Hi everyone! Recently, I discovered something cool that I thought would be great for American expats abroad. It’s Blow Birthday Cards, an online greeting card company which lets you select a card, add a handwritten message,… More
Whenever I spend a few months in a new city, I make a list of all the things I want to do and systematically check them off (boy, do I know how to have fun.) Otherwise, I get lulled into the stupor of “we can go anytime,” and “anytime” turns into “never.”
August marked the end of my time in San Francisco, so I checked a few last things off my list…
I moved about eight times in four years in France. You’d think it wouldn’t phase me anymore, but no. I hate moving. I dread moving. I hang onto stuff I should throw out and I throw out stuff I later regret. And I have no upper body strength, so I suck at the actual moving things part too.
(Remind me to tell you about that one time Hugo and I moved a convertible sofa, just the two of us. Actually, I’ll tell you now. It was really, really, really heavy, and there was no parking in front of our building. We had to park several blocks away and carry the damn couch. I literally howled all the way down the street. Hugo was super embarrassed.)
I am writing this post from grey Monterey – it’s the first time in weeks that I’ve been able to get cozy in my sweatpants and spend some quality time with my own MacBook, not at work.
If you are at all in sync with the Gregorian calendar, you may have noticed that July ended a few weeks ago, and yet here I am still writing about it, because I stubbornly refuse to stop writing these monthly posts until I have a collection of twelve. I may have to rethink them next year though – my blogging time is limited and I would rather write more useful posts.
July was awesome because Hugo’s parents came to visit from France! It was their first time on the west coast and they loved California. We showed them around San Francisco, spent a sweltering weekend in wine country, and took them down to foggy Monterey, Carmel, and Pacific Grove. They were surprised by the Bay Area microclimates – drive twenty minutes east and the weather is completely different, for better or worse!
I love Lyon all year round, but there’s something about summer. (For one thing, it’s the only time of year I actually want to leave my apartment after 9 pm.) Summer means rosé-drenched picnics, sunny afternoons with a cone of melon sorbet, and finally being able to wear that sundress that sits untouched in my closet nine months a year.
I admit that last summer, there was a period when it was so hot that I spent three days prone on the couch in front of the fan watching Orange is the New Black and drinking grapefruit Pulco like it was my job.
But when you’re not hiding from the scorching heat, Lyon is pretty great in the summer. Here are a few things I love to do during the estival months in Lyon.
A slice of June..
Life in SF
June was my first full month in San Francisco and it was glorious! I explored new neighborhoods, wandering all over the city in the sunshine. I tried the Mint Mojito iced coffee from Philz for the first time – it sounds like it should be weird, but it’s delicious and refreshing!
Hi! May went by in a blur. I wrapped up the end of the school year and Hugo and I moved up to San Francisco for the summer.
Wait, don’t you already live in San Francisco?
Nope! I go to school a few hours south of San Francisco in a small town on the coast. I’m excited to be in the city for the summer – I plan to eat my way through the neighborhoods, little by little. Leave me a note if you have any SF recommendations or favorite neighborhoods! (And if you’ve blogged about San Francisco, share the link – I’d love to read it.)
A slice of April…
Sometimes, writing these little monthly reviews makes me feel like the most boring person on earth. Remember when I used to traipse around Europe and eat cake? These days, it’s mostly just me reading about machine translation and taking photos of my cat. Does the internet really need more photos of cats?
I think that Hugo’s biggest moment of American culture shock was when he opened a bottle of ibuprofen.
He came running in and exclaimed, “Sweetie! The weirdest thing just happened!” He held out the plastic bottle. “Look what was in it!” Wide-eyed, he pulled out a wad of cotton. “C’est pas comme en France!”
Most teachers know what it feels like to buried under a pile of marking (or what I call “grading”). Once I spent the entire week of Toussaint vacation grading exams, and it took more time than an actual week of teaching. The only bright spot was finding hilarious mistranslations and other mirth-inducing wranglings of the English language.
A slice of March…
A day in Santa Cruz – Hugo and I drove up to Santa Cruz and spent a lovely day wandering. We left our laptops behind and took the day off from normal life and it was wonderful. It was like a tiny vacation. That sounds silly because it’s less than an hour away, but I thought it was as much fun as wandering through Lisbon or Sète or Oxford. It’s just nice to go somewhere beautiful and explore, no matter how far from home you are.