Caffine

I love all drinks. Beverages are my thing. It will be the day when I go dehydrated- I always carry water around with me, and am continuously drinking an assortment throughout the day. Two drinks I happen to quite enjoy are coffee and soda. Last week I was introduced in to a whole new way of consuming caffeine than I had yet to see or experience before.

On the road trip to the Loire Valley last week we stopped at a gas station to get gas and snacks. Having an inkling for a fountain soda I was quite excited for our stop. Fountain soda is my favorite, especially a Diet Pepsi from Taco Bell. I wasn’t just excited to have a fountain soda I was excited to have a fountain soda with ICE. Yes Ice. If you ever happen to order a soda here- be sure to ask for Ice if you would like it cold- though many times – you will still be rejected of your request. It’s simply not a common request as it is an expectation at home.

When I found out we would be stopping I began to day dream of the amazingness, of a fresh fountain soda with extra ice. I imagined the refreshing coolness of the drink, the crunching on the ice once the drink was finished but still had the lingering taste of soda on each of the cubes. Yum. When we finally arrived at the gas station I stepped out of the car with great delight knowing that once inside treasures awaited for me.

As I opened the door, being polite and holding for strangers to enter in exit, I continued to savor the thought in my head, of the drink I would soon get to partake. As I entered the bustling convenience store I quickly scanned the walls to headline in the direction of the soda machines. At any station in the U.S. there would be a minimum of two soda fountain machines with a large variety of options to choose from. You could choose: Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, Root Beer, Orange, Iced Team, Cherry Coke, Dr. Pepper, and the list could continue. I knew my options would be a bit slimmer but I was okay with that- as long as I had my ice cold fountain coke- life would be grand.

As I continued to scan the room, a fountain soda machine was not to be found! In the entire convenience store where they sold: books, CD’s, food, tires, even canned soda, not a single flowing fountain soda machine ran! I was flabbergasted. As I tried to pick my jaw up off the floor, in the shock and horror that a fountain soda machine did not exist in this place- it quickly fell again when I found what they used as their replacement. Lined up against two walls were automatic coffee machines! Now come on! Really? Is two walls worth of automatic assorted coffee options really necessary? Couldn't’t you take one wall and turn it into a soda machine instead? Seriously! I mean where is the logic? And who even drinks assorted coffee flavors on road trips? Doesn’t a nice cold soda sound much more appealing???

The replacement of Fountain Soda Machines- please note: there was another wall with 6 more machines!

The next morning upon arriving to breakfast there was a bowl set in front of each person. Now in my typical American mindset I thought, “oh cool, we are having cereal for breakfast.” No. no. no. no. no. Though cereal was an option for breakfast, that was not the purpose of the bowl placed before me. The actual function this bowl was intended for, was as a coffee cup. As I looked across the room each person had a large bowl of coffee placed before them. No cereal was currently being eaten from these bowls- nor would it ever be. You would take your bowl, pour in the coffee, and then enjoy a huge bowl of coffee with a baguette and jam.

Regular Bowl

Turned into a Coffee Cup

Still Delicious!

I think after last week, I am more confused than ever- No fountain soda machines, automatic coffee dispensers instead and now- Coffee out of a cereal bowl. I have never really become attached to the caffeine in drinks rather I have always enjoyed the flavors of drinks that have caffeine in them. I knew I loved my caffeine- I just never realized that I might have had a greater attachment to the way it was consumed rather than the caffeine itself.

Redeemed

To close family and friends, I am not always known as the most cautious, or responsible person in the world. Those are not the first choice of words to describe my personality. They are usually closer to, "crazy, fun, crazy." Yah usually just "crazy." Many of my items end up in the vortex, I live carefree, and often choose fun and hanging out, over cleaning and doing laundry. Now- I always get everything finished- but many people ensure having things completed and then will make time for relaxation- I do the opposite.

Well last week at the retreat, one of the day’s events, left me feeling a bit assured and redeemed from a few of my most recent mishaps. After all of the following occurred and was handled I thought, “There just might be a bit of hope for me yet.” Thus I give you my most redeeming day.

At the retreat – there were two different groups. A staff retreat – which were the other missionaries who work in my office and their families, and a MK2MK retreat. MK2MK stands for Missionary Kid to Missionary Kid. Essentially MK2MK was a youth retreat. I helped with both groups and the events that took place, juggling responsibilities. Though the adults were my priority- I took great pleasure in working with the teenagers.

The MK2MK Group.

One of the day time events for the MK2MK’s was taking them to a ropes course. The course was about an hour from the town we were staying in. While driving to the course I looked in my rear view mirror, and saw three 14 year old girls sitting in the back seat, playing songs off their Ipod that consisted of Taylor Swift and the High School Musical Soundtrack. While looking back and talking to the other leader sitting in the passenger seat- I suddenly made an obvious but absurd observation. I realized I WAS DRIVING THE YOUTH GROUP! No way was I old enough to be the DRIVER! I was officially the oldest and thus supposed to be the most responsible person in the vehicle. How could this happen!?!?! I have since, adjusted slowly to the idea, but it is still something I am working through- realizing I am now old enough to drive teenagers around for organized activities… Ish.

The Three who made me realize I am old. But I won them over with my stash of Mike-N-Ikes and Ipod playlists. ooh yea- I'm still hip!

Once arriving to the ropes course, I first stuck with my latest and greatest BFF (Best Friends Forever) Tia. Tia is 15 yrs old and we instantly clicked. Anyone who loves Edward Cullens and Twilight is a friend of mine. Tia is scared of heights and thus wasn’t too keen on the idea of having a thin cable be the stable support between her, and hitting the ground. After giving it a go on the practice round twice, she called it quits and was finished for the day. After hanging back with Tia- I joined Tiffany and Marla on the beginner’s course where we followed behind a group of kids, that belong to some of the families at the retreat.

Tia and Me sporting the attractive rope course attire.

Now please do not be fooled by the title "beginners’ course." This was quite intense and I am not sure how people progressed to greater heights and difficulties. At one point, I was standing on what is equivalent to a trapeze or monkey bars and needed to walk from one rope to the other while swinging. They only do this stuff on ”Road Rules” or that new show “Wipeout.” Basically I think you only attempt these stunts if you are under the age 15 or think you will win a lot of money in the end.

AHHHHHHHH!

I fully understood that the wires were an inch thick and stable, I knew we were wearing safety harnesses- but there is something terrifying about walking on a wire twenty feet off the ground. I would make certain that each of my steps were cautious- afraid of tripping, falling, or losing my balance mid-step. Walking on a four foot wide sidewalk can at times be dangerous for me- let alone walking on a one inch wire.

Beind me is the swinging step course which was followed by this net that you had to side step and hold on to as you made your way across.

About half way through the first course, one challenge ahead of me, I heard loud, ear piercing screams, of terror, coming from a young 9 yr old boy named Jordan. I am not sure how, but though I was a full challenge away, I was able to fly across and make it to Jordan’s side within moments. I was able to by-pass a child who was climbing on the wire that stood between Jordan and me, and I still am unable to remember exchanging my harness clips, from one challenge to the next, in order to get to Jordan.

Jordan is the kid in the Center wearing the blue shirt. Note this was taken before the finger incident.

When I heard Jordan initially screaming, I thought his finger was stuck in the clamp you used to secure you to the wire, as you moved from challenge to challenge. However, once I was on the scene I quickly realized that his finger was actually stuck between two of the one inch wires that was wrapped around the tree. Instinctively, I immediately tried to pull the two wires apart. Unfortunately, with no such luck his finger remained wedged between the wires. All I could then do, was try my best to relieve any pressure the wires placed on his fingers, while spouting off words of affirmation of how strong and brave Jordan was being. All the while hiding the terror I felt inside.

What seemed to be forever- was most likely only moments- two crew members arrived and pulled the excess wire from the course to set Jordan’s finger free. I have never felt such a great sense of relief, than the moment I saw Jordan’s finger released and intact after being lodged between the wires. The crew members then set Jordan up on a harness and lowered him to the ground.

Now trembling and over my adrenaline rush- I thought to myself- “Well that was enough excitement for one day! What if I am finished for the day? How do I get down from here?” My option, was to continue to do the challenges, until they brought me back to solid ground. After the craziness that occurred with Jordan- I did not feel the need to go to greater heights or more intense challenges for the day. I had met my daily quota of exciting activities.

When it was time to return home, I followed the first car that left the ropes course. I had games to lead that night and needed to get back early to set up. I had no clue where I was, or how to get back to where we were staying. After about an hour of following the car- they pulled over, walked towards my car, carrying a map that was chaotically blowing in the wind, while scratching their head, they said the dreadful inevitable words, “I think we are going the WRONG WAY!” Fan. Tas. Tic. I told the lost driver I could use the GPS system to get us back- turns out we were an hour in the wrong direction.

My co-pilot. It was up to me and this character to get everyone back in the right direction. -It must be true that God chooses the unlikeliest people.


While knowing I needed to get back ASAP I was still following the speed limit of 130 km/hr (85 mph) – especially while driving the youth for the first time- I thought it would be wise, to be extra cautious. I would hate to get pulled over, or be in an accident my first time officially driving the kiddos around. While stopping for gas- Mr. Lost Map Man, walked past me and said, “You can drive faster you know.” HA! Thanks for the advice- next time I drive an hour in the wrong direction, I’ll be sure to keep driving as fast as I can, to retrace my steps- rather than the alternative, of not getting lost in the first place. Thanks.

Regardless we made it back. I got us un-lost (is that a word? not sure). I can't even always find my way to the nearest grocery store so I felt quite accomplished. Upon returning, I had 10 minutes to prep for the night of games I was running for the adults. The games were a success everyone had fun, and I was officially exhausted.

My Crazy Fun Game Night.

I think this day maybe the ushering in of a new era in my life- one of responsibility and order. HA! Not Quite. I would not go that far- that might be a stretch- just maybe. And I would really hate for this to become the expectation- I would be sure to eventually disappoint. Though I must admit in the same way my confidence in my abilities grew on the ropes course going from challenge to challenge this day was an encouragement of what I can handle in life. This day’s many experiences are a reinforcement and building block of the abilities that lie within me to continue to grow and succeed in the many challenges that face me as I live out this venture of living a foreign life in Paris. Though crazy at many times- when required I am able to rise to the occasion and actually be a responsible adult. Who would have thought?

Procrastination

What is it about the necessity to get something finished that makes it so unappealing? I came into the office today to work on my French homework. My assignments should have taken me a total of two hours- but I have been sitting here for four hours, and have yet to get half way through my assignments.

I really have perfected the art of procrastination. I always get things done – but until there is immediacy I tend to find other areas of interest to occupy my time (ie: writing this blog).

I know I need to have this work finished by Monday, I know I want to learn French, and I know I am capable of doing this work- yet here my books sit… scattered and incomplete, all across my desk. If it were 9:00 p.m. on Sunday night I would be whipping through this work, with no issues of distraction whatsoever. I would know that it was my last chance to get the work completed and I would do so with vigor and great attention to detail. But somehow, on a Saturday afternoon, I am unable to motivate myself to do any more than one sentence per half-hour.

My hope of working on my assignments today was essentially to save me time. Ha! Instead I have dwindled the day away and have a semi-complete work-load finished. I would have been more productive if I stayed home and watched “Made of Honor” and “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” with the audio options turned to French. Thus I am giving up for the day and going to do something worthwhile.

What I find the most interesting is that I actually want to get a Masters Degree. In what I am not yet sure, but I know I want a Masters. If I cannot motivate myself to study my French, how will I ever find the stamina to re-enter the education system and complete the courses necessary. Even the thought of it sounds exhausting. Someday I’ll look more into it but not today- cause today is an unproductive sort of day.

Relax

Ahhh Relaxation- it's something many people talk about- but really how often do people do it? This last week I went to a retreat with my work, for the purpose of relaxing. Though I must admit- I didn't do much of that. The most relaxing time took place the last 7 hours, after the retreat was over. What did I do that was relaxing you might ask? I took a NAP!

I love naps! I am jealous at two year olds who get them mandated into the schedules and then shake my head in shame when they cry as their parents put them down. They do not realize the splendor of their ability to sleep for an hour every single day.
In college, I perfected the art of the nap. Unable re-gain energy between classes by running back to my room and taking a quick nap. When all-nighters were required, I knew if you took a nap with your head on your desk- with the forehead touching the desk, it is only physically possible to sleep for 15 minutes thus giving you the perfect “power nap.” I find naps regenerative, restorative, and revitalizing.

I also never understand people who don’t like naps. They feel like they are missing out on something in the day- that there is much more to be accomplished. I can see their point but I can see no greater thing to be done with my time than getting in some good REM cycles.

I had a great time on the retreat- it was beautiful but I had lots of work to do while I was there. Being responsible for activities can be quite stressful. Essentially you are responsible for people having fun. You can plan things for people to do but when you have one hundred people together, who speak three different languages, and ages span from 7 to 75- finding common ground can be quite the task.

I was happy to return home. As soon as I arrived I did the most relaxing thing I could think of- I threw on a movie and the I took a nice 5 hour nap! Ahhhh life is good.


My Favorite Tree at the Center we stayed at

All gone

My Guests are gone, the French are gone and I am leaving too!

It seems as though everyone is fleeing Paris for the week. Seriously this weekend in Paris was like ghost city. All the streets were packed with tourists but the streets were empty of cars- instead they were all filled on the highways headed out of town.
Early Saturday morning my firsts guests left town. After dropping them off, I ran some errands, cleaned my apartment- and finally painted my Paris memory board. I have been very excited about this project. I bought the plain board a while ago but have been needing to paint it. I am proud to announce it’s finally completed. I am going to hang this on one of my walls and then use it as a memory board for the time I am here in Paris.



The French all take a week off for the equivalent of Spring break. Essentially when the kids get a week off of school, the parents take off too. I love the fact that the French get 5 weeks of vacation a year. That is incredible!

Today I am leaving Paris to go to Nouan-le-Fuzelier- I have no idea where Nouan-le-Fuzelier actually is. I do know that it is in France and about two hours away but that’s all I know. My whole office is going for a staff retreat- most people working here travel up to 18 days a month so this is meant to be a time of connecting and alligning vision. I will actually be working the retreat. There are a few things I have helped with but the task assigned to me was planning events in the evenings- basically planning fun nights- I can totally handle that.
Marshmallow dodgeball anyone ?



This morning in attempts to get everything together- the games, pack my bags, materials, and send out packages needed to get to the U.S. I was an utter mess. Literally- For breakfast I had a opening face toasted PB&J sandwich. One of my favorites but I rarely have one- so I stopped in the morning to enjoy this treat before the retreat. Well unbeknownst to me- that PB&J sand seemed to make a larger appearance on my Tee-shirt than actually in my mouth. While driving around looking for a post office – I noticed there was something sticky on my necklace- like any normal person I tasted the sticky substance to figure out what it was. I quickly recognized the taste as that similar to my breakfast. I then looked down at my shirt to see PB&J all smeared across my tee-shirt.

What a complete DISASTER! I seriously looked like a two year old who just ate their first sandwich! Thankfully I was wearing a longsleeved shirt underneath my tee-shirt to help me recover from this utter stupidity. I am still not quite sure how this happened... but I do know that I am so ready to take a nap.

Fresh Flowers

When I left Paris headed for California, you could tell the Spring was on the horizon. A few daffodils had popped up in yards around town and trees were beginning to show buds of flowers and leaves to come.






Upon arriving back to Paris from California flowers had come into full bloom all around. All of the roundabouts have been adorned with tulips and other assortments of flowers. In what was once an empty area of soil have now found home to brightly colored flowers bringing life to each community.





There is something refreshing about flowers, something that makes you happy inside. A fresh bouquet of flowers on a table brings light, life, and love into a room. Flowers are often the center point of helping set the tone to a wedding of the brides big day- and flowers are given as a source comfort when someone is having a bad day and words can do no justice.





I am happy flowers have made their way to flower beds across Paris. It is a sign of many good things to come. The days are getting longer. They days are getting warmer.
The flowers are opening up beautiful and bright- and I have hopes that it is what the days ahead will do too.

A ballet!

A Ballet! A ballet in Paris! Man on man is that a call for excitement! There are two opera houses in Paris. The first is older, called the Palais Garnier, and the newer more modern location, is the Opera Bastille. You can get tickets to a ballet or opera from prices ranging from 5 Euros to 200 Euros depending on the seat of your show. When my friends coming into town mentioned that they would like to go to the ballet, I couldn’t have been more thrilled.

(Palais Garnier)

(Opera Bastille)


I have always loved dance. Ballet was my first exposure to dancing. At four years old, my mom placed me in ballet classes, but I was not the most graceful dancer. In fact, I remember one time in class, we told to dance on our own, while pretending we were in a bubble. This was an exercise created to reinforce creativity and grace, independent of instruction. I danced freely and with great passion enjoying every moment while using music and motion to express my childhood joy. However, while dancing around I was not quite so fragile with my bubble. While dancing with great fervor, I started to do a spin followed by a jump which tumbled into a summersault. After my fumble on the floor, the teacher remarked, “Oh well! I think Katie just burst her bubble.” I was not one for poise and composure- but for action and large motions. Though at a young age it was apparent I would never be the prima ballerina- I always loved the art of dance in all forms.

(Me with my ticket)

Sitting in the seats last night, waiting for the show to begin, my stomach swirled with joy and anticipation. I loved listening to the hum of the audience, talking among themselves, with the expectancy of the show to start. In the back ground, you could hear the oboe and piccolo tune their instruments. The seats began to fill in and the clock ticked closer to the curtain call time of 7:30. As the lights dimmed over the entire room my eyes began to get teary in the excitement of what I was about to witness. Everything was completely dark- everything was completely silent- everything was completely perfect.

(Waiting for the show to begin.)

The first trumpets sounded and lights exposed the dancers set on stage. The stage was filled with about 15 men. Half were standing tall, while the rest had their backs towards the audience standing in a half horizontal split stance, with their hands on the ground. The first obvious observation was their strength. As the orchestra continued to play- and then men continued to dance- I began to wonder… where are the women?

When I think of Ballet- I think: women, tutu’s, pointed shoes, and a guy to lift her. In regards to most ballets, I always thought the general ratio would be 20 female dancers and one male. This explains why last night, I was quite surprised when 40 minutes into this show- there had yet to be a single tutu, or pointed shoe to step on stage. I wondered, how this could be? Is that legal in ballet? At one point, there were 30 men all on stage dancing- without a sign of anything feminine to come. I did not know there were 30 male ballet dancers in the world! Let alone have them all on one stage, for one show.

Shortly after giving up hope of ever having a swan emerge from the sea of ballet men- a light blue leotard, pointed shoes and a tutu appeared. The ballerina’s have now entered the ballet. The men had strength and power, but the women had grace and beauty. The show played out beautifully. I never cease being amazed by the girls standing on point. I love when the women are carried with ease across the stage. I am in awe when a girl is passed back and forth with poise and ease between two male dancers, while doing arabesques and clinging to each in passion and emotion that envelope the audience.

(Gustave Mahler's Thrid Symphony)

The name of the ballet I saw was “Gustav Maller’s Third Symphony.” It was an excellent performance – portraying the six stages of experiences of life. While I am here in Paris I hope to return to the ballet. I loved everything about last night. I loved getting dressed up, I loved being in the theatre, I loved the entire show. But my favorite part was being a witness to so many hopes and dreams coming true. While watching the ballet I kept thinking about how the people on stage were living their dream. At one point and time they were just like me- a child in a beginner’s ballet class. The difference being, they continued to take classes, sacrificed social activities, and gave an endless amount of time, devotion, and money in pursuit of one thing- their dream of dancing on stage. was captivated by the beauty of the movement and motion , I was wrapped up in the story unfolding , and I was encouraged by the dedication and devotion displayed by the dancers on stage. I loved the Ballet.

(The Dream Makers)