Elephants and Tequila

<-----swimwear modeling! You must be wondering what one has to do with the other? Ah, well when you have a group of 7 little children, and 3 au pairs, taking said little children to see elephants (along with thousands of other little children) warrants a night out drinking. And the poison of choice last night was tequila. Although I must say- I thank my lucky stars everyday that Benji and Toby are not little monsters. Freddie, my au pair friend from London, has 3 boys that will not stop screaming and hitting each other, and this was in public. I returned home from elephant watching and back to school shopping (yay, SO fun) to a text message from her saying "we need to go out and drink tonite. Alex just smashed Théo over the head with a bicycle pump."

After an amazing dinner of lentil egg curry (although hardboiled eggs aren't the best pregoing out foood...ugh bloat and gas :-P) I left to meet the au pair girls out at a bar. It's amazing though, how terribly complicated "meeting up" can be....I'm learning that you must add an extra 45 minutes onto everything to account for being late, lost or both. But we finally convened on this warehouse bar/concert venue called ''l'usine" (the factory). I met up with the girls I'd gone out with before (an american, 2 canadians, and a london-er), plus Sophie, a 30 yr. old australian, out-of-work actress turned au pair.

We rejoiced in the moderately priced drinks (btwn 4-6 chf vs. 18 at the last bar we went too) and started to "faire la fête"(party). I had a beer and 2 tequila shots. You might think I'd have a pretty decent buzz going, but I haven't been able to get any kind of decent buzz since I've been here (the closest and most fun times have been the nights when Marc and me kept refilling our wine glasses encore quelquefois after dinner.

And I have several theories for why I haven't been able to really enjoy drinking. I am in completely new surroundings, new people, new life. I don't feel completely comfortable, and can't let myself relax enough to feel any effect of alcohol. Or perhaps the fact that I've gained weight over the past year, and no longer have any extra variables effecting how drunk I get.

But the third hypothesis I fear is the most accurate. Last year, due to several different factors, I lost some good friends, maybe my best friend, and strained the relationships between me and my cousin, who are brothers to me. At my bon voyage party, I had an amazing time drinking Oberon, being silly with Bridget, singing with her mom, taking tequila shots with Mel...... And all the while, neither of my cousins even touched a drink. Oh, they had their alibis (a triathalon in a week and the vague 'I'm training' excuse"), but it really hurt my feelings that they still wouldn't raise a glass with me.

Introspection aside, the bar was really fun. Really dirty, and very "swiss punk rock'' (or is that phrase is an oxymoron....). People covered in tattoos, a UV spectrum of colored mohawks, fishnet tights, plaid skirts and knee-high boots abound, our little group of anglophone semi-preps was a smidge out of place. But nonetheless, everyone manages a fun time (especially after a few rounds said cheap drinks). After awhile we moved to another place that had free salsa lessons, but was pretty seedy, and DEFINITElY not the kind of men I'm keen on being around. The MC was this short arab guy, and came over to our table to get everyone to dance. I don't know if I was just the most sober of the group, because everyone else popped up and stumbled enthousiastically to the stage. The creepy short MC took my hand into his sweaty mitts and tried to pull me up, but luckily I think I had a few founds on him. I just kept asserting "non, je peux pas, j'ai pas l'envie de danser (I don't feel like dansing. AT ALL!). Finally he let go (or my hand slipped out of his, lubricated by his nastiness), and I sat back and pretended to look at the drink list, to make myself feel more comfortable.

Watching everyone up there drunkenly salsaing, I realize that some things about me will never change. I'll never be able to take a tequila shot without having supplemental chaser to one measly little lime (even if it's water). I'll never feel comfortable approaching a guy I think is cute...old fashioned, but he MUST talk to me first, or I don't think he's interested. And no matter how many shots of tequila I've had, I could never go up on stage and learn to salsa in a bar, even if the only audience is old women and greasy italian men.

After the bar I got home by tram with relative ease. Prayed Marc wasn't still up b/c I didnt want him to smell smoke and alcohol on me (even though I wasn't drunk I still stunk like bar), and collapsed into bed. This morning was Toby's first day of school, and we all walked him in. He goes to a Jewish school, even though the family doesn't practice. So he has to wear this funny little frock with strings hanging out under his shirt, and a little yamica. He wore his backpack that we bought yesterday (probably bigger than he is), and happily went to his class.

Now I'm hanging out with Benji until my half day off at one, with definite nap in store. Au revoir for now!

cheese fondue, swiss boys and shots

One thing I love about my au pair adventure is you never really know where the day will take you. Sure, most days are routine; take kids to park, make lunch, do alphabet, draw, shop.... But somedays are almost magical (even if they don't start that way). Yesterday (saturday) started meeting two fellow au pairs, Ashley and Cassie (ages 19 and 18) at starbucks. The weather had been beautiful in the morning but turned drizzly the second we ventured downtown with our ridiculously overpriced coffees. We wandered aimlessly for a few hours checking out the stores and stumbling over awkward first conversatons. We then decided to go back to Ashley's "au pair"studio" (fully decorated in bright Ikea orange, in true European style) then to Cassie's house in the village of Bardonnex, on the outskirts of Geneve. Bardonnex is one of those quaint European villages with cobblestone streets and medieval houses. We hung out in her room, until her family called, and asked if we'd like to stay for cheese fondue.

They walked through the door, and I was immediately enchanted by their warmth, manners and hospitality. The 3 boys (ages 4, 13 and 15) all came and gave us 3 kisses (which is uniquely Swiss) on alternating cheeks, called faire la bise. Their parents, Nancy and Pascal, welcomed us into their home with open arms. Nancy is Canadian and Pascal is Swiss, and met when Nancy was in grade 11 studying abroad in Neuchâtel, Switzerland (I find this so incredibly romantic and amazing...maybe because I'd love to meet the man of my dreams while I'm here?). Both speak English and French, and the boys and parents casually switch back and forth between the two languages. Pascal spoke to us in English, but as I am absolutely hell bent on using French whenever I can, I spoke back in French. To my surprise, he complimented my French, even asking where I had learned it. I told him at school, but that I had studied in Grenoble, France. He said, ahhh, that makes sense because you already have a very French accent.... a huge compliement seeing as most think I have a quebécois accent, the French equivalent to the american hick :-D

We went up stairs while they started the cheese fondue. We received a tutorial on the finer points of cheese stirring- first we practiced going in a figure 8, then a 3. Although the ultimate, Pascal said, is to do a 33, connecting both 3's in one smooth motion (though this is debatable depending on who you are talking to, and apparently the source of many heated, wine fueled arguments).

This family has had many au pairs, and Nancy shared her wisdom about having the best experience possible. "You have to be open and un-judgemental about who you're going to meet. Let go of your inhibitions and be open to friendships with people the "old you" would have written off immediately." This advice completely fits my experience so far... I have gone on essentially two "blind dates" to meet other au pairs, and we are all incredibly different from one another. Yet, we get along well b/c of the ties that bind. I actually feel very old when I'm with them, but I don't care because it's better than being alone in my room, reading my friends' away messages and hearing about all the fun they are having back home.

But back to the night. After the amazing cheese fondue, ice cream with homemade chocolate sauce (melted Lindt choolate), and being invited by the family to a Swiss national soccer game (wooohooo!), Pascal offered to drive us to the town's festival. We got decently priced drinks (5ch for a heieken, 6chf for the Kir royal I had) and headed to look for a bus stop to take us back into town. We met a whole herd of French guys who didn't speak English (pretty cute too!), including one guy, Philippe, that Cassie had befriended earlier. We headed down the street to the bus stop, and were waiting there when Philippe drove by. We flagged him down and (I, in french) asked him if he was heading into town and if so could he could drive us. Luckily he said yes, and not only did he drive us, but parked his car and walked all over La Vieille Ville to show us the bars and the Boites de nuit (night clubs). I find this so incredibly gracious, especially since he already has a girlfriend and wasn't planning on going out in the first place. Plus I can't really picture any of the American guys I know doing something like that for girls he's only just met, without the possibility of a hook up. European men 1 point, American men, nul points.

We went around and tried some of the different bars, but weren't really feeling any of them. Personally, I felt like I was carrying a neon sign saying "AMERICAN FOREIGNER," and that everyone around was keenly aware of it. The last bar we wandered into was Le Roi Ubu (whatever that means) and was a pretty good time. Philippe randomly came in and met back up with us, so I got to speak more French (yay!). Plus we ordered shakers of Sex on the Beach and the hosue special, the Ubu (coke, jacke daniels and rum. So bad but soooo good). I felt a bit more comfortable in this bar, and the music was wackily fun...one minute the Offspring, the next minute Dirty Dancing, the next Marilyn Manson! It was better, but the awkward feeling of being in a bar you don't know, with people you barely know, in a foreign country was tangible and lingering the whole night. And not even a liter of the Ubu was going to make it go away.

Despite minor awkwardness, overall the night was a blast. I got to know two nice fellow au pairs, meet a cute local Swiss guy about my age, speak quite a bit of French, get a little buzz goin, walk the cobble stone streets (steep hills actually) of the historic old town, and have a generally carefree and happy time. Tweak the scenery a little and I could have been back in Ann Arbor or Royal Oak, letting loose with Bridget, Jackie and Ian. And the awkward feeling, well I suppose that's to be expected and will fade with time.

But one thing is for sure--- I never would have thought I'd be out the entire day and half the night from what started with a simple coffee at Starbuks. Lesson learned here: go with the flow. If you're lucky it'll keep going with you till 3 in the morning!

Murphy's Law and the Comedy of Errors

No, it's not a random picture of my hand. It's the best of could do to get a clear shot of my nails, which are newly bare, getting rid of my manicure I had gotten 4 days before I left fot Geneva. Before, they were long and scraggly, with odd shapes of the cracked, leftover purple polish. But I hesitated to remove it, being a tangible, physcal, visual reminder of home. Doing laundry was the same way; I waited until I ran out of underwear before I took the plunge. I adore the scent of my mom's industrial sized Costco detergent, it smells like home. Here I can barely stand to where the clothes I've washed, they just don't smell right (although in retrospect this may have something to do with the fact that I was highly confused on how much to use, based on the milliliter measurements and the lack of any measuring device). So even though my clothes smell strongly of bad soap, at least I didn't have a repeat of the infamous 04' kitchen foam party, where I put the hand soap in the dishwasher and came down from studying to find myself knee deep is soap bubble foam.

So now I find myself alone in the house on a saturday morning? (12pm but I just woke up). Last night I was strutting around feeling confident and independent, ready to take on the city and get a taste of all it has to offers. I poured myself a glass of wine (Before she left, Michelle graciously offered me an entire bottle, laughing saying "you can have anyone except the 5,000 franc bottle!), and went to get in the tub. Me and the Tub, Oy. We've had our differences before, but it really got the best of me last night. I got in all relaxed, listening to Norah jones and drinking wine...feeling pretty damn good. All until I went to turn off the water. It WOULD NOT budge! I pulled and strained and yelled and screamed, but the damn thing wouldn't move (I have the bruise marks on my hand). I washed my hair, contemplating what Marc (dad) would say if I called him in Chamonix, saying I couldn't turn my bath off ("are you kidding...and we trust you with our kids?!?!?"). I finally got out, frazzled and dripping wet, grabbed a towel and hurled myself at it, wrenching my whole body with the nozzle. It finally conceded, flinging me back out of the tub nearly spilling my wine and cracking my head on the wall.

Well, WHEW, I thought. Glad that's over. Au contraire, mon ami. I went to dry my hair in Michelle's bathroom upstairs. 5 seconds after regaining my "take on the world" attitude, the lights went out. And not just the bathroom, one whole half of the house. Including all the lights downstairs, and the computers and machines for Marc's business, and worst of all, MY INTERNET. My computer's battery stayed on, but the internet was dead.

At this point, I knew my night was done. The girl I was planning to meet was in contact with me through email, and the phone somehow was not working (even though the power was on). I retired to my p.j.'s, watched "Mon beau-père, mes parents, et moi" (Meet the Fockers), had 2 bowls of ice cream, and a candy bar I bought weeks ago and had been savoring and eating little by little. Yeah, totally gone after a night like that.

So this morning, I woke up and decided to investigate. I found their fuse box control panel, and was able to get the electricity back on, and (hallelujah) my internet and the phone. I was so excited I started to dial my mom, quickly realizing it was 5:30am back home. I got online, got a great email from my mom, from Ashley (the girl I was going out with- turned out she didn't do anything), and from my aunt Peg (her name is actually Margaret, my namesake).

The similarities between me and Peg are pretty eerie. Same name, both went to U of M, both studied French, both went abroad to French speaking countries after college (although her venture to the Ivory Coast was far more daring). I know my mom had told her I was feeling lonely, and by the end of the email I had tears in my eyes. But I can truly say it has been the first time I cried out of happiness. She gave me so much hope and wisdome, that I am tempted to print it off and carry in my pocket, to read especially on nights like the last. The following are some of my favorite shreds of wisdom, from someone who has "been there and done that" in a big way:

"Hi Meggie,
I was thinking about you all alone in Geneva, and decided to write. I remember how hard it was for me when I left home and was very much alone in the crowd, thousands of miles from everyone who knew me. This is what I do know.
You will find a comfortable routine and start to feel like you belong there, as long as you are open to the "belonging" feeling. You will stop thinking about what everyone is doing back home at that exact moment because you will start enjoying what you are doing at that exact moment. Even experiences that aren't necessarily enjoyable (like the drudge of taking care of kids) have great opportunities to become memorable moments if you are positive and open to them.
Nancy said that you don't feel that you are contributing to a noble cause (like the Peace Corps?), but I say, what can be more noble than shaping the lives and minds of two young boys? Really, you will connect with them on a level that you don't even know exists yet, and when the time comes to leave, you won't want to.

The hardest thing that I had to learn being away from friends and family was to feel happy and comfortable in my own skin. You learn so much about yourself when you only have yourself to make you happy. I was so dependent on my family, especially my mom, growing up that I think that I subconsciously had to prove to myself that I could survive without them. Really, I was painfully shy, but knew that I wanted to be a teacher and deal with people as a career. I had to force myself into a situation (Peace Corps) where I could only depend on myself for my own happiness. That is what I mean about learning to feel happy and comfortable in my own skin. You are experiencing that right now. It is very hard because you have no immediate support syst em and feel isolated, but you have to remember that you have yourself. It is your time to figure out who you really are (without imput or influence from anyone else) and what makes you happy. For me, i found happiness in reading, getting letters from home, walking around town discovering new things, listening to the radio, playing my guitar, and meeting with people who were not necessarily my best friends, but who were interesting to talk to and laugh with. I loved experiencing the new culture with its bizarred traditions, stories, and food. It was not always fun. I was lonely, got sick (malaria), was robbed more than once, was stalked by a weirdoo for a while (scary) and found that most of the men who were interested in me were already married (how shallow). But after time passes you remember the positive things, and every experience, good or bad, helps to shape you as a person. You will have lots of stories to tell when you get home, and I for one want to hear them all.
This letter is getting too long, so I'll stop now. Remember I love you. We all do. Things will start to get better little by little. Take care.
Tanti Peggy "


This entire email is me. Being so dependant that you are frightened by it, and thirsting to prove your independence and yourself, are the main reasons I came. So now it's almost one o'clock on a sunny saturday afternoon. In the spirit of my "if it can go wrong, it will" weekend, I've just realized I must of stepped on my ipod headphones and broke them; I need to go to Fnac and get some new ones, then kickstart my weekend of discovering everything this city has to offer into bigtime high gear.

Frazzled

Oy. If you can't tell, the picture is the remains of my expensive ceramic hair straightener, may she rest in piece. I plugged it in along with my 2000 watt, $50 converter, and 2 minutes later smelled something funny. Run into my room and the plates have melted off the plastic, sizzling and leaving my wood floor with two "scars."

And what a fitting day for this to happen. Today is the first day I have been completely overwhelmed, with homesickness and loneliness. Everytime I read my friends' away messages, and read that they are together, or shopping, or out drinking, my stomach wrenches with loneliness. Everyday I receive the most delightful, descriptive emails from my mom about every walk at stony creek, every bike ride, every shopping trip to costco for milk, every episode of Bill Maher and the Colbert Report..... This in no way means that I don't want to be hearing about everything going on back home, but it leaves me with a gnawing ache for the familiar. I'm worn down- I have the children for 11-12 hours a day, and am not really "off duty" till after they are go to bed (8:30is). I am always "on," and I am losing my energy and enthousiasm.

I am also dealing with a feeling of complete inertia. For the past four years I have always had a class to go to, a paper to BS, an exam to study for.......or at least a bar to go to and friends to go there with to procrastinate all the aforementioned items. I'm so used to have something to be achieved (good grades, a diploma, a decent buzz) that I don't know what to make of just looking after children and cooking their meals. Obviously I don't intend to become a professional Nanny.... add to that the fact that I don't even get to speak French very much (the main reason for wanting to be an au pair) and the only question that comes into my head is: what am I doing here??

My mom's famous advice is just to enjoy the small things each day- flowers, conversations, walks, etc, and that everything will be mundane and boring if you let it. But right now, just being, and not working towards something that will help me achieve in the future seems just off.
I feel at a standstill while everyone I know is moving forward.

Mi Scuzzzzzi

Wow, 3 countries in one weekend. On Friday after dinner (amazing vegetable curry, dinners here are unbelievable) I was thinking of either going to see You, Me and Dupree which was being shown on the lac, or calling up a fellow U of M-er who is from Geneva....but all my kid-free time hopes were dashed when I found out we were heading to the family's chalet in Chamonix, France. As an au pair, I am not obligated to "work" (ie- be with the family and kids) on the weekends. And I'm pretty ready for some alone time by the time friday afternoon rolls around- but since I havent really met people yet, I pretty much do everything with them.

The drive out there was nice- minus the fact that I was squished between two carseats, sitting sideways without enough room to even put on a seatbelt. We finally got to Chamonix around 1030. I stepped out of the car to see their "chalet," which was arguably bigger than my parents' home. My room was on the second floor (I got to choose between two!), had a queen sized bed, shabby-chic (heavy on the chic) decorations, and a full on view of Mont blanc.

I had the most wonderul, silent, mountain-air infused sleep.....only to be awoken the next morning the ear-splitting screams of children. Luckily that's not my job when their mum is around- so I did my best to enjoy what little time was left of what I now consider "sleeping in" (until approx 9:30).

After a lovely breakfast of bread, jam and yogurt (eaten outdoors on the patio with a view of the giant, snow-capped mountain) we loaded up the audi A4 (me as smooshed as ever) and drove to Italia. First we stopped at the "Supermercato" to buy a picnic lunch of bread, cheese (camembert, and two local italian varieties), smoked ham, and sparkling mineral water. One of the highlights of my day was had here, where I was in the way of one of the impossibly stylish italienne womens' way, and she let me know with an emphatic, "Mi SCUZZZI!" (Eurotrip, anyone???).

We drove further up into the mountains, parked the car, and set out for a hike. It was pretty nice, but trying to walk with a 6 and 4 yr. old will test anyone's patience. After we had stopped by a lake, skipped some stones, and had a picnic, we continued the hike...to the tune of incessant whining. I finally ended up carrying Toby, who is younger and therefore lighter-- but who also kicks and squirms so much that I'd rather have the older, heavier and calmer Benji.

The walk finally completed, we headed back the chalet where we ate freshly bought italian ravioli and mozzarella. We also had some wine (I don't know what it was called but it was red) and me and Marc, the dad, got buzzed and discussed his startup business, StickerKid

Sunday morning, awoke to more screaming and fighting. Bleh. Am definitely becoming afraid of my future kids. Went downstairs to be greeted by a frazzled Michelle, who asked me, "Want to help make hotcakes? (they have pancakes/crepes/hotcakes every sunday). I said sure, to which I was then barraged with flour, eggs, bowls, beaters....and given the directions. I was kind of surpised, b/c last time I checked when someone asks if you want to help make something....it means you will be sharing the duties not going hotcake solo! So I slaved over the hot stove for an hour, while she talked to her mother in Australia.

I'm still not quite sure what to make of this. Of course I want to be helpful, but I am not supposed to be a fulltime employee, and especially not on the weekends. They are being so gracious in offerign to share their incredible wealth of amenities with me, but I'm not so sure about being made to do their dishwasher or make their food. I'm not thinking anything of it for now, but we'll see how things go.

Sunday was another hike (shorter, but steeper) that led up to "lac noir," a pretty gross lake in a gorgeous location. We sat on benches carved from logs, and feasted on day old bread with camembert and gruyère (a local Swiss specialty). I was feeling a litle homesick at this point, thinking about how back in Rochester my parents would surely be going on a beautiful walk of their own, and how much I miss them and wished I could be joining them.

Marc (the kids' 'Papa') snapped me out of it though. He kept finding huge stumps and having the kids count "UN, DEUX, TROIS, alllllez (go)" and then he would hurl them in the water making rocket noises. It made me think of when I was little and we would go camping every summer outwest, how my "daddy mel" would come and shake our van and growl in the middle of the night, pretending there was a real bear outside (when we really knew that it was only our "papa bear"). I was about Benji and Toby's age then, yet I can still almost perfectly recall what delight I felt to be so loved and cared for-- these kind of moments' are the things that form the blissful memories of childhood. I feel lucky to not only have had such an amazing one myself, but get to take part in one that in many ways closely resembles my own.
**sidenote: I got a bit teary eyed writing this last paragraph. If it wasn't for Benji sitting next to me now doing his ABC's, I probly would have been full on waterworks. I guess I am more like my dad that I care to admit.... :o)***

After the whirlwind weekend, we came back to Geneva sunday night. Marc made his specialty- spaghetti sauce with olives, and we had more wine. Marc and me got tipsy again and discussed the education systems in the US and Europe. To my surprise, he said that any top American University (Ivy leagues, Berkley, U of Chicago, UCLA) are 10x more likely to get you a job than the top Uni's in Europe). My true wolverine came out during this discussion, proudly explaining that Michigan is tied with Berkely and ahead of UCLA for public Universities (GO BLUE). Tired from the Pasta, wine and the weekend, I headed to bed early, too tired to even respond to the lovely email from my mum (sorry momma!).

So here I am, my third monday à Genève. So far today we had a frantic shopping trip to Coop (swiss kroger, much smaller),rode bikes in the parc, had lunch, and did the alphabet. I'm about to take them to sign up for swimming classes. Surely to be a grand adventure. Ah bientôt (bye) for now!!

First day out

Ooops. I vowed I would write more regularly, and tomorrow will be 2 weeks and I haven't written one thing from Genève. But for good reason. I'm taking care of my two boys Toby, 4 and Benji, 6 for between 11 and 12 hours a day. Mornings start around 7:30, and their parents don't come home till 6:30 or 7pm. And even when they come home, I still feel obligated to hang aroud and play with them and tell thei parents about everything we did. Sometimes, it feels like when their mom comes home, it's like a scene where the director is saying aaaaaaaand ACTION! Then I proceed to reinact the day, compete with artifacts (drawings, paintings, alphabets), or pictures from the park. It's not really until the kids are in bed (830ish) that I feel like I can take a big, deep relaxing breath and go do my own thing.

So now that I got that out....let me talk about how cool it is here. I LOVE all the architecture, the buildings are unbelievable. My house is from the 1700s, and has all these small little rooms with walls pointing in and up b/c they are little turrets! I always used to dream about living in an old house with so much history and possibly even secret passages.....and now I do!

My room is pretty cool too-- a very big loft type space with stairs leading up to a nice bathroom. ALthough it's just a tub and a shower head (Marc and Michelle forgot to buy a shower curtain). The result: I have not managed one bath/shower where I don't spend more time drying everywhere I've sprayed than actually taking a shower (this will hopefully be remedied with a trip to Ikea this weekend, keep your fingers crossed for me).

So on my first half-day off (today) I finally got to get out and explore. I rollerbladed all over the city-- on the banks of le Lac Léman, through the botanical gardins, by the Palais des nations (UN), and through lots of little residential "quartiers (neighborhoods)."

Pics:
Benji and Toby- after they built a tower taller than me!
View of Geneva from the promenade by the lake. Jolie, euh?

Like a sack of bricks....

**originally posted July 29 2006, but was somehow deleted. Let's try this again!**

I've started to become overwhelmed with the realization that in 5 days I will be moving to another country. In case you're reading this blog and you don't know me (doubtful, but I'll flatter myself), I graduated from the University of Michigan in April (cultural anthropology and French). Next thursay, august 3rd, I'm leaving for Geneva, Switzerland to be a"fille au pair", for two adorable little boys (well they're adorabe in photos....guess I'll find out for real once I've been around them forawhile).

I've been planning this for months, and have known since may I would be leaving in August. However this past thursday, I started thinking about everything a week in advace. Like how next thursday I won't be at work with my middle schoolers, I'll be on a plane (ahh). And this morning while eating my Kashi GoLean Cruch and watching E!, I realized that next saturday would be my first morning waking up in a new house, with people who are little more than amicable strangers tome. The realizations are hard hitting, and I constantly vacillate between being excited out of my mind, and utterly terrified of the unknowns to come.

And yet, I can't see myself doing anythingelse. There is no specific career path I want to jump into, and I don't have the money to go to grad school. Doing something so "crazy, brave,bold" as I've heard it described by many, somehow fits and defies mypersonality; I guess being a gemini suits me more than I care to admit.A lot of the time, I doubt if I will be able to make a successful transition to life on another continent; take care of 2 small children,make friends, make a home for myself. The only thing for sure is that I'm going.

Last weekend in NYC I was walking around Chinatownand eating ice cream with a friend, let's call her "Tyra." A passing comment from her was that, "fear isn't productive, I try not to think about it." This is valuable advie for someone who is not only making a transatlantic move, yet also has a paralyzing fear of flying.I just need to do what I need to do (and that includes PACKING, which Ihaven't started), and get on with it. Here goes nothing.