Follow Up

A quick follow up about the shop closures due to the holidays

In our neighborhood, it's a ghost town right now. The three bar/restaurants nearby are all closed until after the 5th. The shoe repair is closed, the Presse is closed (as are all the other ones within walking distance). There is a boulangerie that has stayed open during the holiday, thank goodness. I know that other neighborhoods are open. I went to the Champion on rue de Seine on Sunday AM because the 8 a 8 in our neighborhood that's always open on Sunday AM from 8 - 1 was "exceptionally" closed.

Our guardienne is also on vacation. So, every morning, Terry has to go down to the common mailbox and retrieve our newspaper.

Where's my holiday spirit?

Vestiaire Complet

It is freezing outside today. Sunny and beautiful, but bitterly cold.

We decided to go to the Galeries Nationales du Grand Palais to see "Picasso et les Maitres". I have a "Sesame" card that lets us get into the museum, anytime it's open, without waiting in the three-hour line that snakes around the outside of the building. The exposition will close soon and we've been procrastinating.

Entering the building, going through security, no problem. But, then we got to the coat check room (vestiaire). Huge line, not moving.

We waited and waited. When we got close to the front, we saw the sign posted over the heads of the workers that said, "Vestiaire Complet", or "The Coat Check Room is Full". OK, everyone has a huge coat, a scarf, perhaps a hat. What are we supposed to do now? Carry all this around the museum. Wear it all (no to this, it's warm inside).

Then, we watched. Magic. Every time a person went to the other line, the line where people were retrieving their coats, the coat check person simply handed the empty coat hanger to the person taking the coats. One coat returned, one coat checked in. This works for me.

Merry Christmas, Ralph and Chloe

They don't know they're dogs, they think they are part of the family. So, they are quite concerned when we make Christmas plans without consulting them.

Hopefully, they'll forgive us. They're staying with Noah and Larry, who take excellent care of them (aka spoil them). But the shorties want their routine: Mom wakes up, lets them out, they "do their thing" (no comment) and the day begins.

Now, with Mom in Houston, they have no one to show off to/for. Oh help! We're shorties, we're here to entertain! Where are the guests! Merry Christmas, Ralphy and Chloe, we love you.

My Head Is Falling Off!

I've told Terry this many times. It always has to do with spending too much time in a difficult mental place.

This didn't happen when I was young, I could spend the whole day in school and be fine, but now...

An example: I went to a french movie today, in french. After the movie, I discussed the movie, in french, with a french friend. So, this amounts to about 4 + straight hours in the french language. Of course, this is good for my language skills, and it was a great afternoon. I really, really enjoyed it.

But, as I walked home, I felt that familiar heaviness at the back of my neck. I got to our building, entered, and our friend and neighbor, Jean, was at the elevator. He told me in French about our guardienne, who is on vacation, and a couple of other simple things.

I'd been speaking french for hours, but for some reason, the verbs did not find the nouns and the pronouns and prepositions were gone. Forget adjectives and adverbs, my head is falling off!

I've had enough french for one day, I need English language, a glass of wine (OK if it's french) and some Advil.

It's Christmas Time!

Feeling good about Christmas, I went about my normal Saturday morning errands.

It's a little warmer, all the better to run around the lovely Vavin area. In our neighborhood "downtown" is a beautiful flower shop (too expensive for me, but I can look...), many shoe, clothing and children's shops, two bakeries, several fast food places (including a Subway). Although the shops are small, I can get everything here.

But, when I got to the Presse (newsstand), the man told me that he is closing on the 22nd for two weeks. Yikes. Where will I get the newspaper? I cannot go to the man on rue de Rennes because he was rude to me. Perhaps I'll have to take a metro just to get the newspaper.

We also give our guardienne, Maria, a Christmas tip every year. She was heading out for vacation after work on Saturday. Normally, she works until noon. So, at about 11, I knocked on her door. The shutters were closed, no answer. I tried again, a little louder, no answer. So, I put our generous cash gift into my purse. No panic here, since, literally, anyone could do her job better than she does it and we only give her a tip to assure that the service level doesn't slide even lower. (Last week, she delivered an important Fed Ex package of mine to another apartment and then denied doing it until we tracked it to her signature).

Well, Merry Christmas.

I've started a new blog for the WICE conversation groups, be sure to check it out when you have a chance at http://wiceconversation.blogspot.com/

Mary and I will update all the latest happenings on this site.

Panic In The Streets of Paris

You must know that I don't mean due to the bomb scare at the Printemps department store yesterday.

On my way home from the gym today, I stopped at the flower shop and bought some beautiful white tulips. Then, I went to the best bakery in the neighborhood for some bread. It was close to noon, so there was a line going down the street. When I got to the door, I saw the sign that said that they would be closed from December 24 through January 4th. "Have a Nice Holiday".

Have a nice holiday -- OK, that's easy for them to say -- they are on vacation, but I'm here, without food!

Paranoia is setting in. Will all the stores be closed, or just the good ones? I guess I can't be picky at Christmas, I'll have to take whatever dregs of food are around, mainly the food from the corner "Alimentation" which costs a fortune, and, they are rude.

With this in mind, I grabbed Terry and we made a dash to the butcher's, which re-opens after lunch at 3PM. We ordered something nice for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Then, on to the wine store, where we stocked up on enough champagne to last us through the long holiday weeks. I'm feeling a little more relaxed.

We've never been in Paris for Christmas. We're used to being in Manhattan Beach, where Ralph's is open 24/7. So, if I run out of something vital at 6 PM on Christmas night, they will be open, with plenty of stuff to help me get through the night.

During my normal evening round of errands, I stopped in at a few shops to ask them about their plans for the holiday. From everyone I got an air of extreme surprise at my question and these responses: "Of course, we'll be open, as usual" "Why would you ask?" "We won't be on holiday".

OK, do I believe them or not? Of course not. I guarantee you that on December 23rd, they will be shutting their doors, turning off their lights and pulling down the shutters.

Planning to open again on January 5th!

Greetings From The White House

The Last Of It's Kind



This came in the mail today. It's not very high quality. Given the economy, I can understand this. And, I don't think that George and Laura signed it themselves. They've got better things to do with their time right now.

But, this is the first time I've gotten a card from The White House.

No idea why I got it, but it was kind of fun to see the return address when I received it.

Thanks, George W and Laura.

Barak Obama, Girl

It is freezing outside today, truly, around 0. After my workout, I took a shower and while I was drying my hair, my hair dryer quit working. It's happened before and has started to happen more and more frequently. Today, it would not re-start.

I had to be at WICE in an hour! The trip takes 35-45 minutes, depending. (On what, you ask -- well, it's any and all the french things that happen like traffic jams, suicides on the metro, strikes, etc).

So, I put my hair in a pony tail, kissed Terry goodbye, grabbed my Carte Bleue and off I went in search of a Monoprix on the way to WICE. I knew I'd seen one, so I just kept my eyes open and when I saw it, I got off the bus and went in.

Unfortunately, this Monoprix, 76 rue Lecourbe in the 15th is supersized, as big as Cost Co in the US. I had about 5 minutes to spare.

I ran in, found a woman who worked there and asked (not knowing the actual term in french for hair dryer) "where are the machines that you use to dry the hair?" The woman looked up, said hello and asked where I was from. I said the US. So, she said to me, "Barak Obama, girl!", which I guessed was a compliment. She gave me very detailed instructions to the hair dryer aisle, I found a nice one and got to WICE on time.

The Dogs Of Fontainebleau

Since I love dogs, here are a few photos of dogs from the chateau.




There are big dogs, and small dogs represented in the many paintings.



Pampered dogs that never went outside.



And dogs that had jobs.

Marie Antoinette's Chair

We visited Fontainebleau yesterday. The chateau dates back to 1137, according to the book they gave us. Every room is incredible. Each king and queen left his or her own mark on the chateau, as witnessed by the various rooms adorned with F (Francois I) or H (Henri IV).

Several rooms were redecorated by Marie Antoinette. Evidently, Fontainebleau was not ransacked the way Versailles was during the French Revolution. So, here's one of Marie Antoinette's chairs, a small look at an opulent life of beautiful excess.

The Smile

I'm from California. So, I smile all the time, even when I'm not happy or feeling the least bit friendly. It's just in my blood, I guess.

Smiles are never returned in France. If I have to smile for some reason, I just avoid making eye contact. Then, I'm in my own little smile world. This has worked fairly well so far, avoiding unreturned smiles which could start to become a bit depressing.

Today is Sunday. The streets are pretty empty on Sunday mornings, especially when it's this cold out. I was out walking in the neighborhood, going to pick up a few veggies, the newspaper and a baguette. The street was deserted. A woman appeared, walking in the opposite direction. She looked like a normal middle-aged French woman to me.

As she approached, I noticed that she was smiling. She was looking directly at me with a big smile on her face. Confusion and a bit of panic scrambled my early-morning reverie. Should I smile back? Should I look the other way? She must want something from me. Does she look homeless? Crazy? I couldn't decide what to do fast enough, so I smiled back. Not a big smile, just a bit of a smile. Then I looked away, just in case.

The moment I looked away, she passed me, yelling out, "Bonjour Andre, ça va?" I looked behind me, and about three paces back was Andre, the object of the smile.

I don't think she even noticed my smile, she was so focused on Andre. I'll have to be more careful in the future.

WICE Sing Along

We had our annual Noel sing along yesterday at WICE. Here's a taste of our group. It was a wonderful evening of conversation, music and good food.

Parking In Paris

When I learned to drive, my sister and I would laugh hysterically when I was trying to park the car, an old manual transmission car with no emergency brake. We called my attempts, "parking by sound". This means that when you tap the bumper of the car in front or in back of you, it is time to change direction. You gently tap, front and back until you finally get the car into the space. Hopefully, no one came along while this activity was going on.

My early parking attempts would fit right in here in Paris. No one would bat an eye if I used my parking method. In fact, people prepare for it, as I found out today when I spotted this little beauty outside our building. Since it doesn't really have bumpers and it is quite small, I think this is a great solution. I wish I'd thought of it sooner!

An Aubergine by any other name...

During our conversation group on Tuesday, one of the french participants was telling the group about a meal he had in Marseilles recently. It included "aubergines". I love eggplant and could eat it every day, but Terry doesn't like it very much, so we have it only occasionally. I wonder why he doesn't like it, maybe it's the name. We speak English at home, so when I serve "aubergine" it is really "eggplant".

The conversation continued when a French woman asked me (the only Anglophone), "what is aubergine in English?" I replied, "eggplant". There was a flurry of quick french chatter among the french participants, most of which I couldn't understand. But, I guessed that it had to do with my answer.

I asked them what they were talking about and they asked me again to say the word "eggplant". So I repeated it, trying to say it slowly in case they weren't understanding. After this, one of the woman said, "Non! that is definately not the translation for aubergine, you have made an error".

Back and forth we went. Yes, this word is really the translation. No, it can't be, it's such an ugly word, "eggplant". OK, I get it. We are a group of aubergine lovers! It is a beautiful word and a beautiful fruit. (Actually, it's classified as a berry botanically, according to my internet sources).

I finally had to produce a dictionary to assure my survival in the group.

The word "eggplant" is rather homely, I admit. Perhaps this is why Americans don't eat more eggplant. It sounds yuccy. I suggest we should immediately change the name, world-wide to aubergine.