Nespresso Needs

I have a Nespresso machine in the US and in France. Before I got the first one, in the US, I wanted it for a long time. I tested different machines, tried the different flavors of coffee. Finally my sister bought me one for my birthday.

The second one, I bought on impulse. They had a "promotion" during the holidays for a Euro 50 rebate, so I figured that it was almost (presque) free. So, it came home with me along with a little tower that holds the pods.

I don't drink a Nespresso every day, It is a treat. I drink regular coffee first thing in the morning and the Nespresso later. It has two purposes: when I really need more coffee in the morning and the after lunch or late afternoon "decaf" break.

In the US, I have to order the "capsules" on line. They are delivered quickly and they don't charge a shipping charge. There are no stores to buy the capsules. American Nespresso capsules (exactly the same as the french ones) cost 52 cents each. French capsules cost 32 Euro centimes each. Even with the awful exchange rate, the capsules are much cheaper in france.

Nespresso is incredibly popular in france. Offices have them, most homes seem to have one. Many people don't even know the name of the machine, just that it makes coffee out of capsules.

I needed capsules for both france and the US. It was a sunny, beautiful day today so I went to rue de Bac, near Le Bon Marche, to stock up. I found the store, walked in. I was greeted by all kinds of confusing displays on every wall. Tables in front of each display had workers who seemed busy.

I asked a guy in the front (maybe a "greeter", although he was not too friendly) for a list of the capsules available. He handed it to me and I staggered deeper into the store.

It was then that I realized that there were about 100 people in a line that snaked all around the store. It was 5 PM, I was getting hungry and I had some other shopping to do. As I considered re-ordering my capsules on the internet, I passed the greeter again. He then informed me that there is a new Nespresso store -- in my neighborhood. Hurray! I'm sure no one else has discovered it yet. I'll go there on Monday and hope for a short line and a helpful staff.

Wish me luck.

The Sub-Committee

The sub-committee (of our building) selected the colors for our stairway without consulting us.

I guess that no one in the building besides this select few were involved. Instead of everyone selecting the colors, discussing it, arguing about it, three (3) people chose the colors for everyone.

I am not happy with their selection.

The Stairway

In a 200+ year-old-building, there are bound to be problems. Often they are "good" problems, such as high ceilings, antiquated, but attractive windows with bubbled pre-WWII glass.

The "bad" things are that there are cracks in the walls, floors that slope and electrical plugs that don't work.

Our building "voted in" an elevator several years ago and it has been installed. It works perfectly. But the stairwell was not renovated at the time the elevator was installed. Photo above shows some of the ugly details of our current stairway.

Now, we have "voted" to renovate the stairwell itself. The work was supposed to start in September 07, but there were problems. I have no ideas what the problems were. But, it took until September 08 for the project to start.

It seemed to start on time. The new, revised schedule, of course.

The first work to be done was the woodwork. They fixed the floor boards that jumped up when you stepped on them. They covered the electrical wires and the gas pipes with boxes. Then all work stopped. I think this was in November.

It is now the end of May and NOTHING has been done since November. We complained at the annual AGM (meeting of the owners of the building) but they claimed that the work was "on track". OK, who am I to determine what that means.

However, my checkbook is closed. Until the work is finished, I will not pay for anything more. No one knows this and no one cares because no one besides us (dumb Americans) pays on time. It's innate, we are not willing to hold the check.

But now on May 25th the work started again. Hopefully it will finish before the first snow but it certainly will not finish before everyone (the workers) go on vacation. So, I think that July 15th is the deadline for completion and I'm not hopeful that it will be done. They've been working for a week. But, it's only two guys. In the US, they would send 10 guys, they would work non-stop and they would finish in a week.

Public Transportation

Public transportation is excellent in France. We don't own a car and rarely take a taxi.

Our travels are typically limited to central Paris. There's still a lot we haven't done or seen.

We are proficient at taking the metro and buses in Paris. I think we've gotten a bit cocky.

Once in awhile, we will take a real train trip. This involves planning, purchase of tickets, etc. and we are pretty good at doing this. We did a randonee (hike) recently and took a train to and from the hike location. It only takes about 15-20 minutes on a train to be outside of Paris and in a forest.

The world outside of central Paris is accessible to us via the network of French trains, the tramway, the RER, the SNCF, the TGV, Eurostar, Transilian. These are all different networks of trains that sometimes interconnect. Using these trains, you can get almost anywhere in France and to many places in western Europe.

Yesterday, we headed outside of Paris to some friends' house for lunch. We had the directions to their house. We left the house earlier than planned, thinking that we'd have a cup of coffee if we arrived too early. We bought the tickets on the RER, found the RER station at St. Michel. Terry even asked three times if this was the right spot the right train. Each time the answer was a resounding "oui".

We were a bit dressed up, it was a beautiful summer-y morning, perhaps a little humid but very nice. We boarded the RER and I decided to watch the stops on the map. We came out of the tunnel and saw the Seine, the Eiffel Tower, the beautiful greenery of springtime in Paris. All was right with the world.

Then, the dreaded announcement in French came over the loudspeaker. The speaker system in french trains and train stations has to be ancient. The announcer speaks quickly and the sound system is very scratchy and squacky. But the one word I did hear was a direction, a town. And, it was in the wrong direction -- yes, we had gotten on the wrong train. The trajectory was right for about 4-5 stops but then there is a fork in the road. We needed to go southwest, this train was going north! I screamed to Terry "GET OFF". We were in the top level so we raced down the stairs, pushed past all the people with suitcases, bikes and babies and got off at the next stop. We went to an information booth and the woman told us that we had to walk to the next RER station, we couldn't get back on going the opposite direction. (No idea if she was right, we just trusted her).

So, out of the RER station we went. Now, it was threatening to rain. We followed her directions, walking as quickly as we could. Now we were running late! We walked and walked, past two bridges on the Seine before coming to the next RER station. We went in, figured out the correct direction, got on the train and got to our friends' house about 20 minutes late.

As soon as we got inside their house, it started to rain -- a thundering, pounding rain. So, I was happy that we weren't even later than we were.

Have we learned from this?

I hope so, but I'm not sure. On the way home, we got to the train station and looked at the signs. There are always two sides to choose from and you have to find the side designated for the direction of the train you want to take.

But, the signs are incredible. On the right side, there was a sign that said "A" with an arrow pointing to the other side and on the left side was a sign that said "B" with an arrow going to the other side. Doesn't it seem simpler to just label the side with A or B, without the arrow? We got home without further error.

Rue Madame, Paris Kitchen II

We wanted an enclosed kitchen in our new Paris apartment but it was not to be. Our apartment is so old that the space has been defined by time.

In our new apartment on rue Madame, beautiful windows opened onto a light, green courtyard and if we enclosed the kitchen, much of the light and view would be lost to the rest of the apartment. So, we opted for an open kitchen, which, ironically in France is called “cuisine Americane” or American kitchen.

The good thing about an open kitchen is that the cook is not isolated from everyone else during a gathering.

When we moved from rue de Seine to rue Madame, my kitchen space was greatly increased. I was in heaven. I didn’t have to move the coffee pot to cook something on the stovetop. I didn’t have to put the chopping block across the sink. There was plenty of room in the cabinets, they were almost empty! Everything was nice, new and clean.

Now, three years later, I’m out of space. I still love the kitchen, but I’m now spoiled and could use some more space. I guess this holds true for all houses – your “stuff” expands to fill the space.

I now have a spice drawer, but it is overflowing and I need to put obscure spices in a different spot. I’ve bought a food processor, a mixer and a few nice serving pieces, all of which take up valuable cupboard space.

The Nespresso is on the kitchen counter. At rue de Seine, I would have had to buy a small table to be able to use the Nespresso. Now, everything has a place. I can cook for a large number of people.

What's for dinner? Anything but fish -- it's a "cuisine Americane" and the smell will permeate the entire living room.

My Kitchen, rue de Seine

For many, the kitchen defines the home. It's a place where people congregate, after school or work, at parties. Even if you don't want people in the kitchen, they seem to gravitate towards it.

Our kitchen at rue de Seine was so small, yet it defined the one small downstairs room. I could watch TV (in the living room) while cooking and visiting with Terry. It's hard to imagine having a smaller kitchen, but this was our kitchen for almost five years. We only had enough room to serve 4 people a meal, but we tested it and the kitchen could handle it. There was absolutely no counter space, so I had to move things around in order to chop, cook, etc.

The coffee pot was moved from place to place depending on what else was going on.

The oven was full size, the dishwasher was full size and there was a small microwave hiding in a cupboard. The light was provided by two long light bulbs.




When we moved in, we bought six plates, six mugs, place settings for six, a few placemats and napkins a couple of bowls, a cookie sheet, two pans and we were set. We lived near a market, so we could shop often without effort. It all worked perfectly!

The kitchen at rue de Seine defined the apartment in many ways and I will always remember it, happiily.

Baguettes

This might seem trivial to my French friends who know this kind of thing from birth.

I normally don't eat a lot of bread. It's not that I don't like it. It's that the standard American thought is that we should reduce our intake of simple carbs (like bread) and increase our consumption of complex carbs (like vegetables and fruit).

I see French people buy their daily baguette, sometimes walking down the street tasting a little piece while it is still warm. They're thin, they look healthy. I also see many people eating sandwiches with little more than a piece of ham, some butter and the bread, a baguette. Ditto the thin, healthy look.

From what I can see from the results of eating bread, Americans should take a second look at our nutritional ideas.

The most interesting thing about baguettes is their taste. No two bakeries sell exactly the same baguette. Everyone has their favorite bakery, secondary bakery, fall back bakery. When I'm in buying the bread, the better bakeries usually have a line. I notice that some people ask for one that is well cooked. I personally prefer one that has a thin, crispy crust. One that is not too thick.

Bakeries also sell half loaves (demi) and will often cut the loaf in half for you to take only what you need for the coming meal. You don't want to waste half a baguette and feeding the pigeons is frowned upon here.

Whether or not baguettes are good for physical health, they are wonderful for mental health -- they taste great, fill you up quickly, are inexpensive and are, of course, a french treasure that can't be replicated.

This Is France

I'm starting to accept things that I never would have allowed before. Is this good or bad? Probably just a new technique to retain sanity and safeguard my spare time.

Our new refrigerator (one week old tomorrow) has a weird glitch. When we close the freezer door, the refrigerator door pops open automatically.

So we called BHV service-apres-vente.

The repair man came out this morning. After he checked it out, he told us that this happens because air is pushed out when we close the door and this causes the other door to open.

DAH!

We needed to wait around all morning to hear this! He then told us that the refrigerator is new and it has a two year warranty so if it doesn't adjust itself, call back. All very polite and normal. We had him re-look at it, re-explained the problem and he left without fixing the problem. We just have to be more careful when closing the doors, he said.

Now to EDF, our electric company.

We need an original, current EDF bill as part of the required, mandatory paperwork to renew our carte de sejour. But, EDF doesn't send monthly bills, they amortize the estimated cost of the year's electricity over 10 months and we pay the same amount automatically each month. Then they read the meter and adjust the charges for the following year.

Don't know why French immigration requests something that is no longer readily available, but they do. In anticipation of this, Terry called EDF this morning to try to get an original bill.

He reached a nice woman who told him that she could make an exception and send him the bill one time, but could not send a bill each month. She could also create and send an original "Attestation" which is, to the French, quite impressive. It is signed by someone, hopefully in power, that states that something is true, has happened, etc.

After talking to Terry further, the woman came up with a Plan B. EDF can send the bill electronically via email each month and we can then print it ourselves.

Paperwork problem resolved -- we will now have one original bill, one Attestation and a monthly email. From nothing to overkill in one phone call.

Do I Dare

It's another holiday in May. Armistice Day, I think. It's hard to keep track of all the holidays in May.

We haven't been here in May for a couple of years, so I'd forgotten how the rhythm of daily life is interrupted by holidays.

The working French, of course, take this very seriously. If I were working, I'd grab every holiday and maximize it, too. But, I'm now on the other side of the fence.

Yesterday afternoon, the metro cars were packed with people leaving town. In the paper, it said that the traffic would be at a peak between 4 PM and 9 PM on Thursday and 6 PM and 11 PM on Sunday.

So, the difficult choice this morning involves groceries. We need food for the next few days. Do I dare get my rolling grocery cart and hike it out to a store or wait until tomorrow? Saturday is always the most crowded because Sunday the stores are closed.

The downside is that I fail to get groceries and waste most of an hour. The upside is that I'll have gotten the chore done today and won't have to do it tomorrow.

The New Refrigerator

We've been in Paris now for about seven years. When we first arrived and bought our apartment, we bought a new refrigerator, washer/dryer (one unit), and TV. The oven, dishwasher, microwave were included with the apartment. Everything worked perfectly the entire time we lived on rue de Seine (don't ask about the toilet, there's always something). We took the refrigerator, TV and washer/dryer with us when we moved to our new apartment.

Once we moved, the spell was broken. We assumed ownership of some of the previous owner's appliances. Almost immediately the dishwasher broke and we had to replace it. Then, the washer/dryer went south last year. While it still worked, the timer on the dryer didn't work and I was afraid that it would catch everything on fire if I left it alone.

Now, we've had to buy a new refrigerator. It was just delivered today.

To say that they "don't make 'em like they used to" is an understatement. Our original refrigerator in the US lasted for 23 years. The salesman at BHV says that they should last around 10 years now. The new gas that replaces freon, for some reason, doesn't last as long.

The refrigerator saga is quite long and has been time-consuming. Part of the problem is our fear of French appliance repairs. For both the washer/dryer and the refrigerator, we had the Darty apres-vente service come out. In both cases, the man had to call his office to figure out the problem. This doesn't build confidence. Then, in both cases, the repairman has determined that the problem is the "carte electronique", the computer brain for the appliance. It is probably a card of some kind that they slip into place, but for the washer it would have cost us Euro 300 and for the refrigerator is was Euro 210.

In each case, after we got the cost of repair, we've decided to buy a new appliance. Even though the repair has six month warranty, it is only for the problem that was fixed. Other things can break down and they won't be covered. So, we figure that if we pay for the repair and then something else goes wrong (or, God forbid they didn't find the problem the first time!), we will end up spending enough on repairs to buy a new machine.

The washer/dryer was pretty easy. We went to Darty first, but they didn't have a good selection, so we went to BHV and bought a new one.

The refrigerator was much harder. All in all, it took five trips to stores. First we went to BHV. On the same day, we went to Darty. We were still undecided about replacing the refrigerator or repairing it.

It was finally decided to replace it when the machine really started to act up. So, Saturday morning we went back to BHV. We thought we wanted one model but found out that it wasn't frost-free. The last time I de-frosted a refrigerator was in college and that was a long time ago. Old technology.

So after much back and forth with Terry (I wanted a nicer model than he did), we settled on another model, took the bus home to re-measure the space, took the bus back to BHV, and bought it. The salesman said that it would be delivered in 15 days. We were happy and relieved and even treated ourselves to lunch on the 5th floor, one of my modest pleasures.

On the way home on the bus, I looked at the sales receipt. Instead of delivery in 15 days, it said, delivery at the end of Week 21, which would mean about 25 days. The final blow came after we got home that day and the "Alarm" light came on, meaning that the refrigerator was dangerously warm inside. After two trips to BHV, we decided this could wait until Monday. Stores are closed on Sunday in France. So, Terry called the salesman, put a hold on another machine that was available immediately and told him that we'd be in first thing on Monday morning to buy the new one.

Back we went on Monday, bought the machine and it was delivered, without incident. A little bit of honking in the street because the BHV truck was blocking the street, but this is Paris, deliveries are permitted in the morning.

But, we're not finished yet. The delivery man told us that the refrigerator can't be turned on for four hours because it has to "settle". Then, it will take 4-8 hours to get cold. I remember this from the first time. I wonder what would happen if I didn't follow instructions and turned it on now? Even though we have a five year warranty, if we don't do it correctly, it will break down after five years and one day.

So, I've put all the food from the refrigerator into bags and in the bathtub with ice on top. I'm waiting to turn it on and try it.

The AGM

I wish I'd brought a video recorder to this meeting of our homeowner's association in Paris.

The syndic, the company that we pay to manage our building, is housed on a lovely street in an ancient building. But they had two fires last year so when I walked in, it still smelled like smoke.

Most people arrive late, sometimes by more than an hour. We tried to be late, but it's not in our nature, so we ended up arriving on time. Unfortunately, this meant that we got crammed into a corner near the front, Terry next to a stone wall that crumbled all over his clothes during the meeting. By the time the meeting was in full swing, people were sitting in the hallway and even in the next room. Instead of speaking, these late-comers all felt the need to shout simultaneously.

Terry was in the corner, I was next to him, we were seated in metal folding chairs. Very small, like the French. Terry kept exceeding his spatial limits, pressing his leg into mine for added room. Fighting back, so as not to encroach on the man's space next to me, I kept getting a cramp in my leg. Too much tennis the day before. So, it was an uncomfortable setting.

Paperwork prepared for this meeting included about 20 different bids, in no particular order and a re-cap, French accounting style, of the year's expenses and revenues. Maps, pictures and letters were enclosed in the package. All handouts are recto-verso, so there is a lot of paper shuffling, searching and pointing.

Even though it is standard practice to get three bids for every job, most items had only one bid. This alone, kills the project until the next AGM (May 2010), the urgency of things is apparent. But, the building's been around for 200 years, so I guess one more year doesn't make much difference.

The meeting jumped around from topic to topic and everyone was rifling through their papers constantly, pointing and arguing about different points. My head was swiveling right to left with increasing speed, trying to follow one conversation or another, just trying to keep up.

Everyone had his/her own agenda. Some people don't want to spend any money, some want everything fixed right away. For example, all the people with apartments on the top floor under the roof, think that the roof should be replaced immediately, before it starts leaking. This would probably cost each of us about Euro 10K, so those of us on a lower floor (they're outnumbered about 5 to 1), think that this can wait a year or two. Side issues to this include more studies to see if there's really a problem with the roof and if there's more work that needs to be done under the roof.

Important issues got only a slight discussion (like why has it taken almost two years to re-do our stairway, a job that should take two months) and small issues agonized over. At one point, a woman I'd never seen before made a long plea to have a key placed in a box near the elevator in case anyone ever gets stuck in the elevator and no one comes to help the stranded person. Her argument was that the person stuck in the elevator might be handicapped and not be able to get help. The only man in the building that is handicapped finally replied that he was the only handicapped person in the building and he was against it. We moved on quickly.

We also tried, on the spot, to determine the cost of real estate in Paris. This was in order to put a price on a purchase of a common corridor. After a lot of arguing, a price was fixed, I have no idea if it has any correlation to today's prices.

There were several instances where everyone was talking, waving paperwork and pointing at once. Then, the president of the homeowner's association would scream, "Silence" and it would still take several minutes for everyone to calm down. At the end, a woman who had a complaint was allowed to scream at the syndic for awhile. She is about 85 years old and couldn't do a very good job, so her daughter took over and yelled a little bit more, then the meeting was closed and we all went happily home.

Well-Behaved Pugs

A walk with Ralphy and Chloe is always interesting

As I walk in the Luxembourg Gardens almost every day, I have a chance to see a lot of dogs. Primarily small dogs, although yesterday I saw an Irish Wolfhound.

One thing I notice is that all the dogs are well-behaved, they walk properly on a leash, they seem happy.

What about Ralphy and Chloe, you ask? I'm not saying they're not well-behaved, just that walking them is quite a chaotic experience. As you can tell from this picture, it's not too orderly.

Ralphy wants to run ahead, then charge back and kiss Chloe. This happens about 500 times on one walk. He also barks, snaps and charges at runners, bicycles, cars, motorcycles and other dogs. He is a ball of energy. Chloe, on the other hand, wants nothing to do with any of it. She wants to walk about 100 feet, smell a few things and then go home. If we try to walk her in a direction that she isn't interested in, she sits down. If you try to get her up, she resists by putting her front legs stiff. She is so heavy and so low to the ground that she can't be budged. She probably sits down 15 times during a 30 minute walk.

Today, I saw several well-behaved pugs in the garden. They walked politely, kept going without encouragement, didn't bark, growl or charge, didn't pull on the leash. They were just enjoying the beautiful springtime day in the garden.

"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.

Birthday Resolutions

The big day is coming up. Luckily it's not a "milestone" birthday, just an ordinary, but new number in my life.

I've awoken the last few mornings with a tiny bit of dread. Another year is in the books. The first few times I have to write out or speak my new age, I always stutter, stumble on the number. How can this have happened?

But, there's hope. I have always tried to make life's daily decisions to the best of my ability, hoping that in the end, I'll have no regrets, no missed opportunities, no unspoken words.

To this end, it is time to change things up a bit. I plan to make some birthday resolutions this year. I don't usually make them, like other Americans, on New Year's Eve for the coming year. I thought that the french make resolutions at La Rentree, by my friend, Anne, says "no". They make New Year's resolutions but they are more of a hope than a resolution. I can accept this and I like the idea of hope. It certainly takes less work than a resolution.

I won't make many resolutions, and like all goals, they need to be readily achievable, but significant. I've already picked them and am in the mental preparation stage for their achievement. Several days to go for this.

They also have to be do-able in any location, the US or France, or anywhere else that the coming year might find me.

No, I'm not sharing just yet.

Spring Is Here

The bulbs are coming up, the trees are starting to get green.

The days are longer.

The Brain Is In France

I just wrote a phrase to my sister that is very telling, "my brain is in France". This sounds silly, but the minute I get off the plane (and through immigration) I'm in France and my brain is confused. It has American thoughts that have been ingrained in me since my birth, but I also have French thoughts interjecting in a stream-of-consciousness that defies my control.

It's all very difficult to be one nationality. Which translates, in most cases to NORMAL.

She asked me for some simple gift suggestions but my brain is in France so it goes immediately to the French go-to items - chocolate, flowers.

Since the gifts are for Americans, who are in the US, this is not ideal. A struggle ensues. It's all in my brain, you can't see it, you can't hear it.

Instead of left brain-right brain things going on, I have French Brain/US Brain thoughts passing rapidly into my conscious. Flowers/chocolate/books/wine/gift certificates...

I have no control over this and I don't want to! We'll just have to settle for gift ideas that are somewhat out of the ordinary.

We've Suffered Enough!

It's been a long, cold winter in Paris. This week, the sun is out, the sky is clear and the heavy coats are momentarily in the closet. Everyone is out enjoying the gorgeous weather.

Since it's only mid-March, is it too much to ask that this continues? I think so. Last year, we had snow flurries on Easter. (Easter was early last year).

In any case, we're ready for Spring, warm weather and sunshine.

We Didn't Really Want To Be In France, Anyway

We were just trying to enter the country that we live in for nearly half of every year.

We have done this dozens of times at CDG, showing passports to the police officer in the plexiglass cage, then rushing off to pick up our suitcases, find Joseph (the driver) who then takes us home.

Today was different.

We have tried to play by the rules, even though it is hard to find the rules and even harder to find two "fonctionnaires" (civil servants) who define these rules the same way.

Our "Carte de Sejour" (long term visas) are up-to-date, we don't stay in France longer than is recommended for tax reasons and we certainly have tried to stimulate the economy over the years. Why don't they want us anymore?

Today, we were among the first off the plane, so we sprinted toward the immigration line. Passports and carte de sejours were passed to the policeman who was sharing the plexi kiosk with another policeman. The other guy waived through about 5 sets of people without even looking at their papers or their faces. Our guy held up my passport to compare the photo with my face.

Luckily, the photo was taken in one of those terrible passport photo places that are normally in the Metro station. The one we used was on blvd. Raspail near the flower shops. My picture is awful, so I hoped it matched my face, weary after traveling for at least 24 hours to get to this point. He typed into his computer, compared some more and then told us to step aside so that he could pass more people through the line as we were holding everyone else up.

WE were holding everyone up?

So, we waited (he had our passports and Cartes locked in the kiosk so we didn't have much choice). About every five minutes we put up a little barrage of verbal assaults at the guy, who just continued to ignore us. We paced around, everyone was looking at us, of course. We waited for about 15 minutes when the guy finally said he would take us to meet his "responsable", his supervisor.

For a moment, still holding onto the American concept that we're innocent until proven guilty, I thought that we would just go in, shake hands, laugh about the misunderstanding and we'd be on our way. We're law-abiding people, citizens of a free country and are in France legally.

Of course, this is France and it didn't work quite this way.

We enter a room with a few other cops. The supervisor starts to type something into the computer and at the same time rattles off a slew of immigration rules that seem contradictory to everything we've ever heard. They make no sense at all to us and our situation. This is crazy. Let us go!

They don't. The supervisor then stands up, puts on his coat and leaves. Oh great, we're left in the room with the original lunatic cop.

Terry asks to use the bathroom. But, they have to escort him since we're basically prisoners. They spend a lot of time discussing how this can be done properly and finally another cop escorts Terry away.

I'm left with the cop, who's still on the computer and all our coats and luggage.

Again I wait, now alone. Finally, they move me to another room so that the original cop can call the Prefecture of Police to check us out in privacy.

Terry doesn't come back. So, I decide to leave all our stuff (they are cops, so it should be safe) and walk around the corner and see where he went. At this moment, it seems that enlightenment has somehow occurred. We are not criminals and are in the country legally, according to the person on the phone from the Prefecture.

That's what we've been trying to tell you folks all along but you wouldn't listen!

Let's hope the rest of the trip is less eventful than today.

Elliptical Texting

I have been a multi-tasking lunatic today and I'm confessing all.

While on the elliptical trainer at the gym this morning, sweating with all the other Sunday "regulars", I was also busy texting my sister. The texting centered around trying to find a mutually agreeable time to talk on the phone and then clarifying the time by time zone.

Talking on the cell phone is illegal at the gym, so texting is the only way to communicate since I couldn't get internet service to send an email.

Back and forth we went, 3PM my time, 5 PM her time. Around and around my legs went on the elliptical, going nowhere fast.

The time really flew but eventually we agreed on a time and that activity came to an end.

I then realized that muiti-tasking is a good thing, so I turned on the TV (it has captions), turned on my iPOD to some inspirational music and the time started to fly again.

But, my mind was still spinning. Ideas kept popping up and I was afraid I'd forget, so, with the music and the TV still on and the TV captions still coming at me, I found the notepad on the iPHONE and wrote myself a few notes. Including the idea for this blog.


I've accomplished everything on the list except one thing. That thing is a "find" note. I've looked but I haven't been able to find the thing I was looking for.

My French friend, Anne, just sent me an email saying that she will participate in a bi-lingual debate, the subject is, "are we slaves to the screen?" She answered very accurately in English that she is a slave to the computer but not to the TV. Ditto for me, except that I have about 5 different screens that I'm using to communicate, keep track of things and enjoy myself. I could never be as good at multi-tasking if it weren't for all my electronics.

Daylight Savings Time Revisited

In the US, daylight savings time has been moved forward by about a month. I'm not sure why, but I think it has to do with saving electricity. So, we set our clocks forward last night, losing an hour of weekend.

It's great at night, when it stays light later, but it was very dark this morning.

The worst part about this is that we will go to France and revert to Standard Time for another few weeks. Even though the french are fanatical about saving energy and electricity, daylight savings time continues to start around April 1.

Then, I'll lose an hour all over again.

It's On Sale In The US

My pre-trip preparations always include some shopping.

This time it's for bathing suits for Cap Ferrat and a few necessities. I put this off until the last minute, so I had to venture out on a Saturday, the most crowded day of the week for shopping.

What I hadn't anticipated was the sales! Normally things go on sale at the end of the season. But, with the bad economy right now, the price of almost everything seems to be reduced. The stores were mobbed, an indication that the price reductions are working.

Some stores are being a little more creative with their price reductions. I encountered one store that offered a $20 discount with each $75 spent. Another store offered a coupon good for $50 off a future purchase with a $100 purchase. The things that are on sale already also can be used for these price reductions, so it gets very complicated.

With a little bit of planning and calculating, things can be purchased for pennies. I ended up with a very high end, name brand pair of jeans for $80 off the original price. The sad part of this is that I would have bought them for full price. I needed them, wanted them, and know that they will be in my wardrobe for years. (Barring an unforeseen weight fluctuation, of course).

When the shopping trip is productive, I can go for hours without getting tired. But, I went out a few days earlier and was unsuccessful. The two hours marching around from store to store was exhausting. I guess you have to train to shop and I'm out of shopping shape right now.

But, since sales in France are mandated by law, and held only twice a year, I don't need to continue my training for shopping. We will be back in the US before the sales start in July. We always miss the sales in January, too.

With the Euro still high against the dollar and the sales in the US, you can bet that all my disposable income will be spent in the US this year. Except, of course, for the second, french iPHONE. Post and photos to come.

Visiting Paris?

A lot of our friends are, it seems.

I feel that we know Paris inside and out. We can do almost anything, including dealing with utilities, cable TV, internet, all the hard stuff. We even can deal with workmen and have a secret plumbing source, better than anyone we have in the US.

When it comes to entertainment for visitors, we are out of it, though. With each new visitor, we get a request. It is almost always something I have to research.

The list grows but here are some of the more current requests: flea markets (twice), fashion show, Folies Bergere, The Louvre (we can do this one), Giverny (ditto), Versailles (ditto). Also on the list are discos or clubs. We have no idea about most of this stuff. We don't even stay up late enough to go to a club.

It seems that our simple pleasures don't really cut it with the folks that are in Paris for a couple of days. They want to check things off the list, take pictures to show everyone at home. One of the best photo ops is at the Rodin Museum, a palatable, even pleasant place to go. There, "The Thinker" is surrounded by beautiful rose bushes. It is a great photo. The Eiffel Tower, on the other hand, is too big to get a photo with a recognizable person in the same shot.

But even the Rodin is esoteric for many visitors. Why would anyone spend quality time there vs. seeing the Impressionists at the Musee d'Orsay? With the advent of cameras in cell phones, tourists line up in front of the famous paintings to take a photo of it. Why don't they just buy a book? All the flashes are a bit unnerving.

There are no "deals" in Paris. The Euro is still high and prices are always increasing. I think this might be why people think that a flea market is a good idea. But, there are vide-greniers, brocantes and other street fairs to buy things, but not the kind of deals that tourists think they can get. I advise people to think twice before going to St. Ouen to the flea market. But, maybe they will have better luck that I've had.

I will try to think up a list of the places that I'd like to go if I had just a couple of days in Paris. It would probably include the Musee d'Orsay, and the Rodin. It would also include Le Bon Marche or BHV, just to see a large department store. It would also include the Guimet, my favorite museum, an outdoor farmer's market, many churches (maybe a free concert), and the ever-present Paris river tour on a boat. A picnic is nice at the Luxembourg Gardens or the Champ de Mars, the food can be purchased on rue Cler.

That's my list and I'm sticking to it, although I might add to it.

It Pays To Have Points

Unfortunately, we don't have many frequent flyer miles. We don't earn them like we used to and we use them as soon as they accumulate.

The coach seats on Air France are incredibly small. Perhaps because French people, in general, are smaller than Americans. I am short and my knees touch the seat back in front of me. Imagine being a 6 foot tall man with long legs!

We aren't in a position to fork over $15K for round trip business class seats. So, we generally are in the back of the plane, begging for a meal, a glass of water or waiting in a long line for the 3 bathrooms allocated for 200 people.

Lately, we've been lucky. We finally accumulated enough miles on Air France for an upgrade. No seats were available until the day before the flight, but we finally cashed the miles in and rode in comfort. Now we're spoiled, it happens so easily.

My sister and her husband have points, though. I can't tell you all their secrets for accumulating miles, but they have plenty to go around, it appears.

We now are the beneficiaries of their efforts. They gave us First/Business class seats round trip for our next trip. I've just confirmed it all today, and it's really true!

Once again, I'll be enjoying the "lounge" before the flight, sitting in the front of the plane, not sharing the bathroom with the masses, I will be very spoiled, pampered and comfortable.

Yes, it pays to have miles. Or at least to know someone who has them, in this case. Thanks, Cork and Alan!

Now The Big Worry Is...

I won't be able to use the new iPHONE in Paris. I'll need to get another one.

All phone companies "lock" the phones so that you can't put another SIM chip in it and use it with another company.

Good for business, bad for people that live in two different places. We have to have two phones, pay two monthly fees, etc.

I'm hoping someone will come forward to unlock my phone. Anyone know how to do it? I'm very attached to my US iPHONE.

Falsely Accused

After thinking about this for awhile, I finally took the plunge and bought an iPHONE on Friday. I got it home and spent about an hour doing the basic set up. I downloaded a few applications, played with the GPS, the camera, and all the other great features.

Saturday morning, Terry told me that the new phone was beeping all night long. Ok, this is possible, maybe I left a beeper on for emails, something my old phone didn’t do. I turned off the beep for emails.

All is right with the world, the phone is my constant companion. Sunday night, I checked to make sure all the noise-making features were off and went to bed.

At 3 AM, Terry woke me up, telling me that it was beeping again. Oh no! I was embarrassed, so I turned the phone completely off and went back to sleep. He woke me up again – it’s still beeping. But, it’s off, it can’t be the phone. He even suggested putting it under the couch cushion until morning. From this comment, we can be assured that he doesn’t have an iPHONE. I refused for a variety of reasons.

The beeping continued. We both got up, turned on all the lights and tried to investigate. The beeping was intermittent and we couldn’t localize it before it stopped, only to beep again as soon as we closed our eyes. It went on all night.

I hid my iPHONE, just in case it was still being blamed. But, by this time, Terry had called an electrician. I worried, what if the electrician can’t find the problem? Will my iPHONE be banished to the couch cushion every night?

I shouldered on, keeping my fingers crossed. Finally, the electrician came and determined that it was a smoke detector.

The iPHONE is saved! I’m relieved, since I’m already very attached to it.

Quail (yum-yum)

I've now made a round trip LA-Houston to visit my sister. We had a wonderful girls' weekend.

Even though Texas isn't a foreign country, it is one of the more exotic states in the US. There are many differences between Texas and California. Luckily, they speak the same language, but with a different accent.

While I live near the Pacific Ocean, my sister lives on a bayou, The Buffalo Bayou. We don't even have bayous in California. There are bayou-looking plants along it's banks. Some plants are viney things that tangle into other trees, giving a look that could be prehistoric.

The bayou is mesmerizing to watch. The trees blow in the wind as the muddy water makes its way slowly downstream.

I'm not the most adventurous person in the family. I like to stick to my tried and true routines, my favorites. I don't venture outside the known very often.

I tried quail during my last visit to Houston. I liked the taste. But, it's not easily available in Southern California. But, during this trip, I had it twice at two different restaurants. I loved it.

Researching sources on the internet, I learned that quail are higher in protein and lower in fat than either chicken or turkey. Since chicken is my go-to meal, I quickly realized I have to cook quail.

So, it was Monday at Whole Foods. They butchers looked at me like I was crazy when I asked for quail.

Ralphs and Vons don't even have butchers, but I checked the frozen sections as well as the meat case, no quail.

I then went on-line and found out that I can order quail but it's a bit of a commitment. The smallest package is 36 quail for around $100. Shipping costs run $35, and I don't even have a good quail recipe yet. The shipping is so expensive because they pack them in dry ice and ship them by next day Fed Ex.

Yesterday, in my last effort at finding quail in quantities less than 36, I went to Bristol Farms. Since it is an expensive market and the economy is a little down, the butchers behind the meat counter were a little lonely. Normally, I have to take a number and they're not overly talkative. The butcher approached and I asked if he had quail. His face lit up. Yes, he always has quail but they are frozen. If I can wait until tomorrow, he can bone them for me.

I couldn't wait. I will take him up on this offer next time, though. I walked out of Bristol Farms with my little package full of quail. Once again, my travels have paid off, I've found a new treat -- quail. Terry loved them

The Blame Game

It’s important to use as few suppliers as possible to accomplish one task. Better yet, have one project or utility or chore handled by the same person or company from start to finish. This is the only way to avoid “The Blame Game”.

The basic version of Blame Game goes like this:

You have a problem with something. It can be your internet, the dishwasher, a repair job on the plumbing.

You call the designated repair phone number and explain the problem. Sometimes they try to trouble-shoot by phone, other times they come to the house. In either case, there are two ways this can go: they find the problem and fix it or they cannot find the problem or cannot fix it. There are sub-themes here, we’ll explore them another day.

If the first situation happens, you get the problem fixed and the only issue is whether or not it is under warranty. It's usually not.

The second situation is where The Blame Game begins. The repairman, customer service rep or whoever you’re dealing with can’t figure out the problem. But, they won't admit it. Their logic immediately pinpoints another company, product or service that is really to blame.

Of course, this removes the guilt from them, they are not incompetent or stupid, it's someone else's fault. After this pronouncement, they prepare to hang up the phone or leave your house. They have plenty of ideas about how to fix this problem but they all involve a new company, a new service, re-explaining the problem.

Today, scenario #2 happened. I was working on the computer when the internet connection went dead. I know a few tricks to get it to reset and I tried them all. After no success, I called the customer service department at Time Warner Cable.

I was connected to a man very quickly. He lead me through the same steps I had just taken, but I did them again, just to make sure. He then said he could reset my modem from his computer. After about 5 minutes on hold, he came back on the line to see if the internet service was restored. It wasn’t.

He then told me that it was my router. Is it a Time Warner router? (I didn’t know Time Warmer provided routers, they’ve never offered one to us). No, it is our router. Welllllll, in that case, he can’t help me, it’s the router’s fault and I’ll have to call the customer service people at Linksys.

Luckily, my time and patience ran out simultaneously. I had an appointment and had to run. I asked him if, perhaps, there could be an outage in our area? He said no. I asked him if he could check. He said there was no outage, he was sure. I then decided to give it my all and told him that I thought he was covering up by telling me it was the router when he just didn’t know how to fix it. He disagreed and I hung up.

Several hours later, I found the strength to get back into this problem The internet was still down, so I called Time Warner again. This time, an immediate message came on the phone saying that there was a general outage in our area and that it would be restored soon.

Thank goodness I hadn’t pulled the router out, unplugged it, called their tech support department. Because, they would have blamed it on Time Warner. And, they would have been right.

And, thank goodness this didn't happen in France, where in addition to all the nuisance factors I've just mentioned, the repairman would have an emotional crisis, screaming into the phone that "I have no confidence in him". Which, of course, is the truth.

Valentine's Day

It's almost here, Valentine's Day. Squeezed in between ML King day, the inauguration and President's Day, it's still getting a lot of retail attention.

I can't blame the stores or the manufacturers, it's all of us who perpetuate this by buying into it. Yes, if Hallmark didn't sell any extra cards and Godiva's profits dropped in February, it would all go away. But, it's here, on store windows, in every aisle of the supermarket. The other day, a cashier at the pharmacy had her fingernails painted in alternating shades of white, pink and red.

For me, romance should be spontaneous, it shouldn't be programmed into the calendar. Luckily this year, Valentine's Day is on a Saturday, so the restaurants will be packed. I think their business is down due to the economy.

But, it's expensive, fattening and not fun! It's even stressful for children. I remember when I was in grammar school, we had to give a valentine to everyone in the class. We made little envelopes and pasted them on the front of our desks and then the other kids came around and dropped the cards into each other's envelopes. The only excitement came if someone wrote a nice note or enclosed a couple of those awful, chalky hearts with sayings stamped into them.

I have no idea what happens in Paris at Valentine's Day, but I'm sure it's like Halloween. It's probably a little smaller in scope, but growing. The cards you can buy at Monoprix are all Hallmark brand cards. And, since it truly is a "Hallmark Holiday" (meaning created to sell things), then, I'm sure there is some extra things to buy for this occasion.

I Love Paris...

But, be honest, which would you rather be living in right now, photo A or photo B?




















Take heart, if you're in Paris, we're expecting a storm tomorrow.

Super Bowl Sunday

Get Me Back To Paris



It is hard for me to imagine an event that is exciting to nearly everyone else in the US but me. It's The Super Bowl.

In preparation for this, I had to go to the grocery store this AM (yes, Sunday, if you're in France, don't be jealous) and it was mobbed. The alcohol and snack aisles were in gridlock. The vegetable and fruit aisles were deserted.

In the past, we've been invited to someone's house. I'm now declining all invitations in order to avoid the entire event. I finally realized that this is the closest thing to hell that I'll ever experience.

First, everyone is eating food that is greasy and unhealthy. If you don't eat, you can be assured that the host and hostess will take offense. Second, someone has to be the designated driver, so I can have one glass of wine and then have to stop. Alcohol is the only thing that makes this all bearable.

Finally, my sister just pointed this out and it's really true, you can't talk about anything but football, during the game.

Well, I don't know anything about football. I don't even know the teams that are playing, the names of the players or the rules of the game. Try being absolutely quiet for 4 hours. Three strikes, The Super Bowl has one less viewer.

This year, we're staying home. Terry will enjoy watching the game, and I can study french, read a book, do some gardening. I was considering going shopping, but after the grocery store this morning, I am not venturing out in my car again todau.

So, the french have their strikes and demonstrations to contend with and we have The Super Bowl. I guess ours is only once a year so we can plan ahead.

Don't Try To Do Anything Tomorrow In Paris

Evidently, the strike that started a few days ago will be in full swing on Saturday with four large demonstrations in Paris. I feel sorry for all those people who work all week and need to do their errands on the weekend.

One of the disturbances is for the Chinese New Year, so we can accept this one.

Bulletin trafic en temps réel - Manifestations en cours

Vendredi 30 janvier 2009 à 20h34
Aucune manifestation en cours de nature à perturber le service.
A noter samedi 31 janvier, 4 manifestations sur la voie publique :

1)A partir de 12h30, rassemblement place de la République puis défilé par le boulevard Voltaire jusqu'à la place de la Nation.

Lignes de bus perturbées dans ces secteurs : 20, 26, 46, 56, 57, 61, 65, 69, 75, 76, 86, 96 et 351.

2)A partir de 13h00, rassemblement place de la République qui défileront ensuite par les boulevards du Temple, des Filles du Calvaire, Beaumarchais et la place de la Bastille, où est prévue la dislocation du Cortège.

Lignes de bus perturbées dans ces secteurs : 20, 29, 56, 61, 65, 69, 75, 76, 86, 87, 91 et 96.

3) Dans le cadre des festivités du Nouvel An Chinois, à partir de 14h00, rassemblement place de l'Hôtel de Ville, puis défilé via les rues du Temple, de Turbigo, de Beaubourg, du Renard jusqu'à la place de l'Hôtel de Ville.

Lignes de bus perturbées dans ces secteurs : 20, 29, 38, 47, 58, 67, 69, 70, 72, 74, 75, 76 et 96.

4) A partir de 15h00, rassemblement boulevard Saint Michel puis défilé par le boulevard de l’observatoire jusqu’à la Place Denfert-Rochereau.

Lignes de bus perturbées dans ces secteurs : 21, 27, 38, 68, 82, 83, 84, 85, 88, 89, 216 et Orlybus.

My Personal Shopper

For avocados




We have a very large new Whole Foods in our neighborhood. For those of you in France, it is like a giant Naturalia.

Since it is more expensive than normal stores and a little bit out of my way, I don't go there very often, but I went there today to stock up on vitamins for our next trip.

I also got some food for dinner, including a nice avocado. As I was checking out, the woman behind the cash register looked at me and said, "do you really want this one?"

I told her I wasn't wedded to it, I simply wanted a ripe one. She then locked her register, telling me she'd be right back.

I stood there, helplessly thinking about the #70 bus drivers in Paris, who stop the bus, open the doors and walk out, crossing the street, leaving the bus running. Another driver comes back about 5 minutes later, no explanation whatsoever. Where do they go? What do they do?

Smiling, the cashier returned with two avocados. She then proceeded to have me feel/squeeze each one while explaining that her choice was better, trust her. So I did. We'll see tonight when I put it in the salad.

In any case, I think I've discovered my own Whole Foods personal shopper.

Domestic Reservations

Nearly all the trips I take by plane are to Europe.

I'm not used to the new restrictions for domestic flights such as add-on charges for checked bags and paying for food. Air France takes all our huge heavy bags without discussion, then feeds us lavishly every time we're hungry. We get champagne in a real glass. I'm used to being treated fairly well during a flight. Where have I been? Paris, I guess.

I just made reservations to visit my sister. I did it by phone rather than the internet. Ding! Add $15 for speaking to a person.

The Continental reservation person then informed me, very nicely, that my first checked bag will cost $15, the second one would be $25. There won't be a second bag on a four day trip after this news.

The alternative is to take only a carry-on. The bag can weigh as much as 40 pounds. Do they weigh it? What happens if it weighs 41 pounds, am I charged for the overweight bag?

I then told the woman that I doubted that I could lift 40 pounds over my head into the overhead bin, she told me that there would surely be a "Good Samaritan" to help out. You never know, this could get ugly. Earlier this year, my sister, who is stronger and taller than me, wrenched her back and neck because there was no one to help her with her carry-on.

Other restrictions include a $150 charge to change the ticket.

I'm wondering what else will be tacked on to a basic coach ticket. I'll bring a credit card, that's for sure.

Seeing Friends and Family

One of the best parts of living between two places is seeing friends and family in each location. There's always a lot to catch up on and it's fun to look forward to a reunion.

I have Paris friends and LA friends, but more and more these friends travel to the other location and we have a new world to explore. I enjoy sharing my life in the "other" location.

Many people ask me what my life is like in the other location, "what do I do" in that other spot. I usually come up with a very boring answer that doesn't describe the situation very well.

I think this is because it's the simple pleasures in each of these locations that make my life rich and interesting. I like driving my blue car. I like walking up rue de Rennes to go to Monoprix. I like taking the #82 bus. I like looking at the ocean.

How do I describe these things to others? Until they experience it, they can't understand. And, if someone is in Paris for 4 days, I seriously doubt that they want to go to Monoprix. Likewise, my blue car isn't at all special, so it's not an "activity" for a visitor.

It's hard to imagine, when you're sitting outside with a friend, drinking tea, that two days before it was -10 C and snowing. But, I guess that's what friends are for, listening to stories from the other place, enjoying the time we spend together.

A California Experience

We tend to live in our own country. Whether we are in California or Paris, in our home and in our daily lives, we are in Terry and Sherry country. We speak English and have the same thoughts, activities and patterns no matter where we are.

But, once we step out of our personal cocoon, we have to adjust our thinking and behavior to the culture associated with the place where we're living.

Even so, I rarely have a true "Paris moment" or a true "California moment". These moments, in my mind, are described as typical, even exaggerated notions of the place, the kind of moments that people remember and relay to others. The place gets a reputation for something that isn't part of mainstream life. For example, for the French, it would be rudeness, or indifference or even a big show of emotion. For Californians, it would be the beach life with all its associations, the all play and no work mentality.

I'm a native Californian, and a native of Los Angeles, home of many stereotypes. Yet, my life doesn't involve most of them -- I eat red meat, even veal, which is quite a no-no for many Californians. I have even eaten foie gras. I'm considering buying some kind of fur coat, oh my! Not at all Californian of me.

I am still in the habit of wearing my gym clothes to and from the gym, both in California and in Paris. I'm the only person walking out of the Club Med Gym and down rue de Rennes in my workout clothes and running shoes. I can't seem to do the French thing and towel off, spray some extra deodorant on, put some lotion on, dry my hair and put on my street clothes without taking a shower. They think I'm weird, I'm sure, but I think it's equally unsavory to omit a shower after the workout.

Yesterday, around 3 PM, still in my gym clothes after a mid-morning workout (this IS California, OK?), I went into a new store in our neighborhood. It is a beautiful store, quite large. The owner met me almost immediately and we had a short discussion.

As I was making my purchases, she asked, "what do I do?" To this, I replied that I live in Paris about half the year. The discussion continued. She wanted to know if the French speak any English. To this I replied that the French learn a second language in school, it may or may not be English, but they prefer to speak French.

From here the conversation disintegrated into something only a person from California could even begin to understand. I said that Americans are very "egocentric" and speak only English but other countries know that they need at least two languages.

I guess the word "egocentric" struck some kind of New Age bell in her. From this point, I got a barrage of philosophical thought that even in English I could not understand. A lot of it had to do with metaphysics, which I had to look up in the dictionary to make sure I understood what it meant. I have no idea what she was talking about, but it concerned The Universe, Barak Obama, prayer and meditation, the soul. I couldn't wait to get out of the store, but all this talk had completely halted the sale and packaging of the purchase so I had to wait through another blast of California-talk. I'm sure I could have stopped her in her tracks if I told her that I like fur, eat veal and foie gras and wear gym clothes on the streets in Paris.

Somewhere Over The Atlantic

I caught a cold.

I've been so careful to avoid sick people, wash my hands, take vitamins. But, one day on a plane (with 400 other people, probably 10% of them with colds) will do it. I survived much of the winter in close quarters with people sneezing, coughing, wheezing. And I didn't get sick.

But the change is too much. We left Paris and it was snowing and below zero. Today in LA, it's 80 and sunny.

So, I made the trip to Whole Foods to stock up on all the remedies. Unfortunately, they were out of my go-to vitamins, Wellness Formula, so I bought the Whole Foods brand equivalent. I also bought some other homeopathic thing that tastes pretty good.

This is the last thing I wanted! I didn't even have kleenex in the house. Now, I have a box strategically placed in every room.

I've had to cancel two social plans this week. I think it's only fair to tell someone before you show up and infect them. But, it's really disappointing because I want to see everyone that I haven't seen for months.

My nose is red, too.

The Keys

There's always a last minute emergency when we're trying to leave town. Often, it's keys. They get lost when you don't use them for months at a time.

Last time, Terry lost them (we found them). So, he gave them to me for safe-keeping this time. But, with all the other things going on, they again got lost.

It's only house keys, but it's also a big hassle to get the door opened without them. Probably expensive, too.

So this morning, with everything else going on (also had a heating problem this morning), we had to spend an hour looking everywhere for the keys.

They turned up, this time, in my "stuff". Luckily we had some time to kill.

The Sunday Paper

All the news stands in our neighborhood are still closed, hopefully opening tomorrow after two weeks of closure. I wonder how they stay in business. I wonder what happens to their unsold inventory that just sits in the locked kiosk for two weeks. Oh well, not my worry!

We love the Saturday/Sunday Le Figaro. It comes with a TV Guide (which we never use) and two magazines. We look forward to it.

Last week, I took the bus on Sunday morning to find the paper. But, this morning I was meeting a friend at Sevres-Babylone, where I knew there was a large news stand.

I arrived early for our RDV (rendez vous) so that I could buy the paper. But, this news stand was closed too, reopening tomorrow. So, no newspaper for us today.

Tennis, Anyone?

This is one of the tennis courts at the Luxembourg Gardens. Terry shot this a couple of days ago. We had a light dusting of snow in the morning, but it's so cold that it isn't melting. Of course, we can play indoors.

For this California girl, the cold is overwhelming. Despite layers of clothes, none of them at all chic, I am still freezing when I walk around town. I can't find the perfect solution -- even layers don't quite do it and a long, down coat is highly overrated.

I hear there's more snow on the way tomorrow or the next day. It is beautiful and I love to watch it fall, while I'm inside, sipping my Nespresso.

Right now, the days are short, it's not completely light until 9 AM then it starts getting dark at 4:30 to 5 PM. Dark and cold. Not a lot of time to do all the things I want to do.

In June, it will be just the opposite, light so long that I'm always tired, thinking I can jam in one more activity before nighttime. And, I can if it doesn't get dark until 10 PM.

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.