The good news: I believe (fingers crossed) that all of the bureaucratic formalities which France loves soooo much have finally come to an end. On Tuesday I spent the day running around Nancy and it’s suburbs going to multiple hospitals and immigration offices in order to wait around insane amounts of time in order to get a little card taped into my passport that allows me to not be deported (so I guess kind of worth it). Luckily the mass amounts of stress I was feeling at the beginning quickly dissipated when a) I met up with a bunch of other assistants who had the same exact appointments and b) I realized all the French people were super laid back about everything. So first I waited and waited and got a chest x-ray that lasted 2 seconds, then I waited and waited and was brought into a room with a doctor who asked me if I was pregnant, if I smoked, and if I was up to date on my vaccinations, then I waited and waited to give the immigration people proof of my very thorough medical examination, and that was that. More positives: I finally got to see Nancy which is in fact quite nice, AND I got to keep my chest x-ray which is currently hanging on my wall as art.
On Wednesday, Tommy’s boyfriend Nico arrived for his visit. Ruling: shockingly normal. Or at least an impressive façade. While the two lovers had their little reunion, Alex and I went out with other Alex and other Nico for a drink at the Darou. Nico is a big fan/collector of board games (The fun kind, like pictionary) so we had a couple of beers, played some games and had a jolly-old-time.
Thursday I spent the entire day making animal bingo cards.
Then there was Friday. I was in the kitchen eating my lunch when some of Tommy’s new friends, a young gay couple he’d met at a club a couple weeks back, stopped by. I’m still unclear whether he had invited them or whether they just showed up but in any case he apparently had very little interest in entertaining them so it was just the three of us for quite a while. Despite their eye-liner and half-unbuttoned shirts, they turned out to be quite nice, and their tiny little dog Turbo, who’d they’d brought along was amazingly un-yippy which was a very pleasant surprise. Gradually more people came to join us. Nico woke up (at 5pm), Alex came home from school, and Tommy came back from the high school with a student friend in tow—a student friend who happens to be a cross-dresser with bright pink hair and the facebook name of “kolor wonderplush”—who was very nice and very tolerant when I continually messed up my gender pronouns. So the seven of us hung out in the kitchen all night: six gay guys and little straight Julia (if only there’d been one more it could have been some warped version of snow white and the seven dwarves).
On Saturday Alex had a concert gig with the orchestra at a church mass in town to celebrate the patron saint of music’s day and I decided to attend. The music was nice (though at one point they played “Pomp and Circumstance” and I kept on waiting for a line of people in cap and gown to come walking down the aisle) but it meant having to sit through a catholic mass which was sort of uncomfortable since I had no idea what to do when. Plus it kind of creeped me out. (I was worrying the whole time whether I’d have to eat Jesus, but that part turned out to be pretty easily avoidable.) I did discover, however, one of the cutest things on this planet which is little kids giving each other “les bises” (the little kisses on the cheeks when you see someone). I almost died.
But I guess my little religious excursion paid off since today we had a St. Dié miracle! After weeks of cold and rain and terrifyingly strong winds, today was sunny with temps in the mid 60s! Alex and I made sure to take advantage of this meteorological anomaly and sat outside at a café, sipping our coffees and basking in the warm November sun. Ahhhhhh
Also: favorite French Idiom of the week: “avoir le cul bordé de nouilles”.
Literal translation: to have your ass surrounded by noodles
What it actually means: to be really lucky.
Hmmm…
Officially, they aren't supposed to give you any Jesus--they save him for the Catholics and Orthodox if any are in attendance (though I think the Orthodox are told by their church to refuse the Catholic Jesus, and vice versa). My mother always called the "what to do when" stuff slow-motion aerobics (you get the hang of it).
ReplyDeleteGreat idiom. I'll try to make it catch on in Houston. Next time something lucky happens I'll just say, "Man, my ass is SURROUNDED by noodles!"
ReplyDeleteMiss you.
-Amulya