watch for our return

 
May 1 is Labor Day and so we are going away for a much needed vacation. Check back next week. 

In a pretty place

  

with my friends

  

Pretty vs. Practical

Everything here is pretty. Pretty is important. People dress so nicely. If I buy something in a small store, it is wrapped so beautifully. Last Saturday night we had dinner at the home of our French friends and the food was very simple but the table was pretty. I could go on and on about how pretty everything is and what importance is placed on “pretty”.

Yesterday, my American friend and I tagged along on a shopping trip with our very pregnant French friend. She drove us to an unfamiliar (to us) shopping area just outside of town. We stopped at a few places, a baby store, and a phone store before we ended up at the large grocery store that was an anchor store at a mall. While at the grocery store, my American friend was hungry for ice-cream so we very carefully selected a box of chocolatey, fudgy, ice-cream bars with the intention of eating them after we left the store.

After checking out, as we walked through the mall, she announced that it was time to enjoy the wonderful ice-cream treats that she had just purchased. Our French friend was astonished to think that we would want to eat them in the mall. She argued, “We can’t eat those in here.” And I wondered... “why not??” ... “Is there some French rule that you can’t eat in the mall?” ...But I said nothing.

“We can’t eat here, it’s not pretty in here.” she said. ...hmm... I thought.... Pretty?????

So we loaded the groceries into the car, then she drove us to a very PRETTY place where we parked the car, sat in a local square overlooking the hills and ate our delicious, gooey, but half-melted ice cream bars.

. 

History History and more History

History is such a part of life here. Back home, we really don’t have much history and/or just don’t know much of it. Over here, it is embedded into every part of life.

Several months ago we purchased a cheese knife and got a history lesson on the assassination of Henry IV because the knife we purchased was similar to the one used to kill ole Henry. Last week when Paul was on his business trip, he was telling the story of the knife and said that it was used to kill Henry the Fifth. He was quickly corrected. “Excusez-moi,” one of his colleagues said, “it’s henry the Fourth.”

When we were instructed to use an A5 envelope for mailing something, we had to find out what size that was. But finding out “just the facts” is clearly impossible. We got our history lesson and learned that in 1794, the French government issued a law that specified paper size formats. Well, bien sur... (of course).


So you can learn more that you ever wanted to know here.


Upon further investigation... another website explains...

The practical and aesthetic advantages of the sqrt(2) aspect ratio for paper sizes were probably first noted by the physics professor Georg Christoph Lichtenberg (University of Gottingen, Germany, 1742-1799) in a letter that he wrote 1786-10-25 to Johann Beckmann. After introducing the meter measurement, the French government published 1794-11-03 the "Loi sur le timbre" (no. 2136), a law on the taxation of paper that defined several formats that already correspond exactly to the modern ISO paper sizes: "Grand registre" = ISO A2, "grand papier" = ISO B3, "moyen papier" = ISO A3, "petit papier" = ISO B4, "demi feuille" = ISO B5, "effets de commerce" = ISO 1/2 B5.
The French format series never became widely known and was quickly forgotten again. The A, B, and C series paper formats, which are based on the exact same design principles, were completely independently reinvented over a hundred years after the "Loi sur le timbre" in Germany by Dr. Walter Porstmann. They were adopted as the German standard DIN 476 in 1922 as a replacement for the vast variety of other paper formats that had been used before, in order to make paper stocking and document reproduction cheaper and more efficient.
From:
http://www.edwardtufte.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg?msg_id=0000bl&topic_id=1

And that’s your history lesson for today!

 

time for a break

I think I’m suffering from culture shock. During my last daylong visit with my French friend, we spoke only French. When we visited with a couple of French friends one evening, we spoke only French. And my American friend back home, former expat Tim, said that about every three months we need to get “out of culture”. The last out-of-culture experience was way back in January, so I was feeling due.

Paul was out of town so I spent the day with my American friend who has lived here for 3 years and hasn’t learned French and doesn’t intend to start learning anytime soon. We went shopping, had a swedish lunch at IKEA, and then went back to her place and watched CNN and the BBC and Euronews in English. Then we went out that night with a bunch of American friends for drinks and then to a restaurant for dinner.

We met a new American couple who had just moved here about a month ago. That prompted a discussion about all the struggles each of us has had during our adjustment to the French language and culture. We all had great stories to tell but I think the prize goes to a young man from California who moved to a small town in France with his French wife. He had bought Christmas gifts for his daughters, each a jewelry box, but when he got home and checked them carefully, he discovered that the craftsmanship on one of them was really poor. He decided to return it. But as we all do, he put it off because having to go to a store and explain the situation and deal with all of the unknowns is really difficult.

So this young man finally worked up the courage to return the box. When he got to the store and repeated his much-practiced monologue, he was promptly told that he had waited too late to return it. He only had so many days during which he could return something. He was very frustrated and without thinking, the only thing that he could manage to say was, “well, it’s shit” (en francais, of course) The lady in the store quickly agreed and refunded his money. Small victories!

they are open! 

enfin, finalement

Dinner was ready and Paul was late. The phone rang. Some man, speaking in French, went on about being France Telecom and jibber jibber jibber. All I could do is muster a “Uhhhh... huh?”. The guy on the other end laughed and then asked me if I would like a glass of “Cote du Rhone”. With that hint, I immediately recognized the voice of our favorite waiter at our favorite restaurant. I asked him if the restaurant was now open, he said yes, and then he put Paul on the line.

We were pretty excited about having our pizza place back in business. We decided to forget about the dinner I had prepared and instead, eat at the “new” place. It seemed like a new place... fancy tables and chairs replaced the old time-worn furniture... there was a new mezzanine level, a fancy bar, and the kitchen was moved into a basement below. They even changed the name! We held our breaths as we checked out the new menu. Would our favorite salad and pizza still be on the menu? We were disappointed that the Salade Grec was no longer available but we were happy to see that we could still order the Quarte Saisons pizza. And of course, we could always order a carafe of Cote du Rhone... what else?

the "new" interior of our favorite place 

with our favorite waiter 

bragging rights

 
We are so very proud of our daughter. It's hard to believe that she will be graduating. We will be going to the ceremony in May.


She worked very hard:
The letter came today from the college.... "as a graduating member of ...... Honor Society you are requested to join us at the School of Architecture ...... induction ceremony."

Later that day, the letter says, "you will be recognized at the Honor's Convocation ...."

Our advice upon high school graduation was : work hard, play hard

Here's the play. 

The home team

 Olympic Lyonaise, the hometown football (soccer) team just won the national title for the 5th time. Way to go! 

our favorite place

 It may seem a bit strange that our favorite restaurant in France is an Italian pizza parlor. Paul stumbled upon it when he first came here and was living in a hotel and eating out every night.

It’s a small place located on a pedestrian street which has a small square with a fountain. When the weather is good, they put tables outside and most people eat on the plaza. And so it became a routine that every Friday night, after a long stressful week for Paul dealing with the French, we would sit outside with a carafe of local wine and watch the world go by. Along one side of the plaza, there is a bicycle path and bike station where you can borrow bikes. It’s interesting to watch people deal with unlocking the bikes and equipment malfunctions. (It’s also nice to know that we aren’t the only incompetant people in France!)

There is a theatre across the street and occasionally they have a “spec – TAK- le” (event) there. The square is surrounded by the typical 5-story apartment buildings. Often you see people shaking out their rugs and watering their flower boxes (jardinaires).

When we started going there, Monica was our waitress. She quickly caught on that we ordered the same thing every time: a Greek salad that we split between us, followed by a Quatre Saison (Four seasons) pizza that we also shared, and then a bottle of Cote du Rhone wine.

Monica disappeared in the fall and they hired a new waiter. He quickly caught on to our routine as well. One night when Paul ordered the Cote du Rhone, the waiter asked Paul to repeat it. He was amused by the way Paul pronounced it. After giving him the order for the wine again, the waiter walked over to the bartender and loudly announced that the people over there wanted some “Cote du Rhone” and he said it loud enough that your could hear it across the restaurant. And then when he delivered it to our table, he loudly announced the wine. And from that time on, whenever we would enter the restaurant he would yell out, “Cote du Rhone.”

On the last Friday in December, the waiter told us that the restaurant would close for a couple of weeks while they did some renovations. Well here it is mid-April and they still haven’t reopened. Paul keeps wondering what takes so long and how they can afford to be out of business for 4 months.

We’ve tried other places but none comes close to our pizza place. It appears that they are putting the final touches on the place. Maybe next week we can go back to the Friday night routine. 

joyeuses pacques

  

Happy Easter Everyone!

 
Today is Easter Sunday. Funny how expectations are never quite realized when somewhere unfamiliar. I'm not sure exactly what I expected when we walked into church this morning... a typical experience back home would have been a profusion of pastel and bright springime colors in the clothing of the congregation... maybe a few hats here and there... and certainly a church packed to capacity with many people who only attend church on holidays. Not so here. It's still cold so I had on my dreary looking black down coat and so did everyone else. The few people in church today had on just regular clothes, some had on blue jeans, just nothing special. Somehow it didn't even seem like Easter.

So we did our Sunday routine... to the coffee shop on the corner for a cafe au lait and croissants... then a walk through the art market... and on to the vegetable market. Then home for a lunch of fresh baguettes, cheese and fruit. Just like any other Sunday.... but this is a special Sunday... It's Easter Sunday. Joyeuses Paques!  

the footbridge on the way 

walking to the shower 

a Franco-American baby shower

My American friend Eve and I wanted to have an authentic American baby-shower for our French friend who is pregnant and who is married to an American. So we started the planning. It would be a surprise... it would be at Eve’s apartment... she would somehow manage to get guests invited (French family and friends of our honoree)... and then I suggested games.

“No way!” she said, “Our guests don’t even know what a baby-shower is... it’s just not done in France.”
I said, “Well, it’s not much of an American baby-shower without the corny games.”
Eve argued, “And how will you explain how to play the games in French since most guests won’t speak English?”
“No problem.” I argued... “We will somehow manage.”
“OK” she said, “It’s all yours, I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

I searched the internet for ideas. When I was of child-bearing age and so were my friends, I attended many a baby shower, but that was a very long time ago. I decided on a game where you had to guess the circumference of the pregnant mother. OK, but in centimeters, not inches. I thought a good tie-breaker would be to guess her weight... but in kilograms. To be really cruel, I though about making them guess it in pounds!

The big day came. Guests started to arrive. Each guest who arrived had to go around and do the kissy-thing with each other guest who was already there. That took forever... and it was getting to be time for the guest of honor to arrive... I started getting nervous... Get on with it... stop the kissy stuff!

Our pregnant friend finally arrived on time (only because her American husband brought her). She was very surprised! There was more kissy stuff, a little visiting, and then.. let the games begin!

I wanted the first game to be a bit tame to break them in. They had to write down baby name ideas where each letter of the mother’s name had to be the first letter of the idea for a girl’s name. Each letter of the father’s name had to be the first letter of the boy name ideas. It was pretty fascinating. First of all, they took FOREVER! I forget how quickly Americans ‘get the job done’. They pondered, they discussed, they debated the pros and cons of using ‘old’ traditional names vs. newer, modern names. And in the process, I learned that the French government will not let you use weird names for your babies. The name has to be approved as a good “French” name. And at the suggestion of one name by a guest, the whole room broke out in laughter. I didn’t understand... but then it was explained to me that the name suggested was the French equivalent of an American “preppy” name. For the life of me, I can’t remember that name!

The second game was to guess the circumference of the mother and the third game was to try and match as many baby socks as possible in 10 seconds. They really enjoyed the sock game. A few guests continued to play it long after the official game ended. I think they all had fun and the games were a big hit. They particularly liked the fact that there was a prize for winning.


Then it was time for our pregnant guest of honor to open her gifts. The things she got were all so amazingly cute. French baby clothes are adorable and even the toys are awesome. I gave her three American books that I purchased on our last trip to the states. I figured she needed to feed that baby some good American culture. I gave her “Green Eggs and Ham’, “Goodnight Moon”, and a Madeline book titled, “Madeline says Merci”. The guests (and the pregnant mother) didn’t recognize any of the books but they did get a kick out of the Madeline book. They even joked that it wasn’t “Mad – e- leene” but instead, the American sounding, “Mad – a – line”. When the father later arrived and saw the "Green Eggs and Ham" book, he began reciting the lines from the book without even opening it. Good American!

At the end of the shower, when it was time for everyone to leave... again, it took FOREVER for everyone to kiss everyone else goodbye. My estimate is that ¼ of the baby shower was spent kissing! The other national sport of France (after protesting).

what's wrong now?

  

clueless and sick and tired of it

When we moved to Texas, away from the support of family and friends, we learned how to make do on our own. We've always considered ourselves to be self-reliant. After all, we Americans pride ourselves on that... reading Emerson in high school ! And some would say that Texans take self-reliance and independence to a whole new level. Maybe we have been Texans too long.

I am really tired of being helpless and clueless.
- When our apartment reeked of the smell of burnt wiring, we called 2 repair people. Neither called us back. I told Mdme Helleputte about it and she said she would give us the number of the apartment manager. She never did. So here we are, one month later and still in the dark.

-When Paul was given the name of a driving school, he called them to schedule classes. He got an answering machine. He called back every single day of that first week and left a message and has not heard from them and it's been three weeks.

-Paul went to another driving school near our house. They refused to sign him up telling him that he can simply turn in his Texas license for a French one. (We know this to NOT be true.) They didn't want to hear it, and obviously didn't want his 1000 bucks.

And here's the story that has me screaming for help only to learn that nobody's listening.

About three weeks ago we bought an antique farinier. (a flour cabinet ... more on that later) Obviously we couldn't carry it home in our little bitty toy car so we arranged for delivery. Three weeks passed... no delivery... not even a call.. until last Friday. They said they would deliver on lundi matin a huit heures. Monday morning at 8 o'clock. How hard is that? I knew that much French when I was 6 years old. If I didn't understand anything else, I did understand that. I even wrote it down (in French).

Monday morning 8 am came, no sign of them. At 9 am, no sign of them. You get the picture. So around 5 pm I got a phone call. It was in French of course and I (very wrongly) assumed it was the furniture delivery people. Anyway... the phone call was about whether or not I would be here at 9 am on Tuesday. (Mardi matin a neuf heures.) Ok.... I got that one too. Wrote that one down too.

Tuesday morning at 8 am I had my hair in curlers and was getting dressed when the doorbell rang. Holy smokes.. I thought... they said they were coming at 9. Whatever. So they came in, delivered the furniture and I paid them and I was happy. I just supposed that they came early. Beh noh!!!

I then left the apartment on Tuesday morning around 8:45 to go to the market. When I returned, there was a notice in the mailbox that said that the people who were supposed to check the chimney had come at 9:17 and I wasn't home. Check the chimney??? Huh? The note also said we had to call them to schedule another appointment. Merde! (Shit).

OK so I made Paul call them since OBVIOUSLY my French isn't good enough to get it. They told him that we would have to pay because we weren't there and in typical french style, Paul was curtly reprimanded. The new apointment was for 3pm Wednesday.

The chimney guy showed up on time. Good for him. And he asked for my ladder. I thought about being snitty and telling him I had no ladder. Anyway... the charge for this incident was 147.31 euros!!!

...clueless, sick and tired of it... and broke.

Me and my buddies and.....

  

Out with the girls

I-Ju, Hiroko, and I went to lunch last week. The sun came out for just long enough for us to meet in one of the town squares and walk to have lunch at a Chinese restaurant. Hiroko selected two places and let us decide which one we wanted to try. I suggested that the French restaurants typically have things that they wouldn’t like (and sometimes I don’t like) and that the Chinese restaurant would probably be best. So one American, one Japanese, and one Taiwanese had lunch in a Chinese restaurant and all we could speak to each other in was French.

I hadn’t seen them in a few weeks since I no longer attend my French school. Hiroko has started going to another place for her classes and so I-Ju is the only one still going to the French school where we were once classmates. I had forgotten how hard it is to understand French with a Japanese accent. I-Ju speaks a bit of English so if we really can’t understand each other, we can revert to English, but we try not to do that. It was pretty funny as we tried to understand the Chinese menu written in French. I thought the food was pretty good but they didn’t think it was all that great.

We left the restaurant and were planning to take a picture near the fountain (Hiroko is Japanese – remember!). A man came up to us and asked in English if we would pose with him in the picture that his friend was taking. After we complied, I quickly handed my camera to the stranger and had a shot taken of the four of us. I have no idea who the strange man is. He did say that he was from Bosnia/Herzegovina.

Spring is in the air

  

What wine is that?

Spring is in the air. No... I’m not smelling ligustrum. It was 0 degrees yesterday morning but the sun is out and the trees are starting to bud... and that give me hope. But my suspicions about the arrival of spring were confirmed this morning as I was shopping at the supermarket. In the wine department, there was a young couple making out in front of the Bordeaux and Cotes-du-Rhone.

Its not really unusual to see these public displays of affection, after all ... this is France. But this incident brought to mind a similar one that happened to us about a month ago. As we were walking along the sidewalk to our friends' apartment, a young man was straining his neck to read the label on the bottle that Paul was carrying. It was important for him to know what kind of wine we were going to drink that night.

In the supermarket, as these young lovers were lip-locked, I reached behind them to grab a bottle of Saint-Joseph. I heard the girl ask the guy what type of wine I was buying. With only a pause in their passion, he replied, “Saint-Joseph”. They went back to their business as I put the bottle in my cart and moved on.

Check this out!!

Do you know this kid?

in the streets again 

same song, different verse

Theres got to be a better way! No school again today as any Frenchman old enough to walk is in the streets protesting the CPE again. Mass transportation is shut down and many people are not working.

Tourism is a big business in France. Has anyone connected any dots here? Let me help... riots in the street... tourists stay away... nobody needed to work in the hotels, restaurants, museums, tourist shops... add that to the already high unemployment in france right now... and the CPE is going to “make” jobs for the young and unemployed... the unemployed (in particular) who have no education... so we close the schools today... that is... the remaining schools that were not trashed during the riots... hmmm.

And another question... is there some form of government over here? or is protesting in the street the only way? Why not phone your congressman?? Write letters?

The street in front of my apartment must be the main protest street. They are at it again. I am a prisoner in my own apartment. All I can do is watch from my window and shake my head in disbelief.

And here are a few more questions...
Why is the protest being led by college students?
Why is that all of our French friends think that this protesting is really stupid?

“Florida, the football school with little basketball tradition, blasted college basketball's all-time giant in a 73-57 victory over UCLA” (from the Washington Post today)
... and with a Frenchman too.

Jean Pascal and Paul had an eye on the basketball season and the Final Four. Maybe Jean Pascal was the only French person in the office who even knew it was happening... (but then ... Jean Pascal lived in Indiana for a while.) So when LSU lost, Paul was reminded by him that Florida was a good choice too! Thanks, Jean Pascal. And congratulations to Florida and the SEC.

Condolences to all my UCLA friends (still one at last count).

the town at night

  

visitors

  

busy busy busy

It was a very nice weekend indeed. Katherine and her friend Ali got in Friday night on the TGV after a week in Paris studying the architecture of the city. It was so good to have them here. We all craved some good Mexican food and since we had just found a good Mexican restaurant, we were off to eat. The owners of the restaurant had lived in Corpus Christi at one time, so the food is about the closest to the real deal we have found in France. And for all you Green Day fans... they discovered this place before we did. There was an autographed photo of the band on the wall in the restaurant.

On Saturday we had our friend and neighbor over for lunch. She is such a neat lady! Her English is super and her enthusiasm for everything is pretty amazing. Her dream is to retire on an island just off the coast of Great Britain. And she loves bagpipe music too! Katherine told Marie-Christiene of her summer in Scotland and M-C was very familiar with the University of Stirling, the castle there, and the area. We even played the band CD for her.

We got up early on Sunday morning, went to church, to the art market, and rushed home so the girls could catch the train back to Paris. They were then going to take an afternoon flight back to Rome. Since we received no frantic calls, I assume they made it back.