Chapped in Chapel Hill

Deb in the City here, with a chapped ass in Chapel Hill.

Pardon my cursing internet but I am about at the end of my nanny rope here. The child has tested my patience and I am hung out to dry here by her deadbeat dad so I gotta try something to get her back to her Pretty Princess state again. She’s just a little kid.

So I went over to Carrboro in search of something to make her happy. And my search was rewarded at this adorable place.

Tres Amigos, over on Main street. I can’t take the child to her dad in mexico but I can bring a little bit of Mexico to her. They had these insanely colored bright bottles of soda.



I found what I was really looking for, fresh cactus but ouchy.



Lucky for gringa, safety cactus comes in a jar. I also had a killer plate of tacos while I was at the tienda. Mucho gusto.

Then I wandered on down Main and came upon this woman,

setting up her corner store, literally on the corner. This is Luci and she is from Mexico.

She sells those flowers, which she makes and bracelets she weaves with names on them. I ordered one with "SAM" on it and will go to pick it up tomorrow.

Luci did not speak hardly any English at all and my Spanish is even worse but we were able to talk a little bit. She gave me a piece of paper, a copy of a letter in English from a family she worked for here. It said she works efficiently and is thorough in her attention to detail. Luci is responsive to suggestions and uses good common sense to tackle novel situations. She works very hard and makes the house gleam! If anyone out there in Chapel Hill needs a fantastic helper around the house, give Paula Craige a call (919-7893) and she knows how to get in touch with Luci.

In the spirit of the stimulus package,
(this is Obama's Stimulus Face) I’d like to propose to Luci that she and I tend the child and I split my salary with her. It’s the Nanny Bailout Bill, microfinance style.

This is Deb in the City, saying adios from Carrboro, the sister city of Santa Cruz de Juventino Rosas in Mexico. Si se puerde!

Southern Charmed

OK, Chapel Hill is loaded super-intelligent people. I’m hoping a little of that is gong to rub off on me. Ever since I was told it was something I wasn’t by my mean brother, I have aspired secretly to become the sharpest tool in the shed.

This part of the country has produced some really smart people and some really smart inventions came out of those people.

Astroturf, for instance, has made my life better and that was invented nearby at the Research Triangle Park.



I went and visited the other day and I was hoping for a crisp isosceles or even a nice right triangle in a pinch. I admit I was a little disappointed that the park is not really in the shape of a triangle. This error I could forgive because the park is loaded with companies like Kryosphere



Syngenta

and Glyconix

that are busy inventing all the things we are going to need once the future gets here.



This handsome old-school logo is for the Association of American Textile Chemists and Colorists and this organization tests all textiles and fabrics to make sure the dye stays put and all sorts of other qualities. Thanks to this non-profit organization, your clothes do not burst into flames. Unless you paid for that feature.

Meanwhile, back in Chapel Hill I stumbled upon this structure off a road at the edge of the campus.

Yes, that is a castle. It is the home of its own secret society, the Order of Gimghoul which was started by a group of enterprising U of N students way back in the day. From what I can get out of the locals, the society is for invited upperclassmen and faculty only and is exclusively male. But not all-male like Legends in Raleigh and I heard that rules also make for an all-female guest list at their parties.

I’ve got my hoop skirts ready, so if there’s any Gimghoulers out there listening, I’m ready for an invite and I’m not going to hog the keg.

This is Deb in the City, your southern belle in training, saying that’s what I like about the south from Chapel Hill.

Nothing Finer

Hello internet, it's me again. My name is Deb, but my friends call me Deb. And you have clicked on my blog, Deb in the City which is my little project to help me adjust to my recently-readjusted life. OK, I did not see this one coming but I now live in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Yes, the Carolina that nothing could be finer than from the old song. But I’m getting ahead of myself. For starters in the finer department, I get to live in this fantastic house.

It has a two-car adult garage plus a child garage on the right for the Barbie Jeep and the pink peddle car Estate Wagon. Which is actually pretty cool.



OK, this house is not in Chapel Hill proper. It’s in another little town and the neighborhood has a name all of it’s own.

Governor’s Row is a row, but so far I have not seen the governor of which the sign speaks. Maybe "governor" is more informal, like in olde England. I am still getting used to southern habits.

Chapel Hill on the other hand, does have a legitimate hill and the University of North Carolina sits right up on top of it. There was once upon a time a chapel too but now there is a big beautiful antebellum hotel, The Carolina Inn.

Well, it’s in the antebellum style since it was built in the 1920’s. Technically speaking it’s après-bellum or post-bellum, I guess you’d say.

The University dominates the city, and as the oldest state funded school in the country, I think it’s earned that right. And Tar Heel pride dominates every corner of this city.

I didn’t understand about Tar Heels before I got here. I thought Tar Heels were the people that lived in the Tar Nation. But the locals set me straight about it. Tar itself is still a little confusing for me though. Last week I had a flat on my bike and a nice Southern gentleman with a genuine drawl asked me if I needed help to "change that tar". Slowly, I’m learning how to speak southern.

And to fully get my southern groove on, I am cultivating two habits: sweet tea and chewing tobacco. I made the mistake of trying them both at the same time and I would not recommend this.

This is Deb in the City, basking in southern charm from my front porch rocker, saying so long, y’all.

Quand a Liege...

When in Liege, do as the Liegoise. Peket is dangerous. There is no other way to say this. Went last night to the House of Peket and now I see why Tchantches has a wooden head because I have one too. Oufti.



Meanwhile, the child is drifting far away from me and I needed to find something to try and bring her back. She’s just a little kid with a lost father and I am not getting support here so I have to try something.

I looked all over town but there are just not any Mexican people or stores here. So there are not Mexican stores either. Finally I found these at the supermarket.

Mini taco tubs! I cannot take the child to her father in Guadalajara but perhaps I can bring a little of Mexico to the child.

My search took me to a neighborhood across the river, where most everyone seemed Arab, with all the ladies in their hijabs and the butcher stores advertising halal products. I found a fantastic supermarket, named Ali Baba which had an incredible selection of all things North African and Arab and Mediterranean.



The cheese department covered cows, goats and sheep and sold yogurt in buckets of 10 kilos. We just don’t have that in America.

I came here with the idea that it was going to be all frites and chocolate and beer and waffles and chicons. And all of those things are here of course, but goat cheese in a can? Fantastic!



Then I found a tidy Spanish market and poked around. The woman that owned the place was very friendly with me and patient with my terrible French.









She told me her family moved her from Asturia in Spain when she was a little girl so that her father could work in the mines. She said that the mines are what brought the Italians, the Polish, everyone. Except the Chileans, who came to get away from their bad government and by that time, the mines were mostly closed. Even with the mines shut down, the people come anyway, looking for a better life. It has always been so.

This is Deb in the City, traversing the diasporas, saying adios, au revoir and farewell from the glowing city of Liege.

La Goute Locale

Deb in the City here, live from Liege, looking for local flavor.

So I was walking around today, looking at old stuff. Europe is full of old stuff, and that’s interesting for Americans, since nothing we have is that old really.

Found some peculiar new stuff in a shop window for a video games store.

Here is Bruce Lee with his girlfriend the flamenco dancer. Are they dancing or fighting? This is the mysterious beauty of it. It’s profound, right?

I was excited because I was going to the Museum of Walloon Life.


The museum is in a beautiful old abbey. It’s a very nicely done modern museum, all new, with lots of video and all the media tricks. Very impressive. I went through the entire museum, listening to the electronic device that told me all about coal and iron and crystal and all the thing that were manufactured here in Liege.

And I got to the end and I was really mad because I read in a guide book that the museum had a waffle in the shape of the crucifix and yes, that is the main reason I went. And then, it was not there anymore.

I went home and looked for it and googled "waffle cross Belgium" on the internet, and this is what I got.



A waffle in the shape of Texas. I don’t think it’s in Belgium. And it’s not a cross. It is a waffle. Sometimes the google does not work.

This is Deb in the City, looking for waffles in all the wrong places, in the waffle capitol of the universe, Liege.

Liege, Mon Amour

Hello internet. I’m Deb and you have clicked on my blog, Deb in the City. I know, I know, technically speaking this is a vlog because it’s video but the word vlog sounds like a car made in the soviet union. Vlog, vlog, vlog.

Deb in the City is my coping mechanism to help me adjust to my new life. I have just moved out of my comfort zone and now live in a city which is new to me. I did not plan it this way but now I live in Liege. Wow, or as they say here Oufti!

But, I live in a fantastic house here.

It has a gate and as you can see and it has columns and shrubs with artistic styles. And a Jacuzzi in the bathroom. It’s not in Liege exactly, not in the city but is close enough that I can go to town on the bus.



The city of Liege has a mascot that I see everywhere is this fellow, who is called Tchantches, the Wallon name for Francis. Wallon is the local language. We would call him Frank I guess in English. Frank is a fun loving marionette who was born between two paving stones here in Liege.



He has a couple of theaters that do his plays and a whole museum devoted to his costumes and puppet lifestyle. He is a marionette who likes to drink. OK, he's basically an alcoholic puppet.




And as an American, I am used to alcoholic puppets.

I must admit I am a little sad to be in Europe and miss our new president coming into office though I am delighted that everyone here seems as happy as I am that the alcoholic puppet is retiring to Texas with his Nanesse, leaving his big mess behind for the next guy to clean up. As a nanny, I’m a little sick of cleaning up after others, but I am willing to help the new guy.

This is Deb in the City, contemplating ma vie europeean from Liege. Oui, nous pouvons!

Sixteen Tons, Whaddaya Get?

Deb in the City here, another day older and deeper in debt.

OK, I know I am starting to sound like a broken record here and if you are too young to know what a record is and how a record player operates just consult the Wikipedia. It’s an old-fashioned way of saying that I am repeating myself.

But seriously Troy manufactured so much it is staggering.

The ink to print all the money in the US.

Fire hydrants and the valves for the locks on the Panama Canal.

However, there are more important present day matters to attend to than the glories of local industry past. Like, for instance, how to make peace with Sam. If we were really living in the past life of Troy, she’d probably be working over at the nail factory like every other able-bodied 19th century child.

Alas, I cannot send her to hard labor everyday and must find another way to raise her.

I searched around Troy for what I hoped would make her happy but Troy did not have what I needed.

So I hopped on the bus and headed for Albany, the big city. After asking the locals for Latino products, I was sent to this place.

Now the name Frank and Giovanni’s did not really inspire confidence since those are Italian names, the last time I looked. But once I got inside this bustling store, my prayers were answered.

Yes friends, cactus from Mexico comes in a jar and I purchased some. I can’t take Sam to her dad in Guadalajara but maybe I can bring a little of Guadalajara to her. She’s just a little kid with a deadbeat dad and I’m a desperate nanny.

When I was in the store I asked a clerk with a Bluetooth in his ear if Frank or Giovanni were there, sort of as a joke, since from the Latino product line, it was clearly not possible to buy anything Italian in the store. Bluetooth guy pointed me in the direction of Frank, however.

Frank owns the store and bought it with financing help from the Italian former owners and he has a good business feeding the surrounding community with yucca, plantains, and all Goya products. Everyone in the busy store cheerfully chatted with one another in high-octane Spanish and Frank went effortlessly back and forth between them and me in English.

There was a Puerto Rican flag above the register and I asked Frank where he was from and he said “I’m from the Bronx”. I didn’t ask him if his name was Frank back home. But I’ll have to next time I go for tortillas

This is Deb in the City, shifting through the diasporas, saying ciao, adios and farewell.