Breaking in

For some time now, I've known that something funny happens to parents when their kids turn about 13. They insist on telling them what to wear, criticizing their music or hairstyles, keeping them off the phone, and - worst of all - dropping them off right in front of school!

I figured I had another ten years to go before my folks went through their crisis of adolescence. So you can imagine how mortified I was when both my mama and papa showed up in class the other day, uninvited! By me at least. And on my birthday no less.

Showing up was bad enough, but papa was carrying a guitar which made him look like some aging war-protester hippie turned Benedictine monk. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Fortunately, I thought quickly. I told my classmates that the lady was my cook and the guy my buffoon. That seemed to go down well, especially since mama came in armed with a couple of high-energy chocolate cakes.


After enduring
"She'll be coming 'round the mountain' and 'happy birthday' in five languages we all broke cake together.

Adolescence may not be as bad as papa fears, but I can't seem to convince him of that.

Why not check out a couple more snaps here: Inès turns three

The battle of the Aisne

This time we outnumbered them. There were eight of us (Amicie, Melina, Gabrielle, Nefeli, Iris, Constantinos, the Gongo and myself) and only six of them. Our reinforcements didn't come in due to appendicitis in the ranks, so we were down three. But that also meant two adults less, and boy did they miss them. We couldn't wait any longer. Operation "drive them straight to the asylum" was put into action.






The battle took place in the Aisne. We used tactics picked up from watching documentaries about Guantanamo Bay and Abou Ghraib: sleep deprivation, high-pitched noises for extended periods of time, confusion, cross examination ("but mama said I could!"), and sabotage of personal belongings and furniture.





They did their best to counter attack. They tried to force us to sleep (failed). They tried to keep us away from sugar (failed). They tried to keep us from getting lost in the woods (failed). They even tried to keep us somewhat clean (failed miserably).

They knew they were losing badly and so a decision to reconvene around a dinner/summit on Saturday night was taken. But the adults are weak fighters. We survive on a steady diet of Mintos and orange juice; they feed their fighters fois gras, salmon, and Champagne. No new strategies came out of Saturday's dinner, only a couple more kilos around the waist, and then we suprised them with an early-morning offensive.






The battle lasted two days, but in the end, we won! And yes, the loot was exquisite. We turned all adults into our slaves, watched videos at will, and slept where and when we wanted to. For having perfected my torture tactics, I received an early birthday celebration, and we all enjoyed an explosive chocolate cake topped with extra chocolate, some more chocolate, a little more chocolate, and candy.



We also forced the bald guy to give us a lesson in SLR photography. You can see our artwork here: did someone say Henri Cartier Bresson?




It's hard to return home to Paris after experiencing the sweet taste of victory in the Aisne.


Why not check out all the pictures here: ABC: Aisne, Birthdays, and Cousins

Más Feeesh!

The First World War lasted a pretty long time; but it had to end someday, and that day was the 11th of November. Now, I guess that was generally good news for those soldiers left standing; but it's also good news for those of us who, all these years later, get the 11th of November off as a commemorative holiday. Yeap, and since mama and papa didn't have to go to work today they decided to take the Gongo and me to the aquarium!

After a couple of pictures of us in front of the Eiffel Tower (we can do that without looking dumb, we live here) we plunged into the deep dark waters of the Paris Aquarium. And who would have believed that so many fish live in Paris? I mean, it's a crowded city but so far I've seen mostly people, dogs, and a few Canadians! Here was a huge underground apartment complex for fish. Big fish, small fish, colorful fish, jelly fish, just lots of fish (and a few screaming kids, like me).



After the shark tunnel I was so excited that I needed a little rest, so we emerged from the fish world and hit a touristy café terrace on the Place de Trocadero. By then , of course, the sun was out and I had to reach for my sunglasses in mama's bag. Ahh, sun on the 11th of November? I'm glad they ended that war, and that doing so was such a big deal that 91 years later they still had to give mama and papa a day off to remind everyone that fish don't know how to use heavy artillery.


Why not check out our Armistice Day celebrations here: fish, not canned

Theater daaa'ling!

From Field trip!

When the weather turns cold you eat soup, wear dark colors, and go to the theater. And I just loooove the theater.

From Field trip!

Now, I don't understand why the grown-ups can't make their own plans! We were forced to chaperone some 30 adults right across Paris. That's right, the show was in the 12th arrondissement of Paris and we are in the sunny 15th, so we had to hold their hands (2 kids to an adult no less!) and make sure that none got lost in the metro.

From Field trip!

From Field trip!

But that's okay. Once at the theater I lost myself in the story of a baby violin growing up on a steady diet of musical notes that its mother would search high and low to find. I think I saw a couple of the grownups choke up when the baby violin finally grew up. Silly parents! They should know that children are only on short-term loan!

From Field trip!

At least we didn't lose any parents along the way.

Number one

From Life starts at one

This morning, as I drank my milk, my thoughts wandered. They wandered off to days past. To all the people that have adorned the road of life. I suppose it was normal to feel a little introspective, to take stock of my life. It was the morning of my first birthday.

From Life starts at one

You, dear blog reader, may not know what it's like to look back on the long road traveled, to contemplate whether I have lived my life to its fullest, to ask myself whether I have made the right choices and done the right thing.

From Life starts at one

Yeah, whatever. It's my birthday and I'm going to tear it up!

From Life starts at one

And tear it up we did. Well at least the apartment. I don't suppose it'll ever look the same again. I mean, this was like some American college party movie. I haven't quite picked my crowd yet so I invited a few of my sister's friends. Some real babes (you know what I mean, that is, really, babes, as in babies).

From Life starts at one

Tess, Gayathrie, Anna, Tess, Emma. I couldn't handle them on my own so I invited Nickil along for a little guy help. Oh yeah, and there were a couple of parents I suppose. But they didn't ruin the party. They helped serve.

From Life starts at one

The parents couldn't handle the high-fructose corn syrup so they sipped Champagne. We downed cake, Kinder chocolate, and apple juice like the swine flu was just around the corner.

From Life starts at one

Oink, oink dude, I'm one!

From Life starts at one

La Rentrée

From Summer's setting sun

France has two beginnings to the year. Like much of the world, a good part of the country wakes up on January 1st with a headache and a bunch of short-lived good intentions. This year, my resolution was to keep mama and papa from sleeping. I’ve pretty much kept that one up rock solid.

From Summer's setting sun

But the real New Year in France starts at the rentrée. No headaches or good intentions, just a lot of suntans and stories about summer vacation. Anyone who knows France knows that, here, the rentrée is the real beginning of the year, which lasts until the following summer.

From Summer's setting sun

The wind down to the summer was quite busy on the fourth floor of the rue Lecourbe, and at abuelita’s house. After the cherry jellies there were the mirabelles and then the wild blackberries. The terraces were still full of sun and people looking cool. I hung out by the pool and watched the Gongo practice his backstroke. Fancisco came back and then left again. My cousins came to visit from Rome. Sam and Robby cooked great things at the Chetif Moulin, and cousin Mathieu braved the thorns to pick three kilos of blackberries with papa.

From Summer's setting sun

I’m ready now to tell all my new friends at school about my glorious days on the beach. About my wonderful abuelita. About Franciscos’s visit and the wonderful jams that my papa made. I’m ready to tell them about how they better be nice to me or the Gongo will kick but and take names. I’m ready for my first red helium-filled balloon. Yep, it’s been a good summer.

The long road to a PhD

From Schoolhouse rock

Already at my age I've heard that a thousand mile journey starts with a single step (though in Europe the journey is about 1,600 kilometers). Today I took the first step in a journey that will last at least twenty years, longer if papa has his way.

From Schoolhouse rock

From Schoolhouse rock

Before you can defend your thesis, before taking your Master's oral exams, before the funny square graduation hat, before prepa or lycée or even before beating up some crummy kid in the playground, you have to have a first day at school - and today was my first day!

From Schoolhouse rock

Yesterday I went to see Bruno, my coiffeur. So this morning, sporting my new hairstyle and shoes (every girl looooves new shoes!), I walked mama and papa up the rue Lecourbe and took a right on the rue Blomet to my school.

From Schoolhouse rock

Okay, I was a little apprehensive at first; but soon I saw the nice Maitresse and all the colored pencils. This was the place for me. I quickly stole a little girl's chair (this is a survivor's world) and sat down in my new surroundings. A few tears (I had to make mama and papa feel loved) and then I was away.

From Schoolhouse rock

From Schoolhouse rock

A short hour-and-a-half later I saw mama and papa waiting for me among a flood of eager parents. I was a little embarrassed by the camera but at least now I can share these pictures with you.

From Schoolhouse rock

You know, I actually feel smarter after today's academic experience. It's all started now. Before I know it I'll be Dr. Inès Tejada!

Moules frites and ice cream

From sun screen and ice cream

One good thing about being two-and-a-half is that much remains to be discovered about this crazy old world. Yes, I still have a couple of years before the blasé feeling of having seen it all sets in. The Gongo has even longer to go and more discoveries ahead than someone of my years, and I'm a little jealous. But I'm still finding new things here and there and this trip to the Île de Ré has been a gold mine of new discoveries.

From sun screen and ice cream

New things that I loooove:

Moules frites

Bleu d'Auvergne

Pushing my own stroller

Walking barefoot

Pink ice cream

Red ice cream

Green ice cream
White ice cream
Yellow ice cream
Coffee ice cream

Stracciatella ice cream
Any ice cream (ado)

Wearing a hat

From sun screen and ice cream

Things I discovered that I hate:

The sound of any motor outside Paris (where the noise is drowned out by noise)

Putting on sun screen

Sand in my shoes

Waves

Falling (but I like band-aids with animals on them)

From sun screen and ice cream

From sun screen and ice cream

Gongo confirmed that he likes anything he can put in his mouth and that he hates being hungry. Fellow visitors to the island can vouch for the latter. He also likes to sleep and laugh and generally make people say how cute he is. I like to give him kisses and jump in his bed.

From sun screen and ice cream

From sun screen and ice cream

From sun screen and ice cream

Tomorrow morning we leave for the continent. But I'm not sad because we're off to abuleita's for another week and I know that, unlike my parents, she'll let me do anything I want! Viva la vie!