Beware the Ides of March

Hi, I’m back! The past two and a half months have been busy and exciting in all kinds of ways. I plan to write about these ways in an organized manner over the next few weeks. But for today, I will only reflect over the past week.

I like the month of March, not least because my birthday falls right smack dab in the middle of it: March 15. I’ve always been aware of the “ides,” but since I’m no Caesar, I never paid it much attention. Until now. This is the story of the most absurd birthday week ever.

Sunday, March 11. On such a beautiful Sunday afternoon, what more could I want than a walk in the park with my dog? Marshall and I left the apartment around 3pm to walk across the street to our local park. But pretty immediately, he started shaking. He wouldn’t walk toward the park. Then he started sneezing. Finally I looked up and noticed black leaves blowing toward us. I smelled wood smoke. Then I looked over at the park, and it was covered by raging flames! My first reaction was to call Jon and say “get out here with your camera.” He did exactly that, and these are his photos below.

reeds on fire in the fens

It turns out the reeds that surround the lakes in our park catch on fire every once in a while. This is a first for us, so it’s good to know! The black residue and the smell of smoldering wood lingered in the neighborhood for days after the fire.

firefighter walking through the reed graveyard

After the Fens Fire, Jon and I had a date with some friends of mine from St. Louis who were in town for the weekend. We took the T up to Cambridge to meet them, had a lovely dinner, and then were on our way back home when it happened.

My stomach started to hurt on our walk from the restaurant to the T station. When we got on the train, I started to feel dizzy. There was no where to sit, so I told Jon that I had to get off the train. And that’s the last thing I remember. When I woke up, I was lying on the sidewalk, looking up at Jon and listening to him tell the 911 operator that I had passed out. Almost instantly, there were a bunch of EMS workers surrounding me. After a bit of debate, I decided it was best to get in the ambulance and go to the hospital. After all, I have never passed out like that before, and I was still feeling really strange.

Monday, March 12. The past few hours were gross, and I don’t have to go into detail, but let’s just say I had a stomach bug that is going around Boston right now. Jon stayed with me at the emergency room while they tested my heart (all good) and blood tests to figure out that I had a virus. Then he ran home to let the dog out, because he had been alone for a while. Jon came back to the hospital, and a bit after midnight he started to feel sick, too. I told him to go to the bathroom, and that was the last time I saw him for a couple hours.

By 6am, I was feeling well enough to walk, so it was time to leave the hospital. I had to ask around to find out where Jon had been placed, since my bed had been placed in a hallway outside the ER nurses’ station for the past ten hours. I found Jon, dazed in his own room, and we collected our things to go home. We warned the cab driver to drive very carefully…

me on my stretcher in the ER. gross.

Tuesday, March 13. We’d spent the past two days in bed, fighting fevers, stomach aches, and overall exhaustion. We found out that my cousin and her boyfriend also had the exact same sickness at the exact same time, so at least we could trace the origins to our illness to the Saturday night we had spent together. While I felt like a zombie, I’d even ventured out to CVS to get our anti-nausea medication. But nothing could have prepared us for the bizarre thing that happened at 7pm on Tuesday.

I was washing my hands in the bathroom when the lights went out. Jon was in bed, taking one of his many extended naps. We rushed to find flashlights and candles. Our cell phones barely had signals, so there was no way to get the internet to figure out what was going on. Slowly we got messages from friends explaining that there had been a fire down the street and some power generators were shut down. The electric company was telling everyone to go to bed, and the power would be back on when we woke up.

Wednesday, March 14. Around 6am I woke up to the sound of water flowing inside the building. I went over to our door and peeked into the darkness to see a line of firefighters marching toward the unit down the hall from us. Since we had no power, I was scared there was a fire and the alarms had not worked. That was partially the case. I called for Jon to come look, and he went into the hallway to ask our neighbors what had happened. It turned out the guy in the unit above hers had lit a candle, placed it on a chair, and fallen asleep. The fire wasn’t huge, but the sprinklers went off and flooded his second floor apartment, plus two of the first floor apartments down the hall from us. We were literally feet away from being flooded out.

I went to work that morning with a dead cell phone and a lunch consisting of applesauce and bananas. I checked the electric company’s website every hour to see what their latest updates were about the power. “Power will be restored by noon. Power will be restored by 3pm. Power will be restored by 7pm.” We went to bed that night, again, with no power, but with a promise that it would be restored when we woke up.

Thursday, March 15. Happy birthday! No power. No heat. No hot water. Food in the fridge and freezer spoiled. Jon came with me downtown so that he could charge his cell phone and use the internet at a coffee shop. We decided that we could not handle another day with no showers and no lights. After the candle-on-a-chair incident, our apartment manager called for a “no candle” policy as well. So we called up our good friend Julia who lives down the street, just past the power outage line, and moved shop to her living room. She and her roommate gave us magical things like access to a shower, hot bowls of soup, birthday cake in a mug, and a warm place to sleep.

Friday, March 16. We woke up to news that power had been restored in our building. Our block was one of the last in the city to have power restored. Even when the electric company claimed a day earlier that all power was on, our building and the few buildings around us rolled our eyes and said, “um, no it’s not.” We walked back to our place, turned on the lights at last, and accessed the damage.

Our hallway smells like a sewer. It will be a construction zone for a while, as the units damaged by water and fire are restored. Our apartment had been a mess from two sick people, unable to do dishes or laundry or cleaning. Everything from our fridge and freezer had to be tossed, which was probably the most emotional thing that I went through over the past week. (I hate wasting food!!!!) We were supposed to have a party Friday night, but after we got sick we knew we had to cancel. The birthday/housewarming party is rescheduled, if you want to attend!

Sometimes we have those moments where we say to ourselves “is this really happening to me?” Sometimes those moments are gathered close together. Sometimes they all fall during important times, like a week where we thought we’d be celebrating our anniversary, my birthday, and St. Patrick’s Day. While absolutely nothing went as planned this week, it’s all stayed memorable. Now I’ll know that not everyone who collapses on the T is intoxicated. And emergency rooms at night are disturbingly understaffed. And just because the electric company promises something doesn’t mean it will happen. And when my friends say they’ll help us out no matter what, they mean it.

Pittsburgh favorites part 1: neighborhoods

With one month left in Pittsburgh, I think it’s finally time to showcase my favorite things about living in this city for the past two years. All of this, of course, will be very biased toward my lifestyle and values, which often don’t parallel the average American. I also don’t have a car, so pretty much everything I talk about will be bus, bike, and pedestrian friendly. If you have other things to add, please share them in the comments!

I’ll start with my three favorite neighborhoods.

row house style in Bloomfield

Bloomfield: This obviously comes first because this is where I live and spend most of my time. This is where Jon grew up, where most of our friends live, and where I walk my dog. It’s an old German and Italian neighborhood, and it’s nicknamed “Pittsburgh’s Little Italy.” In the fall there are lots of things going on like Little Italy Days and the Halloween parade. Liberty Avenue has lots of bars, restaurants, and shops, and it’s only getting better. It’s also a very convenient area for those without cars; I can grab lots of buses that take me to Oakland, Downtown, or other East End locations. I’ve felt very safe living here, and it’s also one of the more affordable areas for students to live. We get a lot more space and amenities with our one-bedroom apartment in Bloomfield than we would in areas like Shadyside and Oakland. It’s quieter (and cleaner!) here, too!

Friendship-style big ol' houses

Friendship: Well, I kind of live here, too. Our street looks like Friendship, but the street sign actually says Bloomfield on it. As you can see, the houses in Friendship are big brick beauties that are sometimes homes, but sometimes converted apartments. All of our friends around here live in converted apartments, which is a great alternative to giant apartment buildings run by giant companies. Friendship is bordered by Bloomfield, East Liberty, and Shadyside, making it a cozy community with great access to the shops and restaurants on streets like Highland, Liberty, Walnut and Penn. One of my favorite little places in Friendship is Baum Grove, a little park with chess tables where Marshall loves to sniff around.

Squirrel Hill: If it were easier to walk from Squirrel Hill to Pitt’s campus, maybe I would have lived here. It’s like a village, and everyone I know who has lived here has loved it. There are tons of great restaurants and cafes, a movie theater, library, and grocery store. But the best thing about Squirrel Hill may be that it’s tucked in between the two best parks in Pittsburgh: Schenley and Frick. Most residents of Squirrel Hill are within walking distance to the amazing hills and trails of these parks. So if being near Pitt doesn’t matter to you, Squirrel Hill may be paradise.

Coming next: Pittsburgh Asian Restaurants

Everything happens in April

At least that’s how it’s felt over the past 24 days. How is it not already May? The most important task for the month of April was completing my thesis. I was on track — and some said even ahead of the game — to do so. But I had also planned a rather spontaneous long-weekend trip to Paris to visit Danielle. I tried not to publicize this too much in my grad school circle. My thesis advisor found out about my travel plans the day before I left. He wished me a pleasant trip, as well as the ability to type feverishly over the 8-hour flight.

Paris was exactly what I needed in every way. I loved living with Danielle and Amelia again, even if it was in the smallest (but most adorable) apartment I’ve ever seen. We were roommates senior year of college, and my only regret from that year is that we did not cook together nearly enough. This time, we cooked all but one dinner in Danielle’s apartment, mostly out of frugality but also out of our deprived-American desire for French dinner parties.

wining in the sunshine

April has also had the worst spring weather in my recent memory. I never remember this much rain or this many 45-degree days anywhere that I’ve lived, including Pittsburgh. But France is having a much different story. All five days that my skin had the privilege of being in the Parisian sun, it was 75 degrees and perfect. We literally napped in a park while children chased ducks and rode ponies. Do you see how this could be refreshing for a graduate student who has not had a break like this in literally two years?

paris in bloom

Amelia and I landed in Paris at 8am after a sleepless flight from Pittsburgh. We fought the desire to nap by walking what felt like the entire length of Paris. We saw the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower, but I didn’t take any pictures partly out of exhaustion and partly out of snobbery (we’ve been there before…duh.) I think the majority of our time in Paris was spent in parks and grocery stores. Like I said, we cooked a lot, and we wanted to take advantage of the French bread, wine, and cheese that just doesn’t taste the same back home. We went to one museum, the Musee Rodin, where we only paid the 1 euro fee to walk around the sculpture garden. We also took the catacombs tour, which was super spooky and cool. The catacombs are miles of tunnels under Paris that are full of bones, mostly skulls and femurs, which were buried there because they were spreading too much disease above ground (200 years ago).

who are you? and where are the rest of your bones?

I accomplished everything I wanted to in Paris. I ate crepes au sucre et sandwich avec fromage et jambon, we joined the mobs of people on the metro and I felt like I lived in a giant city again, and we even wandered around Paris’s Chinatown. Most of all, I got to relax with two of my favorite people. And despite the minor jet lag, relaxation was the perfect solution to thesis-writing mania. When I got back from Paris, I spent the next four days at home in my pajamas just WRITING. I literally only left the house to walk Marshall. And in the end, I turned in a 27,000+ word thesis that I am proud of. I turned in into my committee, successfully defended it a few days later, and now all that’s left is the bureaucratic process of publishing it for the university library.

the thesis-writing process is not pretty

And if that wasn’t enough, my summer plans suddenly revealed themselves. For the months of May, June, and July, I’ll be staying in Pittsburgh to work for the Confucius Institute. It’s a great opportunity for me to continue working in Asian studies and get more hands-on experience with international exchange between the U.S. and China. I’m really happy to be staying in Pittsburgh for the summer. I left last year in May, so I didn’t get to experience the sunny days that everyone has been telling me about. It will also give me more time to search for a more permanent job (anyone out there who wants to offer me that?)

This week is graduation madness. All of our family members will be here to celebrate Jon’s graduation on Thursday and mine on Sunday. Also, it’s Marshall’s gotcha day slash birthday, so we are throwing a party for the three of us. I’m still trying to comprehend that graduate school is over, I did it, I don’t have to do this ever again if I don’t want to. It’s pretty liberating. I’m hesitantly reading a book for pleasure right now. Maybe I’ll finally paint that blank canvas that has been sitting on the mantel for two years.

Happy Easter!

10 years ago in France, 17 girls squealed

In June 2001, 17 girls flew from St. Louis to Paris for a 17-day trip around France. Led by a well-traveled high school French teacher and two other women, our group landed in Paris, immediately jumped on a train to Grenoble, and then hopped a bus that took us into the Alps. I will never forget how long the flight seemed, how exhausted I felt, and how much the old men stared at my blond friends. We spent a few days relaxing in the Alps, adjusting to the time change and having a few more language lessons. I remember drinking hot chocolate for breakfast, tasting Nutella for the first time, drinking water straight from the mountain streams, and bringing little Babybel cheeses on hikes. We walked along trails that used to be part of the Roman road, with archways still carved into the rock. We met farmers and cows, sang Disney songs in the rain, and obsessed over the fact that we could see Italy from the top of our mountain. After the Alps, we spent a bit of time in Lyon and Grenoble, stayed with host students at a boarding school near Lyon, and then finished it all up in Paris.

Amy, Rebecca, Claire, Erica, Madame, Moi, et Maggie à l'Arc de Triomphe, Paris, Juin 2001

This trip changed my life, as I’m sure most people’s first trip overseas does. Before that, the French I studied in a classroom seemed too distant to be real. Did people really think and dream in French? Did 16-year old French kids really talk about the things in our textbook dialogues? For some reason my brain couldn’t get around these concepts until I was actually there, living with my roommate Cecile in her boarding school in Bourg-en-Bresse. I marveled over these French teenagers’ use of perfume, their cigarettes, their tendency to wear the same clothes two days in a row. I still remember them taking us to the Parc Des Oiseaux, a big zoo full of birds. I remember their school cafeteria, which smelled like cheese and served much more interesting food than my school. I still remember some of their names, especially the boys that all of us automatically fell in love with. (I wonder where they are now? Too bad there was no Facebook in 2001.)

Paris was everything we had dreamed of. We all spent way too much money on skirts and perfume, back when France was still on the Franc and things seemed cheap compared to the dollar. I’ll always remember the thrill of seeing the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur, and Giverny for the first time. But one of the most specific stories I remember was a prank we pulled on some American college boys our last night. We were all staying on the third or fourth floor of this hotel, but the boys’ room was across a courtyard, so we only met them by saying “hi” through the window. It was our last night in Paris so we were packing our bags, but the boys had gone out for the night. Since our bags were stuffed from recent purchases and gifts, some things had to be left behind. One of those things was a bag of feminine pads. I’m not sure whose they were, but somehow we all decided that we needed to throw these pads into the open window across the courtyard. We voted, and somehow I ended up nominated to do the throwing. We ran out into the hall, where a window opened up even closer to the boys’ room. I leaned out the window, focused on the boys’ window about eight feet away from me, and gave it a gentle underhand toss. It went right in. We freaked out. We left early the next morning, so we’ll never know their reaction, or if any of them figured out where the mystery pads came from.

Why am I writing about this, ten years later? Because one week from today, I’ll be back on a plane bound for Paris. My good friend has been living there for the majority of the last four years, and I owe her a visit. Three friends and I also visited her when she was studying abroad in Paris in 2005. Pittsburgh currently has a direct flight to Paris that they will be canceling soon, so it’s cheap, easy, and I have no excuse as I wind down my graduate student career.

Danielle and Ameila, oh la la, we will eat chocolate together again!

Going to France ten years ago opened up to me a world of travel, language, and curiosity that has only grown stronger since. As I attempt to shape the past decade of experiences into a career in international education, it seems fitting to go back and visit the place where it all started.

Thanks to Madame and all my classmates who made that trip perfect. Je t’aime toujours!

Doing things that matter

One of the writing prompt questions from WordPress this week is “how long could you live without the internet?” Even though I’ve been using the internet regularly since I was ten years old, I could live without it for a pretty long time. I think its best use is cheap communication like through e-mail and skype (but I would be much happier receiving phone calls and written letters). The truth is that the less time I spend on the internet, the better my day is. When the computer stays off, I have time for things that matter.

Take a minute to write down all the things you would do regularly if you had the time. Go!

practice piano

study Chinese

yoga

sew my own clothes

cook fresh dinners daily

watch movies

take my dog to the park

go swimming

There’s never enough time in a day to accomplish everything, but I think cutting down on time online can help. Graduating from graduate school can also help big time. Note to anyone considering grad school: you will be able to keep up maybe one activity like this during school. Maybe. But probably not.

friends at the park matter a whole lot (fall 2010, schenley park)