Le Sigh . . . Packing . . .

Packing sucks.  Packing sucks.  Packing sucks, packing sucks, packing sucks.  Ah, that feels better.  (Oops, one more: Packing.  Sucks.)  Why?  Because you try to fold everything neatly, place it in the suitcase/receptacle orderly-like, play Tetris so it all fits without bursting some seams, ruthlessly edit what the hell you’re bringing, and then undo it mere hours later! All that effort for only a couple hours’ transportation!  Just thinking about it gives me hives.  (Early Dane Cook fans?  No?  Alright.)  And don’t even get me started on repacking to go home.  It all brings me back to the same conclusion: PACKING.  SUCKS.  That’s as close to a key smash as I’ll allow myself in public communication.

However, like planes and washing your hands after you pee, packing is slightly necessary, so I guess I’ll do it.

I made all the (mental) lists one could make: one for electronics, one for professional clothes, regular clothes, shoes, supplies, toiletries, documents, etc, with the clothes lists being the most daunting.  What complicated matters this time around was the fact that in the past year and a half or so, I have lost about 75 pounds.  Nothing I own fit me anymore, especially anything that resembled professional wear.  And even though I came in under budget for my travel expenses, I knew I could easily eat up those savings in the clothing/shoe department if I weren’t careful, so I set about acquiring a wardrobe in the most affordable way possible: Goodwill, a chain of stores selling used clothing and home goods at oh-my-God-these-are-legal?! prices.  With this method, one must carve out time at least once a week to visit the local Goodwill, and sometimes more than just one, in order to peruse the selection.  (Oh damn, kneeslap.)  Granted, I did run across an American flag blouse with bald eagle buttons and more shoulder pads than I ever wanted to see in my life, but the Nine West heels for $5 and the satin kimono-style dress from Forever 21 for $6 are just two of my prized finds.

Further excursions to Oakbrook Terrace and the Premium Outlet Mall in Aurora wielded similar if still a bit more expensive results.  I dragged two friends along because an addict likes polluting others, and in every single store we entered, we zeroed in on the clearance racks like lionesses on the throat of a gazelle.  Out of every single item of clothing I’ve bought over the past three months, I only paid full price for one: a grey pencil skirt from H&M which totaled just over $24.  The best deal we nabbed, besides the fabulous Nine West heels, was during the Labor Day sale at the outlet mall, where my friends and I combined our purchases in order to use a 20% off $75 or more; what with the Labor Day sales and all, we ended up saving over $100!

Goodwill, Savers, Goodwill respectively.

Everything had to have a double purpose; if I couldn’t see myself wearing it both in school and out, then it did not come home with me.  Most of my new tops could be used for teaching as well as “going out,” ifyaknowwhatImean, and one can never have too many skirts, especially when they have sweet patterns.  However, keeping in mind that versatility, most of these looks had to go from fall to winter to spring without too much adjustment.  From what I remember of French high school buildings (and most school buildings in general, to be honest), they’re old and drafty and not terribly temperature-controlled.  I recall students eating lunch in the cafeteria in the high school in Grenoble while bundled up, and the main hang out in the René Bazin building in Angers was so drafty that I wore my coat backwards so I could work on my laptop and still keep my heart beating at the same time.

(Most of) my shirts.

Enter the cardigan.  Actually, enter lots of cardigans.  Just like at home, I figure layering will probably save my bum at some point, but then again, layering requires more clothes and therefore more weight and double therefore more space to pack it in. . . .

Le sigh encore.

A few professional staples made the cut as well: a simple black blazer, three pairs of business casual pants (two were BOGO half off!), and a black pencil skirt, never mind that the last one has leopard print lining.  Whatever the dress code, I would be covered; one can never go wrong with classy, right?

Trouser pants!

And to believe at one point in my life, I detested skirts. . . .

Maybe not.  According to at least one former assistant who posted on the Almighty Facebook Group, some French schools don’t expect much of their assistants or their teachers.  Many show up in jeans and a dressy top, and one went so far as to say she brought back her “dressy” clothes when she came home for Christmas.  I, for one, am slightly skeptical.  Not many French people wear jeans because they are considered too casual, and I just can’t see any French adult not taking the opportunity to show off their unique sense of style, even if it happens to be displaying a rather impressive collection of neutrals.  I know I’ve been wearing red and khaki for my entire working life, and my only other experience in “dressing adult” has been my fabulous suit collection for speech, but I can’t help but feel that a skirt and a blouse is not entirely out of the realm of possibility, here.  The blazers might get shelved but for very special occasions or dressed down with jeans, but I’m not leaving them behind because one or two people said business casual was too dressy.

Shoes, on the other hand, I have no qualms about.  I love extreme shoes, but I also know how to wear them most effectively.  My black and red heels will function for both work and yaknowwhatImean-ing, and rain boots are obvious, as are my gym shoes.  My two pairs of knee-high boots that will make the trip are necessary, I swear to God.  Most French females own legions of boots because they’re not only stylish but practical: this is the only time I’ll ever admit it, but wearing those things will hide the fact that you didn’t shave in the past couple days.  Plus, they’re warm and double as a second/third set of rain boots.  My newest addition, my Naturalizer flats, replaced the pair of Pumas I thought I needed.  Americans are known for our proclivity for bright white gym shoes, and therefore Europeans can spot us a mile away by the blinding brilliance reflecting off of our footwear.  The European brand Puma features sleeker, lighter shoes that offer similar comfort while being less clunky.  But these flats are like freaking walking on clouds.  With the future purchase of either trouser socks or those little bootie/footie/cut-off nylon things, I can envision them becoming my go-to and travel shoes.

Yay for good purchases!

And now for the less girly portion of today’s post: the Tech Corner, if you will.  In addition to the new wardrobe, I figured it might be a good idea to update my technology.  Luigi, my laptop from 2007, has officially been put out to pasture; he will reside on my desk as a backup of all my files or a plaything if I decide I want to spend an hour and a half watching a 45 minute television show online.  I decided to replace my digital camera from around that same time as well.  I named the new one Adison in honor of the extremely pretty boy who told me all about cameras without using technobabble and convinced me to spend way more than I probably should have.  Neither of these purchases was necessary, as both Luigi and Unnamed Camera work perfectly fine.  But if I’m going to do some updating, why not now?  Why travel with something that has the possibility of breaking, and then have to deal with replacing it?  If either of these breaks, I can ship them back to the U.S. and have my parents deal with the warranty.  Ugh-fest for the shipping, but it’s better than trying to find a French laptop the plays Region 2 DVDs and has an American keyboard.

See, because the movie industry is . . . well, the movie industry, they have divided the globe into multiple zones or Regions with each selling DVDs that are only compatible with laptops or DVD players that are set and manufactured for that Region.  Laptops can change zones (that’s why it asks you were you’re located when you first boot up a new one), but it can only do so a set number of times before it pulls a Dianna Ross, throws its hands up, and stops cooperating.  So theoretically I could buy a French laptop, change the Region to 1, and be fine, but then I have to deal with the French keyboard.

The differences are small but mighty.

I did my research as best I could.  As a non-fluent speaker of the aforementioned technobabble, I spent most of my time at Best Buy lifting up laptops to see how heavy they were and playing with the Sony Vaio’s newest motion sensor feature, waving like a maniac at the motion sensor to get the music player to play and pause as many times as I wanted.  When I double checked with an associate that all laptops nowadays are dual voltage, he momentarily dropped his sales mask and raised his eyebrows like I had just inquired about the price of milk in Nebraska.  “Uh, yeah,” he responded.  “They’ve been coming like that for about five years now.”

Well, sorry.  The last time I shopped here was five years ago, thankyouverymuch.

Ignoring that charmer, my father and I continued testing weights until I became frustrated and began piecing together my own laptop in my mind, and we left, gleefully denying the rude associate of a sale.

That day, I had pretty much picked out the laptop I liked, but since I wasn’t in love, and it was a huge purchase, I forced my brother to check the specs online and then slept on the decision, finally going to a different Best Buy the next day to purchase my as-yetunnamed laptop.  As far as I can tell, it’s a she — she’s faster, more efficient, and less temperamental than Luigi.  Maybe she’s just not Italian.  But she eliminated a handful of other electronics on my list like a webcam and external hard drive.

Also, Windows 7 was not my idea.

Can you name her?

In regards to my camera, my brother could offer no help but an empty promise to “look into it,” so I approached a couple people at work whose opinions I trusted.  One girl walked me through the different cameras Target had to offer, including her personal opinions on each of them.  While those were all well and good, what I really wanted was an updated version of my Canon PowerShot A530, complete with color accent and good video, and Target just doesn’t offer that.  So my mom and I journeyed to Fry’s, where I received the worst customer service I’ve ever experienced in a retail setting.  I came prepared with a set budget of around $150; a mental list of necessities such as color accent, good video quality, and long lasting battery life; and a list of acceptable alternatives.  After searching through the giant warehouse store, we found the cameras and set up camp, attempting to turn on various cameras and experiment with their settings.  Half of them just blinked at me and wouldn’t even try powering up, and the other half didn’t have what I wanted.  I found the Canons and was in the process of tinkering when a rounded Indian salesman walked up to me.

“Hello.  Do you have any questions?”

Finally!  “Yes!  Do you know which brands have color accent?”

He tilted his head.  “Color . . . accent . . .?”  I patiently explained, and I swear his eyes began darting back and forth.  He hesitated.  “We have a good sale on Panasonic—”

“Do they have color accent?”

A beat. “We have a good sale on Panasonic—”

I must have looked exasperated, because he cut himself off this time as a fellow associate meandered by.  He asked the newcomer my question, and the latter promptly responded that Canons are the only ones that have that feature.  And then he walked away.  Great.  But before the guy could hawk the Panasonics again, another twosome sidled up to the camera display, and he zoomed to their side, literally leaving me with another question on the tip of my tongue.

Fabulous.  Decision made.  To Best Buy we went.

By now I was in a mood, and I zeroed in on the Canons with an air of “bother me, and you might come away headless,” but a salesman came up to me anyway.  “Have you ever seen that camera before?”

Without really turning around, I answered, “As a matter of fact, about five minutes ago across the street.”

He radiated surprise but he continued.  “Well, that camera is the best one I have at that price point.  It’s a great value.”  I glanced over my shoulder.  Did he actually know about that which he sold?  When I fully turned, a part of my heart might have fallen in love.  He was tall, tan-skinned and sporting wavy black hair and broad shoulders, and his nametag read Adison.  My mom later remarked that his parents must have been Cubs fans.  Yep.  Love.  He continued to espouse on that camera while honestly answering all of my questions unprompted: whether lithium batteries were better than double-A’s (“yes”) and whether their video quality could compare to that of Sony (“it’s actually better”), all without assuming I completely understood him yet not approaching condescension.  Sigh.  After sleeping on it again, he eventually sold me on the more expensive model as it had better zoom, and since it was more money than I had budgeted, and she clearly thought she might get a son-in-law if she played her cards right, my mom paid for half.

Say hello, Adison!

So two out of three big purchases down, one more to go, and this one’s kinda super-über necessary: luggage.  I weighed my luggage options, and factoring in traveling time, I concluded that two checked bags and two carry-ons would be well worth any temporary inconvenience while transporting it.  I’ve done the whole one-suitcase thing before, and I wanted to throw away everything I owned after I returned from studying abroad.  I wanted to live comfortably with a couple of my own possessions around me, having the comfort of home to rely upon while still immersing myself in a foreign culture.

After asking for freebies/advice on the Almighty Facebook, I decided to suck it up and buy my luggage through Goodwill despite the pervasive smell, but my mom came through for me again.  She offered to pay for both my suitcases since she and my father were the reasons why I couldn’t take family luggage in the first place, and she only failed in remembering to bring a tape measure, something she normally carries with her everywhere.  (I know.  Don’t ask; she’s just my mom.)  So after a half hour of standing two suitcase next to each other, listing the good and bad things (sound familiar?), and test driving them around Kohl’s, I slept on the decision again, and my mom went back the next day to purchase my final decisions, which now reside in my family room just waiting to be filled with stuff.

Maybe I should've chosen green, but that interior is too adorable!

And since I hate, hate, HATE packing, that’ll happen at the exact last minute before I leave, you mark my words.  For right now, all my possessions are scattered around my room.  Good luck finding my floor.

Now all I have left to purchase is the little stuff: a laptop bag, travel-sized toiletries, socks, canned pumpkin, hot sauce, thank-you gifts for my contact.  Y’know, the basics.