considered a hangover disappeared. The sun was out, the air was cool, and I had pictures to take! Raced back to the house, picked up a couple of chocolate croissants, and we were off to the metro.

The metro? Yep. Last night I left my scooter at work because it was raining cats and dogs and I had two laptops and three bottles of wine to bring home. Precious cargo to say the least and, while it made sense last night, this morning I was annoyed to have added an extra level of complication to the morning's activities.

Never mind, off we went to Line 2. I say "we" because this time Frenchy was kind enough to come with me. Partly out of solidarity perhaps, but mostly because this was to be my third attempt and he really wanted to see in person why I'd screwed up the last two times. We arrived by 8:45 and the line was long, but at least today it was sunny and pretty warm. The first time I attempted this, it was February and I had a plane to catch in the afternoon. It was just above freezing and I waited over an hour outside before giving up.

The second time was in late March. I waited outside for about an hour or so (I arrived earlier that time) and was impressed when my number was called within 30 minutes of getting inside. I had all the papers in order. Or so I thought.... turns out that what they told Frenchy wasn't the complete list. Along with all sorts of other documents, I also needed proof we'd been living together for at least six months. I asked if I could bring my rental contract, and the angry administration lady said yes, and I walked out of there, frustrated to the point of tears, to find my scooter covered in white plaster dust which had been blown from a building under construction.

So today we had EVERYTHING in order. And I had Frenchy. What could possibly go wrong? We waited outside for about an hour and a half, and he disappeared for a while to find a wifi connection in order to do some work. The we finally got inside the police station, where once again the numbers moved quickly. Finally it was our turn, so we went up to the desk and I told the woman I was there for the carte de sejour. She started asking for papers and I gleefully handed over each on in succession, feeling confident.

Then she asked for the proof we've lived together for six months, and I gave her the rental contract for the apartment. Which, she said, wasn't sufficient. She asked for our EDF Energy bill, and Frenchy gave it to her. It was from March. Also not sufficient. Because WE NEEDED EVERY SINGLE ENERGY BILL SINCE SIX MONTHS AGO!

I mean, really?

That's around when I almost burst into tears but instead started smiling strangely at her. She didn't smile back. In fact, quite the opposite. When Frenchy asked her very politely for more info so we wouldn't screw up next time, she snapped at him and then even called the next person before we were finished. My strange smile grew and I started to understand those postal workers who went on rampages ... A very good thing I didn't have any sort of weapon handy. Now I see why they make you go through the metal detector on the way in!

So once again, I walked out of the freaking Prefecture de Police in the 17th Arrondissement empty handed and dejected. It was only an hour later that I realized I should have puked on the woman. I mean it worked in Barcelona...

Abraham LinkedIn

2009-04-27T22:53:00.002+02:00

Tonight I was helping Frenchy order a computer (a Mac, of course) to be delivered to my apartment in the US. He asked for the address to which to send it and when I said "Lincoln" he typed into the form: l-i-n-k-e-n.

I looked over at what he was writing and said, "Ok sweetie. Seriously. If you want to get a greencard, you're going to need to know how to spell the name of one of the most important presidents of the United States." (I mean geez, we even get a holiday for the guy, or half of one anyway, which is basically unheard of.)

This was not the first time this has happened. So I explained again, gently of course, that it's not Abraham LinkedIn.

To which Frenchy immediately replied - "Yeah, he'd have like 20000 connections!"

Ça m´énerve!

2009-04-20T10:09:00.002+02:00

This morning at 7am as I was doing my situps with Frenchy in the living room (this is a new thing - doing them with Frenchy) this video came on NRJ. We never watch TV in the morning, but he had put it on, I guess to give him sit-up inspiration, and I must say that it started my day in just the right way.

For those of you who don´t speak French, "Ça m´énerve" means "It´s annoying" or "That annoys me" and the whole song is about annoying things that French people do. I love it. There really couldn´t have been a better way to start Monday... except to roll over and go back to sleep.

Fish France Funky

2009-04-17T00:13:00.001+02:00

This morning I rolled into the office in London and was sitting at my desk, working on something terribly important (God knows what) when Will nodded toward the TV, which was showing a news wrap-up, and said, “Good luck getting home tonight, eh? French fishermen are on strike. They’re blocking the channel.” Then he laughed cruelly. This is, among other terribly British reasons, why Will doesn't leave the country.

Of course, my first thought was, ‘Oh geez. Here we go.’ Followed immediately by, ‘hmm maybe I shouldn’t have left my Calatrava Norte key INSIDE Calatrava Norte, as I might be stuck in London tonight.’ And later, after some rationalization, ‘Um, if it’s fishermen blocking the channel, HOW ARE THEY BLOCKING THE EUROSTAR WHICH GOES UNDERNEATH THE WATER??!’

But there wasn’t time to think about that. I had meetings to attend. And anyway, before I had to strain my brain too much, the whole thing was called off and the fishermen agreed to pack it in and go home They warned they might strike again though. Fortunately I’ll be across a much bigger pond by then…

Deep Thoughts in Late-Nite London

2009-04-15T00:44:00.003+02:00

It's Tuesday night in London, and I'm at Calatrava Norte, the flat I've been occasionally sharing with Marco since January. I'm here all week, working on what is to be my next project and my next move. We watched Chelsea v. Liverpool tonight and ate Thai takeout. We talked about my trip to Dubai and I asked Marco to be in my wedding. We laughed a lot.

I'm going to miss this.

In less than three weeks I'm due in New York. I haven't written about it until now because it wasn't official until a few days ago, when I finally received my new contract. Same company, new adventure. The company that hired me in Barcelona, had me start in Boston for two months, and then sent me to Paris in September to help start a new sports and entertainment team there, is now sending me to New York - at my request back in September - to help launch one of our UK agencies.

I have a thing for timing, huh? Moving to another city. AGAIN. At least this time it's one I know well. Too well, maybe, which is why I'll have to live in Brooklyn to stir things up a bit. Trying to simultaneously plan a wedding, manage two careers, organize immigration paperwork for Frenchy, and help launch a new company in the midst of a global economic crisis. Ain't no mountain high enough!

The worst part of all of this is that I will be leaving Europe behind. And Frenchy too, temporarily, while he waits for his visa. But at least I know he'll eventually be joining me there. Europe, however, is staying right where it is. Gone will be the weekend jaunts to foreign countries. (Then again, knowing me, maybe not.) And the random IESE reunions. There aren't many of us in the Big Apple... those who are in the US have tended toward San Francisco. It's going to be strange to be back. And wonderful. I can go back to my old soccer team, my old martial arts school, my old cafes, and my old friends. But what about all the new stuff?

I love New York and I'm excited about this new career move and new adventure. But it's certainly a bittersweet time. Just over two more weeks left in Paris, and just as the weather is starting to turn to spring. Well, at least I know it's not going anywhere....

Overridden with blogging guilt

2009-04-12T00:23:00.002+02:00

The other day I updated my Facebook status, which is about the only non-work, non-traveling, non-wedding thing I seem to have time to do these days. I wrote, "Noelle hasn't updated the blog in a really long time, and feels really badly about it." Nicole commented, not long afterward, "Just write 'A lot has happened.'"

Which is true! A lot HAS happened. Even since the other day, when I updated my Facebook status! Geez, there are at least three blog posts worth of material in the past week.

So I was tempted to just write that and be done with it. But then you'd miss out on (and I might forget someday about) some of the marvelous, ridiculous, hilarious, and horrible things that have happened to me or around me in the past 6 weeks since I really had time to write.

Like my trip to the Emirates and Oman with Frenchy. And my trip to the Bahamas afterward with Nicole. And how I sprained my ankle playing soccer, and all the weird, awful, and wonderful things that happened as a result (French hospitals = good, getting around on crutches = baaaaad, wearing a thong as usual the day you get your ankle checked, never expecting to have to fully take off your pants = weeeeeeird), trying on wedding dresses (WEDDING DRESSES!?!?!? I mean, REALLY??), and even choosing one, my first attempt at leading a pitch (hmmm, we'll leave that one at that), Frenchy learning he might need shoulder surgery, and finally getting my contract for a new gig in NYC.... starting in 2 weeks.

So as you can see, life has been so busy, I haven't even had time to catch my breath, let alone write about it. But I know I'll regret it all later if I let all this craziness whiz by without having the time to contemplate it, write about it, and most importantly, laugh about it. Because as hectic, painful, and stressful life has been of late, it has also been pretty incredible, englightening, and hilarious.

Two weeks ago I was in London for work. I was there for work every week over three weeks, and I was exhausted (crutches didn't help!), discouraged, and stressed. One morning I decided to give myself a break and took a taxi to work rather than the tube. It was a beautiful sunny morning and the cab went right past Big Ben and the house of Parliament, and for a few minutes all my worries slipped away. I mean, how lucky am I, to have a job that enables me to drive by Big Ben? Some people go their whole lives without doing that.

So I promised myself that I'd sit down and write over this long holiday weekend. Starting now, with this... and more to come tomorrow and Monday. And hopefully the wait will have been worth it!

Slowdown... It's vacation time!

2009-03-10T21:17:00.002+01:00

Just looked back at my blog and realized that it has been a while since I posted! For all you know, George Michael might still be following me. And if he were, that'd be impressive, considering that in the week after I wrote that post, I was in five countries: Monday in Spain, Tuesday and Wednesday in the UK, Thursday and Friday in Paris, Saturday in the Emirates, and Sunday in Oman. Fortunately the last two were for vacation, or I'd be dead by now.

And considering I'm STILL on vacation (week two with Nicole in the Bahamas, after week one with Frenchy in the Middle East) I probably shouldn't even be blogging. But I will anyway, because I have photos and stories to share as usual!

More to come, but for now... back to the beach!

George Michael is following me

2009-02-20T00:50:00.003+01:00

So I'm in London working for a few days, staying at the new "Calatrava Norte" that I'm sharing with Marco at Baron's Court in the few nighttime hours that I'm not at work.

Yesterday evening I planned to meet my old pal David (from my Rockstar days) for an entirely-deserved and much-needed Scotch (plus, he's Scottish) before meeting another old friend Lisa for dinner.

As I descended into the tube at Tottenham Court Road, I heard a familiar saxophone refrain. Yep, as I got closer to the source, I found it was exactly as I'd expected - George Michael's "Careless Whisper" - played by a busker at the cross between the Central and Northern lines. When I got off the train about twenty minutes later at South Kensington station, I was shocked to find that yet another saxophone busker was also playing Careless Whisper.

Indeed I was so astounded that when David arrived a moment later, I barely managed to say hello before I demanded, "What are the odds that you go into the metro at Tottenham Court Road to the sounds of Careless Whisper and come out twenty minutes later at South Ken... TO CARELESS WHISPER???" If David was mildly amused, he didn't really show it, and instead answered in absolute seriousness, "I really couldn't tell you."

And then we were in the pub and that was that.

But now it's nearing midnight a day later and I'm packing my back for my return to Paris tomorrow, and my blackberry buzzes. An SMS from David: "F*cking OMG!! Careless whisper outside the tube!!!"

The Best Two Years Of My Life

2009-02-15T22:33:00.004+01:00

Today marks two years that I've been with Frenchy. The best two years I've ever had, and this is just the beginning! Today we started really officially starting to plan our wedding. The date is set, and so is the location. August 15 in San Diego... 6 months from now.

And since I don't feel like doing any ACTUAL wedding planning work right now, I'll just write about why Frenchy is most awesome guy of all time instead:

1. He gives me massages. All the time. Right now, for example, I just stuck my foot in his face and said, "massssssage!" And he's totally doing it!

2. He looks so hot when he plays the drums.

3. He has a French accent.

4. He makes me crepes.

5. He looks so hot when he's brushing his teeth.

6. He doesn't mind when I say, "Zat iz not my duhg." In fact, I think he's starting to like it.

7. He gives the best hugs ever.

8. He smells good. (Despite aforementioned scoring high on the Frenchness scale.)

9. He is the awesomest dancer. Especially when Michael Jackson comes on.

10. He makes me laugh. Sometimes even on purpose.

11. He doesn't mind when I burp or fart.

12. He looks so hot when he's making coffee.

13. He buys bread at the bakery when I don't feel like it.

14. He drives a motorcycle.

15. He never makes fun of my French. Ever.

16. He looks so cute when he's sleeping.

17. He goes running with me.

18. He comes to watch my soccer games, and I always score a goal when he's there.

19. He is nice to everyone. I don't think he could be mean if he tried.

20. He makes me feel like a supermodel.

21. He drinks with his pinky out.

22. He rolls his r's a little extra when speaking Spanish. Like, Barrrrrrrcelona.

23. He's unbearably good looking in a suit.

24. He's unbearably good looking in jeans.

25. He's unbearably good looking in a swimsuit.

Ok I'd better stop before this gets unbearable for me or anyone else reading this. Love you, Frenchy. Happy anniversaire!!!

"I'm A Magician!" "I'm a Rabbit!"

2009-02-14T23:35:00.003+01:00

I was planning to tell you all about my whirlwind week, wherein I spent 36 hours in New York, another 28 in LA, and then a total of about 60 on airplanes and in airports, but it seems like an awful lot of work.

And this video I just came across thanks to The Bloggess is oh so much funnier. If I have a kid like this, I will know I did SOMETHING right.

Yogurt Galere... er, Galore!

2009-02-04T22:04:00.003+01:00

My friend Natalie is visiting us this week from LA, which is great for Frenchy because while Natalie is indeed my friend she was also once, long ago in a galaxy far far away, my au pair. That's the fancy Frenchified version of nanny. (Nevermind that she's not French but from Michigan.) And that means she has a lot of stories about little lovely Noelliebellie as a child. Because of course I was an angel!

Anyway this evening after a long day of work I thought it might be nice to bake these little mini muffins I've been swearing I know how to make for the whole two years Frenchy and I have been together. We even bought the mini muffin pans in Philadelphia last April. And still, no mini muffins. Poor Frenchy. I'm such a cruel, heartless person.

Until today. So we hit the first roadblock when I looked at the recipe and saw "sour cream." Hmm. I've already skipped the baking soda in three batches of chocolate chip cookies because French people have never heard of such a thing, but I didn't think 3/4 of a cup of sour cream could just be ignored. A google search for "sour cream french" led me to find the plaintive plea for help of another lost American trying to cook something using sour cream in France. Bingo. "Crème fraîche épaisse." Not to be confused with crème fraîche liquide, which would cause all sorts of problems....

Then I thought aloud, where would one FIND crème fraîche épaisse in the grocery store? And Natalie, despite being a teacher of small children, responded almost as if I were retarded, "In the dairy section. DUH!"

DUH is right. Hmph! What Natalie didn't know is that dairy sections in France are typically spread throughout the store. This is clearly for two main reasons. 1) To confuse Americans looking for crème fraîche épaisse. (And who can pronounce that, anyway? Geez.) And 2) Because every French grocery store stocks a minimum of 1,264 different types of yogurt. And I'm sorry, but that just ain't gonna fit in a "dairy section."

As Natalie looked rather incredulous, I dragged her along on this crème fraîche épaisse shopping expedition. Quite incredibly, it was the first thing we found. Actually, SHE found it, when it practically jumped off the shelf at us. By the way, it was next to the pasta. And nowhere near the yogurt, as one might think.

Which, incidentally, takes up three separate DIVIDED AREAS of this particular grocery store. Three walls full of just yogurt. Every flavor imaginable, every brand on earth, with and without added benefits and nutrients, with suger and sugar-free, every possible size and color combination.... After the third yogurt area, Nat looked at me and said, very seriously, "Guess we should get some yogurt."

Oh, and the muffins were AWESOME.

The Country that Cried Wolf

2009-01-30T10:41:00.004+01:00

As you may or may not have guessed from my last post, I was pretty excited about yesterday's strike. I'm intrigued by occasional pandemonium (as long as it doesn't affect me personally, let's be clear) and the office tardiness alone caused by pre-strike festivities on Tuesday and Wednesday had me really looking forward to the full on strike yesterday.

Well. I'm very disappointed in France.

When I woke up yesterday and turned on the news radio, I was delighted to find that even they were on strike, playing French oldies instead of news. Cool! But then when I got to work, all the interns were already there. And Melina too, who had been stuck for 2 1/2 hours trying to get to the office the day before. In fact, EVERYONE was there by 10am, and not a single person had any difficulty getting to work. Later Frenchy sent me a link to Le Monde. 75% - 95% normal service on all trains, aside from RER A and B.

LAME!

The Spanish truck driver strike this summer was way more impressive, and way more disruptive. (No mail, no Fedex, no food deliveries to grocery stores... etc, for two weeks!) So was the Spanish baggage handler strike that caused 24 hours of airline pandemonium back in 2006. I was so prepared to be impressed by French striking capabilities, but I'm really disappointed. Reminds me why I normally don't get excited for things in general - I hate disappointment!

Strike!

2009-01-28T23:02:00.003+01:00

Over the lifespan of this blog, I've lived through and written about my experiences with strikes on more than one occasion. Munich was one particularly disastrous day that comes to mind. A train strike in Peru is another. In fact, if I look back I'm sure that after IESE, Frenchy, and food poisoning, strikes are probably one of the topic I've written about most.

But tomorrow I will experience my first REAL strike. As in, the whole country of France (home of la greve) will be striking. What was announced on Monday as a public transportation strike (bus, metro, tramway) now seems to encompass everything from teachers to the post office to airline pilots. And you know why they're striking?

They are striking against the financial crisis.

Which makes a lot of sense. "I know! The economy is in the crapper and everyone around us is losing jobs, so LET'S TAKE A DAY OFF WORK TO BITCH ABOUT IT." And stop all the other working people from doing their jobs too. Huh.

The other funny thing about these pre-announced strikes is that they are supposed to happen on a given day, but actually things start to go haywire in advance. Which is why yesterday the tramway wasn't running properly and today the metro was all screwed up. It took some of my colleagues two to three hours to get to work.

Fortunately for me (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), I drive a scooter. So I can still make it to work and be productive, assuming the roads don't go on strike. But I won't have many people to be productive with. And hey, if there's no one there, no biggie. Because I heard that the museum staff will also be on strike, so the museums may be free to enter just to get back at the government. So I'll just spend a delightful afternoon at the Orsay perhaps. Ahhh la France!

Because of Glasses

2009-01-27T00:47:00.001+01:00

My pal (director, writer, DJ, and all around awesome chic) Jauretsi posted a link to a clip from They Live on Facebook this afternoon. And of course I had to watch it... It's been ages since I've seen that movie.

About two minutes in, Frenchy, who was sitting next to me, said "They fight because of glasses? Because one wants to give glasses and the other one doesn't want to receive glasses?"

Yes. They fight because of glasses. Don't we all?

New Years Resolutions or, How to Let Go

2009-01-26T21:05:00.004+01:00

So among my new years resolutions this year was to do yoga. I mean really do yoga, like regularly. I've done yoga in the past, and tried a few different types, but this year I was like, YEAH. I'm gonna DO YOGA.

Fortunately Frenchy's cousin gave me a voucher for some free classes for my birthday. Because, you see, I'd already been all, YEAH I'm gonna DO YOGA a month before new years even rolled around. And after three weeks of absolute nonstop travel craziness, and one weekend of absolute rest, I decided that this would be the week to just do it.

So we agreed that tonight was the night, since I play soccer on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the yoga schedule is apparently funky on Wednesdays, and while Caroline could do Friday, Frenchy had already planned a Guitar Hero raclette dinner for Friday night. How's that for an awesome combination?

Tonight I raced out of work by 6:30 in order to be home and changed and back out the door by 7:30 so we could be there and signed in and whatnot in time for our 8pm class. Which is also when I made a VERY BIG MISTAKE. I changed my Facebook status and announced my yoga-with-Frenchy intentions. Well off we went, on what was supposed to be a 10 minute motorbike ride to rue St. Jacques. Except that somehow what Frenchy thought was rue St Jacques was really Avenue Rapp, and nowhere near St Jacques.

So we drove some more and finally arrived at the right street. And Frenchy goes, "Ok! Run! Warmup!" And I'm pretty sure I heard him say something about number 21. Which was funny because when we were running I happened to look up at the numbers and we passed 392.... 388... For a moment I thought maybe I didn't hear the "3" in "321." But no. He really said "21." At or around this time we turned around and started running back to the bike. By then it was 7:58 and I could only imagine the condescending and irritated look on the face of not only the yoga instructor, but on every single student in the class when we arrived, out of breath, 20 minutes late.

So we went home. The long way. Because, you see, not only did we get lost on the way TO yoga, WE GOT LOST ON THE WAY BACK!

And so I ask you. What is the point of having a Parisian fiance who doesn't know his way around Paris???

Hmmmm. I guess because he cooks you nice food when you get home from your non-yoga class...

Trying to do absolutely nothing

2009-01-25T16:27:00.002+01:00

It's not easy! After the crazy month of December, where we had a constant flow of houseguests and visitors, plus a party and of course the holidays, I hoped that January would be calm and quiet. I was wrong.

The first week was still full of family (not that this is a bad thing!) and then a sick Frenchy to take care of. Week two was comprised of the first days back to work, and then my fabulous Barcelona Barforama escapade, from which I apparently still haven't fully recovered - a work colleague informed me Friday that I really should eat more because I've lost weight. Nice! Good thing I like chocolate!

The second week included a sudden business trip to London that was sprung on me just 24 hours prior, and last week, the third week, was the busiest yet. A full week of 12-14 hour days and another trip to London to boot. On Tuesday night I was so tired that I accidentally set my alarm for 6am rather than 5am the next morning. Whoops. My TAXI arrived at 6am to take me to the airport. Needless to say, I broke my own personal record for amount of time required to go from entirely horizontal and completely asleep to showered, dressed, packed, and off to the train station. 12 minutes! I don't recommend this, however, as an ideal way to start a nonstop two-day business trip with all your bosses. I do, on the other hand, recommend managing to be in a different train car from all of them!

So after these three weeks of craziness, I'm now practically under house arrest, goverened over by Frenchy. Friday night we watched a movie and went to bed early. Saturday we made it outside just long enough to buy a new scarf (left mine in the office in London) and some violin strings and to stop off at a friends daughters' birthday party. (Which, incidentally, exhausted me, in those 60 minutes, just as much as the two day trip to London.) Last night we were really busy: we baked cookies. Whew, exhausting.

And today I even managed to take a nap less an hour after waking up! And now it's 4:30 and not only have I not set foot outside yet, I am still in my jammies. If you've read this blog for any length of time, or if you know me personally, you realize that this is actually harder for me than jumping on a plane to some random destination and walking nonstop for two days, only to get back home practically in time to go to the office on a Monday morning. It's a challenge, but I kind of like it. Maybe I'll try it again sometime!

SO EXCITED!!!

2009-01-19T23:47:00.002+01:00

Today at lunch with Frenchy I tried to put into words how thrilling this historic moment is. A president we can be proud of. Finally. I don't have to shy away from admitting my nationality anymore. Our credibility has returned... things like this really can happen in America. It's not such a bad place, after all. Three and a half years away from home, with everyone who isn't American pointing fingers at everyone who is, well... what a relief. I'M AMERICAN!

Thank you, President Obama. And thank you, Democrats Abroad France, for helping me get my vote in! And thank you all my fellow Americans who voted for change. We did it!

Monday Morning Horoscope

2009-01-19T09:03:00.000+01:00

I´m not usually much of a horoscope person (unless I come across one I really like) but this was delivered to my Google page this morning and seemed particularly fitting for a Monday morning that´s already full-blast by 9am.

Your key planet Jupiter meets up with trickster Mercury today, challenging you to stay focused on the demanding day-to-day affairs of your life. You have to handle what's happening in your immediate environment, even if it's less fun than dreaming about the future. Nevertheless, no one can see your thoughts, so you can continue exploring your hidden fantasies as long as you also cover your bases in the here and now. By Rick Levine Sunday, January 18, 2009

The Week from Hell or, How NOT to Start the New Year

2009-01-11T19:26:00.003+01:00

After two solid weeks of nonstop family time, wherein Frenchy and I acted as hosts, tour guides, and translators, it was a shock when Monday morning rolled around and it was actually time to go to work again. Work?! We needed a holiday from our holiday, not a Monday morning.

We were even more shocked when we looked out the window and saw Paris blanketed in snow. Frenchy had left his big motorbike at his parents' house a week earlier, so we hopped on my little scooter and headed for work. This scooter has never seen snow, and knowing how badly it handles in the rain, I can't say I was particularly excited to test out its snowcat abilities, but nevertheless off we went. We were halfway across the Bois du Boulogne when Frenchy decided to give me a snow driving lesson, informing me that while it's best to follow directly behind the cars (which we did slowly part of the way), you can totally drive between them in the snowy area as long as you dont 1) wobble the handlebars, 2) accelerate suddenly, or 3) brake suddenly.

Fine. And he was right, for a few minutes. I'm not sure which of the three he did, but I do know that suddenly we had wiped out, with my left knee taking the brunt of the fall. Luckily we, and everyone else, was going about 2km per hour max, so we basically just slipped and tipped over, and weren't gored by any oncoming cars. And in fact, it was the first time I've ever seen Parisian being helpful or caring or kind at all, as many of them stopped once we were on the side of the road to ask if we needed a lift to the hospital or anywhere else. We got back on the bike and slowly, very slowly, headed back to work.

Which is where I found out that I had become "invalid" as an employee. My card to enter and leave the building didn't work. Which is fine, but it's the same card that allows me to eat lunch. And if you pay in cash, they charge you double. Nice, huh? By Tuesday afternoon when I left for Barcelona, it was finally solved, after several emails and phone calls and even an in-person visit to the official building card manager. I met some interesting people over 36 hours... and also wasted a lot of time.

So onto late Tuesday afternoon, when I headed to the airport for Barcelona, and the next step in my work permit renewal. This is my fourth time, so you'd think I'd be used to it by now and it'd be a total snap, but life seems to like to deal me things to write about in my blog...

Tuesday was a holiday in Spain (La Epifania) so I had planned to arrive at night, pick up the government papers from my colleague who had picked them up from my old flat, stay with some IESE friends, and then get up early in the morning to take care of the last steps and wait in the fingerprinting line. The last step before actually picking up my new card, four full months after after starting the process.

I stayed with a friend in L'Hospitalet and her two boys and two cats and for some reason couldn't sleep the whole night, which is very rare for me. Particularly when I'm as tired as I was feeling that night. But the much-needed sleep simply refused to come, try as I might to relax and not think about how soon I'd have to get up. Suddenly it was 7am and I think I'd finally been asleep for about an hour, but I had to get moving. Before waiting in the line, I still have to take new passport photos and pay another set of taxes at a bank.

I started with the bank, and went to three different ones in L'Hospitalet before I finally gave up and flagged down a taxi and headed into Barcelona proper. I figured I'd just get it all done in one spot, since I was wasting time going to various banks which all had excuses for why they couldn't help me. (One only did those kinds of taxes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and this was Wednesday, the next had a new guy working there who didn't know what to do with my papers, and the third told me I had to make more photocopies first... but all the photocopy places were still closed.)

I was thrilled to arrive at the police station and find that, unlike previous years when I'd been through this, the line didn't wind around the entire block. I ducked into the shop across the street where the woman takes every immigrant's passport photos and makes copies and did exactly that. It was only later that I noticed how pale I looked in my pictures...

Then I ran across the street to the bank and paid nearly 100 euros in further taxes, and then it was finally time to get into the line. By this point, it was 9am, and I was slightly dismayed to find the reason there was no line outside. No, it wasn't because it was only 2 degrees celsius outside and there was snow on Tibidabo and they'd all decided to stay home. It was because the line was in the parking lot inside the police station's gates. I took a number and waited outside in the freezing cold for two hours... to receive another number. In the middle of it all, the guy handing out the numbers, a big burly Catalan policeman, announced that it was 10am and he'd be taking 30 minutes for breakfast so if we wanted to go out to do the same, we should just be sure to be back by 10:30 so as not to lose our places in line.

He finally turned up again at 11am. And I had my new number (188) and was in the next waiting area, inside at least, by 11:30. They were only up to number 99 when I walked in and took a seat. And as I watched the numbers s-l-o-wl-y move on the counter, I started to realize that I wasn't feeling too hot. Within minutes I was feeling downright miserable and realized I needed some fresh air (well, preferably a bed) ASAP.

I went outside to ask the guard if there was a toilet I might use in the police station, as I was feeling rather barfy. He kindly told me no, and suggested taht I go out and try one of the bars down the street and use their restroom. Awesome. I wasn't even halfway down the block when I barfed on a tree. In the middle of Via Augusta. I couldn't really come up with a more appropriate place in the moment... I looked at the ground, at a scooter, tried to find a garbage can, and then just ended up with a tree. Poor tree.

I felt momentarily better and ducked into the nearest bar I could find. There was an old couple at the bar, and their son who must've been my age. I must have looked awful because I barely got the question "may I use your bathroom" out when the old guy pointed up a narrow spiral staircase and off I went. Moments later I was downstairs again, gingerly sipping a manzanilla tea and wishing I could be anywhere but there, alone in Barcelona with no apartment, no hotel, no choice but to go back and sit in that godforsaken waiting room and pray with all my might that I wouldn't barf on everyone.

And back I went. The guard asked if I was ok and I told him I was worried I might've missed my number being called. He told me not to worry, that if it were the case, he'd personally see to it that someone helped me. Unfortunately, that wasn't my problem at all. Rather, they were only on number 126 when I arrived. And so I waited there for another thirty minutes, trying to keep the room from spinning and my head from exploding. The counter was only up to 140 when I realized I wouldn't survive there much longer, and I took a drastic step.

I poked my head into the room of the guy at the nearest desk, who was helping two other people, and apologized profusely and explained my situation: I'm incredibly sick, my papers are all in order, can you pleasepleasepleasePLEASE just help me quickly after these guys even though it's not my turn so I can get out of here without spewing all over your desk? He told me to ask his boss, desk 7. Which I did. She was helping someone on her staff when I arrived, and I spent those three or four minutes (which felt more like three or four hours) trying not to toss my cookies again and focusing on anything that might help. Like, oh, that little trashcan there.

Finally she called me in and I explained myself again. She didn't seem to really want to help until I insisted that my papers were all in order, I've been through this three times already, and it should only take a couple of minutes. She took pity on me, particularly when she saw I was telling the truth. Not only were my papers in order, but my hands were also shaking and I could barely keep my head off her desk. (Note to people who want to skip the queue in this manner, but without actually vomiting: LOOK THE PART!)

Another girl fingerprinted me and moaned that she was sick too, and then that was that. I was outside again on Via Augusta, with a receipt for my new residents card that could be picked up in a month. I got in a taxi and headed to a friend's house. Miguel was in Frenchy's class and his wife Cris had their first daughter in May, and was, thankfully for me, home with her that day. I made it to their place on Muntaner without incident, but proceeded to barf allllllll over the place after getting out of the taxi. Even in front of a group of people waiting for the bus. I guess they felt sorry for me, but that didn't really make anyone want to help.

But fortunately I was soon in the peace and quiet of Miguel and Cristina's guest room, where I must admit I wasn't able to sleep for several hours thanks to my very angry stomach, but where I was very well taken care of and finally managed to sleep a full 10 hours straight through the night. I missed my flight of course, and had to come back to Paris the following night, but there's no way I could've gotten on a plane in that state anyway.

So I finally got back to the office in Paris Friday morning, 10 pounds lighter, several shades whiter, and still feeling nowhere near 100%. I was still sick enough that I had to go home by 4pm, and I still don't know what was wrong with me. Stomach virus or food poisoning, I'll never know. And I will never forget what will thankfully be the LAST time I will ever have to wait in that stupid line!

2008... What a strange ride it has been!

2009-01-06T17:29:00.002+01:00

At the end of every year, I usually like to carve out a little time for myself where I just sit down quietly and think about the 365 days I've just been through. The high points, the low points, the achievements and accomplishments, the things I could've done better, the new things I've done and the new places I've been... And frankly I usually feel pretty good at the end of it. Rarely have I ever kicked myself for not getting something done, or sticking to some resolution. In fact, I'm usually surprised by how much I've done in just one measly little year.

And this year, the only difference is that I haven't had a bit of quiet time to myself until AFTER the new year. It has been a very busy holiday season, and a wonderful one, with my family and Frenchy's together again, this time right here in Paris and with no broken bones or dislocations. So I finally have some time now, on a flight to Barcelona, to go through what 2008 has been, and if there is any single theme, it has been... uncertainty.

Which is funny, really, because all year I've been in a wonderful, stable relationship, and I've held a relatively normal, stable job. That right there is more than most people can say for the year that was, and so I consider myself lucky. But being in a relationship or a job situation where a visa is required presents its own set of difficulties. Will we make it? Can we end up working in the same city? In the same country? Will you find a job? Will I keep my job?

Throw in a move to another country (for me, a new one, for him, back home) and you throw another spanner in the works. I was ready to leave Barcelona, for many reasons, and Frenchy didn't want to return to France, for just as many reasons. Would our compromise work out?

I guess, looking back, the answer to everything has been yes. It has worked out, though it hasn't been easy. The uncertainty with work started back in May, the day before Frenchy's graduation, and finally now seems to be improving, and Frenchy has found himself a good job in Paris. And growing day by day, the uncertainty of this stupid economy, the most boring story of all, and the one that affects us all the most.

But uncertainty is so 2008. I'm bored with uncertainty. (Is it even possible to say such a thing?!) I'm excited it's 2009. I want to put that stupid uncertain year behind me and move on to something fresh and new and oh-so-certain. I mean, I CAN be certain about one thing - 2009 is here!

So one quick look back on the year that was, and it's on to the year that now is.

January: Fun trips to Milan and Mallorca; recovery from dislocated shoulders and cracked ribs

February: Business trips to Havana, San Francisco, and London, and the annual IESE Multiculti party

March: Derry for Joanne's birthday, Paris for work, and I gave my first business presentation in Spanish

April: Business trip to NYC with a side visit to Philly to see Nicole and Evan, plus our first skydiving adventure

May: Work trip to Paris, first wedding of the season, Rome for Frenchy's birthday, plus my IESE class reunion, Frenchy's graduation, a surprise birthday dinner for the Frenchy, and an offer to move to Paris

June: Business trips to Madrid, Helsinki, and Paris, and a side trip to Tallinn and a Finnish adventure with Juha for the Midsummer party

July: Belgium for Juanra's wedding, Paris for work and a wedding, Strasbourgfor a wedding, plus a trip to SF to give my first talk on a panel about video games and advertising for OMMA, and a trip to NYC

August: Toronto for... another wedding, Paris for work, then Toulouse for another wedding and on to Biarritz, San Sebastian, Bilbao, and Zaragoza

September: Paris & NYC for work (including a pitch for my old company), and Oregon for the last wedding of the season

October: Paris, Cannes, London x3, Barcelona... plus the overnight move from Barcelona to Paris

November: Stockholm, London, Prague... where we got engaged; played my first match with my new women's football team here, and saw my first live rugby match: France v. Australia

December: weekend in Aix-en-Provence... oh, and I turned 30. And it was dirty.

Well. Seven new countries, three times as many new cities. Eight weddings. A move to a new country. A new decade and an engagement. Looking back at all that, I feel it's time for a recovery nap. And then on to the next adventure. 2009, I'm ready!

Weekend in Aix

2008-12-24T18:05:00.004+01:00

My parents arrived in Paris on Friday morning and proceeded to konk out for my entire work day. Which was good, because it meant that I didn't have to feel too badly for being at the office on their first day in town.

Saturday morning very early, we got up and boarded the TGV and headed south to Aix-En-Provence. None of us had ever been there, so despite the fact that the friends we'd be staying with wouldn't arrive until the afternoon, we opted for an early train so we could check out the city before heading back out of town toward their house in Cotignac. Aix is a really beautiful town, and we had a great lunch in the center of the old town before spending a couple of hours wandering around and shopping and finally catching up with our friends.

I hadn't seen them in 19 years, when our family and theirs met up in Europe for a couple of weeks in France, Switzerland, and Italy. It was the same trip where my dad didn't know how to say the word butter in French and somehow ended up mooing like a cow at the breakfast table in order to make his request understood by the waiters... who surely understood exactly what he was asking for in the first place. That was the precise moment I decided it would be a good idea to learn every single language on earth in order to never embarrass my children.

Other highlights of that trip included a tennis match on a clay court in the mountains in Interlaken where we were so inundated by horseflies that we ended up swatting flies more than tennis balls, and poor Nicole took the majority of the attack and ended up with massive itchy welts all over her body. From the horseflies, not from us hitting her with rackets. Of course, we also went on amazing hikes in the Swiss mountains and stayed at a cool old hotel on a little Italian island. It was a good trip.

And it was great to see them again, so many years later. After catching up over dinner and drinks on Saturday night, we went out with the kids for some rock climbing while the parents went on a long walk. Such a great relief to be outside in nature, and with the sun shining and our shoes off after so many weeks of rain and cold in grey Paris.

On the way back Sunday night, we were starting to prepare to get off the train when suddenly we ground to a halt and were informed that the train ahead of us had hit a boar and that we'd be stopped for a while. Half an hour later, we were still in the same place, and the conductor came over the loudspeaker to tell us that it wasn't a boar, but a herd of them. Finally, an hour later, we finished the last fifteen minutes of our trip into Gare Lyon and were able to head back home. When you're with me, even the simplest of train rides is never boaring...

Of Bakesales and Halloween Costumes

2008-12-14T11:19:00.005+01:00

Last Friday night I came home from work and didn't immediately locate Frenchy, so I called out, "Sweetie, where are you?" And heard, from bathroom, "I'm in here!"

And that's where I found him, crouched in the bathroom over newspaper spread all over the floor, painting something that looked like boot gaiters a shiny gold. He looked at me proudly and proclaimed, "Isn't that COOOOOL? It's for my Michael Jackson costume." And, as I mentioned in an earlier post, that's when my future suddenly shined brighter than ever because I realized HE would be able to deal with all our kids costumes for halloween, school plays, and whatever odd reasons kids get dressed up.

Then again, that came back to bite me the following day when HE came home and found me in the living room, super-gluing shiny gold fabric strips to a red jacket we'd picked up in a thrift store in Stockholm. He immediately proclaimed, "No YOU'RE going to make all the kids' costumes!"

Fast forward one week. (Geez, is it just one week? That party seems like a month ago already!) I informed Frenchy yesterday that, not only do I have a soccer team Christmas party to attend tonight, as a midfielder I've been assigned to bring a MAIN DISH. I told him this around 5pm of course.... and the party started at 7.

And do you know what happened next? We went out, bought groceries, I picked up a gift for the secret santa exchange, and we came back and FRENCHY MADE A PASTA SALAD. In like 10 minutes! I was so delighted I nearly cried. In fact, I think I DID cry. Because once again I could imagine the future and see one of our kids coming home saying, "Mommy tomorrow we have a bake sale and I told the teacher I'd bring 10000 brownies." And I'd be able to say, "Oh that's great sweetie. Go tell your father."

The final MJ outfits... George ended up wearing my jacket since I stayed as Madonna all night.

A Big Birthday

2008-12-11T19:46:00.000+01:00

It has been a busy week. The party on Saturday was a raging success by all accounts. Frenchy did the majority of the work to organize it, and so as a result we're now both recovering from The Birthday That Was. It was amazing to get so many different friends together from all over the place.

Distance award definitely goes to Huy (Dubai) but longest absence award goes to my friend Robert, who I hadn't seen in 12 years, but who flew down from Stockholm for the night anyway. Most work award goes to Frenchy of course, who also wins the Best Guy on the Planet award. Best costume is very difficult, because not only were there many many great Madonnas and Michael Jacksons, there were also a great many female MJs and male Madonnas. Just impossible to judge.

So while I won't say my actual birthday on Monday was a letdown - because it wasn't - I will say it was a welcome relief. Back at work, quiet (or quieter than usual), and blessedly calm. Had we been in Spain still, it would have beena holiday, but sadly the French don't really seem to observe the Immaculate Conception all that much... come to think about it, I guess it goes completely against one of the main tenets of French existence. The others being cheese and wine.

But on Monday night, Frenchy showed up with the best gift ever. He had to immediately strip off his shirt after walking home with this huge box and two pizzas, and of course I had to immediately take a picture.

And then I opened it... the new Guitar Hero... WITH DRUMS!!! AHHHHHHH!

I can tell that my Christmas holiday is going to be verrrrrrry productive. Merci mon amour!!

Getting Prepped for the Big 3-0

2008-12-05T21:06:00.002+01:00

Here's the deal.

My birthday is Monday. I'll be 30. (!!!!)

The 8th of December is also the day of the Immaculate Conception. Or, in Spain, La Inmaculada. And a holiday! Not in France, unfortunately.

Madonna's first collection of hit songs is the Immaculate Collection. I love Michael Jackson. (That's actually a horrific understatement.) And I've always wanted to throw a Michael Jackson & Madonna party. Any era, any color, any Michael Jackson, any Madonna.

So I decided a while back that this would be the year. I sent out the notifications for people to save the date four full months ago. Hey, that's what happens when your birthday falls at the beginning of both ski season and company holiday party season. You gotta get the word out early.

And now the party is tomorrow night. I have two costumes... still can't decide if I'll be MJ or Madge, so I guess a mid-party costume change is in order. Frenchy has also been prepping his costume and I found him in the bathroom tonight painting some homemade MJ accessories gold... It was at this precise moment I saw the future, and realized with glee that I will never, EVER have to worry about Halloween costumes for our kids. Frenchy's got it all under control.

Besides having an artsy-craftsy boyfriend (gasp! FIANCE!!!!) I also have amazing friends who are arriving from all over the place to celebrate with me. I think Huy wins the distance award, coming from Dubai, but Mihaela has arrived from Bucharest, another dozen or so are coming in from London and Madrid, Robert from Stockholm, Xavi, Francis, and Megan from Switzerland, George and Lamberto from Milan.... I'm one lucky lady this week!

Pictures sure to come, but for now I leave you with this....

Back From Prague... With Big News!

2008-12-04T00:19:00.006+01:00

This past weekend I took Frenchy to Prague for a romantic wintry getaway. Neither of us had ever been there, and the flights were inexpensive, so off we went.

We arrived on Friday night and checked into the Hotel Josef on the recommendation from a friend (thanks again Jason!), which turned out to be one of the best places to take loads of pictures.

On Saturday we headed out on the town to see the sights and enjoy the town. We caught up with an old friend of Frenchy's for lunch and then planned to see the lighting of the Christmas tree in the old town square at 6pm. We stopped for a gluwein or two (heh heh) and headed for Wenceslas Square, where Frenchy stopped me suddenly in the middle of everything and asked if I wanted to marry him. And of course, I said yes.

And then he said, "Oops, I forgot!" and dropped to one knee and did the whole thing all over again. So I said yes all over again!

I guess there were people all around us, but I can't really recall. What I do know is that we went straight for more gluwein. And then to the Christmas tree lighting, where I learned how fast a happy Christmas crowd can turn into a surly mob.

Upon our escape, we checked out Gehry's Dancing House and took some photos of some of the bridges and then headed back to the hotel. Where Frenchy said, "I have something for you." And gave me a book he'd had made, with a letter of the alphabet and a photo of us on each page. All photos from our nearly two years together... and when I got to Y, there was no photo, just "Y... for Yes?"

And then I burst into tears. In a good way.

And then I felt really hungry.

And now our next adventure begins!!

Happy Thanksgiving from France!

2008-11-27T22:28:00.003+01:00

Tonight Frenchy and I had a lovely dinner of chicken and potatoes (ok, ok, close enough) and marveled at how happy we are and how great life is. And then ...

Noelle: I'm very thankful for you, sweetie.
Frenchy: And I'm thankful to you too... uh, I'm thankful FOR you... uh whatever THAT means...

Blog slowdown

2008-11-25T07:45:00.000+01:00

So here is where I apologize for going nearly the whole month of November without a single post. But I apologize mostly to myself, because really this blog is for me, even if I share it with anyone who is bored enough to read it. It´s fun to occasionally go back and relive the weird and wacky moments that make up my bizarre existence.

So for my own sake, I vow to resume posting regularly!

I guess my only excuse is that the majority of my day is spent working. And though there are PLENTY of things to write about work (some good, some not-so-good, but nearly all ridiculous and often funny), I know it´s not always the best idea to blather on about work on a blog.

But even that is no excuse because my non-work time is still very busy and entertaining. At least, it is for me. Let´s see... looking back in my calendar... we´ve had an election, and a very exciting one at that, with lots of interesting and positive feedback in Europe, I´ve done some paperwork for some other interesting things, I´ve been to Stockholm and haven´t even mentioned a word about it till now, I´ve worked in London for three days, with another to come tomorrow, I´ve played my first soccer match in a Paris suburb (and been severely gashed with metal studs - yikes), I´ve been to a doctor, and to my first rugby match, and there´s still one more weekend left... which I´ll spend in Prague!

Plus, this is my last month of my 20s!!!!! You´d think I´d have written something every day in commemoration! Whoops.

So really, I have no excuse. Time to get back on the wagon! You´re all welcome to join! :)

Why I'm Happy It's Election Day

2008-11-04T23:19:00.003+01:00

Well, quite simply, I'm sick of hearing about the election. I'm sick of everyone in Europe demanding that I vote for Obama OR ELSE. I'm sick of people who have no idea what they're talking about lecturing me. It's all really old.

That having been said, being an American in Europe during the Bush years really sucks, so I'm looking forward to change. ANY change.

Last week I had to go to Barcelona to get a piece of paper that allows me to travel around while I wait for my new resident card. Another day of my life lost to a long line and paperwork. On the way back to Paris, I showed a security agent my boarding pass and passport in the Barcelona airport in order to go through security. He looked at my passport and, without even opening it, said in the most evil voice ever, "Ameeeeerican." Then a pause, followed by, "Buuuuuush. George Buuuuush."

I didn't even have the nerve to look him in the eye. It continued...

Security guard: You like Bush? Or Obama?
Me: (figuring that if he really wanted to speak English, then sure no prob) They're not even running against each other.
Guard: (confused) You like Bush or Obama?
Me: Bush isn't RUNNING!
Guard: YOU LIKE OBAMA??
Me: If I tell you I like Obama, can I have my passport back and go through security now?
Guard: Obama?
Me: Yes! Obama! I like Obama! I love Obama. Can I go now?

Then he gave me back my passport. And I angrily took off half my clothes in order to pass through security.

So yeah, I'm excited for this to be over. Go Obama.

T- 5 months

2008-11-02T18:30:00.003+01:00

Last night Frenchy and I went to see an old friend of his to have dinner and play video games. At one point we were talking about New York and I mentioned that the NYC Marathon was today, and we got to talking about marathons. Apparently Quentin's friend had run a marathon on a sort of bet a few years back.

Well evidently the conversation (or, more likely, the wine) led me to think it was a good idea to register for the 2009 Paris Marathon around 1am this morning. When I woke up my first thought was, What a funny dream! And then I realized, wow, I've drunk registered for a marathon. I wonder if Google can develop something to prevent this.

In reality, the Paris marathon is something I've been thinking about doing since August. And hey, nothing like middle-of-the-night race registration to move you from the thinking phase to the reality phase. And so I took my reality phase to the park today and ran 10 kilometers. This marathon thing is going to be a snap. (Just have to be able to add another 32km....)

New Country, New Title

2008-10-25T12:51:00.003+02:00

By the way, you may have noticed that the name of the blog has changed. Noelle is no longer in Barcelona, and my IESE ended a year and a half ago (though we all continue to drag it out as long as possible), but I am indeed a stranger in a strange land. I think I'll still feel that way even if I finally go back to the US.

So it was time for a change.

Speaking of change... a few weeks ago I started to get really stressed out over the fact that I hadn't received an absentee ballot and indeed wasn't even sure where such a thing would have been or should have been sent.

Fortunately (or not) for me, I had added my email address to two different lists in support of Barack Obama. Meaning that I get Obamaspam on a daily or even hourly basis. (Funnily enough, I'm not the only one, as I found when I happened across this article yesterday.) Anyway, in this case it was fortunate because the spam I received just two days after worrying I wouldn't get to vote informed me that I could indeed register still and even cast a write-in ballot by just going to Shakespeare & Co. bookstore, one of the most famous expat destinations in Paris.

So off we went, Frenchy and I. There were two volunteers working there, sitting outside in the sunny and yet not particularly warm afternoon, registering a hoard of people, some of whom had even weirder stories than mine. All of which needed explaining of course. The woman in front of me explained (moments after her young daughter announced to everyone, "Mom, you have the softest, smushiest butt for hugging!") that she was from Ohio and was worried that her ballot may have been sent there, in which case ... was she completely out of luck??? Another girl carried a US passport because her mom is from Kansas, but had never set foot in the States in her life.

So finally it was my turn, and Frenchy started laughing before I even got the first words out. I explained that I was registered in New York, but that I'd always voted absentee in California. The guy told me this was impossible, that I must have voted in NYC. Try as I might to explain to him it wasn't the case, he insisted otherwise. Finally I just said, "look I don't care where I vote, I just want to VOTE!" Since my last residence before Spain (and France) was New York, he started to look up the deadline for New York state, further explaining, "See it's all about the last place you were a resident in the US and the last place you paid taxes."

Oh....

In that case, my last residence was actually Boston, where I lived for two months last year. Frenchy burst out laughing. And all the other people in line let out an "oooooh" of respect. Indeed my story was crazier than anyone else's. And the volunteer guy said excitedly, "EVEN BETTER! Massachusetts allows you to register right up to Nov 4 so you can vote via write in today and you may also receive an absentee ballot here in time!" Cool, so I can vote twice!

Trying my best to understand the write-in/absentee/re-registration process.

An hour and a half later, I was registered, ready to send off my ballot, and excruciatingly hungry. We ended up in one of the most touristy areas possible (hey, we were starving and near Notre Dame) and nearly got ripped off by an overly happy Greek restaurant owner. But at least I had voted...

A Month In the Merde

2008-10-24T19:47:00.002+02:00

Actually, it has only been three weeks, but these three weeks have been absolutely merde-erific!

The good points: I've gotten to travel a lot, have seen plenty of friends, and our apartment is feeling downright livable thanks to the amazing Frenchy!

The bad points: I've had to travel a lot, rain and scooters really don't go well together, and I don't know where anything is in the apartment. (Frenchy's plan to make me absolutely dependent upon him, clearly.)

Main lesson learned from the first three weeks of this Frangoli adventure? If you are American, I advise against working for a French company on a Spanish payroll. Imagine the bureaucracy inherent in just ONE of those three, and put them all together... let's just say an unreasonable portion of my time and energy is devoted to figuring out how to get paid, what happens if I get sick, filing expenses that no one can account for... I will stop now because job griping is something from which I generally refrain, particularly in this frigid economic clime.

I'm just looking for a good excuse as to why I hadn't posted, and if that ain't enough for ya, then come over here and try it out for a week yourself! ;)

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes!

2008-10-03T18:16:00.002+02:00

This morning Frenchy and I got up at 5am to get ready to head to the airport for our last flight out of Barcelona. Last night after the movers left, all we had was an air mattress, two laptops and wifi that (thankfully!!!!) won´t be disconnected until mid-October. It was kind of fun, in a way. Especially because we had Wednesday´s episode of America´s Next Top Model to catch up on.

So this morning when the alarm went off it was still dark outside and I was definitely sleeping on the hard wood floor. Air mattresses don´t really hold their air very long, do they? We packed up what was left of our belongings (not much - a few towels and a sheet and blanket to hold us over until our stuff arrives in Paris tomorrow) and headed out.

We got to the airport in plenty of time since no one is on the road at that hour and so you can imagine our surprise when we were told the flight was overbooked and we were thus on standby. Now, those of you who have read this blog for some time will know that I consistently have airline troubles and so this probably shouldn´t faze me. But something about the fact that I had to get to the office in Paris, Frenchy had interviews in the afternoon, we had to get to Paris to MOVE INTO OUR FLAT, ... just everything. It was too much. And I lost my cool, just a little bit, and might have sort of used my non-indoor voice for some good old American obscenities. Ricky Ricardo style, but in reverse.

The supervisor politely explained to us in Spanish that it was an ordinary overbooking, which happens all the time. Frenchy responded, "ES UNA PUTADA" To which the supervisor replied with a nod and said, "It´s a completely legal overbooking," and to which Frenchy replied in turn, "ES UNA PUTADA LEGAL!!"

At or around this time I decided to march to the Air France desk in a huff, only to have a now calm Frenchy suddenly become rational and say, "Wait, maybe we should check the bags at least and TRY to get on the flight." Hmph. Fine. So we had to go back to that supervisor and ask him to check our bags, which he did with surprising zeal and pleasantness. And sure enough, when we got to the gate, they informed us that all standbys would be given seats on the plane.

I like to think it´s all that yelling and huffing we did in multiple languages that got us on board... And let me tell you, if you don´t want to feel sad about leaving a place, just get screwed over by the national airline on the way out the door. You won´t regret a thing!

Anyway, now I´m in Paris. Again. But this time it´s for real. Tonight Frenchy and I will go to our new flat with almost no furniture and welcome our very first houseguest... Marco! A mini Calatrava reunion in gay Pareee! What a perfect way to kick off the next adventure.

Last Day in Barcelona

2008-10-02T11:04:00.002+02:00

So I'm sitting in my apartment on Diagonal, surrounded by boxes. I got back from nearly two weeks in the US (a pitch that went incredibly well, followed by a weekend in Oregon for David & Lyndsey's wedding - more about those later) on Tuesday afternoon and went straight to see a lawyer about my work permit renewal.

It's amazing how fast things can go when you know who to talk to and you take things into your own hands. After waiting nearly five months to hear about how our relocation would work (how, when, etc.) and about my work permit being renewed, I decided finally to just deal with it myself and ask the right people directly rather than waiting for someone in HR to "handle" it. And it worked!

My work permit will be ready in two months. I dropped off my passport and work visa on Tuesday afternoon after getting off the plane and picked them up 24 hours later. Incredible. No lines, no forms, no nada. Just a really awesome lawyer who took care of everything. And this morning the movers arrived at our apartment. Frenchy had dealt with finding the right moving company and getting the quotes and booking the dates (because he is the best guy on the planet) and all we had to do yesterday as a result was pack up EVERYTHING into boxes.

And you know what? While we do have quite a lot of stuff (more than I had at Calatrava because this flat wasn't furnished), it's a lot less than I expected to have after three years. And the best part is... come Sunday afternoon, I'll have my scooter in Paris as well. The movers are sending it in the truck today!

New York State of Mind

2008-09-26T14:06:00.000+02:00

So the last few days have been a whirlwind... I mentioned my travel schedule already: Paris-Barcelona-Paris-New York in just four days. But now that I'm back in New York, I'm feeling great. I love traveling west and getting the "good" jetlag, where you wake up really early ready to face the day. (Ok, not the part where you faceplant in your food at 8pm. That's a bit embarrassing.)

My love affair with New York started when I was about five. We used to visit every summer either before or after visiting my grandparents in Pennsylvania, and I always loved the soaring buildings, the bustling traffic sounds, the crush of the crowds, the steamy summer air, and the stinky subway. So it was only natural that I would want to pursue my film degree there, at NYU, which I did. What I didn't know was that I'd spend nearly 10 years there.

But when it was time to move to Barcelona, I was ready. Even New York, my favorite place in the world, had started to wear me down. And I felt like I almost knew it too well. It was time for another adventure, another challenge. But after a couple of days being back here, knowing the city well has become a positive thing again. I walked to our downtown office this morning from my hotel in Soho and was reminded how EASY life is here. Want to stop off at the gym before work? No problem, they are EVERYWHERE. Need a coffee? There's your friendly coffee cart dude, ready with your 75 cent coffee and a "good morning." Oh and in case you have to drop off some shoes to be fixed because you destroyed the heels at that last wedding, no problem. There are at least three shoe repair places on the way to wherever you're going. Need to do all of that on a Sunday? Why sure! It's just like any other day of the week! Things are OPEN. Ahhhhh.

I love New York.

Roller Coaster

2008-09-17T20:22:00.004+02:00

Have you ever looked back on a week and just gone, "WOAH." Like, that was so totally heavy and out there and all over the place. Tears one minute, laughter the next? That kind of thing? Well, that's how the past week has been for me.

My life has been a little hectic of late, and it has been made more complicated by the fact that my situation, well OUR situation - Frenchy's and mine - has so many variables, so many moving parts. We've been waiting for the Spain-France move to be settled for nearly five months now, and frankly it still isn't. I mean, it's happening... but we were meant to have been here and been fully settled in by Sept 1, and here I am on Sept 17 about to leave the country for the rest of the month for work, without anything actually finalized.

And then there's a little nagging health issue which still hangs in the balance. And my work permit, which is at least starting to get moving now that I'm handling it myself. A flat in Paris should soon be ours, thanks to our network of IESE pals. But the most important of all, I think I have created a dream job for myself... without even having to leave my company. Details to come perhaps, but the main point is that when everything in your life seems to be spinning out of control, just finding a way to make one thing concrete and YOURS can make all the difference.

Since I wrote my "pick-me-up song list" last Wednesday morning until now, I'm feeling a million times better. I have an exciting, challenging, new project to look forward to, and it's amazing how that can make all the difference.

I'm sure this is a very strange, rambly post... and at the moment, my brain is kind of strange and rambly. Understandable, since I got up at 5am today in Spain, flew to Paris and had a day full of meetings and conference calls in three different languages, and now I have to pack again because tomorrow I fly to NYC. But hey, at least I feel like I'm moving in a positive direction again, strange and rambly as it may be along the way!

I HATE PACKING!

2008-09-16T18:18:00.003+02:00

Which is why right now I'm doing everything but. Dancing in the living room, responding to emails, trying on Frenchy's hat, taking self-portraits....

This week is a little crazy: Monday Paris, Tuesday Barcelona, Wednesday Paris, Thursday New York. I had no idea where I was when I woke up this morning!

60 Years!

2008-09-11T10:37:00.001+02:00

Before Sept 11 was a day for crashing planes or burning trains (which will surely affect my planned trip to London on the Eurostar Saturday), it was my grandparents' wedding anniversary.

And today they celebrate 60 years of wedded bliss. Can you imagine? 60 YEARS?!?! And I thought my parents' 30th was impressive...

As long as I've known my grandparents - and that would be my whole life - they've always been kind to each other and treated each other with love and respect. I've almost never seen them disagree, and when they have it has been incredibly low-key and over in minutes. The first time I ever heard something even close to an argument was when I was 15 or so and something related to the phone company or the bank or something, and it was all summed up in my grandmother saying, "Well shit, Don, go ahead and call them if you want to!" I rarely hear my grandparents even use the "s-word!" It was awesome.

The other day I called my grandparents to see how they were doing, because my grandfather recently took a tumble down the stairs and cracked his hip. My grandmother answered and said, "I'm just trying on my wedding dress! I figured I'd see if it still fits after all these years. And you know, it does! As long as I don't zip it..." My grandfather said she looked lovely.

So happy 60th anniversary, Amma & Poppy! Thanks for being an inspiration. And the coolest grandparents ever.

Music for "one of those days"

2008-09-10T07:55:00.001+02:00

I haven't written much about the not-so-funny stuff happening in my life, because I don't see the point right now, but let's just say that while the last few months have been hilarious and wonderful in many ways, they've also been a helluva struggle. Lately I've been telling myself, "If I can just make it to October, I'll be okay...." But that used to be September. And hopefully it won't change to November.

Anyway, troubles of work, health, and home aside, I've always found that no matter how crappy I'm feeling in a given moment, I'm usually able to turn it around pretty fast. And this is how.

Instructions for fixing a crappy day:
1. Open laptop, turn on iTunes, turn on stereo speakers. The louder the better.
2. Press play
3. Get up, get moving, get on with it!

Song list, in any order: (beware, some are incredibly cheesy, but that's the point!)
- "That's All" - Genesis
- "Part Time Lover" - Stevie Wonder
- "I'm So Excited" - Pointer Sisters
- "You Make My Dreams Come True" - Hall & Oates (or any H&O, really... you can't go wrong!)
- "Don't Feel Like Dancing" - Scissor Sisters
- "I Want To Break Free" - Queen (especially when George is in your house and starts sweeping)
- "What Do All The People Know" - The Monroes
- "Here It Goes Again" - Ok Go
- "Hold The Line" - Toto
- "Party All The Time" - Eddie Murphy / Rick James
- "The Stroke" - Billy Squire
- "Catch A Star" - Men At Work
- "The Way To Your Heart" - Soulsister
- "Give Me The Night" - George Benson

If, after this, you are not feeling better (and not out of the shower, dressed, and on your way to whatever you're supposed to be doing) then you need to check your pulse.

And now I'm about to take my own advice, because I have meetings to get to in London today!
(See? I'm feeling better already.)

Gray Hair

2008-09-07T11:39:00.003+02:00

This is just to give my parents more gray hairs... Sorry!

The Wedding That Wasn't

2008-09-06T09:31:00.005+02:00

Last night, Frenchy and I attended our seventh wedding of the summer... kind of. It was to be our first wedding in Spain, our first Catalan wedding, and our first wedding for someone in Frenchy's class at IESE. So even though we were both exhausted, we were also pretty excited. I rushed home from work, we both rushed around showering and getting dressed, and then we rushed out the door.

We had arranged to drive to the wedding in Terrassa with Jess and Sergio, another IESE couple of confusion (she's from Mississippi, he's from Aragon and their strange conversations rival the ones I have with Frenchy) and met them around 5 for the ride out of town. The wedding started at 5:30, and when we hadn't actually left Barcelona yet at 5:20, we figured we'd probably be a bit late. Frenchy even bet me that we'd arrive at 6:15. We shook on it, but never determined what the winner would get.

Around 5:45, well outside of town, Sergio looked at the invitation, which was written in Catalan, and said, "Joder tio, the wedding is in Barcelona and the RECEPTION is in Terrassa!"

Whoops.

It was too late to go all the way back to Barcelona... we would've arrived just as everyone was leaving the church and throwing rice. So we decided to head to the reception site to see if we could have a drink there. Nope, they were still waiting for the caterers to arrive. So we headed into "town" (Terrassa is small and, unlike most Spanish towns, not particularly cute in any way at all) and found ourselves a terrace and had a few drinks. While we waited and chatted, we found out that a few other people had missed the wedding as well... one had to work late, one was stuck in Madrid airport after a few cancelled flights. So at least we weren't the only ones.

Frenchy and I had to laugh because after traveling so far for so many weddings, being late to nearly all of them, and even hitch-hiking to one (Juanra's, in Belgium), we never expected to miss the one in our very own town. I got a message from my friend Gemma at one point while we were waiting for the reception. She, too, was stuck in Madrid and a little grumpy about it. I told her, "Well, imagine us... We just missed a wedding because we went to the WRONG CITY." I'm always happy to help people put things in perspective! As Sergio would say, "Joder! Que fuerte."

The dream team waiting for the reception

Finally it was time to head to the Masia for the reception and dinner, all of which were stunning. We'd all agreed to leave "early" because we were tired and Jess and Sergio had to get to another party, and yet somehow it was well after 3am when we finally got home, after a lot of excellent food and a little post-dinner dancersize workout. It was the best wedding I've never been to. :)

Jess and I got stuck in the grass in our heels, but this fortunately happened at the perfect location for hors-d'oeuvres procurement and consumption

This doesn't even do justice to the magnificent location... it was incredible

The bride and groom make their entrance. That is indeed a white napkin at top right... everyone gets a little nuts with the napkin twirling.

The Costa Brava Saga

2008-08-31T19:33:00.002+02:00

Three years ago, a few days after my arrival in Barcelona, you may remember that Nicole and I went up to Costa Brava with some new friends to run a 9K race. It was one of those perfect days (aside from the 9K race part): new friends, a beautiful beach, perfect weather, and an absolutely incredible restaurant.

Since that time, I´ve made many return visits to the seaside village of Calella de Palafrugell and to one of my favorite restaurants in the world, Tragamar. No matter what time of year, it´s always beautiful and perfect.

So it´s only fitting that, for the past year and a half that Frenchy and I have been together, I have longed to share this place with him. I mean, he loves the beach and he gleefully ingests food... what´s not to like?

But it´s also only fitting that, given our track record, something would always come in the way of our fabled Tragamar lunch. The first such incident was the day after my graduation, late April 2007. We piled my parents, my sister, my uncle and aunt, and Frenchy into two cars and drove what should have been a quick trip to Costa Brava. Something about a holiday weekend which we failed to account for.... it took us four hours to get to Calella and when we finally got there, it was 3:58pm. The kitchen had just closed. Crushed and starving, I fell into a dramatic heap on the steps leading to the sand while my gallant boyfriend did everything he could (including BRIBERY) to convince them to serve just one more meal. Even money couldn´t convince them, and Frenchy came back muttering, "Ugh, lazy jerks." Or actually, something much worse that I won´t admit to.

Because you can only eat during very particular hours in Spain, the only option was a quickie pizza joint. My romantic post-graduation, Costa Brava family plans were dashed, but I kept hope alive for another chance...

And that chance came about a year later, Easter weekend of this year. Frenchy and I planned a trip up to Cadaques, further north, and agreed to stop en route at Tragamar for lunch. The weather was awful that day - lashing rain, freezing wind, dark cloudy sky. Not really beach weather. So imagine my dismay when we got to Tragamar around 2pm and were told we needed a reservation. The beach was desolate, but apparently the restaurant was full. This time, even the pizza place was closed, and we ended up at some truck stop eating really nasty spaghetti because there wouldn´t be another place to stop for a few hours.

So on Wednesday, on our way back to Barcelona from our mini roadtrip, we were discussing driving to Costa Brava the following day, since we still had another day on our car reservation. It was 9pm and I decided that if we were to have lunch at Tragamar the following day, I´d do everything in my power to be sure we weren´t cast away. I googled the restaurant right there in the car and called and made a reservation for 2pm the following day.

Early Thursday morning, Frenchy and I packed our roadbikes in the car and headed up toward Calella. We did a hellish hourlong ride in the hills (beautiful views, though!) and made it to Tragamar at 2:03. I know this because I was ridiculously stressed out for the final 20 minutes of the trip that we'd be slightly late and some German family would steal our table. But we made it. And there was even a table for two free on the terrace overlooking the beach. I nearly cried. And then I ate more seafood than should be legally permitted. And it was SO WORTH IT.

I told Frenchy, "Okay, we´ve been here. Three years to the day after my first visit. You´ve eaten here. The circle has closed. Now we can move to France." Which, incidentally, is a different story altogether.

On the way back home to Barcelona that night, we passed that spaghetti truckstop and laughed. Then we had to stop laughing because our stomachs hurt.

Roadtrip!

2008-08-29T21:52:00.001+02:00

This past week I finally took a few days of vacation. No one has been in the office all month (and, frankly, I prefer it that way) and I was told I must take a week off during August, so I did. I was tempted to spend the majority of the week packing my things, but considering I don't have a contract for my transfer to Paris, or anything else, Frenchy convinced me that spending my short time off packing would probably just make me mad in the end. And he would have been right.

Instead, we headed out of Barcelona on Friday night, due north toward Toulouse. A few hours later, we found ourselves in the French epicenter of rugby, aerospace, and cassoulet and foie gras.

Taking a walk along the river.

At the Space Museum on Saturday morning.

Sporting our rad 3D glasses

Saturday afternoon, our 6th wedding since the end of May. 4 in France (all in different cities), 1 in Canada, and 1 in Belgium. Next up, one in Spain next week and another in Oregon at the end of September...

After an afternoon of wedding recover on Sunday in Biarritz, we moved further south and west to San Sebastian, which quickly became one of our favorite cities in Spain. Beautiful beaches, amazing food, and plenty to see and do.

Frenchy and I have decided that since Spanish, English, and French are spoken all over the place, we need to learn Basque so that when we want to talk about the people around us they won't get it. The language apparently has no relation to any existing language... bonus!

So I guess we'll have to go back soon to learn and practice. And also to continue our food explosion...

After two fantastic days in San Sebastian, we drove further west to Bilbao, were we took in the Guggenheim, a conference call (ok, so vacation isn't ALL fun, you know), and another pintxo dinner with Jess and Sergio, who graduated with Frenchy in May and who have a similar background mix and thus regular miscommunication. (She's from the southern US and he's from Espain.)

Anyway, the Guggenheim was pretty breathtaking, and the food was great, but we were glad we didn't spend more than one night in Bilbao. In fact, we could've just driven over from San Sebastian during the day and happily stayed there another night instead.

The following day (Wednesday) after one last pintxo stop at a small bar in the old quarter of Bilbao, we headed back south and west toward Barcelona. We stopped in Zaragoza for lunch and some sightseeing and were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in a really cool town. Definitely worth the stop.

The Catedral del Pilar, Zaragoza

By Wednesday night we were back in Barcelona and ready to spend the next two days on the beach, first in Costa Brava and then in Sitges. Not a bad week at all!

Biarritz

2008-08-26T08:54:00.000+02:00

A little seaside stopover between a wedding outside of Toulouse (number 6 of the summer) and a couple of days in the Basque country in Spain.... can't beat Biarritz!

Viva Calatrava!

2008-08-22T10:36:00.002+02:00

It was three years ago this morning that I first set foot in Calatrava. I remember being at the entrance with my sister and alllll my stuff, and seeing George for the first time as he opened the door and said, "BUT WHY YOU HAVE SO MUCH STUFF?!?!" The first trip up the fabled (and often broken) elevator, my first glimpses of the apartment... quiet on a late August morning because Marco wasn't up yet and Alex was in Costa Brava with Natalia.

A few hours later Marco woke up, sleepy from a night in his then-home-away-from-home, Danzatoria, which sadly no longer exists. Never mind, we replaced it with our second home Sutton Club during the second year anyway. I remember setting up my bed and desk with Nicole, wandering around the city, which seemed far emptier than it does now (don't get me wrong, it's still tumbleweed central around here), meeting all my new and soon-to-be good friends, taking in the view from the roof of Calatrava, and of course one barbecue after the next.

I saw Marco last week for dinner in London, and I talk to George regularly on Skype. But it's still not the same as waking up every morning in Calatrava, stumbling around in our underpants as we struggle to make coffee and burn toast and get to class on time. I don't miss the cases or the exams or the projects, but I do miss meeting up with friends and classmates to work on them. Mostly I just miss being able to see my friends whenever I want to. Now Alex has a baby, so does Pierre who moved in after him, and Atsh, who lived in Calatrava during the second year, has moved back to Tokyo.

I'm fortunate enough to have been able to see a lot of my IESE friends through travel for work or for fun, and Barcelona isn't a bad place to return to, so people roll through town from time to time. But on this morning of August 22, even though I'm getting ready to head out with Frenchy for a road trip adventure in southern France and northern Spain, having just dropped off my moto at that Calatrava garage for safekeeping, I'm certainly feeling a little something in the pit of my stomach.

And I realize it won't be that hard to leave Barcelona for Paris next month. In fact, it'll probably be easier than ever to see my friends (especially the London-based ones), and I won't have to worry about getting choked up when I pass by Calatrava and think of my Calatrava guapos. I MISS YOU GUYS!!!

A Barcelona summer weekend

2008-08-19T20:03:00.004+02:00

After four jam-packed days out of town (well three relatively chill days in Paris because very few people were working) and then one action-packed day in London giving presentations and leading meetings, I was delighted to get back home to Barcelona.

But quiet and restful it wasn't... exactly. Frenchy and I managed to fit in two big bike rides, two tennis matches, a couple of jogs, and several hours at the beach. And it also happened to be the opening weekend of the Fiestas de Gracia, the annual party in the neighborhood of Gracia which starts right across the street from my apartment.

So of course we went to check it out, and it was pretty impressive. The residents of various streets and plazas had banded together to create cool little worlds, complete with stages for bands and DJs, street bars, and food stands. Everything was handmade (well, aside from the stages, of course) and really impressive... and sometimes downright bizarre. It's good that we decided not to go to bed early Friday night because we wouldn't have been able to anyway: one of the main attractions of the Fiesta is the fireworks. And the drumming groups.

One of the streets (yes, they created a makeshift roof covering the whole street to give it an under-the-sea vibe) filled with homemade fishes. Everything was created from garbage - plastic water bottles, yogurt jars, etc.

Crazy fireworks celebration
With really loud firecrackers... ok I was a little startled, but look at the woman behind me!
That is indeed a copy of the lizard from Parc Guell, with fireworks shooting out!!
Another little plaza, which was filled with huge Smurfs. (Pitufos in Spanish.) All made out of papier-mache... they even had houses and Gargamel!!!! I told you it was a little weird...

And here's what happens when you decide to go for sushi in the middle of the biggest party of the year:

On Saturday night we headed to Camp Nou to see Barcelona play a friendly match Boca Juniors from Buenos Aires. In a strange turn of events, an inexplicable 5 minutes of extra time were added at the end, giving Barcelona the opportunity to score a second goal and beat Boca 2-1.

We managed to get seats in the mega-rowdy Boca section, which went awfully quiet in the last minute of the match. But a perfect ambience for Frenchy's first Camp Nou experience. Add to that a full lunar eclipse, and it was pretty spectacular all around. (Though when I first noticed it, Frenchy tried to convince me it was just a cloud.... Hmph!)

18 short months ago....

2008-08-15T20:18:00.003+02:00

It was a year and a half ago tonight that Frenchy and I finally stopped pining for each other across the IESE campus and during our band rehearsals and stole a secret (or so we thought) kiss behind a curtain at Otto Zutz. And since that moment, I've enjoyed the best 18 months of my life. An initial whirlwind turned into a dream.

Every day he makes me feel like a queen, and every day I think about how lucky I am to be with the most wonderful guy on earth. Earss, if you're French. Never in my wildest dreams did I think my time at IESE would lead to me finding the perfect guy, but hey I guess it was somehow worth the agony of accounting and the hell of corporate finance to end up with the greatest gift I could ever hope for.

Frenchy, you rock my world. Tu roques mon monde!

Back on the Spanish Ranch

2008-08-14T23:02:00.002+02:00

So yeah, traveling around to European capitals is fun and all, but there's really nothing like coming home. Especially when home is Barcelona. And ESPECIALLY when you have a really cute French guy waiting for you upon arrival... with a "veggie explosion" in the fridge.

And of course no trip of mine would be complete without some travel issues, namely:

1. After a very easy (too easy) train ride on the EuroStar from Paris to London, all I had to do was jump on the Victoria line at King's Cross station and get off at Pimlico, where my friend Lisa lives. But upon arrival, after waiting in a tube ticket line for a while, the announcement on the loudspeaker went, "Please be advised that trains are not running on the Victoria Line between King's Cross and Victoria due to a person under the train."

I'm not kidding. Apparently this is part of a "transparency initiative" to keep people fully abreast of such situations so they don't freak out over terrorism or something similar. As I approached the entrance, I asked a transit worker if there might be an alternate route. She was standing next to a whiteboard that repeated, in cute curvy writing, that a person was under a train on the Victoria line, and she told me to take the Circle line and switch at Victoria. Great!

I waited for the Circle line for about 30 minutes, only to finally go back to my starting point and learn that, "oh, the Circle line is experiencing severe delays. You can go to some other place I can't remember and then get a bus...." I left and took a taxi, 4 pounds poorer.

But hey, I got to have dinner with Marco! And that made it all okay.

2. In other news... I fell asleep on my flight back to Barcelona this evening after a long, tiring day of meetings and presentations. I woke up as the flight attendant said in Spanish (and repeated in English) that we'd be landing soon in Madrid. MADRID??? I thought for a few minutes that I'd missed an important announcement or gotten on the wrong plane somehow two hours earlier. No. She was just confused. Whew!

3. When we landed at Barcelona, we had to go through security after getting off the plane and before going through immigration. WHO GOES THROUGH SECURITY TO GET OUT OF THE AIRPORT???? It was truly bizarre and also quite useless, as every single person who walked through the metal detector and beeped (myself included) was just waved through. Very secure!

4. One last point.... does anyone else find the music that they force you to listen to on airplanes really annoying? This is a phenomenon I only noticed a few years ago. While you're waiting to take off, they pipe in music over the plane's loudspeakers, which are usually such poor quality that the "music" just comes out sounding like grating twinkly noises. The worst was when "Beautiful" by James Blunt was one of the featured songs on loop all the time... ugh! They don't turn off the music until the captain gives the all-clear to the flight attendants about 15 minutes after takeoff. And you're literally forced to listen to it, because that is the exact period of time you're not allowed to drown it out with your ipod. Does anyone else not see the point of this added in-flight irritation? Just curious.

Euro Mini-Tour

2008-08-13T11:34:00.002+02:00

After a handful of relatively restful days in Barcelona, I´ve now spent the past three days working in the Paris office, where I´ll be more permanently come September (exact date still TBD). I guess I brought some decent weather with me from Spain, because none of the forecasted rain has materialized since my arrival, though there are some pretty ominous-looking clouds gathering over the office here in Suresnes.

I find I´m getting jerked around by cab drivers less and getting to know my way around a bit more, but it´s still difficult when you´re only in a place for a few days every couple of weeks, and then mostly in an office outside of town. Today before I head to London for meetings I´ll even check out an apartment... my first attempt at a flat search in Paris so far. Fingers crossed that it works out, because it could be a pretty ideal situation.

And while my four days away from Barcelona are kind of nice, I´m really looking forward to getting back home to Frenchy tomorrow night, and to enjoying the beach on this long holiday weekend starting Friday!

MadBid... Awesome New IESE Class of 2007 Venture!

2008-08-11T20:40:00.003+02:00

So get this... You all surely remember two of my favorite pals from IESE, who have appeared in many a blog post, many a photo, and even a video or two... or more. Well now they deserve yet another.

Madhur and Juha have just launched their first venture, MadBid.com. Basically, it's an online auction site where you bid to get cool schwag at super low prices. But I'll let their PR team tell it better....

MadBid.com, a new Internet-based auction platform that allows consumers to bag a bargain on new retail goods, today announced their official launch in the UK.

MadBid.com’s new online auction offers users the opportunity to snag premium retail products – ranging from gadgets such as iPods, mobile phones and laptops to lifestyle products such as holidays, games consoles, petrol vouchers and even cars and motorbikes – at a fraction of the cost.

Open to all residents of the UK over the age of 16, MadBid.com uses “bids” instead of direct cash to auction off the latest and greatest gifts and goodies in a fun, game-like environment. Getting started is easy: customers sign up to use the service in a few clicks and, once registered, can return to bid on as many items, as many times as they like. Bidding can take place online or through a registered account via a mobile phone. MadBid.com’s daily auctions are live and allow users to watch the progress of their bids in real time on their computer screens, making the process suspenseful down to the last few seconds of each bidding session.

“Internet based auctions can be an entertaining and fun way to save money on new purchases. Buy your bids to be in with a chance of winning new, cool products at Mad Prices!” said Juha Koski, Managing Director at MadBid.com.

King Homer?

2008-08-08T23:26:00.003+02:00

(photo REUTERS/Eloy Alonso)

How cool is this? You're counting the change in the register at your candy store in small-town Spain, and you come across one of those very rare and highly-coveted "Homer Euros" that were produced in a small, secret batch back in 1998 to test possible looks for the Spanish version of the coin. Some guys have all the luck!

(Special thanks to my friend John, who sent me this story.)

You Make My Dreams Come True

2008-08-06T03:47:00.003+02:00

What I want, you've got
And it might be hard to handle
But like the flame that burns the candle
The candle feeds the flame
What I've got's full stock of thoughts and dreams that scatter
You pull them all together
And how, I can't explain
But you make my dreams come true
On a night when bad dreams become a screamer
When they're messin' with the dreamer
I can laugh it in the face
Twist and shout my way out
And wrap yourself around me
'cause I ain't the way that you found me
I'll never be the same
'cause you make my dreams come true
I'm down on the daydream
That sleepwalk should be over by now
I know that you make my dreams come true
(Lyrics: Hall & Oates)

Where Do I Begin?

2008-08-05T18:25:00.003+02:00

Well we've crossed from July into August while I was away... And in that time Frenchy and I hit three states and two countries, spent time with my parents, uncle, sister, and grandparents (all in different locations), saw loads of old friends, confused ourselves with time zones on more than one occasion, had a fire drill in the hotel, took six planes, three rental cars, and a bus (but not one where anyone was decapitated, thank goodness), and... of course... rounded it all out with A WEDDING!

Not just any wedding. One of my best friends from back in my old Miramax days, Michael, whom we never thought would tie the knot. And I'm so happy for him that he has. Congrats Michael and Sarah, even though I know you'll never read this since you're both technophobes!

Oh yeah, and I spoke on the panel at the OMMA Gaming conference, which went fine and resulted in lots of exchanged business cards and plenty of follow-up emails, which I spent a good chunk of my day replying to today.

I'm not sure that I could possibly pinpoint a true highlight of the trip, since there were many, but one thing that will always stay with me is my visit to LucasArts, where my friend David now works. He and I worked together at Rockstar Games, and he's been over in San Francisco for a few years now. He took us on a tour of the ILM studios.... and I totally geeked out. I mean, the painting of Vigo the Carpathian from GHOSTBUSTERS II was just hanging on the wall in a hallway! And ET was just chilling there too. In an ideal world I would have taken like one million pictures, but I didn't want to (a) embarrass David or (b) make him lose his job. So I will just have to retain the memories. Bear in mind that I saw ET and Return of the Jedi in the theater and decided right there and then that I was destined to work in "the biz." Maybe I should get back to that....

Slow on the uptake

2008-07-18T20:56:00.003+02:00

Apologies once again for my lackluster blogging display of late. The fact is, I've barely been home in Barcelona in the past month. Between the move to Paris (which is supposedly happening Sept 1, but seems to have already sort of happened, since I seem to be expected there weekly) and my regular work travels, well I think I've been home for 8 days out of the last 30.

In the meantime, I'm overwhelmed with uncertainty. We've been waiting for all of this to be official since Frenchy graduated in early May, and it didn't really become official until nearly two months later. And in fact, in my opinion, nothing is official at all, since I haven't received the slightest bit of information about how this move is going to occur, financially, logistically, time-wise... zip.

Tomorrow we are headed to San Francisco. I mean, I've been home for four whole days, so it seems like the right thing to do. No, in all seriousness, I've been asked to speak on a panel about video games and advertising for the OMMA Gaming Conference. Pretty cool, huh? While I'm there I'll round out the week with some gaming-related meetings, catch up with old friends, and then stick around the US the following week for... VACATION. It's about time! Far too long coming, which is probably contributing to my frayed nerves. Just a week, but I'll manage to see my entire family all in one go.

And that's something else I really need right about now. In the last few weeks, I've noticed I suddenly feel really far from my family. Maybe it's simply because we haven't seen as much of each other as we usually do, or maybe I'm starting to feel ready to head back to the States again. Who knows. But hopefully a week of family time will be just the ticket to help get me through the coming weeks and months of stress, lack of security, frustration, and uncertainty for which I'm fully preparing.

Next stop, my home state of California!! (And I promise that I will fill this space in with all the past month's adventures, from Finland to Belgium and everything in between, on the looooooong flight tomorrow.)

Hall & Oates

2008-07-03T20:59:00.005+02:00

When I was 4 or 5, my favorite songs were Maneater by Hall & Oates, Our House by Madness (a song my mother still hates to this day), Billie Jean by Michael Jackson, and Every Breath You Take by The Police. In fact, I still list these among my all-time favorite songs, despite having listened to them all way too much.

Anyway, lately Hall & Oates have come back into my life in a major way. I can't explain it. That smooth cheesy goodness goes so well with the view from my living room window and the balmy Spanish heat. And then tonight I had the best idea. I told Frenchy, the next incarnation of our band should be as a HALL & OATES COVER BAND!!!

And then I had an even better thought. I know Halloween is still nearly four months away, but you can never start preparing too early. Don't you think we can pull it off?

The question is... will all the Frenchies get it? Highly dubious... Might have to celebrate Halloween in the gaytastic West Village.

Back to Normal

2008-07-02T20:09:00.002+02:00

Today I'm feeling much better. Better than I have in a while, actually. Things are starting to fall into place, as they always seem to do. Of course there will be plenty of challenges and hurdles in the coming weeks and months, but probably nothing I haven't dealt with before. Well... okay they will be in French this time, but whatever. Details.

I've also had time to get some exercise again, which I hadn't managed much of during my hectic travels of the past couple of weeks. Nothing like a few kilometers in a swimming pool or on a road bike to get me back to my regular old happy self. And the beautiful weather here doesn't hurt a bit either. Most people are complaining that it's too hot - and it's certainly warm - but I'm reveling in it, after spending the majority of last summer south of the equator and thus in winter.

This weekend we are off to Paris again. I'm there for work all week, and we have bookend wedding weekends. Three weddings in three days in three cities ... I should make a documentary. The first is Saturday in Belgium for my old IESE teammate Juanra. Then a friend of Frenchy's gets married Sunday in Paris, and the following weekend his cousin in Strasbourg. Confused yet? Don't worry, so am I. But isn't that all part of the fun?

Freaking Out (Just A Little)

2008-07-02T01:14:00.003+02:00

I'm not really one to admit when I have anxiety. Very few people are privy to my nerves and my concerns about the future, and the rest of my friends and acquaintances (so I've come to learn) seem to view me as someone who goes through life, carefree and without worry, landing in one adventure after the next, and laughing about it all the way. Which is true, for the most part. I do seem to get myself into an awful lot of "adventures." But that's also the way I tend to look at it... and tell others about it. One person's lost luggage (or twelve) is my "haha that'll be a funny blog post." But it's also REALLY ANNOYING sometimes.

The point is, I'm stressed. Really stressed. I admit it. It's July 1. I will be in Barcelona a total of 8 days during the month of July, and not in a row. Two months from now I am meant to be officially working in Paris. In other words, another city, another country, wherein I'm STILL a foreigner. Another language. Another work visa, another social security system, tax system, metro system, social system. Another apartment, another mobile phone, another bank account. Another way of life that isn't the one I grew up with. Another time to uproot myself and what I've come to know and start over again.

So basically, I freak out every day. Some days I freak out a lot, some days just a little. Some days people know about it, most days I keep it for myself... which probably makes it worse. Yesterday was one of those days I broke down and filled Frenchy in, and I admit I felt much better afterward. But that is one of the things that scares me the most about all of this - now there are two of us involved. It's one thing for me to move to another country, uproot myself, change everything, go with the flow. It's another thing altogether to ask someone else to do the same, particularly when they never particularly planned to go back to that country in the first place.

And so here I am. The countdown has started. After nearly three years, only two months remain in my Barcelona life. Finally, the sun is out here. It's hot. UNBEARABLY hot for most people. But I haven't complained because I'm just so delighted summer is finally here. Life is good. The city is clean, small, easy to manage and get around. I see the Mediterranean from my bedroom window. The beach is 5 minutes away on my moto... I probably won't even be able to bring my moto to France. I love my moto. Some of my old IESE friends are even moving back to town... right around the time I leave. This isn't going to be easy.

And yet every time I worry, my typical Noelle voice chimes in: "It could be worse. You could have no legs." Or "It could be worse. You could be jobless in a bad economic climate." "It could be worse. You could be forging ahead alone."

All true. And all of these things remind me of just how lucky I am. And yet, it's there... that nagging feeling that I've built a sand castle and now I'm jumping on it, mixing it all around, ruining it. That I'm taking someone along for this ridiculous ride... Someone who has been so flexible, so kind, so understanding, so supportive... What if he gets sick of all this "adventure?" So here I am at 1am, where I often find myself late at night these days. Awake. Thinking too much. Wondering how it's all going to turn out and yet knowing that in the past everything always turned out fine. One voice competes with another inside my head. And then another voice, his voice, telling me it's all going to be fine. Geez, I hope so.

Just a typical day in my weird life

2008-06-30T00:25:00.000+02:00

I bought Frenchy a 4th-hand road bike for his birthday (previous owner: Ian, prior to that, our IESE professor Franz, who had already bought it used) and we've been psyched about getting out for a long weekend ride. Unfortunately, due to either weather or travel, that has been impossible since his birthday. So our road bikes sit patiently and wait.

But last night we agreed that today would be the day. Despite the heat, we would go out and ride, no matter what.

Of course, when we woke up this morning it took a while to actually get moving, but soon we had donned our really sexy bike shorts and were ready to roll. Then my cycling shoes started making weird noises. I kid you not. We unscrewed the clip plates, couldn't figure out what was rattling or why, and put them back together and were again ready to go. Then I noticed my tires were soft. I called down to Frenchy, who was already downstairs waiting for the elevator. (Mine does not, figuratively or literally, go to the top floor.) He confirmed that he could use some air too.

So we went about pumping the tires. Mine took about 3 minutes. For whatever reason, Frenchy's took about 40 minutes and a lot of sweat. So by the time we were actually ready and outside, it was already 12:15. And we were supposed to be at Moncho's Marina for a paella with Nani and several others at 1:30.

Never mind, we headed off north along the water and got all the way to Badalona, where we realized that if we stopped at home before lunch we'd most certainly be very late. So I called Nani and informed her that we'd be arriving with our bikes (and no locks for them) and in our really sexy outfits. I figured we'd be eating on the terrace as we usually do and thought no one would really mind.

So when we arrived and found out we were actually upstairs in the dining room, where people were dressed quite normally (and in some cases very nicely) for their Sunday lunch... well, I sat down as quickly as possible. We stashed our bikes in the employee bathroom so they wouldn't be stolen (nicest waiters in all of Barcelona, clearly) and stuffed ourselves with paella.

The ride back home was a bit... slow. But we made it nonetheless and proceeded to pass out in a post-paella siesta until it was time to head over to Kris and Gemma's to watch the match. And... YAY ESPANYA!

So now it's 12:30... It's still mega hot outside. And, incidentally, inside. And sleep isn't likely tonight. Everyone in town seems to be outside, yelling, honking car horns, shooting off firecrackers.... Tomorrow should be a national holiday anyway!

Breaking News: Noelle Goes to Paris

2008-06-26T00:14:00.002+02:00

Just a day before Frenchy's graduation, I was asked if I'd like to move to Paris with the company. And just the day before that, Frenchy and I had discussed that very possibility as we pondered whether Barcelona would be the place for us for the coming years. We had decided probably not... The weather is nice and all (well, normally) but weather isn't everything.

So when I was asked that question, I said, "Sure." The next day Frenchy graduated. That was May 9. I finally got the official news two weeks ago while I was in Madrid and the even more official phone call a week ago Monday. So as you can guess, we've been in a bit of limbo for a while now, and it hasn't always been the easiest thing, but we've managed alright.

This morning I took a 6am flight to Paris, which is where I am now. I think I slept two hours last night and didn't manage to sleep at all on the plane because the guy behind me was using my seat back as a sort of punching bag. Now it's after midnight and I should really be in bed. But the reality is starting to set in. We are moving to Paris. In two months.

After spending the day in the office and getting to know my future colleagues, I'm looking forward to this next phase in my life and my career, even though I know it's going to be filled with plenty of challenges. From the language (which I guess I'm decent at) to the new office, new work, new colleagues, to the typical administrative headaches that always accompany a move, and finally to the very special administrative headaches that are reserved for Americans working abroad... well it's certainly going to be an adventure.

And adventures are always better with a partner in crime anyway, aren't they?

Back in BCN, and naked again

2008-06-24T23:15:00.002+02:00

Well considering I have to be back at the airport in less than 6 hours, I will have to keep this one short and hit the sack. Amazing week in Finland, with a little overnight in Estonia (Tallinn is cooool! Will definitely go back when it's not a national holiday) and today we had the travel day from hell. Would you expect anything less?

We were to take a 12:55 ferry back to Helsinki from Tallinn, which would have gotten us to our destination by 2:45 in plenty of time to get to the airport for our 5:20 flight to Barcelona. But when we got to the ferry terminal (very pleased with myself, I might add, for having just rearranged all my travel to Paris tomorrow - another story altogether) and found no one was really there.... we became a bit suspicious.

And rightly so, because our ferry was cancelled. Silly us! National holiday! Reminds me of when my flight from Bucharest to Barcelona was cancelled because it was EASTER. I mean, you knew it was going to be Easter that day for at LEAST a year. Why put the flight on the schedule? Same goes for Juhannus (not to be confused with the unmentionables of a dear Finnish friend of ours) in Estonia. I mean really. When you make a reservation for a ferry, you'd expect there TO BE A FERRY!

But never mind. They were kind enough to let us switch from Nordic Jet Line to SuperSeaCat without charge, but the catch was that the next ferry didn't leave until 2pm. So we waited an hour and a half and finally boarded and I kept telling myself that everything would be fine, that we'd make it... despite the fact that we'd now only arrive at 3:40 and we'd need to be checking in for our flight at 4:25.

I didn't factor in the boat being late. We arrived at 4 and thanks to some graceful running off the ship and through the terminal with our huge backpacks, we were in a taxi by 4:04. According to our very specific taxi driver. We miraculously made it to the airport despite rain, bad traffic, and the start of rush hour, in time to check in without any problems. And just before doing so, I had the foresight to take all my overnight stuff (makeup, contact lens solution, toothbrush, etc) out of my checked bag... just in case.

And good thing I did, too. Because we made it to Barcelona. But our bags didn't. And you know when we will finally get them? THURSDAY! Today is Tuesday! Ugh. Forget the fact that I now have not much to wear for my three days of meetings in Paris starting tomorrow morning at 9:30. Which reminds me... it's late and I have to get up at 4am. Time for some shuteye. More Finnish adventure stories to come. And believe me, there are many!

Global Chilling

2008-06-16T15:05:00.000+02:00

The weather in BCN has been pretty terrible for 6 weeks now. We had two fantastic weeks at the end of April, and since then just clouds and rain. What is going on here? Where is all this global warming everyone promised us? I'm moving to the Arctic, where it´s supposedly getting warmer, because this is getting really depressing. Or else I need some more climate change. Because the climate here needs changing!

In other news, we are off to Helsinki tomorrow morning because I have a conference there with the folks who are behind Habbo Hotel, and then we´ll stick around for the long weekend (Monday and Tuesday are holidays here in Barcelona) to enjoy the annual Midsummer festival. Wouldn´t you know it, the days we're in Finland it looks like it'll finally be beach weather here. But hey, I'll just work on my skin cancer next year I guess.

International Relations

2008-06-12T20:54:00.003+02:00

Just got back from a 2 day training session in Madrid with about 30 people from all over Europe (Spain, France, UK, Poland, Finland, Sweden, Estonia, and Lithuania) and it reminded me that I really love working in such an international environment. Before IESE, I spent nearly a decade in New York, which is already an international place to be, and I was lucky enough to work in companies that had strong international ties. But even that didn´t compare to the IESE experience or my current job.

For instance, I share a work space with a Belgian and two Catalans. At the next work space are another Catalan, a Portuguese, and two French. And our office count obviously doesn´t include the people who waltz in and out from all over the place for mega-committee meetings.

Hmmm usually there´s a point to my ramblings... I guess it would be that I´m not quite ready to go back to the US just yet! I think I´ll continue my European sojourn as long as possible.

Et Maintenant Quelque Chose Completement Different

2008-06-09T23:11:00.000+02:00

I'm cheating on my blog! Frenchy and I have started a new one, aptly titled Pardon Mon Français. The idea is to bore you with the ridiculous things that happen to a French guy and an American girl living in Spain. Or wherever.

If for whatever reason the link doesn't work, just plug in http://moronsinlove.blogspot.com .

Frenchy will be writing in français and moi en anglais. Until we get bored and try to change it up a bit. Enjoy!

Naked Cycling (Cyclonudistas!)

2008-06-08T19:26:00.001+02:00

I'm all for cycling. Bicycles are fun, fast, and not harmful to the environment. You can ride basically anywhere you want, and you get some exercise at the same time. I'm also all for nudity. I mean, why not? Being naked isn't bad for the environment, but I guess it can get a little cold sometimes.

What I'm NOT sure I can get into is naked cycling. But when my equally ecologically-conscious colleague Nathalie forwarded me the info about the CicloNudista event last weekend, my curiosity got the best of me and I had to go check it out. Hey, if you can't join 'em, gawk at 'em! In my humble opinion, it was a bit too cold that day for nudity, on a bike or otherwise.

The Sun Is Out In Barcelona Again! (Finally)

2008-06-07T21:12:00.000+02:00

And it couldn't have come any sooner! After over a month of rain, it has gotten hard to recall that the weather here is usually warm and sunny.

Perfect opportunity for a motorbike ride with the man of my dreams.

Roman Holiday

2008-06-03T00:52:00.000+02:00

So for Frenchy's birthday I decided it might be nice to take him to Rome, a city neither of us had ever visited and had both always wanted to see. And always in search of adventure, I figured we'd probably have a good story or two to finish off the weekend. We weren't disappointed.

I had heard plenty about Roman taxi drivers and their cheating ways and insane driving habits, but hey, I've spent time in Lima and in Bucharest... how much worse can these drivers really be? I was more concerned about losing my euros than losing my life. What I will say is that Lima and Bucharest left me well-prepared for the wild ride we went on upon from the airport to the hotel.

I have a feeling that the drivers that wait for you at the airport are like Disneyland hosts. They are there to make sure tourists are welcomed with a true Roman experience. In the 30 minutes we drove from the airport to our hotel, we had several near death experiences and heard every bad word in the Italian language, and probably a few invented ones as well. I thought it was hilarious. As we got out of the taxi in the middle of our street, I asked the driver in my "Italian" which way to our hotel. Shocked, he said (in Italian), "BUT YOU SPEAK ITALIAN! I'M SO SORRY!" He apologized for his language for a few minutes and threw in a few "ciao bella"s and we were off in the direction of our hotel. We thought.

See, the next thing we learned about Rome is that they don't count from one to ten like the rest of us. As we went down the street toward the hotel (we thought) we noticed that the numbers went 27, 25, 23, 30, 32... Then a dead end. Huh? So we went back up the other direction in search of number 5. Completely opposite end of the street. Frenchy said, "I think in Rome they teach the kids to count like this: 2, 5, 4, 7, 9, 1, 13... Just to screw up the tourists."

Finally checked in to our hotel, and all was well. We headed out to wander around and take in the sights. Quick note: if you have the opportunity to be in Rome on a Friday evening, I highly suggest you take advantage of the fact that there are FAR fewer tourists around at 5pm on Friday than ANYTIME on Saturday or Sunday.

As we wandered around, we got caught in a massive anti-car bike rally.

Then caught up with Valerio for the first of many gelato expeditions and some birthday spumante for Quentin.
The following day we had breakfast in the hotel... and while we were outside of the room something happened with the electrical system JUST ON OUR DOOR and we were locked out. The manager was mortified. He had just made an elaborate show, offering to take care of anything we needed on Frenchy's birthday and hoping Frenchy had the best birthday ever. And then we couldn't get back into our room. Which meant no showers, no wallets, no sunglasses, no money, no cameras... nothing.

So we waited there for a while as the electrician risked his life to short circuit the system and spring the door open. I, personally, couldn't imagine that there wasn't any way to bypass the key card system. And finally, 40 minutes or so later, the guy unscrewed the door handle (I mean, I watched a lot of MacGyver... I knew this was possible) and we were in the room and able to head out into the city shortly after. Frenchy's birthday got off to a slightly late start, but we more than made up for it in sightseeing, gelato, mozzarella, and beer!

Birthday boy

The Spanish Steps. Or, if you're actually Spanish... The Espanish Esteps.

Don't you love it when people do this?

Trevi Fountain. To me, this looks like Sea World. But IT'S JUST A FOUNTAIN! No Shamu! No dolphins! What are all those people crammed in there for? There's no light show!

In the middle of Circus Maximus, these dudes appeared. They are a group of Roman history "enthusiasts" which basically means they dress up and parade around town on Sundays and stage mock fights. Oh, and they also do parties and corporate events.

Even warriors get wedgies.

As gladiators go, they were awfully polite, obeying all pedestrian sign and making proper use of the crosswalk.

Figuring out where to go next

How to park a Smart. (Diagonal option not shown.)

This picture is not just worth a thousand words, but also maybe 1000 euros. Moments after taking this and beginning to wander off to the next site, the police officer inside the car walked up to Frenchy and said, "Documento." Frenchy pretended not to understand at first, but finally we produced our passports. The police officer was NOT happy with us for taking a picture that he felt ridiculed La Polizia. I discussed with him in my finest Italian but he kept insisting that I delete all the pictures. I did so, one by one, saving this one - the money shot - for last.

Just before I was about to delete it, another officer walked up, wondering what we were discussing. Officer #1 said that I had taken a picture of him in the car. And I said, No, it's a picture of me! SEE? And I showed it to him. He couldn't help himself and started laughing and said to the first guy, "Did you SEE this? It's so funny!" At which point, number one had a hard time keeping a straight face and pretending to be angry with us. I announced: "This is art! You can't make me delete it!" The good cop said, "It's garbage. Okay get out of here." And we were off.

Fortunately Frenchy didn't dump me right there on the spot. He's so nice. :)

New Helmet

2008-06-02T13:28:00.000+02:00

After two years using the same old crappy second-hand helmet, I finally got a new one. An orange one! With a stripe! There was a pretty cool yellow one from Bultaco too, but they didn't have my size, so I went with the orange.

He Never Knew What Hit Him

2008-05-30T22:27:00.002+02:00

I've decided that few people are easier to surprise than Frenchy. I sat right next to him on the couch and sent an email out to several of his friends with the title: Quentin's Birthday - SHHHH!

I'm sure he looked over my shoulder at my screen on more than one occasion, but still managed to never see those email headers.

Then, on the day of his surprise dinner, I met Tucker at L' Illa to buy his gift: a new tennis racket. After five minutes, Frenchy called me and said, "Hey do you want to meet for lunch at L' Illa?" I would never EVER turn down Frenchy for lunch so, not wanting to appear suspicious, I said, "Sure, I can be there in a few minutes if I leave the office now." Then a voice came over the loudspeaker at the sporting goods shop requesting a price for something... And Frenchy still paid no heed. He's the best! When he arrived, he didn't even think it was weird that I'd randomly bumped into Tucker and Alex, nor that they had a new tennis racket with them....

So I could probably throw him a surprise party every year and he'd still never suspect it! Frenchy rocks.

Tucker, moi, Xandy, Frenchy, Miguel, and Brandon... some of the 30+ attendees:

Post #401: Back from France

2008-05-26T22:58:00.002+02:00

So I tried with all my might to leave my annoying illness in France with the Frenchies over the weekend, but alas, it came back to Barcelona with me. And over the course of the weekend, I lost and regained my voice a few times, managed to breathe through my nostrils again and then lose that very unappreciated ability, and develop a rather nasty cough. All while trying to speak French. Whew! No wonder I'm exhausted.

And tonight Frenchy called his parents to say hello and found out that his father has now lost his voice. Whoops. Bad enough I'm American... I had to go around spreading my germs all over Paris! Note to self: bad idea to get your boyfriend's parents sick. Try not to do this again.

In other news, at least the weather was pretty good! Meanwhile, here in Barcelona it apparently rained nonstop. I'm looking forward to summer actually starting...

Gay Pareeee

2008-05-22T12:43:00.002+02:00

So my cold from Sunday hasn´t gotten much better... au contraire. Now, not only can I not hear anything or breathe through my nose, I can´t speak either! If I had superhuman vision, I´d be okay with losing all my other senses, but unfortunately I´m blind as a bat so that doesn´t really make up for anything.

And meanwhile, the rain in Barcelona stopped for two days and has now returned with a vengeance. The reports say it won´t let up until the end of the month, and that´s as good a reason as any to get outta here. So Frenchy and I are headed to Paris this afternoon. Two of his friends are getting married tomorrow. Yes, that´s Friday. I told my boss the other day, "Only French people would get married on a Friday." And he said, "No Spanish people do too. Otherwise if you have your wedding on the weekend people might miss it because they go out of town." Right.

The forecast for Paris says sun through tomorrow (good for the wedding!) and rain Saturday and Sunday (bad for the weekend!) so at least I can temporarily escape this Barcelona monsoon and pretend to be on holiday somewhere for a day and a half.

Oh and did I mention they´re throwing a transit strike in Paris today? They hold those EVERY day of the week in Paris! :)

Sick of Spring?

2008-05-19T18:31:00.007+02:00

One thing I'll never understand is how getting sick works. I mean, one minute I can be totally fine, and the next I'm sick. Maybe other people - normal people - get sick gradually. Like, "ooh my muscles hurt, must be getting sick!" Not me. You might also think that the changing weather might have affected my health. After all, we had two weeks of beautiful sunny beach weather followed by a three-day monsoon and a week of something in between. But no, I felt fine throughout. So it must be my lifestyle... not enough sleep, etc. So then why do I get sick at the end of the most relaxing, quiet, well-behaved, indeed CULTURAL, weekends I've had in ages???

Let me back up a bit. On Thursday night I went for dinner at Bar Mundial (amazing seafood) with some work colleagues to say farewell to our intern Thomas, who has now headed back to Paris. Rather than staying out very late after dinner, I was very well-behaved and went home to bed afterward. Friday I had a meeting in the morning with some folks from the Superleague Formula and then headed off to work before a late lunch with Paul at Cerveceria Catalana. (In the past few weeks, due to so many people being in town, I've eaten enough tapas to last my entire life.) And then, Friday night, Frenchy and I did absolutely nothing. Which was kind of cool!

Saturday morning the weather was still bad, but by the afternoon it had cleared up enough to take a walk through the Barrio Gotico in the attempt to find a dress for a wedding in Paris this coming weekend. Emphasis on attempt. No such dress, but we did find... tapas! And really tall people.

This one bumped into me and said, "Ay!" I'm not joking.

Then Frenchy dropped his ice cream. Sadness to end all sadness...

Saturday was also "La Nit dels Museus," or Museum Night. A dozen or so major Barcelona museums were open - and free to enter - from 7pm to 1am. After a little rest, Frenchy and I headed down to MACBA, which neither of us had ever visited. It's one of those things you do on a rainy day... and there aren't many of those in Barcelona. (Last weekend, during the torrential downpour that was Saturday, we went to the Museu Maritim - very cool.) After an hour in MACBA, we headed next door to the CCCB (Centre de Cultura Contemporania de Barcelona) and then on to the Photography Museum. We had planned to stop off at La Pedrera on the way home, since it's just behind my apartment building, but the line was still around the block even at midnight, so we called it a night.

MACBA

Our wet feet at MACBA.

Building stick towers at the CCCB

Sunday morning the sun was actually out, so we went for a run, then chilled out on the terrace in the sunshine reading trashy Spanish magazines (me) and trashy books written by English people living in France (Frenchy) and then headed down to the Aquarium on our bicycles. And it was only upon leaving, around 5pm, that I noticed my throat was hurting. After MORE tapas at Ciudad Condal, it was really hurting and my ears were blocked. By bedtime, I had a full-blown head cold.

So either I'm allergic to tapas and my allergy is only showing symptoms now, in my third year of living in Barcelona, or I'm allergic to culture and healthy living. I think it's the second one. Clearly, I spent too much time learning and seeing things this weekend and not enough time consuming alcohol. Maybe I should do the MBA again...

Or maybe I shouldn't act like a 5 year old and play on giant sea turtle statues that loads of snotty-nosed, probably-sick 5 year olds have climbed around on. Silly me.

Fred Astaire: Ant Killer

2008-05-18T19:58:00.002+02:00

A few weeks ago, I had a minor ant problem. Okay, a major ant problem. I went around stomping them and sweeping them and then Frenchy bought some ant spray and we started spraying them instead. We scared them off for a full week, and they came back with a vengeance. I tried several types of shoes and found my flip flops work best. But I should've just hired the king of all ant killers and his magic cane:

Revenge of the French Press

2008-05-16T20:52:00.000+02:00

A couple of weeks ago, Frenchy said gallantly, "Sweetie, I'll make coffee for you this morning!" Which I, of course, thought was fantastic. I got up, showered, and was drying my hair, when I thought... Hmmm coffee should be ready by now...

I went out to the kitchen and, indeed, there was that great coffee smell in the air, and Frenchy was checking his emails, so I figured everything was under control and went back to drying my hair. A few minutes later I thought, geez it never takes this long to make coffee. And this time, when I went to the kitchen, the nice coffee smell had mingled with an awful burning smell.

And at precisely that moment, Frenchy went from complete focus on his laptop to a look of shock as he realized he had put the coffee on far too long ago. We both went to the stove and realized the burning smell was worse than ever, overtaking the whole apartment. While I opened all the windows, Frenchy checked out the coffee maker and finally said, "Um. I forgot to put water in." He showed me what was left of the rubber piece that seals the two parts of the machiatto. "Sorry sweetie, no coffee this morning." Poor Frenchy, he really tried. So I had coffee at work, no big deal. And when I got home, there was a brand new coffee maker in the kitchen. He's a doll.

Last week, another gallant attempt. "I promise I'll put in water this time!" And so he did. And we laughed about it. A few minutes later, the coffee maker was making its familiar gurgling noise, signifying the top should be full off morning crack, I mean coffee, goodness. But every time we lifted the lid, no coffee. Frenchy was puzzled. Steam whistled out of the top of the coffee maker. "It's like the coffee is magically turning into steam!"

So I looked around. Clearly he had put water in. But there was no sign of coffee anywhere on the counter... But what WAS on the counter was the little funnel where you're supposed to put the coffee in the coffee maker. Frenchy said, "I think I need a coffee before I can make coffee."

I spent Monday night in London to take some meetings early Tuesday. Tuesday morning I received an email on my blackberry titled "Unbelievable!" Frenchy had remembered to put both the coffee AND the water in the coffee maker! And turned on the stove. So I guess the problem is me...