I meant to say this a while ago

sometimes,

we laugh because

if we don't, 

we will cry.

parfum peche blanche

Today I had the opportunity to participate in a sortie to go to a cafe at the Jardin des Plantes for ice cream. A new French volunteer and I went to pick up two ladies who are in wheelchairs and another lady who doesn't walk too well. It was fun to speak French with the volunteer because she's closer to my age. We were supposed to meet three other volunteers who were accompanying 6 other elderly people.
There were a lot of mix ups in communication so we ended up at the Grand Rond instead of the Jardin des Plantes which meant we had to get the ladies across a bridge going up and over the street and then walk through the Jardin des Plantes to get to the cafe. Whew. Walking with that wheelchair uphill was tricky. A very nice French lady noticed me struggling and helped me push it up the hill. Going downhill I swear my body was at a 45 degree angle to balance out the force (shudder...having physics 121 free body diagrams come to mind). Anyway, we finally made it to the cafe and had some delicious ice cream. I had a lot of fun talking to a few of the ladies and one complimented my French! (ah, how I treasure those sorts of compliments, makes this all seem worth it.)

All in all, a good afternoon. However. I believed I was going to be getting lunch at this event, not just dessert. So I did not eat lunch. So I was starving. Good thing I was informed of a Chinese restaurant/outdoor hut stand thing down the street from Francois Verdier. Good thing Noemi and I decided to go eat there. Best curry chicken I've had in Toulouse. Yum yum yum.

This weekend we're going to the beach! (provided we can still buy train tickets tomorrow) we're heading to the small, picturesque village of Collioure to get some Mediterranean sun!

encounters with the word of wisdom

Noemi and I have had a couple of kind of funny experiences accidentally ingesting alcohol:

Last week we had rum raisin ice cream at Madame M's...and after our throats started burning we realized that it actually had rum in it...when she left the room to grab some more water, we had a very tense conversation,
"Oh my gosh, this has alcohol in it!"
"What are we going to do?"
"Quick, open the door, throw it in that plant's pot!"
"Crap, she's coming back!"
"Just let it melt!"
So that's exactly what we did. We let three scoops worth of Carte d'Or ice cream (read: not cheap) melt on our little plates. Oops.

Then today, when we were visiting Madame B in a retirement home, she offered us some chocolate. Little did we know but they were all liqueur-filled. I took one bite and had alcohol something gushing all over the place, so I just held the rest of the chocolate in the wrapper in my hand for the rest of the conversation. Noemi quietly slipped hers into her purse. The problem was, there was still a ton of liqueur in that thing, so when I adjusted my hand all of a sudden there was all of this liquid running between my fingers and all over my pant leg. I couldn't do anything about it but let sticky mess get everywhere. Noemi noticed and then we both started laughing. Rather vocally. Right in the middle of a conversation about the maladies of the elderly. Oh dear.

What can we say? We're easily entertained.

eat, drink, and be merry!

Sorry for the over abundance of posts today, I just need to get caught up!

A couple of days ago les petits frères hosted a little international luncheon (okay, yes, this post is about food). They asked Noemi to make Spanish tortilla and me to make an American dessert. So what did I make? Brownies. From a box mix found on the American shelf at Auchan (next to the peanut butter and pancake mix) the truly American way.

Noemi allowed me to be obnoxious and take a million photos for you, dear readers, your very own photo tutorial of how to make Spanish tortilla!!!!!

Ingredients (amounts are all very...hazy...):

A couple of potatoes
An onion
Salt
Olive oil
3-4 eggs

Slice potatoes and onions into little pieces.

Fry in oil until browned nicely.

Mix fried stuff with eggs and a couple tablespoons? teaspoons? of salt. Mix well, until eggs are frothy.

Pour into an oiled frying pan and cook! Flip onto other side using large, flat plate and continue cooking until browned.

Partake and feel cultured.

Here's a couple photos from the luncheon:

*side note: also on the menu was a cheese tart, zucchini/feta cheese bread, and homemade apple tart. Wow, heaven. Can't stop beaming over French food.

yum.

Sometimes the ladies we visit say the funniest things.

Yesterday we were visiting with Madame Perisse (really annoyed about my inability to type accents right now, that e on the end is supposed to have an accent aigu which completely changes the pronunciation), and she wanted to look through fashion magazines. So we did, and when we came to a photo of a hot guy in a swimsuit she goes, "Quelle tablette de chocolat!" as in, "what hot abs!" We couldn't stop laughing.
Then today, Madame Sciacco was giving us advice about morality and she was gestured from her neck to her waist and said, "This is okay." And then she gestured from her waist down and was like, "This is not!" Noemi and I were like...oh dear...if only you knew how stringent the Honor Code is...

Maybe she could come talk to our acquaintances here at the residence...

oui, c'est ça

Let it be known and recorded that today is the day that the author of this blog finally, finally understood 98% of a conversation avec une dame âgée (with an elderly lady). 

Let her so be humbled that immediately following this highly successful visit, she visited with a woman and understood 30% of what she was saying. Actually 30% is too high of an estimate. 15% is more accurate. The author only responded with sympathetic head nods and a oui or c'est dommage (that's too bad) every now and again. 

I haven't really said much about what it is that I actually do for my internship. Noemi and I show up at the office of Les Petits Frères every morning and look at the schedule to see who we need to visit. We then either a) go visit someone at 11:00 or b) go have lunch at a sandwicherie (although Noemi's getting sick of baguettes so we went to McDonald's today-the only place I can get a salad with dressing I can stand) or La Papilloterie.

It's been really interesting talking to everyone. There's Madame X who lives in a retirement home, loves Americans because of WWII, invents Catholic prayers, and sings without shame. There's Madame Y who's a former math teacher, never married, and is full of opinions on everything from schooling to marriage to traveling to sports. There's Madame Z who has bones of glass and spends every day in bed to avoid falling and breaking her leg again. They're all different, but they're all the same in that they are all alone. 

That's what really makes this so hard. The whole reason we go visit them is because they don't have anyone else. We hear about their medications and diseases, we hear about their grandkids who live too far away to visit often, we hear about the places and things they used to visit and do before. A lot of them are still really happy, even though they're suffering a lot. Some of them are not so happy...and that is really hard to see. It's hard to see these old ladies without any hope! Sometimes I just want to be like, You'll see your husband again! Also, Someone has suffered your pains and aches and knows exactly what you're going through! But we were told not to explicitly talk about the church unless someone asks, so I just go on with my c'est dommage and oh la la. 

Due to such experiences, the author has hereby decided she will never get old. The author will stay 21 forever and never deteriorate to the point where she can't even walk around her own house. Also, she is determined never to be a widow. Dear future husband, you are not allowed to die before me and leave me alone.

Just saying.