"Home" is a Concept

Before we bought our first apartment in Paris nearly seven years ago, I was a homebody. Someone who was happy to be at home. Someone who didn't have a driving interest to visit new places or experience things that might be too different. I'm not proud of this, but it's who I was.

Weird how things change. Now we spend a lot of time in France and a lot of time in the US. But, when I'm in the US, I am not at home a lot. I visit my Mom, I visit my sister, we visit the kids.

In France, we don't travel as much. But, I'm not French, so it's all different, all the time. Just when I think I've "got it", something new crops up to humble me. So, in general, I don't feel as much "at home" in France as I do in the US.

But, if I were to go to the Southern US, or even the Northwest, I would feel out of place, too. Things are different, the society is slightly different in the different parts of the US. But, I could still call the electric company and understand the rules of the game.

Even though many of the places I stay every year are not "home", I have become "at home" just about anywhere I go. In the past, I couldn't wait to get home, sleep in my own bed, drive my car. Now, home can be anywhere and if I'm healthy and enjoying myself, have a good book, a friend or family member nearby, I'm happy.

The definition of "home" has changed. It's broadened.

Rainstorm

The older I get, the harder I have to work to look nice. It's unfortunate, but when I was young, I could pull my hair into a pony tail, even wear glasses, and look fairly OK. Now, there's a whole routine to pull it all together, hide flaws, improve on the good points.

Sometimes nature works against me.

Today was one of those days. I was heading out for the afternoon. Found the right outfit to meet the weather and the activities planned. Hair looked OK, make up, OK. Fine, I'm ready to meet the world.

I finished my first appointment (french lesson) and had to make a quick stop to drop something off in the neighborhood. As I walked out of my teacher's building, I felt a few drops. No big deal, this is Paris. But, my makeup and hair were cute, so I got out my umbrella, trying to save the "look". Luckily I did, because in about 15 seconds, the sky opened up and it was pouring.

I had about 5 blocks to walk and I was on a schedule. I couldn't duck into a shop or a doorway. I pressed on. When I got to my stop, the door was closed, no one would answer. Several minutes of trying cost me the shoes. Now they were wet. I slipped the paperwork that I was delivering under the door and started walking to the metro.

Now the streets were flooded. I had to leap over the gutters to avoid disaster but finally made it to the metro. When I got inside, I realized that my pants were soaked all the way up to the knee. My shoes and socks were soggy. Luckily my umbrella saved a substantial amount of my hair.

As I rode on the metro, I realized that I was the only wet person. When I got to WICE, ditto. Many people didn't even know it had rained. My only excuse for looking like a wet dog. Just another day in Paris for this 50-something.

Maria is back, the replacement is gone...

After 15 days of cleanliness and organization in our building (by the replacement guardienne), Maria is back today. Just in time to start the week.

So, we're back to the normal. We pay a lot of money to have a guardienne and nothing is done. Nothing is cleaned, she is never around. Of course, it's political and my small needs are not being met.

Where is the replacement? I bet she had a normal job in addition to filling in for us. But, she was here, doing the job, every day at the right time.

I can't believe that we have to put up with this, it's ridiculous.

May 1

Don't know what this is really all about in France, but it's a holiday and no one is working.

The museums are closed. Evidently many people participate in demonstrations. I have no idea what they want, but it's probably less work for more money, benefits and protections. In the US, we're not quite so overt in our demands, even if we really want the same basic things.

Oblivious to all the holidays, I took my dry cleaning and laundry in to my Pressing today. The laundry will be ready on Wednesday but the dry cleaning will not be finished until Friday. But, Friday is May 1 (May Day) and it's a holiday.

When the woman behind the counter at the Pressing told me that the dry cleaning would be finished on Friday, I asked her if they would be open. She replied that it's a holiday they will be closed.

How can my laundry be considered finished if I can't pick it up? This becomes a little bit of a philosophical question -- If a tree falls in the woods but no one is there to hear it/see it...

OK, you get the point. My laundry, in principle, will be finished on Friday, but I can't pick it up until Saturday. Thursday night is out of the question, I guess. They'll all be revving up for the holiday.

And there are several more holidays this month, each one a bit more obscure than the last.

Maria

The guardienne is gone, a family emergency, according to the note on the door to her "loge". The note was posted a week ago and said that she'd return in several days. There's still no sign of Maria. Funny that this coincided so nicely with the Easter holidays.

I noticed that she was gone almost immediately. The building's common areas were too clean and well-maintained. I walked in the front door last Thursday afternoon and noticed it right away. The courtyard had been cleaned, the stairway was not dusty (it was so bad there were footprints in the dust) and the glass in the elevator was spotless.

I told Terry that something was up. In fact, I told him that I didn't think the courtyard had been cleaned since Christmas, when the replacement guardienne had done it. I didn't know at that time that the replacement was back.

All week long the replacement has been doing nice little things for us. Today I saw her cleaning out the inside of the trash cans.

She has also posted phone numbers where she can be reached, just in case. Maria, the permanent guardienne, won't get a cell phone. She doesn't want to be reached. We had to ask three times before we could get a light bulb replaced in the hallway. This should be automatic.

I could go on and on. Maria is never around the building. The compensation that she receives, free housing, benefits and a salary barely get us mail delivery and the trash cans put out in the street every day. The rest of the day, she is busily working for others in the building, running errands, washing and ironing, cooking. All of this earns her extra cash, so why should she clean the courtyard?

One time, she accepted a Fed Ex package for us (we were home) and then delivered it to the wrong apartment. I had to track the package before she remembered where she put it.

I guess if Maria doesn't come back, the replacement will take over. In a few weeks, she'll get complacent and we'll be right back to where we started with Maria.

Until then, I'll be enjoying the new-found cleanliness of our building.

I'm Confused

I am having a dinner party. I am torn between a french dinner and an American (Californian) dinner. There are quite a few differences.

Luckily, I have happy and generous guests who will be hungry. This makes it much easier. They are American but they've lived in France for a long time. So, they are 50% French, 50% American. I can go either way.

We'll start with champagne. And, some very small tidbits, salty. This is the easy part and everyone will be happy.

The actual meal is where the choices begin. Do I start with a salad, California-style? Or, do I start with a formal appetizer? If I start with a formal appetizer, do I serve a salad? If so, it will be after the main meal and very small and light.

These questions also decide how long we sit at the table. For Terry and me, 1-1/2 hours at the table is enough. So, we can't have 5 courses.

There are many other things to consider: wine choices, the cheese course, dessert (homemade or store-bought).

Coffee comes after the dessert is over.

The line up goes:

Aperatif
Appetizer
Main dish
Salad
Cheese
Dessert
Coffee (perhaps with digestif)

I'm still trying to decide if we need a salad at all or if I can serve a salad instead of an appetizer (a la California).

My next decision point is the cheese course. I LOVE french cheese. It is my favorite part of the meal. I could have a salad, the cheese and a cup of coffee. Perfect. But, this is not a common response, unfortunately.

As you can see, I'm confused.

But it gets worse. What wines to serve? The French, contrary to folk lore, don't drink a lot. So, I've been at a dinner party for eight people (with only French people except us) where we share one bottle of champagne for the aperatif and one bottle of red wine during the meal. But, the wines are excellent. So, I'm charged with finding quality vs. quantity. I guess I can handle this.

Back to the cheese. Even though I love cheese, the cheese shops of Paris are a little intimidating. There are so many choices. Over 300 at last count. I only need three. I also hope that they don't smell too much or the whole house will smell like we're hiding a body in the bathroom. The French don't seem to mind but I hate the smell of strong cheese as much as I love it's taste. Another challenge.

The dessert is decided. While there are many incredible shops that have gorgeous desserts in their windows, I've decided to make my own. This is unusual for me, but a recipe inspired me. It is decided.

Bread will be purchased on the morning of the party. There is only one bakery in our neighborhood that is open on Sunday, but they are open all day, regular and good. That's taken care of.

We haven't heard much about the main course. Well, that's because that's the easiest part, the same in both countries. Except the selection of the meat. Here in France, we won't offend our guests if we serve beef, veal, pork, or lamb. Chicken is a little iffy, since it is a little bit down-scale. So, it's all about the preparation and the quality.

I'm still confused. I have to plan it all and decide within the next 24 hours.

In any case, it will be good and the guests will never know the second guessing I've been doing. Back and forth across the Atlantic and across the US continent I go, to try to find the perfect solution to serving dinner to my guests.

Directionless

I'm hopeless with directions in any city and in any language.

Because I spent many hours walking the streets of Paris when we first came here, I feel that I know many areas of the city. The bus lines, metro stops, major intersections.

If I don't know where I'm going, I print a map from the RATP website. It gives the start location, the correspondences and the stopping point with a nice map of the neighborhood where I'm going. GPS would be better, I'm still considering the French iPHONE.

I feel good about getting around, until a person asks for directions.

I must look french (I'm happy about this) or the people that ask must be desperate.

Today, I was at my own metro in my own neighborhood. We've lived here for three years but I've frequented this area for at least five years. A french woman approached me and asked for directions.

As usual, I panicked. I confess, I understood her question and I knew the answer. Why is this hard? I guess because there are several translations that are required -- linguistic and directional -- all in the same simple question. I hope this exercise helps with brain health in later life.

First, I have to translate the question from French to English. This is fairly instantaneous. Then, I have to figure out the directions. This takes place between the map in my brain and the English language. Then, I have to re-translate the answer back into French and answer the woman.

This all has to be done in the blink of an eye. Hurry, hurry! Where are we, where does she want to go, how do I say it?

Luckily hand signals are almost obligatory. I usually start with a hand signal or two. This is very authoritative in all cultures, I think. And, I can stall for another second or two to figure out the street, the verbs of direction (prenez, trouvez, suivez) and whether to turn right or left. Right and left are difficult for me in English.

Unfortunately, I am not the best person on the street for giving directions. I have given people incorrect directions before. Not on purpose, of course. I've even given American tourists incorrect information in English.

Even though I'll never see the person again, I feel very bad when I find out that I've given them misinformation. I'm directionless! It should be obvious.

The Bees of Paris

Bees are great.

They pollinate plants, providing us with food. They make honey.

I don't know a lot about bees. I have heard that bees have been dying off in great numbers both in the US and in France. The scientists don't know why. It is a tragedy because if there aren't enough bees, our food sources will dry up or become much more expensive. So, we're relying on the bees.

Scientists don't know if the bees are dying because of pesticides or stress or something even more mysterious. I hope that they figure it out soon.



Today, during my morning jog in the Luxembourg Gardens, I smelled smoke. Looking around, I saw the scene shown above. Crazy people in space suits? No, beekeepers. This is where the beehives are kept in the gardens. In french, they're called "ruches".

I stopped to watch. I still don't know what these people were doing but I stopped to talk to a woman who said that they were putting the bees back outside after the winter. She said that bees can't live in temperatures below 50 F.

They had the whole area roped off, I"m sure to keep people from being stung.

In the fall, they have a sale of the Luxemboug honey. People line up outside with their containers ready. They can buy many different varieties of honey and it is a very popular event.

So, it looks like these bees are still healthy.

A Sweet Moment

I am making more and more friends in France. Like friendships everywhere, it starts slowly, with a similar interest or activity.

If I meet someone interesting, I try to organize an activity to get together.

Once in awhile, I don't even need to try so hard, it just happens.

This is the case with Julie. We met at WICE. We don't speak the same language and for some reason, we have a hard time communicating. But, we are friends. We've had each other over for dinner and planned several events together.

Yesterday I was waiting for the bus and Julie crossed the street to meet me. She explained that she had gone to a good green grocer in the neighborhood to buy herbs for her Passover dinner. She had a huge bag that smelled wonderful. She opened several packages and showed me Italian parsley, cilantro, mint.

Just as my bus arrived, she opened the cilantro, right on the sidewalk at rush hour, split it in half, wrapped it up and handed it to me with a wish for a good weekend.

And if that wasn't enough, I had recently asked her for a recipe for tagine for my Easter dinner. She is a very good cook. She said she'd write it down for me. But, at the last second, she decided to recite it for me. She got into my bus (not hers) and started reciting the recipe. We rode along with all the herbs, me trying to remember the recipe. I think I got it.

She finally got off the bus and ran to catch another bus back toward her apartment.