A little ridiculousness from last weekend in the beautiful Alps

Talk about a good picnic. Can you see the mountains behind us? As for the people, Delphine (the young pastor I work with) is in the grey sweater sitting on the end, Lindsey (another American friend) is in pink, and Florian (Lindsey and my favorite because of his eye contact) is next to Lindsey.

As for learning how to take off with a paraglider, here are my attempts. I did get off the ground my second time just a bit. Very exciting!!

Paragliding, Salsa, Eye Contact and VISA

Just got back from a students' retreat in St. Hilaire. Photos will be coming because I had the opportunity to "practice" running down a hill with a paragliding parachute billowing above my head. Also enjoyed folk dancing and salsa dancing with the other students in the common room with the chairs pushed back. At one point, I leaned over to Lindsey, another American who is encouraging and so great, and I said, "When we dance, I forget these guys speak French!" :-)

The discussions about commitment leaned towards dreadful for me because I could only understand about 20% of the conversation and I would have much rather prefered to be outside where I could breathe fresh air and enjoy the distraction of the shifting clouds, bugs, trees and fallen leaves. Maybe I also didn't like the topic because every time I heard the French word for commitment, "s'engagement", I had to remind myself that they weren't talking about marriage-prep.

So thankful that Lindsey, Sharon and Sharisse where there because they all prefer English to French and while we tried to be polite usually by trying to speak French, to see their reactions and that they weren't understanding everything either even though they speak better than I do, was encouraging for me. It is difficult to have a group of people speaking a foreign language around you. It is difficult to go out on a limb and try to speak, making yourself an open target for French criticism. It is difficult for one's ego and self-perseption.

However, to the credit of the student's in this church group, most of them were so so great about being friendly in their corrections. I finally started teasing them because if they asked me something I understood, I would pretend I didn't and they'd start to stress out thinking, "I don't want that much cake! I just want half a piece!" before I'd say, "It was a joke!" and we'd all laugh. A great moment: Lindsey and I were cuddling on the couch, speaking English and Renault (who I had already asked, "why do French people insist everyone speak French all the time?!") shouted from across the room, "Français!" Without a blink of the eye, Lindsey shouted back in French, "Shut-up!" It might sound rude (because both sides would be considered rude at home), but I think in France it was a bonding moment.

Lindsey and I really enjoyed hanging out with Florian, a twenty-two year old, who does that eye contact thing that Mr. Keith does. When everyone is sitting around in a circle, both of those guys will catch your eye, not to flirt, but to acknowledge your presence. It kind of reminds me about how God sees us, loves us, encourages us and wants us to spend more time with Him. OK, maybe with Keith, it's more of a, "Heather, you are ridiculous" way, but with Florian it was much appreciated by Lindsey and I. Overall, it was a pretty good weekend.

VISA update: Just got a phone call from the head of my volunteer program saying that he asked my tutor to find me a university inscription, that the program would pay for it, that we need to speed rush the document process because if we don't, I have to leave the country on Thursday. Wow. And they had an American volunteer a couple years ago who had to leave in Dec. because of her VISA problems. Oh, dear. But I've been praying about this a lot for weeks, along with a lot of you all (thank you) and I'm calm about it right now. Whether I stay or go, my only concern is the cost of a flight home at this point.

Too big to fit in his luggage

Because the situation with my VISA is uncertain at the moment, at least to me, the first sad moment will occur tonight-- I have to say good-bye to my only male French friend, Félix, because he's off to visit his girlfriend in NYC for 11 days and if I have to go home, then I won't see him again. :-( We've been joking about his trip since the day we met when I asked if I could be packed in his luggage. Unfortunately, the French have been fattening me up with cheese, chocolate and wine so it doesn't look like I'll fit...

So complicated?...

How desperately difficult it is to communicate in a foreign language... Talk about trying to understand motives in a different culture... Pretty confused about what's going on within the church, how it affects me, and about the situation with my VISA... How in the world did volunteering in a church abroad become so complicated?...

Burning Cars, "C'est normal." (?!)

In which other country can you wake up in a chateau and go to bed later after seeing two cars ablaze outside your foyer?! First the cars: so I'm in the computer lab with the other American girl in the foyer and we hear a rumble. Looking at each other, I suggested it could be a rockslide from one of the three mountain ranges surrounding Grenoble. When we heard a second strange noise, we went to the window and discussed the possibility of Grenoble being bombed by another country. Deciding that no one would want to bomb Grenoble, we returned to our seats to hear a few pops. Sharon made fun of me saying, "I can tell you're not from the city. We hear gunshots all the time in Oakland (CA)." Done with the computer, I walked into the hallway to find five girls at the window and a huge fire outside.

About sixty feet from our foyer, a car was on fire! A French girl tried to explain calmly, "C'est normal!" and I ran upstairs to get Nannan and show her. Watching from a third story bathroom window, another French girl explained that when two people get in a dispute, one will set the other's car on fire. Am I glad my students at Southern Vance HS never heard of this possibility for conflict resolution (or continuation)!! To the defense of the firemen, they were already pumping water onto the car which had set another on fire because of the wind before I realized what was going on. By the way, the firetruck was probably only about 10 or 12 feet long, two perfect squares no wider than a car. Notice the size of the truck in comparison to the men standing in it!

Next, the chateau: The AD reunion for the volunteers in the southeast of France was in Lyon this weekend and my favorite part, besides enjoying the company of the German boys who speak English and also recently experienced similar struggles with the language and cultural differences, was sleeping in a beautiful chateau at Valpré, a Catholic retreat center. There were exactly six doors between the front step and my bed... we're talking open a door to find a square room only large enough to open the next door. Overall, I think Lyon is beautiful and clean and I enjoyed seeing familar faces of other volunteers I had met at the beginning of September.

Of course, the forever inconclusive update about my VISA: the consulate (of what, I don't know) was called this afternoon to see why I had been given a student VISA when I'm not a student. Apparently, no one knows and they haven't decided to change my VISA. Thus, the church council is going to discuss it tonight to see whether I should try to get accepted into a university for my VISA or if there is any other way around this problem. From what I understand, it's not looking great for me to be allowed to stay but I also don't know what would happen if I became an illegal alien/volunteer. I understand Canada is currently blocking people from entering their country based upon old records and I hope that something like this wouldn't be a problem later in life. Truly, I wish I knew what was going to happen so I could rush off to Paris to retrieve Noah Nathaniel and try to visit Anneleen, Mattias and Nikolas before I'm deported.

Noah Nathaniel

Some of the English speaking volunteers in Strasbourg;

Mattias, Anneleen and Nikolas are on the left

He said, "Go."

Here's something that I have been pondering for a while: Why does Jesus so often say, "Go."? From this experience of going to another 1st world country, "go"ing has meant the challenges of depending upon other people for the basic necessities (unlocking my blocked cell phone, translating at the prefecture, explaining the city transportation system, etc.). "Go"ing without the ability to speak French fluently has meant being restricted to the simplest phrases ("Good day!", "How are you?", "I am American"). When I attempted to share more about my experiences and faith with a limited vocabulary (and personal patience), misunderstandings were construed and I was advised to stick with casual conversation (How can I glorify God with only casual conversation?? Perhaps by using more than words...). "Go"ing has meant leaving my loved ones behind in the hopes of developing other close friendships (which just makes the middle months difficult). "Go"ing has meant leaving most of my clothes, books, cds, shoes and Starbucks behind (yes, I can survive without most of these things, including Starbucks, but it's not "normal" for me to have only one pair of jeans). "Go"ing has meant the necessity of quickly adjusting to not having a dryer, coffeepot, car or CD player. And I'm still in a 1st world country!

So why does Jesus encourage us to "Go."? I think it has something to do with acknowledging our dependance on God and our independance from worldly goods. When I don't know where I'm going to sleep tonight or whether I can handle another overwhelming conversation in French, I pray. When I don't know if I'll have enough money for food for the month, I pray. When I'm scared because of the city crowds and the rowdy men in the street who seem to prefer the company of large dogs rather than other people, I pray. When I go to a new place or meet new people, a shyness comes through that gives me just a little anxiety and I pray. Since all these things happen often, I've been praying a lot.

And I've been learning that it is possible to only have one pair of jeans, to air dry my clothes (not so fluffy though), to survive without Starbucks, to maintain my composure when people are yadda-yadda-yadding at me, to depend upon God in a foreign country. Surely, it's not the same feeling as being able to fully relax in beautiful Gilford, NH, depending upon my parents and not questioning my security. But with my present situation alone in France, there are so many people who would consider this to be a pleasant change from their truly dangerous, inconsistent lives.

Thus, I don't think these situations that force us to recognize our dependance upon God are bad. They're not always comfortable or enjoyable, but at least we can depend upon Him. Thankfully we can depend upon Him.

Proof that I'm Alive

To celebrate the "I've survived 2 months in Europe" moment

(which was exactly 17 minutes ago

without regard to the time difference),

here are finally some photos of Grenoble. :-)

HP livin' in the city.

(sorry, Mom;

I had to try scaring you with the first one.

Love you!)

I recognize a word!

I'm terribly afraid that people have died in this river at some point.

It's the only water source I refuse to get near.

Not my best photo, but the view is great.

Welcome to Grenoble surrounded by three chains of mountain ranges in the French Alps.

Celebrating Chinese Mid-Autumn Day

Chinese food and French wine is the perfect meal.
Meeting international students is good too.

I think this guy is Austrian.

Dinner at the ladies' foyer.

Note the designated shelf and refrigerator space.

I think this was my pre-Chinese feast face. :-)

Hopefully more will come eventually.

VISA pending...

VISA Update: This morning during my appointment to hand in my documents to extend my VISA, the officials noticed the blatant error (DC gave me a student's VISA but I'm not a student and I don't have an acceptance letter from a university). Yet, they collected my documents, wrote VISITOR in red on the application and told me to come back Friday afternoon to find out if it is okay... "C'est bizarre... Oui." Apparently Americans are not the ones French want to keep out of their country, so they may be willing to botch the system a little.

My plan: If I get the VISA to stay till July, I'll start planning a trip to Ireland. If I don't get the VISA and I have to leave by Nov. 2nd, I'll start planning a trip to Ireland, then maybe see if Ryanair flies cheaply to Zambia, then head home. All on the last traveler's check I have left. Big dreamer maybe...

Third Wheel

First, check out Jacob's last post: http://jakeandjessi.blogspot.com/2007/10/now-i-livenot-i-but-christ-who-lives-in.html Jake and Jessi are old friends who got married and moved to Zambia as missionaries as soon as they graduated. Honestly, if I could be a third wheel, I would! I really appreciate his reminder to live to the fullest in Christ.

This past week I started getting compliments about my improved French. Five of them to be exact. ;-) Truly, I'm looking forward to being able to communicate with less intense focus. Literally right now, when I speak, I'm mentally envisioning the grammar charts (visual learner) and sentence formats...

Tomorrow morning I'll find out if I can extend my VISA and stay for the expected 9 more months. At this moment (believe it or not), I want to stay. The feeling of constant discovery when learning this language through immersion is a little exciting. Perhaps tomorrow night, if I am able to stay, I may regain the gloomy "I'm going to be here for a long time..." feeling, but then I'll reread Jacob's blog entry and refocus.

Optimism: In Grenoble, I like
- opportunity to stay in contact with family and friends through email and very rare phone calls
- my bed (usually on my optimism list)
- girl friends from China, Poland, Estonia (!), Canada, Spain, Belguim and California at the foyer
- watching Bollywood films and having Sharon, my Canadian-Indian friend, explain the inside jokes
- my new bicycle and the cool breeze on my face
- the English-French Christian radio station
- the opportunity to truly appreciate books in a language I can read
- Mr. Derek's Bonhoeffer gift
- the beautiful Alps
- Félix, my only male French friend, who gave me peanut butter (talk about a good friend)
- the couple of families that have been quite helpful and kind (it's amazing how dependant a person is when he doesn't speak the language!)
- the shower down the hall that actually holds the shower head preventing the awkward, "where do I put this thing?" moments

:-) Early to bed so I'll be out of the foyer at 7:30am to take the tram all over town to hand in my documents for the VISA...

"Deux baguettes, s'il vous plaît"

Well I didn't have to feign diarreah because the man leading the discussion about science and life graciously translated parts of the conversation. Now I can save that excuse for the next time...

This weekend I have eaten A LOT. Not really on purpose, but the French usually eat 3 course meals and at the foyer, we all taste each other's food which turns into a feast in itself. Add on top an invitation for dinner that wasn't understood in French so I arrived as plates were placed on the table, ... Oh, I've eaten a lot...

I am happily studying Bonhoeffer's Living Together (thank you, Mr. Derek!).

Goal for today: To teach 30 French youngsters how to play Chat, Chat, Chien (duck, duck, goose translated to cat, cat, dog) and to sing Dieu est trés bon (God is so good). After an hour and a half worship service in French and five hours with the kids, hopefully I'll be able to call Gramps and Grandma where Mom, Uncle John, Uncle Chuck and Aunt Melissa have gathered for the weekend.

I'm desperately trying to maintain self-patience and a good self-image as I attempt to do simple English things in French... Time to get ready for church and buy une baguette before worship (yesterday I bought 2 baguettes because I wasn't sure if 1 baguette was un or une... yet another attempt at self-preservation a.k.a. not humiliating myself by throwing up the flashers that indicate the presence of yet another abnoxious, disrespectful, we'll-pretend-we-hate-you-because-we'll-never-ever-admit-that-we-like-America American).

I hope you all are having a good weekend. If you ever need a positive thought and you are in your homeland, you could be thankful that people speak your language. :-)

Feigning Diarreah

Have I ever mentioned Allison? Allison's this great old English woman who's taken me under her wing to secretly feed me English books and newspapers. One of my favorite things about her is that when French people at the food pantry tell her for the umpteenth time to stop talking to me in English, I'm sure her response in French is along the lines of "Stop your fussing and fuffin' around. I'm explaining important things to her and she won't understand anything if no one tells her in English..." Each person nods slightly and walks away as she continues her story to me in English. She is the only person I've met so far willing to stand up to the French resistance against anyone speaking English to Heather Elizabeth. (The French can't say Heather, so only a select few are allowed if they use an American accent. Everyone else calls me, "Aleesabette".)

Otherwise, things are fine. I need to buy a train ticket to Lyon for next weekend and prepare for the student's group tonight. I'm in charge of opening the doors, starting the meal (aka, say a prayer), lead two songs and play a game before a man is coming to lead a discussion about science and life (for which if there is anyway I can feign diarreah and hide in the bathroom reading an English novel, I will), then finally I'm supposed finish with a prayer. Do you think that's rude to excuse myself for the discussion? It'll be an hour and a half long in a foreign language... I think not... :-)

Oh, and one of my two French friends bought me peanut butter yesterday. And he let me call home. It was like Christmas! And for dinner tonight, I'll bring peanut butter and jelly/honey/nutella sandwiches... that's gotta be American!

Ireland

So being a volunteer abroad (specifically in France) is harder than I thought... To make a long story short, let's just say that introducing yourself as an American who studied psychology is apparently 2 strikes against you from the French perspective... Who knew?

I stayed with the Finiel family again this weekend in St. Hillaire (fresh air, beautiful view both into the valley and above with the rising giant cliffs). Joël tried to sort out the apparent miscommunications based upon language and culture differences (not mentioning prejudices) that had been arising without my knowledge. He and his wife also helped me out practicing my French in order to teach songs and games to children and students. They are so kind and helpful.

Also, visiting the Finiels means a busy weekend with outdoor hobbies. I have two great experiences to share:

- Joël and his neighbor and I all got into harnesses and helmets. I figured this was going to be interesting since no one was wearing climbing shoes. One rope, I was tied into the middle and we climbed/hiked along the cliff edge of a huge Alps mountain. It wasn't too difficult, more of a mental challenge for those scared of heights, but truly we were so high that I was thrilled! I really wish I had a photograph of climbing that high. I hope I can do it again!

- To come back to Grenoble, I biked the 25 km descent on a windy, two lane road through two tunnels. Parts were so steep that I stopped to walk a bit, but with many personal prayers for safety, I had a great time. It also helped me adjust slowly to the city grim and only took two hours as was expected.

Returning the international foyer and describing to the girls what happened over the weekend concerning the misunderstandings, I learned that even some of the other girls who speak French better than I do struggle with the unfriendly attitudes here. While I just assumed that I was "condemned" because I was American and I don't speak French well, they have also felt the same way. Interesting...

By the way, I've been advised to tell people I studied education, to smile all the time and to only discuss simple conversation topics (how many brothers and sisters do you have? Children? etc.). Apparently France will make me a chronic liar and conversational bore... (sorry that comment's for Gramps-- Mom you can tell him.) All this kind of makes me want to wait for a travel companion before I do this again for another long time period... I find out if my VISA will work next Tuesday... If it does, Mom, Tricia and Sarah can all buy their plane tickets to visit and I'll start planning a trip to Ireland... :-)

The Language Barrier

A couple days ago, a man asked me what I liked about Grenoble. I responded, "The Alps... The Alps...." and honestly couldn't think of another thing I enjoyed about this city. Today is officially the one month anniversary of my arrival in Grenoble and I think the reason I haven't fallen in love with this city is because the language barrier prevents me from participating in many of my usual activities like theatre. Even helping with the church youth groups, I'm still a bystander because I don't yet have enough words to speak freely.

Even asking simple questions like "What should I bring for the weekend retreat?" are pre-thought, attempted with "What is it that I can bring tomorrow?" not understood, pre-thought again, reattempted, "What is it that I need for the weekend?" to which finally the response is "I don't know. Ask Delphine." Do you see where my frustration comes in?

I'm also learning not to ask stupid questions. When I try to ask a question that I pretty much already know the answer to, if I'm not understood, I'll say, "It's not important." To which kind Frenchmen (women or girls) will say, "Non, non. What is it?" I know they are trying to be helpful, but I really didn't care enough about the question to spend the time and mental energy trying to ask again, knowing that then I'll have to listen to their responses in French which I may or may not understand. Yesterday, I tried to tell sweet Coralie that it was in fact a stupid question and not important, but in my last attempt not to cry in front of this kind teenager, the word "stupido" seemed harsh.

One last rant about speaking French (or attempting): You know how Americans think accents, especially those from other countries, are generally cool and we can sort out what you are trying to say with a slight envy at your exotic accent (think English, Irish, Indian, etc.). Not only are the French obsessed with their preceived necessity (I am completely insulting them at this point, only slightly sorry) of everyone speaking French, it is also crucial that everyone use a perfect accent. More than once, I've had Frenchmen correct a single word, making me repeat it over and over for five minutes while they listen for the perfect vowel sound. As a visual learner and definitely not an auditory learner, I sit there laughing internally because there is no way I will remember this because I can't even hear the difference between how I am saying the word now compared to five minutes ago. Like a monkey, I imitate their facial expressions, gestures and voice tone, but my brain and mouth just don't wrap around the letter sounds...

There's a 24 hour overnight with the church youth groups beginning this afternoon. I'm afraid to bring the English novel I'm reading because every Frenchman and his mother think I should be reading French books and will criticize me if they see it (I wish I were exagerrating). It doesn't matter that the main character is a Russian boy who goes to Paris as a great dancer. Hoping that being in the mountains with fresh air will help restore my spirit. (By the way, I saw a double rainbow over the city yesterday which was cool except that the clouds behind it were a scary, hazy red shade... I wonder how much pollution affects one's sense of well-being).

Not trying to be negative, but I think this post is a pretty good representation of why I'm struggling with the language barrier and with adjusting to Grenoble. At least I have 2 Chinese, 1 Spanish, 1 Canadian, 1 Belgium & 1 German girl friends and Félix and Sylvie, my 2 French friends here... Yes, I have made one male friend in a month. That's pathetic but due to living in an international girls' foyer. C'est la vie. That's life.

Still kicking

I survived yesterday and actually had a great evening with the students' group debating ten themes (God's role in our decisions, the necessity for evangelism, why is there misery in the world, etc.) before reading scripture about each topic. I had found verses for each theme that really were challenging, not necessarily answering the questions, but what Jesus said about each. Of course, I was nervous about what the students and the other leader would think especially because it would be difficult for me to explain in French why I chose each verse, but I think it went well.

Also, they accepted my French toast as an authentic American dish, but chose to eat it either by itself or with carrots or with SPAM-like eggs. Not a single person used the jelly I brought (substituted for syrup). I was shocked and laughed internally watching them add carrots to the toast. They also think we should change the name to "American toast". Voilà.

Tonight, I have an unofficial French lesson with Félix to which I'm bringing Heather's homemade salsa (minus a few ingredients with a tight budget) with brochetta instead of nachos which cost about 4 dollars for a little bag. Excited because the planned topic of conversation of our faith will be more interesting than reading children's books aloud. And after that, I have a youth group meeting with the 16-18 year olds for which I've grilled hot dogs and onions to combine with noodles and ketchup for an extremely authentic American dish that I think my babysitter used to make when I was little. Or maybe my brother Jamie and I invented it... along with cappuchino before Starbucks stole my idea...

Hopefully a nap and a snack will carry me until dinner without tears because when I described what happened to Félix last night, he said nervously, "Please don't do that with me." I'm really going to try not to get upset. That may be the biggest reason I'm bringing food to his place...

And the floods rushed in...

The waterworks arrived today, as was predicted. After too little sleep and a 30 walk to the food pantry while mentally calculating my limited food and travel budget with the pressure of cooking for tonight's soiree, I was unable to control my emotions when two short old ladies cornered me insisting, "Parle français! Dis quelque chose!" I had been trying to be polite, asking a German woman where she was from but she didn't understand my attempt, so I said, "Ce n'est important." I think they misunderstood me, that they thought I said speaking French was unimportant. I want to find the humor in the situation, but imagine any one's reaction to being forced to speak immediately, let alone in a foreign language... it'd probably be frustration, perhaps with anger or tears like me. And this wasn't just the single tear. I excused myself from the cornering with a few "Un moment," and began crying with full lung capacity sobs (not wailing though, I don't do that). Maybe I'm a shy person who doesn't speak often in my native tongue anyway... (yeah, yeah, yeah; I know I can't really claim that excuse, but I have shy moments!).

I have nothing against learning French. Of course, I want the freedom of communicating with more people here and being able to express myself. But I don't do well with being overwhelmed... Surprising comment from the girl who double-majored, performed in three plays in a month and used to thrive on busyness in the past. Maybe it's the stress spectrum that Mom and Dad often mentioned to me last year. Maybe leaving Jville for perhaps the last time, selling my car and disconnecting my cell phone (no more easy access to friends and family) to move to France, having various things not work the way I expected, the culture shock setting in as I adapt to city life, etc... perhaps these are causes of my reaction. Perhaps I just am not doing well with being overwhelmed at the moment.

I can feel my body begin to relax finally as I listen to Jason Upton and plan to take a nap before starting the cooking fiasco again with the student's group tonight. Life is truly far from terrible and will be even less so after I get a nap.

On a positive note...

I'm thankful for the beautiful mountains that are visible from most streets;
for the opportunity to spend a year abroad in a foreign country with a different language
(can you believe I said that? I did and do actually appreciate these challenges, I think...);
for the responsibility to only work less that 20 hours a week (will never happen again!);
for the time to research and pray about what to do next year;
for the English-French Christian radio station;
for the opportunity to call Dad and Mom occassionally;
for health;
for faith;
for God.

Sense and Sensibility

Concerning the last post, I seethed for about an hour, then found Sharon, an Indian-Canadian friend. Together we concluded that the statement that my salad wasn't American enough was actually based in unintentional ignorance and stereotypes.

(I'd like to point out the the man who said that has actually helped me a lot and welcomed me into the family, so I try not to hold it against him... however, the fact that he wasn't at the meal, and thus that he got the information from another suspected source irritates me since I had forgotten that in a country where I am new and don't speak the language, that people might talk about me behind my back...)

These people won't be satisfied until I've brought them something that they think is American (hamburgers, hot dogs, peanut butter, grease and sugar) which will simply perpetuate their stereotype that all Americans are fat because we eat these things. See how my salad disappointed their mindset (how can Americans be fat if they eat salads like we eat?). Thus I can either be a people-pleaser, bringing food that they think is American, or I can bring food that I usually eat (that they eat too), disappointing them but hopefully demonstrating that indeed the USA is a melting-pot with food from all different cultures which can in fact be healthy. I can stress out or I can laugh at their disappointment with broken stereotypes... I think I'll bring fruit salad and a smile next Thursday... And eventually I'll have the French words to explain myself.

Blessing: We had a personal dinner party for 10 (apparently French rock out on dinner parties from a young age) last night and I cordinated a massive homemade Mac&Cheese with grilled hot dogs pieces, onions and peas which all worked. It's like God rubbing my back saying, "Relax, darling. Don't give up."

P.S. Thanks, Amie, for the french fry idea. I think at least two Frenchmen have pointedly asked me why Americans give credit to the French for those... it's rough representing our huge nation in France when I have little interest in food or politics, but does anyone care about the recent Broadway negotiations here? Nope.

Desperate for Ideas

Apparently I disappointed the French when I brought a salad last weekend to the students' fellowship. Apparently my strenuous attempt to make caesar salad w/o 5 euro dressing, but with meat and cheese was a disappointment. They want something American...

#1 Almost everything that is American originated from another country.
#2 Peanut butter (an American staple costs way too much)
#3 No one told me that representing my country by cooking was a requirement of this position.

If I'm not fretting about my French, then I'm meal-planning for the next fellowship gathering.

COOKING IS NOT MY DEAL!

Sure experimenting last year with Tricia was cool and I got pretty good at fried chicken, stir-fry and salsa, but cooking for 15 stresses me out. Oh, brother, this was an unexpected struggle.

If anyone has any ideas, please please suggest them and attach a recipe if possible.

P.S. I only have 1 pot and 1 skillet...