I found this today in an al Jeezera article.

"The Middle East Media Research Institute (MEMRI) is an organisation set up in the US that specialises in providing translations of Arabic-language broadcasts. It has become a useful tool for many a journalist covering the Middle East with a limited, or in many cases, zero understanding of Arabic. So in its purpose lies its problem.

MEMRI is a source for journalists that do not understand Arabic, but because they do not understand Arabic, they cannot validate the source. When you consider that the source is the brainchild of a former Israeli intelligence officer and has been caught selectively translating Arabic broadcasts that would reflect negatively on the Muslim world, the problem increases ten-fold."

This Moroccan man has been sending video blogs, addressed to Mohammad, the King of Morocco, citing the king's insults against the Moroccan people: the king's fortune vs. the poverty and illiteracy suffocating the country, autocracy in the government (the majority of politicians and department heads are from the same family, the Fassi Family), the incestuous relationship between the Moroccan business market and the king.

The blogger came to Chicago on a North American tour where he stood outside for 4 hours in the sleet to raise awareness about what is at stake in Morocco.

US Vetoes Pelstinian Bid at UN to Halt Israeli Settlements

New York-based Human Rights Watch released a statement criticizing the U.S. veto as undermining enforcement of international law.

“The U.S. government’s opposition to accurate language in the Security Council resolution erodes the unified international message that Israel should change its settlement policies,” Sarah Leah Whitson, Middle East director, said. “What’s needed from the Obama administration is a clear and consistent message that settlements on occupied territory are illegal and must be dismantled.”

Morocco:

Grass-roots government initiated campaigns seek to belittle protest efforts by mocking their slogans and leaders.

Despite this, sit-ins are scheduled throughout the week and leaders are generating buzz for another weekend of wide-spread, peaceful protests. The message is clear: Keep the King, Break the Autocracy.

Here is a short list of Sunday’s happenings in North Africa.Lybia:

The son of Libya’s president Muammar al-Gaddafi gave a speech to the nation in which he threatened the citizens of his own country with civil war, colonization and a government imposed infrastructure failure should Libyans refuse to accept the course the government chooses. Despite internet and cell phone connection outages, news is coming through of army and sniper attacks on protesters and a massacre in el-Bayda by both Libya’s army and government hired mercenaries.Morocco:

Protesters came out across the country: Rabat, Casabalana, Merrakash, al- Houseima and Tetuan.Despite the success in maintaining a day of peaceful protests, under the cover of night pro-government groups and police began attacking protesters. Watch the video here.

There is news, excitement, fear and hope flooding into my life about the possibilities for the Arab world and humanity within these countries. Having experienced the corruption first hand in Morocco, I am emotional about the change, of course. But I also must admit that my sentiments can be nowhere near as tumultuous as Ismail’s. Yes, I am American and proud to be but in the scheme of things, that means little. Our history is relatively short. Americans have no single ethnic background. Our traditions are multitudinous which in the ends amounts to diluted. I can respect that my neighbor is from Korea and we can celebrate being American together and the diversity that affords. But there is something necessarily shallow in that common identity. In Morocco I could smell the aromas of dinner coming from my neighbor’s kitchen and know what she was cooking because it was part of the repertoire of rich Moroccan traditional cuisine. To be fluent in Moroccan I had to know these dishes. The traditional music playing for a car window is the same tune Ismail’s grandma sang to him. There is, of course, new trendy music that teenagers bebop to but there are instruments and sounds unique to Moroccan history and identity. And, also, there is the ever unifying religion. While some are more devout than others, there is an unspoken connection between even the most remote strangers. You may not understand anything else about a person but you can relate to their religion if not as a belief, as tradition. Another piece of this historic puzzle I cannot relate to: being oppressed. I have never been scared to say what I think or denied access to information.All of this is pouring in on the radio and facebook and Ismail is radiating with news blurbs and energy. We sit next to each other in our study chairs. I’m trying to immerse myself in rhetoric studies and I find myself at strange intersections. I spend much of my time enjoying the beauties of life – good food, dainty tea cups, splendid conversations, literature. I think ahead to the future and how this beauty will be woven in to myself. And in the same moment I am confronted with the injustice and insult being protested across northern Africa and the Middle East. How much better it would be to listen to the news reports, think critically about the issues and return to my rhetorical theory and spinach soufflé. Never have I been confronted with an issue that is so current and so proximal that it seems to trivialize everything else I do. Yet there is little I can do short of going back to Morocco to join the protests. So I have returned to blogging in hopes of contributing to the virtual opposition. Morocco’s King Mohammed IV is a fine figure head but his ownership of the Moroccan economy and nepotistic habits are reproachable and scandalous. On the other hand, Liberian president Muammar al-Gaddafi is unfit to lead a people. Anyone who posits an army against its own people is not a leader but a despot and should be recognized as such by the international community.

Michelle - If you check this, you will be the only one to read my blog. However, in attempts to return to writing, I am reviving this dusty blog. Thanks for pushing so hard for me to do it. I will post someting of interest soon. Happy Thanksgiving.

My appologies for not updating anyone in quite awhile. What I thought was going to be a quiet two years, tucked away in a sleepy Moroccan village has turned out to be action packed days filled with travel, work and lots of friends. Just recently my mom and Patrick came and we had a most enjoyable time speed vacationing through Morocco followed by a lazy week on spanish beaches. Just what I needed! When not vacationing, I am working here in my town teaching English. I have just started teaching the primary school children which has been a joy, to my surprise. They are so eager and excited! Nothing is cuter than a room full of 7 year olds screaming the ABCs with the innocent enthusiasm that only kids can produce. There are two orphanages in town here: one for girls and one for boys. I have started classes at both. Again, such a joy to work with students who are so eager to chat with me about anything, in any language. My other big project is a resource center at the local high school. It was started five or ten years ago when the previous volunteer was here and closed promptly after his departure. I convinced them to blow the dust off the keys and open it. Now I am working on conniving a way to ensure it will stay open once I leave. I'm thinking of duplicating the keys fifty times and spreading it throughout Ben Ahmed (kidding...maybe.) This is where I elicit your help. If you have any fashion/automobile/gossip/etc magazines or select pages from magazines that would be nice eye candy for the walls or potential topics of conversation, I would much appreciate them. I want to excite the kids about learning english, so think high school girls and guys. I need "hip American" stuff: posters, advertisements, etc etc. Even funny cards or postcards can be great wall paper. THANK YOU in advance!

Where haaave I been?! I ask myself the same question from time to time. Or, rather, where am I.

I have been traveling about for work and otherwise. I find it more and more difficult to give a proper sociological report on life here as the strangeness has normalized. Freshly slaughtered chickens and horse draw carriages are a part of my daily life. I couldn’t picture it any other way at this point. Work at the Dar Chabab has been slow mainly because I haven’t been here. Last week I was working in a beach town called Azemour at a language immersion camp. I learned a lot about my own capacities as well as the dimensions of Moroccan youth. My students were from a beach city and were both extremely progressive and highly motivated. It was a great experience but didn’t always feel like proper Peace Corps work. Nonetheless, I spent some time on the beach with a few PCVs so all’s well that ends well.

The big news, I suppose, is of romance. ‘Tis true. They say it happens when you least expect it. In this case I was completely blind-sided. He showed up in my class at the dar chabab and began challenging my philosophical interpretations of “Hotel California.” Caught off-guard by both his English and his insight, I insisted on further conversations. Eh, voila. He cooks, cleans and is full of fun and interesting ideas. What more could a girl want! It has been a bit of a challenge in my town. Apparently there is a lot of jealousy so we go about justifying ourselves and trying not to act excited about each other in public. I must say, I appreciate American freedom more than ever!

Vanessa and her friend are coming on Saturday and my mom and Pat are coming Tuesday. I am so very very excited to have a little piece of home near. Not to mention the traveling about and visit to Spain!

Just an idea of how my days pass:

(However, the only constant seems to be the surprises: I wake up without water, I am last minute invited to any number of celebrations, the police are requesting my presence to assure my safety, classes are canceled because there is a football game, there is a meeting of the messenger pigeon association at my Dar Chebab, etc, etc.)

8-10: wake up, stretch/yoga, prepare breakfast and listen to podcast.

10-1: run errands. i.e. drink tea with various people, go to the market, ongoing problem solving- electricity, internet, etc., check email

1-2:30: Lunch - usually I see someone during my morning errands who invites me for lunch.

3-4:30: prepare lesson plans, study Arabic

4:30-8: teach at the Dar Chebab

8-10ish: cook dinner, watch a movie, read, write. Anything at home because it is dark out and it is not a good idea for me to be out and about.

11ish: Heat water on the stove to wash up for bed, read under the covers to keep warm

In preparation for Christmas, I will be killing a sheep. This week, Muslim’s all over the world celebrate L’Aid Kbir or The Big Feast or The Feast of the Sheep. Now, of course, all of us good Catholics will remember immediately that Abraham was ask by God to sacrifice his son for the remission of his sins. Having tested Abraham’s devotion and found him a true disciple, God gave him a sheep to sacrifice at the very moment he was prepared to kill his son. This story is in both the Bible and the Quran and is the basis for this Friday’s activities. Islam runs on a lunar calendar and therefore the religious holidays change each year. This, last month in the Islamic calendar, is “du l-Hijja” and, in addition to this annual sacrifice, is when people make the pilgrimage to Mecca. Our news broadcasts are littered with pictures of the sacred space jam-packed full of worshipers. It’s quite a sight.

As I understand it, the events of the next few days will go as follows:

First, we will fast for a couple days in preparation. This simply means not eating between sunrise and sunset. Everyone buys new cloths. Houses and bodies are cleansed and purified. The Hammam (public bath houses) will be jammed all week and almost every piece of furniture and blanket in the house will be hauled onto the roof for sun purification. My family has already bought their sheep and it is resting peacefully in the countryside, awaiting dooms day. On Friday it will be brought to the house (or many Thursday nights) and kept on the roof. Friday is when things get fuzzy. They (being the family) will doing the actual killing. As my family is wealthy, they have hired the butcher to come rip it apart. Other families do all the dirty work themselves. According to local custom, there is an order in which the animal parts are eaten. The first day is lungs, heart, and several other internal organs. Day two will be feet and head (yes, all of it – eyes, brain, et all) and then moving on to more basic cuts as the days progress. They are concerned about this reconciling with my vegetarianism…

In addition to all of this holiday cheer, I have been incessantly listening to my three Christmas CDs and am feeling very jolly. My wonderful community is exceedingly concerned with giving me a proper Christmas and has planned quite a feast (in addition to the sheep.) While the meal will be entirely untraditional, the volunteer from Berrchid (a thirty minute taxi ride from here) has been invited to come overstuff himself with me on the 24th in proper Christmas tradition. A local friend has even offered me a bottle of red wine for the occasion (remember, any alcohol is forbidden in Islam thus making this gift a real treat.) I am going to attempt a semblance of Christmas bakery but it will no doubt turn out looking Moroccan. It will taste great all the same.

Here it is December and I have failed to write in over 2 months. My only excuse is that I have been desperately learning Arabic, overcoming my bafflement, and starting a new job. The short of the long is that I have been (in no particular order) between Fes, Sefrou, Ben Ahmed, and Mrirt all the while having language and technical training. The reality of it is that I have spent the last 2 months hanging out with some extraordinarily interesting PC trainees, volunteers and Moroccans just generally having a good time. You see, this is the beauty of being a PCV: if you pass a whole day without doing anything that would be defined as “productive” in the American sense of the word, but you managed to mail a letter or get an important point across in Arabic, you have had a successful day. Other “productive” projects include drinking tea (if with another Moroccan or if had with cross cultural conversation), attending sessions regarding Moroccan politics, education and religion, and learning the ins and outs of bike maintenance (included with this activity is a well stocked, customized tool kit). If, for any reason, I should need medicinal, linguistic, or general support, there is an outstanding team of people with cell phones in pocket just waiting for my call. The support, thus far, has been unsurpassable.

A large part of these first three months is building relationships with the staff and the fellow volunteers in my stage. There are only three times during my service that we will all be together. One of them was the last three months. We meet again in 6 months and then again on our way out. Most of us came to the Peace Corps with an appetite for solitude and distance from everything and anyone American. We were all surprised to find how enjoyable these last three months were, in close proximity to upwards of 30 other Americans. We are like-minded in our expatriation but our specialties range from politics and business to the arts and women’s development. Our discussions are diverse and very well informed. When we are not in class, on the road or in the community, we keep ourselves warm with heated conversations and tea. Several of us have started a long distance book club that will reconvene for discussion in six months. Our first book is War and Peace.

There are five of us who have taken particularly well to each other: Ami, Adam, Pedja, Clark and myself. Inchala (God willing), we will be meeting up for a little Christmas celebration on the beach. I moved “home” on Tuesday and am certainly feeling the distance from the people I have taken comfort in. Fortunately, though, I was well forewarned of the shocking disparity between training and the beginning of service. I have equipped myself with books (War and Peace ought to last awhile), yoga, and writing to ease the transition. So far, so good. The people here are incredibly welcoming and I look forward to working my way into a comfortable life here.

In other news, I was elected “Volunteer Advisory Committee” representative for my stage. I will act as the liaison between the Peace Corps staff and the twenty-seven volunteers I swore in with. I will have the opportunity to travel several times a year for meetings, among other unforeseen possibilities, and work intimately with my programming staff and country director.

We finished language and technical training on Saturday, Sunday was our day off, and Monday was the big day: swearing in. We woke up early and put on our one clean, business casual outfit that has been sitting in the bottle of our suitcase for 3 months, and hopped on buses that took us to the most upscale hotel in town. It is the quintessential, colonial Morocco setting, complete with waterfalls and Moroccan style cabanas. Many of our host families were able to join us. Also among the crowd were several high level Moroccan officials, the US ambassador to Morocco, and, of course, all in country PC staff. Our language training has been split between three different languages; each of which was represented by a speech given by the volunteer who has shown most progress in their respective language. All other announcements and speeches were translated multilingually. It was a phenomenal experience to be a part of something so intensely cross-cultural. Finally, we gallantly raised our right hands and pledged our commitment to ourselves, the Peace Corps and, most importantly, to the people of Morocco. This lovely affair was followed by a delicious meal and charming conversation. Much of the food disappeared into host family handbags and only Americans conceded the concept of a line for pictures with the ambassador. A good time was had by all and now it is time to get to work!

It hardly feels like the holidays here but I listen to Christmas music and think of you all often.

Mrs H., Dad and Clara, You may never know how comforting it is to receive your letters. Shukran Bzzaff!

Mrs. H - Do give the whole family a hug on my behalf.

Well here is Sefrou I am busier than a bee in honey season so I will give a brief update. This past week has been full of language and good food (they feed me like a queen) and a trip to the public bath house. This has to be the highlight of my week. My host family does not have a bathroom per say so we packed up our buckets, towels and soap and stripped down in the Hamam. I scrubbed from head to toe by my host sister and I came out radiant as a sunbeam. We head back to Fes to meet up with the rest of the volunteers and debrief about our experiences. In between my own language endevours, the other volunteers and I are working on programs at the youth house where we spend our evenings. I am developing a poetry class that should be presented within the month. I guess I have to do some real grown up things - hoot!!

Today was an incredible day. A group of us stumbled our way to the “mdina” with small widgets of Arabic and a keen sense for adventure. Alas, we ended up with a guide despite our commitment to avoid such a cost. We weaved in and out of quiet to clamorous and ended on the roof of a building looking down on a tannery. While it is a sight I have seen before, I felt much more cognizant than 2 short years ago. I suppose drinking local tap water somehow makes me feel more “branche.” A friend was charmed by a snake, I bought a hijab and we all just short of died of thirst. It is Ramadan and drinking or eating in public is a major faux pas since any good Muslim is fasting.

We eat 4 meals a day. At night we get a baggy of “breakfast” so anyone fasting can eat at 5am at the call to prayer (before sunrise) or eat when they wake up for those who are not. Lunch is prepared for those who are not fasting (myself included.) At around 6:45 there is the 4th of 5 calls to prayer. At this time there is a meal called the “break fast.” We join to eat a special meal to celebrate breaking the day’s fasting. There is a soup of sorts (lentil, carrot, or chick pea thus far) special bread, pastries, dates and, of course, tea. Finally, after the final call to prayer at 10, there is the official dinner. I have made a habit of skipping this since 3 meals serves me well and I am usually sleeping by 10. As you can see, the call to prayer is a sort of public school bell system, at least throughout Ramadan.

The language lessons are amazing. Volunteering for 2 years is worth its time in language (among many other wonderful things) and I praise Allah every day for speaking French. If I were to stay in Fes (which I will surely not) I could comfortably go 2 years without Arabic, for French is enough. I bargained down a hijab 50 dirhams, in French, and helped a friend from being scammed, L-Hamdullah for French. So, besides some slight stomachal adjustments, things are still wonderful. Cell phone is soon to arrive.

New photos @ web.mac.com/nicolettaanderson

Well I hardly know where to start but I will say that I am finally here along with the other 66 of me. So far being a PC volunteer has only demanded that I live without a hairdryer, eat great food 3 times a day and have Moroccan mint tea and cookies twice daily. O yeah, don't forget the fresh squeezed OJ. It is tough but someone has to do it. Don't worry folks, they are only keeping us comfortable and healthy so they can give us extensive sessions on how to deal with the imminent diarrhea and/or dysentary as well as how to ward off harrasment and the feeling of living in a fish bowl. The training is extensive and incredibly thorough. They really do know how to do this right. Honestly I cannot even begin to describe what has been happening the last few days. I have met the US ambassador to Morocco (Tom Wiley), done yoga while listening to the call to prayer, walked through the medina and wanted to dive into the sights and smells of this incredibly beautiful country. I am lucky to be working and learning alongside such intelligent, articulate and compassionate individuals. And, the icing on my cake, once I get to my site, the Peace Corps pays for me to hire a language tutor for up to 20 hours a week in whatever language I wish (or 2 or 3). I am planning on doing some major work on my french and, of course, my arabic. I leave for Fez tomorrow and I will meet my host family in a little over a week. Hope all is well back aux Etats Unis.

In approximately 12 hours I will be an island in a sea of strangers on my first day as a Peace Corps Volunteer Trainee. I find this oddly comforting. Tomorrow I will be standing next to 60 some odd people who have spent the last month thinking far to long about packing, just like me, and who have racked their brains trying to imagine their future, just like me. I will meet them and we will all give our history, passions and aspirations in 5 sentences or less and I will race to keep them all straight. But somewhere in the waves of vapid conversation and perfunctory summations lie the seeds of profound relationships and consequential futures. So while emotions wiz haphazardly through my chest - excitment for what lies ahead mixed with fears of the same and an overall sadness to leave all those I love so dearly - there is comfort in knowing that it is finally time to go. My life has been artfully shoved into 2 bags, I have mastered 3 arabic phrases and I have no idea where I will be in a week. I'm moving to Morocco!

I will be writing my blogs on this website but I will be posting all of my pictures to:

web.mac.com/nicolettaanderson.

So feel free to visit.

Presently I am sitting on the 8th hour of a train ride, crossing the Canadian/Us boarder. Thus far all of my toilets have seats and the water is drinkable, amenities that I am cherishing as long as they last. The last two weeks have been lovely ones. Our Anderson/Halloran family reunion was a raving success with all parties properly fed, pleasantly drank and loquaciously chatted. Mornings opened early with coffee and a run on the beach, afternoons passed as waves on the sand and evenings went down with Manhattans and cheese. Last night, awaiting an early train, Oma and I spent a dinner in New York where we were fortunate enough to be joined by my cousins Mark and Agatha and good friends Tamora and Emile. I’m off to the land of the funny French speakers.

This seems an appropriate fit as my last days in Chicago pass all too quickly and the massive ball of change begins to roll ahead.

"I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

"Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

"The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed---and gazed---but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

"For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils."

-William Wordsworth

To begin, it is summer in the south of France which means it is unbearably hot and equally charming. Daily coffee has turned into luscious things such as daily Diablo Fraises and Ice cream. Yum. Last Wednesday was the national music festival. Basically a large amp was plugged into the side of France and it sand. I think the entire continent was dancing. The old part of town was closed and people flooded this town. The Cours Mirabeau was hardly walkable and music venues were partout, just far enough apart so as not to drown each other out..but just barely. There was everything from punch rock to full orchestra ensembles. After about 1 or 2 am it turned into a city wide dance club. Tout le monde was getting their groove. We just popped between bands danced a little and moved to the next. I can't tell you what a good time I had. It was a good 'ol fashioned good time. After our feet decided they needed to head home we passed by an acoustic percussion group and spent about an hour meandering through the streets as they processed out of town making the crowd move simultaneously with the beat of their drums which seemed to set the pace of your heart. I do decree...La fete de la Musique is more celebrated than Bastile day and what a party it was.

Since then I have seen a few dear friends off. It changes the atmosphere around these parts and in a way it makes it a bit easier to leave, but not much.

Spent the day at the beach with Fateh yesterday. That really is the best way to sum up the life style of the south of France....warm with a cool breeze, lazy and sleepy. Naturally there are cafes just steps away from your towel so you don't even have to put your sandals on to get a coffee. It is best to bring a few cookies from your local bakery seeing as the best time of the day is sunset on the beach. So you have your "goûter" around 6 to hold you over. The salt water and sand makes them taste so much better. After being thoroughly sunned and sanded we headed home tranquil and relaxed while watching the coast of Marseille pass into the last breaths of sunlight of a perfect Monday.

Saturday night we had a splendid tea party in the park. Many of my friends are Algerian, Moroccan and Tunisia so he had a Magreb party complete with a hooka, spiced tobacco, mint tea, and a couple guitars.

I finished my last exam today. It was an oral exam which I have never had before. Not sure how well that went for me but it was an experience anyway.

As of yesterday Kathleen and Allen are the proud parents of a little baby boy. Everyone is doing well.

No extrodinarily exciting news around these parts. Folks are starting to pack up and head to the next destination. Sad :( I am a bit paralyzed because I don't want to leave here as equally much as I want to come home. I figure that is a good thing, though, because I can't go wrong either way.

Last week I ran a small hostel out of my teeny tiny room. Maryfaith and two friends stayed two nights and the following night two guys from Loyola passed through town. A good time was had by all.

Going to the beach today with Fateh and we might be taking a little voyage to Corsica for a night next week! yiippeee

It is officially summer and UBER hot. Wednesday is the national music festival and I hear it is great fun.

Last night I was in town with some friends for a drink and we crossed a tango party. It was in the middle of one of my favorite squares (the one where l'Unique is for all you Aixoise) and the cafes set up their chairs around the danse area in the middle. 1930s tango music sounded from the speakers and the rest of us with two left feet sat and stood looking on with our wine and cocktails. Everyone was fabulously dressed up and the scene looked like something straight out of a black and white film: The relief of cool night air, the ladies and gents dressed to the nines, the crackle in the music as if it where being played from a record, their cheeks pressed close together as they gracefully danced this ceremonius dance - it was intoxicating. The longer I am here the less and less it happens but I had to pinch myself to remind myself that it's not a dream.

Well I finally managed to bring myself to buy my ticket home. A very bitter sweet feeling. I am finally getting settled in and building dear friendships and it's time to leave. But I am equally excited to come home and see everyone and eat a bagel. The bagel excitement will surely wear off after about a day when I realize I have no baguettes or decent coffee and I will begin convulsing in shock. Fortunately I still have over 3 weeks till that happens. I land in Newark the 2nd of July and will be in Chicago about a week later.

The 7 passed chez moi this past weekend. An eventful weekend that was... The relaxing cafe experience changes a bit when one is with 7 non french speaking very thirsty americans. But nonetheless it was wonderful to see my family.

Besides that its back to the ol' coffee and bread routine. Love you all and miss you and see you bientot!

Pheww, finally back home in Aix. What did I do the last week you might ask. Well:

Showed up in Dortmund Germany on my way to Berlin.

Saw the whole of Berlin in one whirl wind day. Not the most attractive city but a very important one.

Trained it to Poznan Poland early Friday morning where I met the Sgrois and Micelis. Thus began the adventures. Somewhere between tours of the city, always being late and the cousin getting married we managed to eat one meal for the duration of 8 hours and knock off many bottles of vodka. The traditional alcohol count for a polish wedding reception is one bottle for every guest. WHAT!

Spent Sunday recovering. Monday retrained it back to Berlin, this time with 7 others. Sent the 7 on their way to Florence and I stuck around Berlin another day. Saw a concentration camp north of the city-wow. That is just one of those things that you have to see in order to understand the horror behind it.

Flew back to Nice and then finally to Aix.

It was wonderful to see the family and intreguing to see the Polish and American families attempt to integrate despite a very large language barrier. A little vodka seemed to clear that up.

The 7 who popped to Italy will be here in Aix by Friday. Next weekend MaryFaith and friends are coming and the weekend after that I might be going to Germany for World Cup fun. Then I leave!! NOoooooo :( This last month is going to be pack full of fun and adventure so I won't think about leaving untill I have to. Hope everyone is well!

PS Got an email and I haven't graduated yet. It has been moved to this summer. I'm still an official student!! YYIIPPPEEEEEEE How long do you think I can stave off the end?

hhmm sorry for the retard. After all that sitting around of the greve, the three weeks of traveling threw off my groove of doing nothing and I got a little etourdie. Things are beginning to pick up around here. Upon returning from Italy, Spain and travels in the south of France with mon pere et mon Oma I commenced the coursage. But alas, two are on the verge of being canceled so I need not stress out on studying. Passed a week by being homesick. I still am but I got it into my thick skull that I am coming home in a month and a half and I should make the most of my time. This saturday we all hiked up a mountain and slept at the summit. That was loads of fun with loads of food and du vin. It took a little fresh air to regain my senses from the pensés of Chicago. I have met the most fabulous people here and I am sure that just about the time I really get to know them we will all be prending our planes homeward bound. Fortunately many of then live in that cluter of funny french speakers above us called Canada and one of the Brits will be in Wisconsin this summer. Aix continunes worldwide.

Next week it's to Poland for the cuz's wedding but first I am passing par Berlin to check out the non existant wall. I am really looking forward to the "Sgroi/Miceli take Europe" adventure. Hopefully at the end of June, as one last excursion, a friend, Katie, and I are going to have a pint of the World Cup in Munich. Still trying to convince Lucas to come. You too...you should come. Might be going to Loire next weekend to stay with a friend. If not, we are mounting the mountain again: good for the buttox.

Who is my cousin who calls themself PBandJ? ...I am sure I love you but I don't know who you are.

Apparently I graduate Friday. Woah.... I had better discuss that with a pastery and coffee. GROS beeeezzzooooos à tous le monde.

This one comes to you from Barcelona. After bullfights and a few days in aix the fam and I have wondered out of France. Gosh I love France but it is nice to get away from Aix and the Frenchies for a little. After 3 days here we are renting a car and going to Bilbao to see some little museum called the Gugenheim. O yeah, on the way we are going to stop in Pamplona to have an aperitif Hemingway style. hoooot

School will be back the 2nd of May! Hooot, the students won!

The road trip to Italy was superb. CInque Terre, Pisa, Florence, Venice and a lot of food and laughing.

I am in Arles with dad and Oma and we are going to see a bull fight this morning. Happy Easter to that.

Will write more soon.

In about 10 minutes 3 friends and I are hopping in our rented car and driving to Italy...random and really exciting. HOOT!!

Dad, I am locked out of my email for some reason but I wanted to let you know I have booked several train tickets and the price for all three of the tickets for three people is around 500€. One of them is a night train too so that is good. Not sure how you want to divide that up with Oma but will you let her know. I can't wait to see you on Friday!!!

Hey Kathryn, Yes on the Loyola email. No probs there. And you spewing water on your computer made me almost pee in my pants. hehe. I hope things are going well at school. I take a pass on your homework but I hope you enjoy. I'll be in Italy.

At the risk of shocking the world, I announce that the strike at the Fac de Lettre @ U of P......continues. A hopeful email from a professor gave me a little jolt that I might have to do some work next week. I feel pretty doubtful about that. Yesterday's "day of movement" resulted in over 3 thousand protesters around France, most in Paris and Marseille.

I got a hair cut today and I was avoiding that because I know the prefered hair do in these parts oddly resembles a mullet. Yup.. I got a french mullet. Hoooot. The funny thing is, I kinda like it. After the most sensual hair wash I've ever known, Jonathan says "Dit-mois." I tell him a bit of a trim and some thinning out. He prepared. This process is the same process of Michelangelo before he started David: a general understanding of the subject matter from afar and near then a visualization of the end product, a tassle here and a sweep there and Voila! he began. It was serious: an hour of him making love to my hair and proudly spurting out english phrases like "I have a red table", and finally I have a mullet.

Adriana: yes, I miss muffins too. lol. Hows le nez?

Spring is in full swing with flip flops and all. I don't know what happens to all the people during the winter but the cafés are totally packed now. Aix had a grand parade yesterday which Bruno and I watched from the other side of a huge icecream glass. Wow, French people really know how to do it up. If I hadn't of known better I would have thought I was in Venice for Carnival. O yes, and the men dooo love to dress up as pretty ladies. lol.

Heading to Salsa lessons tonight.

NO school yet.

Going to Prague or Budapest will be real accomlishment at this point. I will need walk to Italy and leave from there. It seems this coming week the national strike begins; most importantly, train and bus employees. The students at the fac are still planning the national assembly here in Aix. The fun begins next Saturday.

I had an afternoon on the water's edge in Marseille yesterday. Talk about relaxing. It was about 4pm so the sun was just right, not overpowering but enough to bask in, and the sailboats were coming in for the day so they were all in viewing proximity. Being not quite the weekend or summer, we had the whole place to ourselves. And it was around 70 degrees, 74 with a glass of wine.

.....I mean....I can't wait for classes to start again.

Adriana: the nez news: it's good. No probs thus far. What are you irritated about? I went to a shop and asked if there is a smaller thing and he said no but he lied cause I found one. But I am afraid it will fall out. In any case, you can't see it hanging out of the bottom of the nez. Miss you, and yes, pompier news will be delivered today. Please excuse the messages, I just couldn't stop laughing.

Suprise suprise, la Greve continue. I am sure by now everyone has heard of the violent protests in Paris against the CPE. There was a big protest in Marseille last weekend and another today..they like setting cars on fire there. And the students at my university want to organise a national assembly on our campus. That's to say, bring what's going on in Paris to Aix - it's not going over to well but they are "searching a solution." Needless to say, classes aren't going to start any time soon. Most students who are not fired up about things have decided to travel: Amsterdam and Rome are popular greve vaca destinations. Personally I'm looking at catching a flight to eastern Europe...might be a bit safer.

Weather is extrodinary and the pastries taste even better in the sunshine. That about sums it up in this neck of the woods. Gros bisou!!