Family Matters

I walked into a CHABAD family's house on Friday night, greeted by six children who went from shy to burying me in questions and art-projects in about four minutes. I fell in love with them in about three. They were brilliantly creative - the oldest, age ten, asked me if I wanted to hear a story. Anyone who's ever lived with me knows that I love (bedtime) stories, whereby I was thrilled to listen. After the first child finished, the five-year old got up to tell his own story. I probably understood about 20% of what they said, partly because I couldn't stop dwelling on their impressive creativity and the French coming out of these payiss-laden heads.

At one point the five-year old asked me, "Tu es Chabad ou Sepharad?" (Are you Chabad or Sepharad?) I asked him if those were my only choices. But he definitely had the upper hand. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard him repeating after me and realized that he was mocking my accent! I was so impressed! To recognize my strange speech and identify it as that which adults call an accent, and then reproduce it - it was adorable and really, really funny. His mom, half trying to stop him, couldn't help but laugh throughout the night every time he started imitating me. He was great at it. Luckily, the eight-year old girl helped me with my pronunciation skills. Not "ruge," "roooouuuuge." (Or what sounded a lot like, "not ruge, ruge!") Then she read me her book about Jewish holidays. I might have been bored, except that following along was an invaluable French reading lesson! As my Rabbi from Riverdale told me before my year in Israel, young kids are the best language instructors. They love feeling like they have something to teach an adult - instead of getting annoyed or tired, they enjoy helping you with your accent, vocabulary, and even grammar - so everyone comes out a winner. Plus, unlike adults who can understand what you mean when you mis-pronounce or misuse words, kids simply have no idea what you're saying. They force you to find the just word and the perfect pronunciation. God bless them!

Speaking of God's blessings... I present you, ALINE -
Definition on thinkbabynames.com: noble, kind; precious; light.
Implications for my life: a new housemate, who happens to have all of the qualities listed above.
Three different girls lived in the second bedroom here before Aline - long stories and not mine to tell - but Aline is here to stay for a while. And I adore her. This is kind of awkward because she's likely going to read this, but in short - she's Brazilian, 27, and here to study, learn French, explore.

The first night she arrived, I couldn't believe my ears as we started talking. She's interested in economic development, did a masters in international affairs, and has an amazing taste in music, books, fun, life, etc. She's not Jewish, but extremely respectful of Judaism and religion in general, and she's become a pro at separating between meat and milk. We hang plenty and explore Paris together, and she's the last piece in the puzzle that's made my living situation optimal - Dieu merci.

We'll go to the open-market near the Bastille/our apartment, she'll (try to) cook Brazilian-style (delicious) rice, I'll lie on her bed while she works, listening to her glorious music in the really relaxed atmosphere of her room (which is always warm, partly because of her but also because unlike my room, hers actually has a fourth wall and thus retains heat...).

My host mom told Aline to go to a Purim party with me and I told her she's welcome but that she'd think Jews are nuts, after which she reminded me that she's Brazilian. Perhaps a few pictures from the Carnaval parade we attended together will help explain -

Aline in front of a sign for Carnaval.
I'm slowly learning to pronounce Portuguese like a proper Brazilian. "HEEo de jaNAAAAYrro."
(Also, the facial expression above is like Aline in a nutshell.)

Aline and her people ;)

Israeli dancers?

This is a classic me and Aline moment.
We're both looking around and then all of a sudden one of us is grabbing the other's hand - craziness surrounds and we, petite and good at squirming through crowds, find our way to the next adventure. Aline's probably telling me about "BrraZEEye" and I'm responding with some Hebrew idiom, followed by its explanation and some tidbit about a Jewish custom.

Meet crazy-eyes. I think she was shocked at all the weird costumes...
hmm...

And as if I haven't met enough people here who have taken me in as part of their extended family, my VRAI (real) PARENTS came to visit soon after Aline moved in! I won't elaborate too much, partly because I think their experience here was like that of my first week, which I've already described. They were constantly blown away by the beautiful, incredibly old buildings and the general quaintness of Paris, especially my quartier! They did lots of exploring and traveled to Lille, where they found my grandfather's shul and my grandmother's childhood building, from which the majority of her family was deported. My mom said that she wanted to ask someone there if they were the ones who had told the SS that the kids came back from hiding every morning and turned them in, or if they were the ones who had saved the kiddush cups.

On a lighter note, it was really fun hopping around Paris with my parents - I've rarely ridden the NY subways with them, and to hop around the metro and tourist sites was very pleasant. On their first night here, I prepared my first French meal with my host mom's help, complete with fresh products I'd bought at the open-market earlier that day and all of Madame's beautiful dishes. (Feel free to admire the gorgeous kitchen!)

We enjoyed an impressively coherent conversation that was a jumble of English, French, Hebrew and the occasional Portuguese. Everyone got along heart-warmingly well, and when I arrived home after walking my parents the awesomely-minimal two blocks back to their hotel, the dishes had been washed and dried.

More recently, Reid Hall organized a "COCKTAIL DES FAMILLES" where all the host families and their students congregated for cocktails, brief student performances, and comical interactions. We students enjoyed finally being able to put faces to the descriptions we'd heard  throughout our first weeks in Paris - any of us could have described the bathroom tiles, cooking ability, and accepted shower-length in the homes of each of the hosts there. (That's only a slight exaggeration.) I know that my characterization of my host mom didn't let the Reid Hall crew down when Madame walked in - with Aline who she of course brought as her wing-woman - in a leopard-patterned coat and shades. I believe the adjective "pimpin'" was used to describe her.

Meanwhile, Madame (who by the way, officially told me to call her by her first name, Sheilla), has recently inculcated into me her slammin' style. The other day, she walked into my room in a big, furry, eggplant - or a really furry purple coat. I only partly supressed my shock/laughter. Suffice it to show you the following pair of rockin' sneaks she bestowed upon me:

Golden.