MOVING

Creating a blog is funny.  Even the word blog is funny.  Something about the consonants 'B' and 'L', together with the sound 'OG', just sounds ridiculous.  BLOG.  It's not a pretty word.  The language analyst in me genuinely wants to look up, and someday probably will, whether or not French or Spanish have any words the start with "BL".  They are much prettier languages.  My instinct tells me no, probably not.  Only English, and maybe German, would ever start a word with BL, and end it with OG.  Except in German it would probably be something like blogenscheift.  

Anyway, this is my BLOG.  Then there's the question of, what should I post?  Should it be mostly about school?  Shall I include stories about travels, or should it be more personal?  What is my audience, and who is reading?  Is this just for me, to have a written record of my experiences?  Or, is this blog more for my friends and family, to feel close to me when I am far?   I'm sure it can be anything I want it to be, but at the same time I feel like a kid who has too many choices and she can't make a decision.

The next issue with this BLOG is that I get ideas for posts, and never get around to writing.  Much of my experience, then, becomes an anticipatory experience regarding telling stories of my experiences.  Ok maybe not really, but I have had so many ideas in the past month and have barely gotten around to writing anything!  It all started leaving Denver and driving down to Santa Fe.  At that point, although my mother was following me with my belongings in tow, I was all alone.  I had 6 hours straight of being alone and thinking.  It was at that point that I had the original thought about the word blog.  I had about a million other thoughts too.  I remember feeling like I was solving all the problems of the world, and that if I'd only had a tape recorder, I would have been able to have a record of them.  Now all I'm left with is still questioning the 'bl', 'og' of blog.

Since spending a lovely time in Santa Fe with my mom and Chris, and their two cats Clark and Søl, I have been to New York, the Jersey Shore, and Paris.  I spent a lovely two weeks at home with my Bestemor Winnie, my cousins, and extended family.  I played in the pool and went to the beach.  I finalized details for shipping my belongings and moving to Africa.  Then my good friend Liliana came and we spent a few incredible days in New York City.  I was able to fit in lunch with my brother Orie, visited Harlem for the first time, along with many more things.  Then I re-packed downsized my belongings in preparation for ten Paris.  I am writing from our apartment across from the Sacré-Cœur.  We are in the Montmartre region, high up on a hill overlooking Paris and the Sacré-Cœur is a cathedral but it looks like a castle.  Although there are a lot of tourists, it is pretty cool living next to a big castle.

Paris is amazing.  I have been trying to stay away from making facebook posts.  It can be so addicting, and I also want to remain gracious and humble.  One of the unpublished posts in my head though, had something do to with questioning how everybody and everything in Paris can be so beautiful, and so sexy.  Regardless, I have posted some pictures on FB, although for the purposes of this blog I hope to soon upload pics to my Google Picasa account.  I practically haven't used that account since living in Oaxaca.  Picasa will be my teach and live abroad collection of photo albums.  The last time I blogged was also in Oaxaca :)  I feel as though I still have a lot to learn about blogging.  I have some very helpful friends who should be able to help me sort out uploading pictures and videos, as well as changing the format etc.   Expect some changes to Ms. TeachLoveDance in good time.  Oh great, now the blog has gender.  It's crazy how we can seem to have relationships and even personify inanimate or online things!

Paris.  My dear friend Hazel met me for the first weekend in Paris.  Friday night we went out to a spot we found last year called 'Gibus' at the metro Republique.  We danced and sweat to our hearts' delight.  Some of my favorite tunes from the night were African, which only made me more excited for my upcoming adventure.  It was one of those nights when I went to bed with a wet head and it wasn't because I showered.  Now I am here with my mom and Chris!  Mom wanted to celebrate her 50th birthday in style!  The original idea was to have a huge family reunion in a village in Southern France or Tuscany.  I still like that idea, so maybe we can shoot for her 60th regardless, here we are!  It's nearly noon and I should go wake them soon, but not before some of my favorite moments from yesterday.

After their arrival we went out to our first french meal which included pâté, lamb, chicken, roast potatoes, "de la moutarde, du pain, de l'eau", red wine, creme brulée, and baguette.  Our restaurant had a patio outside on the street, as most do in Paris, where we sat appreciating the French fashion, French language, and France in general.  Mom and Chris couldn't believe how many people had baguette.  Well, it helped that we were sitting right next to a Boulanger, or bakery, but still.  They kept remarking "there's another one!", and another, and another.  When in France, it really does seem, that everyone has a baguette under their arm.

We spent the afternoon walking from Montmartre to La Seine, the main river running through Paris.  In walking from here to there we came across many things French, including Fromageries where we were introduced to fabulous French cheeses and sausisson or sausages.

One of my favorite parts of the evening was after we bought our first baguette.  Mom didn't think we looked complete without one!  Chris and I went into the boulangerie and selected among the various baguette, which we learned had different shapes and names due to the type of flour.  We, of course, picked the longest and most French looking baguette.  Not seconds after stepping proudly back on the street, approaching mom proudly with our baguette, did Chris stick the whole thing up to his mouth and take a bite.  I wish I would have had my camera.  I'm sure he committed something equivalent to a sin in France, the more common practice being to tear off the crunchy, nubby end with your hands.  Something about the look of the long loaf in his hands, being periodically raised to his mouth, was one of the most comical and sweet things I have seen in a long, long time.  Of course we later engaged in a conversation about how to hold the baguette.  Must it be in the arms or can it be in the hands?  When in Rome.

I leave you now, to wake up my sleeping parents and engage in what is sure to be another fun filled day roaming the streets of Paris.  I feel the need to say I love you all, because I do.  Again, I am grateful and giving thanks for these beautiful days and this beautiful life.  Peace, LOVE SAGE.