As a picture is supposed to be worth a thousand words, I figure that my only real hope of giving my readers any idea of what we're doing here in the USA lies in posting some photos.

First of all, no visit to the USA is complete without an enormous fiberglass animal statue, such as the World's Largest Holstein Cow up in North Dakota....or the slightly smaller, but no less beloved Giant Chicken of Lincoln, Nebraska.
This big guy roosts in the parking lot of a very popular local restaurant. Lee's has been around forever and some of my earliest memories involve eating there with my whole family. Grandpa Augie would invariably tell me to go over to ask the organist to play 'Love Letters in the Sand' and he'd give me a quarter for her big glass tip jar.
I must have done it dozens of times over the years, but I was always SO embarrassed...

It's not much to look at, but it was fun to take my kids to visit...and eat some of that amazing chicken!
Here's my mom and Tya at the bar:

(If you blow up the photo and look to the right of Tya, you can see that the organ is still there and the tip jar still sitting right on top of it)

But my home state of Nebraska is about so much more than Lee's fried chicken and old Pat Boone songs.
It's also about college football.
And, more specifically, college football merchandise:
Yes, the Huskers reign here and their insignia is to be found everywhere, on everyone, at all times. If you want to blend in here, all you have to do is wear a University of Nebraska t-shirt. It's a kind of uniform. As you can see, though, we haven't quite got that mastered yet and Tya's Goth wear kind of stands out like a sad, dark and mournful sore thumb...

We end up spending a lot of time in stores. When we're not looking at books and clothes, we're mostly to be found shopping for food. And when we do so, usually Tya grabs my camera, recruits her brother and heads off to document the fascinating world of the American supermarket. She seems particularly fascinated by the huge quantities and has quite a number of photos of Sev holding jumbo-sized containers of just about everything a person could want to eat.
For example:
They seem to have a good time, though the other shoppers aren't quite sure of what to make of them...

I have lots more photos and lots more to say about our trip. I just hope I can find the time to post them and do some more writing. I miss my blog!

America!!
Land of the Brave and Home of the Free.

It also happens to be the home of big cars, big stores, and big people.
That's what has struck me most in the three days since we arrived here. There's so much space and so much stuff!
And that last item on my list was NOT a cheap crack about fat Americans. When I wrote 'big', it wasn't a euphemism for porky or obese. Americans are TALL. Since I've been here, I've seen several men close to seven feet tall.
Srsly.
Of course, this is a college town famous for football players. But still....


What have we been doing since we got here on Sunday night?

Well, when we're not visiting my Grandad Art, we are mainly out shopping.

Yesterday, we hit the jackpot at a local thrift shop and came home with armfuls of amazing, nearly new clothes. Tya did particularly well, finding stuff to work with her Goth look. So, that was a fun 17th birthday activity for her- along with a screening of the latest 'Twilight' opus and a feast at a locally famous restaurant that has a ridiculously yummy buffet.

So, a good time is being had by all.

On Monday, I was driving down the valley to go run some pre-trip errands in the "big city". My three girls were with me, indulging in one of their favorite recent pastimes: discussing all the tasty things they want to eat while they are visiting the USA this summer.

Top on the list is always Taco Bell. It may seem odd, but if you're a kid who only gets this stuff once every three years or so, I suppose you might really get to craving a fast food taco or two.

Then there are the breakfast cereals.
"Lucky Charms " Mallory announced. "Lucky Charms are the MOST delicious!"
"What about Froot Loops? We'll have Froot Loops, right?" Alexa chimed in, concerned that her favorite not be left out.
"That stuff tastes like mutant chemicals. " Tya sniffed from the front passenger seat.
"But it's goooood mutant chemicals!" Alexa insisted.
Mallory ignored the controversy.
"I like popsicles! We'll get popsicles? Right, mom?"
"Mmmmm." I answered, concentrating on the road, but giving it a vaguely positive intonation.
"And root beer?"

The other girls were quiet and let the master work. Mal was on a roll.

"And Cinnabon rolls? And Valentino's buffet? And Mountain Dew?"
"Mmmmmm!" I repeated, taking a particulary tricky curve. (People who have lived here for years have managed to drive off this road, tumble off the edge, down the to the valley floor and die in flames. I SO do not want to do that.)
"And those waffles? With that chocolate stuff?"
"Mmmmmm?" I inquired.
I hadn't heard this one before.
"You know! The frozen ones made by that strange white baking creature."
"Strange white...?" I said, baffled.
But then the light began to dawn.
"Yeah, mom!" Alexa chimed in "The little thing with the creepy staring black eyes!"
That clinched it.

Luckily, the hard part of my drive was over and I was able to safely laugh uproariously for a good long time at this very accurate description of the dreaded Pillsbury Poppin' Fresh Doughboy.

I am SO calling it "that strange white baking creature" from now on.

Bad news.
The music festival yesterday was called off on account of the rain. That means no film and no photos.
I feel like a Bad Mom that I didn't do better at their last concert. I can't imagine how I LOST the video off my cell phone.
But I guess that's just how I roll....

Today I've been busy setting up things for our trip to the USA- we leave in 13 short days!! The last time we were there was in 2007, so everybody is pretty excited.
I've managed to get JP's visa sorted out. (He's currently in Ouagadougou, melting in the heat and enjoying only sporadic internet access.)
I've also booked and paid for our campsite in South Dakota.

Now I'm looking at rental cars. I often end up on sites written by French people, advising fellow citizens on their upcoming USA trips.

Here's one that I enjoyed that really gives a feeling for the differences between driving in France and driving in the USA. (I'll translate for you, but you can see the original here, which was written about Arizona):

"Coooool! Firearms may be freely sold here, but it's no problem- Americans are very respectful of the law. It's one of the paradoxes of this great country.
Forget about your latin driving. Here we've never hear a horn honking. And it's not because the light is green that you're not going to let a pedestrian cross.

In the city, you'll have the impression of seeing a film in slow motion. And in front of a school, slow-motion slows down even more.
And everyone respects the speed limits! Forget about passing 'à la Français' and "yes, but the light was orange". Try that on a cop over here and see how far it gets you...
The sign below perfectly summarizes the sense of humor of cops in the USA:


Interesting, huh? From what is said about the USA, you can derive a pretty precise picture of what driving in France is like.

In a word: insane.

People pass on blind curves like they (and everyone else on the road) are protected by magical powers.
And it's open season on pedestrians. Moms pushing strollers containing adorable babies, cute kids walking home from school- everyone is fair game....

And it isn't just me and the internet "authorities" that think so. Every anecdote I've heard from every French person I've ever met that has driven in the USA says the same thing: Americans are polite and sensible drivers and the French are maniacs.

I still drive like an American (safely and kindly) and make the other drivers here a little crazy- especially when I stop to let pedestrians pass, rather than running over their toes as they try to get across an intersection with their lives intact....

As we crossed the border into Germany this morning, I noticed an exit ramp to the right marked 'Ausfahrt'. A little ways further, I noticed another, and then another.

My! What a lot of exits to get to the city of 'Ausfahrt'!
I started to envision a bustling metropolis to rival Paris.

It was, in fact, an embarrassingly long time before I finally figured out my mistake and quietly asked JP : 'Umm...What does 'ausfahrt' mean'?"
By all rights, I should have added in a resigned and chastened voice "It's not a city, is it?', but it was all just too humiliating.

As you, Clever Reader, probably guessed immediately, 'ausfahrt' is a German word that translates as 'drive out'.
In short: exit.

And yes, I am a non German-speaking complete doofus.
Thank you for asking.

Luckily, I have the world's nicest cousins here. Not ony can they get by in German, they live on a huge, mega-cool US military base. No German required!
In fact, we spent today completely immersed in American culture. We had lunch at Taco Bell, which Valentine loved. It's her favorite restaurant, ever. And we had a shopping spree at the BX ,which everyone loved. Think Pop Tarts and Dr.Pepper. I bought WAY too much and have no real clue how I'm going to stuff all the gorceries plus our baggage back into the car for the drive back to France. Maybe if we send the kids home by bus...

The only slight imperfection in an otherwise perfect day was the messed-up, hours long dinner at an on-base, non-Taco Bell restaurant. We waited ages to get a table and when we finally did, our waitress turned out to be a sort of odd, slightly manic young person. She wielded a giant pepper mill and shared her name with us by writing it with no less than three crayons, all across the top of our table. Yet despite her mad pepper grinding skillz and constant, desperately convivial chatter, she couldn't manage to get the order straight or convince the kitchen to give us our tepid food in less than an hour.
It wasn't all the waitresses fault, of course. I suspected strange goings-ons in the kitchen that could probably be remedied by a nice long visit from Gordon Ramsay.

Tomorrow, we venture off -base and search for local color. We couldn't have better or kinder guides. They've already proposed such delights as a visit to a castle and attending a local festival, complete with beer and fireworks. It all sounds great and should be lots of fun.

We've definitely decided to try the local college, despite all the problems that the principal so kindly outlined in detail for us last week.
We'll send the twins there for one year and see how it goes.
My post on this subject garnered about half a dozen comments and even more emails. One of them contained this bone-chilling phrase...
"Now that there are People Who Decide Things salivating over the baccalaureate system as a potential educational system here in the US..."
This was from a blogging teacher in the USA, so she knows of what she speaks. And what she speaks of would SO never work, I can only hope the Powers That Be give up the idea, pronto.

The Bac system in France is a bit complicated and I don't want to describe it in detail here- otherwise this post will puff up to Godzilla-on-steroids-sized porportions. If you want to know more about how it works, visit our friends at Wiki and spend a moment. But in short, it's a huge test that you take at the end of lycée (high school) that qualifies you for further education. It's NOT multiple choice. It's essays and oral exams and it's very, very demanding. A score of 10 out of 20 is the minimal passing grade. Perfect scores are almost unheard of.

But here's the thing: The Bac is a French institution that works in tandem with the totality of the French educational system. They start training the kids for this from the moment they enter school at age three.
I'm not saying they "teach to the test". That's certainly not the case. I'm saying that the educational system is not warm and fuzzy. Everybody is NOT a winner. The teachers do not think it is their job to "build self-esteem" in their students merely because the latter are present in the classroom and breathing oxygen. Self-esteem is (quite properly, I think) seen as something that stems naturally from real accomplishments and mastery.
What a concept!
Sadly, this is NOT the case in the US system, where students tend to have sky-high self-esteem (from being praised constantly for even the most trivial things) and comparatively few real skills.
Maybe you think I'm being a little harsh?

Very harsh?

Just have a look at this report from the well-respected Brookings Institution.

Here are a few excerpts:
"6% of Korean 8th graders surveyed expressed confidence in their math skills, compared with 39% of US 8th graders. But Korean students far outscore American students in math tests."

(So, all this US 'confidence' does not translate into actual mastery..)

"The world’s most confident eighth graders are found in the Middle East, Africa, and the United States (ranked ninth)...... however, these countries are not particularly high scoring on the TIMSS math exam"

(Again, kids in the USA think they are math wizards, but don't actually have the achievements to justify this attitude. Isn't anyone getting cognitive dissonance overload? )

"...even the least confident student in Singapore outscores the most confident American student"

(emphasis in bold added)

"It is only natural that adults want children to be happy. Indeed, many of the most popular education reforms of today, once all of the rhetorical flourishes are stripped away, place children’s happiness on equal footing with their learning. The pursuit of knowledge
may be important, but only if it simultaneously raises student contentment and self-esteem"

So, in the US educational system, self-esteem is much more important than actually learning anything. They're admitting it! And that alone makes something like the Bac completely inappropriate. You can't coddle and cosset the kids in the shallow end for 12 years, constantly telling them "good job" for each feeble splash they make, and then suddenly throw them into deep water, expecting an Olympic-caliber butterfly stroke.

To put it bluntly: The Bac works in France because the system is harsh and merciless from day one. Nobody is particularly worried if kids are bored, unhappy or lacking in elevated self-esteem levels. They are supposed to be learning things and becoming responsible people. It is assumed that happiness and confidence will eventually come from growth, learning and achievement.

The system isn't always "nice". Ok. It's not even occasionally "nice". I have mostly found that the teachers are very harsh and critical compared with teachers in the USA. They get away with behavior and comments that would have parents in the USA yanking their kids out of school and contacting their lawyers.

Also, the schools don't really offer any 'fun' courses. It's all math, French, biology, etc... something that many Americans have a hard time imagining. But you don't have TIME for band, archery or journalism when you are trying to prepare for the Brevet and the Bac.

I just can't imagine how the US could effectively institute a reasonable equivalent to the Bac. And what would be the point, anyway? The Bac is not a test that lets you "graduate" from lycee. It's a test that qualifies you to go on in your education. If you have a menial job waiting for you after lycée, you can just skip the Bac. No problem.

In that sense the Bac is more like the ACT or SAT exams. (Only the Bac is MUCH harder. It's hours long and there's NO multiple choice, remember) As the US already has pre-university testing in place, why bother with a Bac?

Sound like a recipe for disaster to me...

And I thought I'd never have a good word to say for soon-to-be-NOT President George Bush.

But here's one: Nimble!

Did you SEE how he dodged out of the way of the flying Iraqi shoes? He's pretty darn spry!

I guess that's why he's called a lame "duck" president...

The tables have turned, finally! Gone are the days when random French people would come up to me, asking me why the USA did such bad things in the world and why we had such a clueless jerk as our president.

As if I knew. I sure never voted Republican.

But NOW the USA has a young, liberal, multi-racial President elected by a large margin because of his promises of profound change and France is stuck with a business-as-usual old, white reactionary.

As my kids would say: Sweet!

After a morning running errands, I turned toward the Avenue Charles de Gaulles at about 11am only to find it blocked by riot police. And just a few blocks down, clouds of tear gas obscured the road.
Something was going on. Something not good.
When I pulled into my driveway about five minutes later, I got a text message on my cell phone. It was from the French Embassy, warning of gun fire near the University. The University which is about seven blocks from our house.
And yes, as I got out of the car, I did hear funny popping noises.
For about an hour there were spurts of gun fire. At a couple of points it got very, very loud and close. My neighbour Tony, who ventured out (brave Aussie lad) in his truck, said that the Avenue Babanguida (about four blocks away) was blocked off and the police line had reached that far.


I sat outside our gate on a log with Rasmané, our guardian, listening to the guns. We shook our heads in bafflement.
"I guess they're shooting in the air to break up the crowds?" I ventured as round after round went off.
"They wouldn't actually shoot the students, would they?"


I'd heard that the students might protest today. Beside their usual grievances of huge class sizes and irregular course hours, they have a new reason to gripe. The Burkina government that never has money to hire enough professors suddenly found the cash to establish a PSU unit. That's Police Speciale des Universités. That news was like pouring kerosine on a fire, I'm afraid. But I don't have any definite news. Nothing has been reported on the radio or TV as of yet.
And as far as I can tell, I am the first to publish this news on the internet.


Things seem calm now. It's 3 pm and there hasn't been any gunfire since about 12:30 or so.


After I got home at 11, the French Embassy then called with a warning. Nothing from the US Embassy, which is par for the course. For all the blah, blah, blah about Keeping Our Citizens Safe , the US doesn't acually do much. At all. I'm a warden for the Embassy. All they have to do is call me and I phone my list of 30 or so families and warn them of possible danger: Stay out of the University area. There is rioting and gunfire.


There are all kinds of Americans living overseas. Here in Ouaga, they are mostly do-gooders, in the best sense of the word. They are missionaries trying to help people out of poverty, NGO workers doing all sorts of aid work and the every-present Peace Corps. I really feel like the State Department could step up their commitment instead of ignoring this population every time there is violence threatening.
Since I moved here in 1999, there have been several bad incidents here in Burkina. And the US Embassy always drops the ball IMO. For example, during the police/army conflict of 2006, I had to call the Embassy to get the go-ahead to warn people. And it was not a false alarm. That night stray gun fire hit houses and killed civilians.
And today once again, the Embassy looked out for their own personel, but couldn't be bothered to at least set the Warden system in motion.
Yes, they do send out emails. But the chances of someone checking their email -especially here in Ouaga, are pretty slim. This situation merited phoning everyone to make sure the word got out and no one would inadvertantly wander into danger.


I have no other real news about what happened this morning. I'll post again if anything comes to light. And please write to me if you see anything in the international press or on the internet.

I feel like I'm on the deck of the starship Enterprise. My mom's nice Dell PC is charging up Valentine's new Nano as I'm blogging and checking emails on her even nicer Mac. To my left, my laptop is busy doing all the downloading/upgrading that I never get to do in Africa. As I switch back and forth between the three machines, I get a very Uhura vibe, minus the mini skirt, of course.

Vacation. What can I say? The kids are having a great time- playing with my parents's dog, eating fast food, shopping, rolling in the uber-green grass, going to movies, etc.
We went to the Farmers' Market this morning for sweetcorn and other good stuff. There was someone there selling goatcheese and Mallory got a bit lonely for Aslan, her precious goatling. But mostly she is more than satisfied by the splendors of Bridget, my folks' Wheaten terrier.

Alexa has just dicovered the Beatles. She came up to me, headphones hanging down "I am the eggman'?? What's that all about? " she asked, completely mystified. Alas, I could not tell her.
"What do you think it means?" I cleverly asked.
"That he's weird?"

I can't believe we made it! Here I am, typing a blog entry on my mom's Mac. As I am so unused to USA-style keyboards, it's a real hunt-and-peck fiesta of frustration, but that is more than made up for by the sheer speed of the connection. My blog page loads in two seconds instead of five minutes. What a concept!
Our trip here was quite interesting. When we boarded in Burkina, security was good but not over the top. They open bags and wave the wand and on you go. Paris was another matter. They were in full pat-down mode. Not a sort of desultory, symbolic tap about the ribs and ankles, but a top to botttom touchy-feely that was frankly not nice. As I stood in line and watched a nice elderly lady get 'the treatment' I thought: 'The terrorists won. Thanks George. We are all doomed." I guess I knew that already, but this really drove it home.
At least they weren't subjecting the children to it, thank God for small favors.
Anyway, we flew from Ouaga to Niamey and then sat on the runway there for two and a half hours, waiting for lightening storms to abate.
Then on to Paris, where we rode their delightful little shuttle buses around and around and around. We left about an hour late and were worried about our connection in Detroit. There are only a couple of flights per week between Detroit and Lincoln. But the security in Detroit, despite being strict, went really, really quickly. They processed a huge amount of people in a fraction of the time it took in Paris. They were saving time by not feeling people up, which was nice.
But the connection ended up being a non-issue. Thunderstorms kept us on the ground and the flight left late. We easily amused ourselves visiting the airport shops and being amazed by all the stuff. We bought a People magazine (Special Wedding Edition) and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. God Bless America!
Now here we are, in the Heartland of America. (I wonder which state is the Bileductland of America? They sure keep quiet about it.)

More soon, hopefully with pictures!

We are planning a trip to the USA this summer. The main goal is to see family, but JP and I also want to take the kids camping. Years ago, before the kids were born, he and I did a couple of big camping trips, driving around the western US and stopping to pitch our tent wherever took our fancy. It was amazing. We saw Mount Rushmore, Old Faithful, the Grand Canyon and lots more. We vaguely agreed that one day we would come back and show it all to our kids, if we ever had any. We never dreamed there'd be four of them, but there you go. At least they'll be lots of help pitching the tents.
I have already gotten out the atlases and travel guides, thinking that we could use our preparations as informal US geography lessons. So far, the kids love it. They are so excited, trying to figure out where we can go and what we can see. Well, everyone except Mallory. She was the only one that didn't seem at all excited. In fact, her eyes were full of tears that first day.
"How long are we going camping?" she demanded tremulously.
"Well three or four weeks. It depends. What's wrong?"
She burst into tears. After some coaxing and hugging, the problem came to light. "What about Grammy and Grampy? We won't have time to see them!"
She was very concerned that the delights of touring America was distracting the rest of us from the main event: time with her grandparents.
We all rushed to assure her that we'd spend at least as long with my parents. But she'd just rather skip the whole camping thing. I even hinted that a trip to Disneyland could be in the works. No deal. (Her twin sister would sell both her parents into slavery for a chance at Disneyland!)
I also proposed that we get my Dad to camp with us a bit, but that didn't help. "Bridget couldn't come! She could get lost!" Mallory said indignantly. (Bridget is my parents' Wheaten Terrier.)
We are still working out the details, but Mal has consented to go with us. What finally sold her was Giant Redwoods. We'll definitely be making a stop in northern California!