Désinsectiser

Every year, a sign is posted outside our elevator telling us that our building, and all the apartments in it will be "debugged" today, April 30 in the afternoon.

The first year this happened, we didn't know what to expect.  We didn't have any bugs (that we knew of).  But, we didn't really know how to refuse when the man with the canister and the guardienne came to our door.

We let them in and the man sprayed a small amount of stuff under the sink in the kitchen and the sink in the WC.  We told them we didn't have any more sinks, a lie, of course.  The little marks are still on the wall from this event and it happened five years ago.

In principal, I am against insecticides.  They kill the bugs but poison us at the same time.  We die from something other than having a bug in our cereal, we die from the result of the poison, just like the bugs.

To avoid the bug guy, we use a number of schemes.  The easiest is to not answer the door.  Our guardienne doesn't have a key to our place, so they eventually tire of trying and leave.

But today, we were coming home just as the guy was coming down the stairs in our building.  He didn't recognize me, so he knew he hadn't "hit" our place yet.  He asked me where I lived.  Ah ha!  For once, English is quite handy.  I just looked him right in the eye and told him that I'm American and I don't know what he was saying to me.  He pulled out about five English words, not in a sentence, so I didn't answer.  Then, he asked, in French if I lived on the fourth floor!  I won't be fooled, I just looked at him and told him (English) that I didn't understand.  So, I jumped in the elevator, pushed our floor, but to cover up our floor (he seemed pretty persistent), I hit floor #6 so that after I got off, the elevator continued on up to the top floor.

So far he hasn't knocked but we're keeping a low profile.  I guess just like everything, if the rest of the apartments are debugged, the bugs will be dead and won't come our way either.  Or, perhaps all the bugs will parade into our place because the rest of the apartments have been poisoned.  We'll take our chances.

With A Holiday Coming...

April and May have a lot of holidays in France.  How much a holiday messes with my life depends on the holiday itself and the day of the week that it falls on.

We've just suffered through two weeks of "vacances scolaires" in the Paris region.  These are school holidays which happen for two weeks, three times a year, not including the Summer.  The result of these holidays is that there aren't a bunch of teenagers smoking and talking, hanging out in the street in front of all the schools.  Many French people, even if they don't have school-age children, leave Paris during this time.

Now for the real holidays.  We also just had Easter (Sunday so that's easy, most things are closed anyway) and Easter Monday (less and less people get this holiday).

Next Tuesday is May 1 -- a biggie.  It's Labor Day.  I notice that most museums in Paris are closed, I bet the grocery stores and restaurants are closed, so I better prepare for this day.  I can use the day to do some clean out.   We have now marked 10 years of life in Paris.  At the beginning of our life here, I was terrified to be without American products.  So, I imported almost everything -- even things I "might" need.  So, these things are now 10 years old and have to go.  I have a box of medicines in this category; never-used Pepto-Bismol, Ny-Quill, Tylenol.  Vitamins that are past their prime.  It's not that we don't get sick, it's that we can find what we need here without a problem.  The one thing we can't replicate is Excedrin.  It doesn't exist here so we buy and bring a huge jar for Terry every time we come. 

The following Tuesday is May 8 -- don't remember what it is, but I think that there will be less disruption.  Then the following Thursday is also a holiday, again no real idea what it is.

Since all these holidays are on weekdays, French people try to extend the weekend by taking the "pont" or bridge.  For the Tuesday and Thursday holidays a four-day weekend can be realized by taking only one day off.  I'd do it too.

I'm always glad when this holiday period is over.  June is pretty calm and then everyone leaves again for the Summer.

A Day In The Country

We are city folk.

I freak out if a pigeon tries to make a nest in my window box.

While we love everything that a big city like Paris has to offer -- a fabulous public transportation system,  a huge choice of museums, stores, movies, concerts  and restaurants to visit, we crave green space.  I walk/jog in the Luxembourg Gardens most days.  It is pleasurable to see the trees, the flowers and to watch them change every day.   On "off" days, I'm at the tennis club.  Even though it's right next to the "Peripherique" there are trees, flowers and plants around the courts; even a grapevine that produces grapes every Fall.

When we were invited to our friend's house outside of Paris  for lunch, we jumped at the chance.  What could be better?  We hopped on the metro which took us to the Gare de Lyon and off we headed, south of Paris.  The countryside that whizzed by was green, it's Spring.

We arrived at our destination station and easily walked to our hostess'  house through a charming little village.   It was noon and it looked like nothing had opened yet.  Of course, if I lived there all the time, it would be hard to get things done, but it's also charming and harkens back to another, earlier epoch when things were all got done but not at light speed.

The town is on the Loing river, which crosses the Seine at some point.  It has been raining so the river was beautiful. There were swans and lots of ducks in the water, all oblivious to us.  There is a chateau and a church that date from the 12th century in the town.

It seems that no one notices.  There was a wedding going on in the church.  The chateau was open.  There were no tourists, only us.  All these things will be around for another 1000 years, there's no rush.

On Va Gagner

On the metro this morning, we encountered a large group of young people (20's), heading toward the Sarkosy event (demonstration) that is planned for today at 2 PM.  They were all nicely dressed, no obvious piercings, no dreadlocks, no BO (of course, it's really cold outside).  They were having a good time, getting ready to support their candidate. They were chanting, "On va gagner"  (We are going to win...). 

I got the feeling that I was in a young Republicans club meeting.   Some of them were wearing a t-shirt that read, "Jeune Français AVEC Sarkosy".  OK, we get it.  They also had plastic panchos in red, blue and white in case it rains.

Not to be cynical, but I wonder if they're all going to this thing today to meet other young people with similar conservative interests or to support their candidate. 

Evidently and predictably, the demonstration for Francois Hollande, scheduled for the same time at the Chateau de Vincennes, will draw 2-3 times as many supporters, many of them young.  He is scheduled to have a picnic area, bands, etc., kind of a small, French, political Woodstock.  Weird, but in action and appearance, Hollande seems more conservative than Sarkosy. 

Just like in the US, the party to the left of center tends to attract the most young people.  They're idealistic, full of ideas, poor.  Will they vote next Sunday?  To be determined.

The French are at a crossroad.  Things aren't good.  Who will win?  Who knows, but it's interesting that some of the young people are in favor of the conservative candidate, of keeping things the same. 

On va voir.  We'll see.

Shopping for Dogs

No, I don't have the go-ahead to get a dog. I wish...

But, I believe in being prepared.  If Terry ever says "yes", I want to be ready to get a little brown-eyed companion very quickly.

So, to this goal, I spend my time when walking and jogging in the Luxembourg Gardens checking out all the dogs.  Dog shopping.  They are all cute and I'd take any of them.  The short list is:

Pug
Bulldog (the french don't say French Bulldog, that's redundant)
Cairn Terrier
Westie
Schnauser (grey, small)
Wire fox terrier
Wire hair daschund

I'm adding to the list of names everyday too.

Timothy To The Rescue

We are hopeless when it comes to household stuff.  Anything more than a spider that needs shooing out and we consider calling the fire department (in France, Pompiers).  A handyman is essential.  A discreet handyman is even more essential because they see some silly and embarrassing things in our household.

Yesterday was no exception.  Terry bought a new office chair.  It is beautiful; black leather with beige leather piping.  It swivels, rolls, tips and turns.  It has lumbar support and a head rest.  He was very excited when he bought it.

The chair was delivered yesterday when I was at a meeting.  When I got home, I noticed that the new office chair was in the middle of our bedroom rather than in his office.  I moved it into the living room as a hint that I don't want an office chair in the bedroom.

"Why is the office chair in the bedroom",  I asked.  "It's a long story".    "Well, can we put it in the office soon", I asked.  "No".

The problem with the office chair is that it is too big to fit through the doorway.  While I was still gone, Terry tried to take the arms off but failed.  He was waiting for me to see if we could lift it sideways and get it into the room.  It was late so we decided to wait until the next day.

In the AM, the office chair greeted me as I went out to get the newspaper.  As soon as we'd had some coffee, we decided it was time.  We pushed and pulled and finally got the seat and back of the chair through the doorway but the legs would not make it.  The chair was now stuck in the doorway, half in, half out.  The wall was scraped, my knuckles were scraped, my shin was bruised.  Unhappy, we figured out how to get it out and back into the living room it went.

A million things went through our minds. How to solve this?  Call Timothy, of course.

Timothy is our Sri Lankan handyman.  He's helped us with everything -- hung drapes, fixed windows, put together shelves, you name it.  Terry called him and he came at 3 today.

He came in, spoke to his associate in whatever language is spoken in Sri Lanka and they took the legs off, put the chair in the office, put the legs back on and were gone.  Cash only, no problem.  Timothy always comes to the rescue for us.

In Search of Caille

Something I learned quickly when buying quail, the term, "sans tete".  These pictures are from our  first quail dinner in Paris. I bought these beautiful birds, brought them home to find that they still had their heads attached.  As I prefer not to look my dinner in the eyes (guilt), I cut their heads off easily with a serrated bread knife. 


We will be having quail for Easter dinner this year.  We don't eat much red meat these days and quail is easy, nutritious, Spring-like. 

  Today, I started out early to do my grocery shopping and to find the perfect quail for tomorrow's meal.  I wanted to get finished with all my shopping before it got too crowded.  I went to Monoprix, where I've found nice quail before.  None at the butcher, none in the already packaged section. I finished my shopping, remembering that Picard, the frozen food heaven is right around the corner.  In I went and found quail stuffed with foie gras.  Not exactly what I had in mind, even though it sounds fabulous.  I finished my shopping, went home with the load from Monoprix, continued on to my local G20 for the basics. 

By this time, it's already 1:15 PM.  Monoprix is a good 20 minute walk each way and I spend a lot of time there, looking and enjoying the big store.  I still need quail.

My butcher is closed at noon time, I know for sure.  So, I do some other chores around the house and head out again at 2 PM to get the quail at the butcher.  The butcher is in the exact opposite direction of the other stores, and it is a 10 + minute walk.  I arrive and find a sign that says they re-open at 2:30.  The sign is a clock and I can't tell if it says 2:30 or 3:30, I hope it's 2:30.  So, I decide to walk around the lovely streets of this neighborhood.  Most of the stores are closed and I don't feel like sitting with a cup of coffee or tea, I'm still running the morning errands.  Window shopping, I spy a great pair of shoes at a reasonable price.  But, the sign on this shop says it doesn't re-open until 3.  I'm possessed!  I need quail and now I need/want the shoes. 

At 2:30, I go back to the butcher. All the shades are still drawn, the place is dark inside. I peer through a crack between the window and the shade, I can see the quail.  No one comes, the place stays dark and after about 10 minutes, I realize they won't open until 3:30. 

My aching legs walk back home and Terry and I go on yet another errand.  We successfully buy movie tickets and check out a new area of town.  Then back on the bus, stopping at the wine shop that doesn't have the champagne we want.  By this time (4 PM), the butcher is open.  We buy the quail, happily walk down the street.  I try on the shoes, they're great, they're mine.

The quail are waiting for tomorrow.  The shoes will have to wait until it stops raining, they're suede.