President's Day or Presidents' Day or Presidents Day?

Tomorrow is President's Day.  Or is it Presidents' Day?

When I was in school, we celebrated Washington's birthday and Lincoln's birthday; two separate holidays in February.  At that time, the days were celebrated on the actual birth day (date).  Washington's actual birthday was February 22 and Lincoln's was February 12. 

Several attempts were made to create on generic "President's Day".  Obviously, we can't have a holiday for every President, can we?  Actually, many we want to forget. 

In any case, along came the Uniform Monday Holiday Act which puts many holidays on a Monday to avoid confusion and give people a three-day weekend.  The third Monday of February was chosen, between the two men's birthdays.  But, the holiday was still called, "Washington's Birthday". 

It was later changed to Presidents Day to honor the office of President.  Some states still honor Lincoln on his birthday, but that goes state-by-state. 

The spelling of the day is up for grabs.  It can be found in the dictionary three different ways; with the apostrophe before the "s" (one President), after the "s" (more than one President),  or without an apostrophe.  I think the first two are fine depending on the meaning.  The third, which is the current style in the AP Stylebook (followed by most journalists) is incorrect.  Oh well, what do I know. 

Happy President(s) Day.

Holiday Abundance

It's President's Day weekend in the US.  Monday is a holiday. 

I think that it's also "ski week" here.   Ski week is a  holiday week in February that was started a few years ago because so many of families took their kids out of school for a week to ski.  The schools decided that it was easier to "go with the flow".  Now there is a holiday week in February and the week has been tacked on to the end or beginning of the school year. 

Many of these holidays take me by surprise.  They're not on my calendar.  I'd forgotten that Monday will be a day off for many, including banks, schools and the post office.  At least I didn't plan a week of skiing thinking that I'd have the mid-week slope to myself. 

It feels like we just got over the Christmas/New Year's holidays.  I like the normalcy of daily life, unmarred by closures, multitudes of kids on skateboards and no mail service. 

I'm off to France soon, so I shouldn't complain about holidays here.  May is impossible in France with five holidays, November has a lot too. Then, if the holiday falls mid-week, the French people take a few days off either before or after the holiday to make it a long weekend.  It's called "le pont" or the bridge.    The abundance of holidays never ceases to amaze me. 

Easter is early this year, falling at the end of March.  In the US, I remember that some companies would give the employees a 1/2 day off for Good Friday.  What a treat.  In France, the Easter holiday is at least four days -- Friday through Monday since "Easter Monday" is a holiday for many people.  Stores are all open the day before Easter so everyone is out stocking up. 

Then, there are the vacances scolaries, for students. This holiday consists of two weeks off from school several times a year.  It is wise to never book travel at the beginning or end of these holiday periods, everyone scrambles to get out of town and cabs are scarce, train stations crowded and the roads jammed in both directions (in and out of town). 

While I like holidays in general, I think there are too many of them both here and in France.

TGIF, and it's not over yet...

 It's not a job-related TGIF today, it's a dishwasher that has caused a lot of undue stress in my life for the last week plus.  Here's the culprit. 

Our old dishwasher still worked and I had a hard time justifying the purchase of a new one.  The old one was very, very noisy.  With two new grand kids sleeping right below the old monster, we had to "time" the dishwasher cycles between naps and bedtime.  If everyone was visiting, the dishes started to pile up pretty quickly.

Then I heard that today's dishwashers are silent.  My sister says that she has to look for the light to see if hers is running or not.

I thought getting a new dishwasher would be easy.   We've just put in new hardwood floors, carpeting and purchased custom furniture.  All of that should have been hard.  Even though it was hard to have our house torn up for several weeks, everything went smoothly.  The workers were professional.  They did the job right. 

Off to Pacific Sales I went with my tape measure and the measurements of my existing dishwasher.  I found a salesman right away and told him I wanted the quietest dishwasher available.  His eyes lit up.  Evidently the quieter the machine the more expensive it is.  Of course.  He showed me two machines; one American, one European.  He suggested I buy the American brand which was more expensive. 

It looked really nice had a lot of features that I hadn't asked for but that would come in handy.  Like a third row that you can put knives, and utensils to wash. Out came the tape measure with a surprise.  This machine is too tall for my space.  I went clear across the store to measure the other one.  It was slightly shorter but still 1/8" too tall.  I asked the salesman about the height and he replied, "they're all standard".  Of course they're not exactly standard since one was about 3/8" taller than the other one, but I guess we're splitting hairs. 

Back home to re-measure.  The second set of measurements told me that neither "standard" size machine would fit in the space.  Back to Pacific Sales.  Found the salesman who was rude and impatient with me, repeating his mantra, "they're all standard".  He didn't offer any suggestions and couldn't wait to leave my company.  Obviously I couldn't buy a dishwasher today.  Back home, this time to my computer.

Yes, dishwashers are a standard height, 33-7/8".  Yes, my space is 33-3/4".  So, I asked Mr. Google for suggestions.  Back came four model numbers each from a different manufacturer.  There was one I liked.  It was at Best Buy.  Luckily Best Buy is closer than Pacific Sales.  I went there, with my tape measure and my model number.  A nice salesman spent a lot of time with me, looking on his computer. Unfortunately, he couldn't get the one I wanted any time soon.  Back home.  I called Pacific Sales, talked to a woman who told me that they had 26 of the dishwasher I wanted.  Back to Pacific Sales to find, to my amazement, that the dishwasher I wanted was sitting right on the showroom floor and that the original salesman could have easily pointed this out to me.  Anger aside, I bought the dishwasher and the saleswoman arranged for delivery and an installer to come out the next day.

If I'd only known that this was the easy part. 

The installers called and gave me a three hour window.  They arrived 5 minutes before the end of the window, of course.  The head guy immediately jacked the price of installation by 100% due to electrical, plumbing and other things that he found deficient. OK, the dishwasher has to go in.  They worked, drilled, hammered.  They ran up and down the stairs.  By 5:30PM, the dishwasher was still in the middle of the kitchen.  The installer called and said that they had to finish their other installations today and that they had to go to Home Depot to get a pipe to finish our job.  They'd be back later.  Hungry and tired, our kitchen was trashed.  Chips of stuff, dirt and water on the floor.  They'd used, without asking, my pots and pans to contain water leaks that they'd created in their task.  I just wanted them out of my house at any cost.  

When I told them that they'd have to come back the next day, the installer yelled at me.  I told him to take his tools and leave.  Needless to say, they aren't welcome back.  We called a plumber who finished the job 24 hours later.  I sanitized the kitchen, put everything away and order was restored. 

WICE Visual Arts Department Vernissage

Please join us at another great event at WICE.

The Visual Arts Department will be having an exhibition every two months during the academic year.  The next vernissage is scheduled for Wednesday, February 13, 2013. It will run from 6:30 PM - 8 PM.

The artists that are represented will be on-hand to discuss their work.  Snacks and wine will be provided.

The event will take place at the WICE offices.

Thursday Is The New Friday

After a movie last night, we went to our favorite sushi place.  We were hoping for a casual, fast meal. 

We arrived a bit later than usual.  The place was packed.  Standing room only.  Mostly 20 and 30-somethings wearing casual clothes not work clothes.  It was loud, almost like a party. 

We declined the table offered to us right by the front door.  It was next to a long table of young men who were screaming, getting up and down to talk to the other end of the table, taking sake shots. 

Do we want to pay to be in this atmosphere?  We went home and lit the grill.

Then it dawned on me -- it was Thursday night.  We've run into this before.  Thursday is the new Friday.  Remember TGIF?  Now it's TGIT. 

Do people work four days a week instead of five or do they show up for casual Friday with a hangover?  Maybe a bit of both.  I think some of the aerospace companies in the area work on an every-other Friday off basis.  All these people can't be unemployed or they couldn't afford the sushi and sake.  I don't know what unemployment pays these days but it can't be enough for this kind of meal. 

In any case, we were shut out last night.  Maybe we'll try for a Friday night out, it might be dead at the sushi place. 

Sheet Protectors

Sheet protectors are those plastic sheets that protect paper.  Normally they have holes in one side so that they can be put into a binder.

When we were looking for an apartment in Paris, the real estate agents didn't log into a multiple listing service on their computers, they pulled out a binder, licked a finger and proceeded to turn the pages encased in sheet protectors.  Each sheet protector held an apartment.  At the time, it didn't seem like there was any order to these papers, as a new apartment came on the market, it was written up, printed out, put into it's own sheet protector and added to the front of the binder. 

Since we haven't been in the market for an apartment for a few years, I don't know if they've upgraded the system to computer yet.  In any case, there is no such thing as a multiple listing service so each agency has it's own apartments.  If you're in the market to buy something, you have to either look on the internet (Se Loger) or another website to find all the products and then contact the agent directly.

I hadn't thought about sheet protectors in a long time until recently.  We don't/shouldn't use as much paper with the ease of use and portability of computers these days. 

We went to buy a new couch and to my surprise, the store didn't have all the models available in the store or on-line.  We had to sit at a table and look through -- you guessed it-- a binder with papers in sheet protectors.

When we found the model we wanted, we referred to fabric samples to find what we wanted.  Putting the two together to find the price and delivery status, the rep in the store opened yet another binder with more sheet protected pages of specs and prices.  It was very laborious and took quite a long time.  Several phone calls were required before the price and specs were delivered to us for approval.   Why they still use paper is beyond me, especially since they don't have any kind of catalog.  

Micro Cell Deux

The micro cell took all day to install and countless calls to AT &T's technical support.

At one time, AT & T told me that my modem wasn't fast enough to support their product which prompted a call to our internet service provider who assured me that our modem is quite fast, thank you.  This is the game that companies play when they can't fix the problem, they tell you that someone else caused the problem.  It's impossible to have one-stop shopping for something like this.

I finally ended up on an hour+ long call with a rep that somehow got it to work.  Now I can get phone calls and texts in my house, quite an accomplishment. 

The pain of losing half a day of my time wasn't worth it, though. 

Quail and Rabbit in France, Bison in the US

I had my first taste of bison meat at Christmas time. My sister ordered a bison steak and I had a bite. It was delicious.

If I think of those big, wiry-haired creatures munching grass on the plains and it's hard to imagine that they taste good.  But the meat is quite tasty when prepared properly.  My sister makes bison spaghetti sauce which she says is great and her family loves it. 

I was in Whole Foods yesterday morning.  It's one of the few places I know that carries bison so I decided to give it a try. Luckily it was early and the butcher was talkative.  He walked me through the different cuts of meat, where they originate anatomically and how to cook them.  I settled on ground bison meat and decided to make a meat loaf. 

I didn't think too much more about it until it was time to actually prepare the bison.   I opened the package and looked at it.  It was very red.  I later read up on bison and found out that it is redder than beef because it is leaner.  The ground bison is guaranteed to be 10% fat or less. 

With the normal recipe I use for turkey meatloaf (loaded with fresh veggies) I prepared the bison and popped it in the oven.  We loved it and now I'm hooked.  I wonder if it's available in France? I can't imagine bison grazing in Burgundy next to a vineyard but it could happen I guess. 

I have my go-to lean favorites in France too.  Quail and rabbit are equally delicious and healthy.  Just like the bison in the US, I have to get these treats at a butcher although I've seen rabbit and quail packaged on the store shelves it makes me a little nervous to buy them this way.  The first time I made quail, I didn't know that you have to ask the butcher to cut off their little heads (feathers, eyes and all).  The feet, thankfully were off.  So, I had to decapitate them before cooking them.  It didn't sour me on the experience because they were magnificent. 

Rabbit is an acquired taste in my family.  We used to eat it when we were kids, I think because it was inexpensive.  Terry declined several times when I offered to cook it for him.  Finally we were surprised by French friends who cooked a rabbit for us.  Terry thought it was chicken, luckily he didn't compliment the meal by name.  It still took some work to get him to try it.  I researched recipes, found the perfect one.  We went to the butcher, found the perfect rabbit and had it cut up to my specifications.  Terry is sold on rabbit now.

So we have our options for healthy, low-fat, high protein meat.  It's hard (but not impossible) to get rabbit and quail here.  Almost impossible to get it fresh (not frozen).   I have no idea about bison in France, it would probably be frozen too. 

The "Micro" Cell

We have horrible cell phone reception at home in the US.  We have AT &T but I think that all the mobile operators have the same problem here.  At the store, the sales guy told me that it isn't AT & T's fault, it's the City of Manhattan Beach that won't let more towers be built to extend cell coverage.  I'm semi-skeptical, but I can't imagine having a cell tower on my roof and there is very little public property around here.

So, I got a "hot tip" a couple of days ago that I could call AT&T and get a "micro" cell which would extend coverage.

After a lot (!!!) of run-around, I finally got it today.  The run-around is that they should give everyone this cell so that we can use our phones.  The obvious thing is to change carriers if they don't help out.  After several phone calls and an extended and weird negotiation at the store, I got the micro cell, brought it home and plugged it in.  I'm waiting for it to boot up before I can call this a result.  It is supposed to take 90 minutes, but I think that's just enough time for all the people I've dealt with today to finish their shift so I don't bug them again.

At the store, when I asked for AT &T to waive the cost ($199) they tried to make me buy something else that is the same cost, give me the micro cell and then I could return the other product.  They actually then tried to get me to buy another product, but it just seemed too convoluted.  I can't figure out why they would do this.  In any case, I am expecting a credit on the next bill.  I am also expecting my phone to ring a bit more often.  We'll see.

The bad part of this product is that you've got to register all the phones to this cell. So, if I have a micro cell but my neighbor doesn't he can't use his phone with mine.  That seems like a bother since now everyone will have one more device and if they don't, they won't have cell service.

Other Grooming Differences

I never get my hair done in France due to a bad experience.  The downside of this is that I can get pretty scraggly looking between trips across the Atlantic.

The differences in my grooming habits are deeper than this.  Almost every aspect of my grooming routine is different in the US than it is in Paris. 

Part of the problem with grooming in Paris is the traveling to get to and from an appointment.  If it's snowing and I've just gotten a pedicure, I can't slide into my boots to make the trip home.  Hypothermia aside, it would look a bit suspicious to be on the metro in flip-flops. I don't have a car.

This brings up the first of many cultural differences in the area of grooming -- nail polish is optional (and costs extra) after a pedicure.  In my opinion, why would anyone want a pedicure and not get their toe nails polished.  That's the cute part.

I seem to have a busier schedule in France.  Mornings are reserved for exercise, a shower and maybe a trip to the grocery store.  Several afternoons are blocked with on-going obligations.   Then there's the myriad of exhibitions, museums and movies to see.  Friends to visit.  It's hard to find a second for grooming. 

In the US, maybe it's because I have a car that grooming just seems easier.  It's warm most of the time, so flip-flops aren't weird.   No one even sees them if I'm coming home from a pedicure.  No one sees my red, no makeup face on the return trip from the facialist.

And I have more time in the US.  Cultural events aren't nagging me to attend before they disappear.

Another biggie:   I can speak English.  It is really hard to tell someone in a foreign language that my skin is sensitive, and I don't want a chemical exfoliation that will make me look years younger after the blotchy red skin goes away. 

It seems to me that the only safe grooming activity in France is waxing.  They don't break the skin and it can grow back.  Unless it's the eyebrows, if it's a bad job, no one will notice.  And, it's fairly inexpensive, compared with the US.

I've never had a massage in France, maybe I'll try it sometime.  All the grooming activities also carry the fear that I will meet my neighbors either in the street or in the building when I'm coming in the door from a grooming appointment.  Flip flops when it's snowing, no makeup, hair in a mess, the rumors will fly.

I Didn't Realize

I didn't realize how much I needed a hair appointment until I walked out of the salon yesterday. 

I had a bad (very bad) experience with a french coiffeuse in 2006.  At that time, we'd been in France a long time and I needed my hair done.  I'd seen a nice, large salon near our apartment.  I went in to investigate, talked to the owner.  We discussed what needed to be done and I set up an appointment to see her in a few days. 

When I arrived at the salon, I was told that another woman would be doing my hair.  I should have balked then but I accepted this change and sat down in her chair.  In the US, I have a "weave".  They put color (or colors) into a thin amount of hair and wrap that in foil.  Then you wait until it works, they wash and style the hair. 

I had asked for a weave.  The original woman (owner) said OK to the weave.  Maybe they don't do weaves in France.  The new woman started doing what she called "balayage" which means sweeping.  It is similar except they put the hair in plastic wrap instead of foil.  I didn't object to this.  But, it took FOR-EVER.  At the two hour mark, I should have been out the door but she was still sweeping.  The cutting took forever too.  I ended up staggering out of the salon at about the 4-/2 hour mark.  My hair looked OK, not great, not even better.  But, the next day when I tried to style it I encountered a disaster.  The woman didn't cut it right, didn't color it right and it didn't look good at all.  I had to let it all grow out. 

Ever since then, I've been getting my hair done exclusively in the US.  So, sometimes I have to wait a long time between appointments. 

I've been putting off getting my hair done because I've been busy.   I should have gone sooner.  This week, I looked in the mirror and decided that I'm overdue.  I looked "witchy".  Off to see Jeannie I went yesterday.   I really didn't think too much about it, I just needed a bit of rejuvenation.  But now that it's done, I realize that I waited far too long.  Maybe I need to find a French coiffeuse that I can trust.

It’s A Big World

It seems like a small world when you run into someone you know in an unexpected place, often thousands of miles from where you’ve known them.   Delightful. 

Living between two countries, I often spot someone on the street, the grocery store or the gym that, for a split second, I think I know. 

Even though it’s the wrong city, my brain is slow on the uptake.  I’ve already made eye contact-- or worse -- smiled broadly; thinking that they know me too.  It’s usually a look-alike and I quickly and casually look away. 

Why would I see Lucienne at the Spectrum in Manhattan Beach or Nancy in at the Marche Bio in Paris? 

Things and people that seem quite familiar and everyday to us are unknown in other parts the world.  It is exhausting to try to keep up.  World events unfold at a rapid rate.  Achievements that don’t effect me go unnoticed.  By me.

I was excited to hear that Jane Goodall was chosen to be the 2013 Grand Marshall of the Rose Parade in Pasadena.  In our part of the world, this is a great honor.  Her quote in the LA Times this morning pushed me right off my egocentric position of balance.  She said, “When you grow up in England and spend all your time in Tanzania…I hadn’t heard of the Rose Parade”.  Hmmm.  I know who she is…

I guess this goes back to the "big world" theory.  You can’t be everywhere and know everything.  Even if you're Jane Goodall. 

Chloe's Christmas

Everyone gets something for Christmas.   Chloe got a new stuffed zebra.  She was very excited.

Happy New Year.

The French Send New Year's Cards

And this year, I'll be doing the same thing for most of my list.  We've had a minor household disaster that required some of my attention in the last week, so I prioritized other things over the cards.  Now they're sitting on my desk looking very lonely. 

I know that the French send New Year's cards, so even though my cards are very Christmas oriented (they are red, white and green) they are going to have to wait.  I also ran out of stamps and the post office was insane this morning.

Merry Christmas

The God Song

I heard this for the first time last night. I was driving home in the rain, it was dark. I was trying to see the road and avoid an accident.  (I was successful).  I heard this song playing on the radio and at first I almost turned it off, but it caught my attention.  So, I'm sharing.  Enjoy

The God Song

Here's the history of the song.  To hear it, you'll have to look about half way down the page to find the link to play it.

Peace on Earth during this holiday season and for the years to come.

You Know You're In California When...

When you hear Feliz Navidad (you'll hear the pronunciation if you're not from around here) three times in one hour on the radio, you know you're in Southern California or maybe Texas.   Are there other states with such a strong Mexican culture? 

There are all different versions, this one is not the most traditional, but you can get the idea of what it sounds like.  The only Spanish words are the title, perhaps it's a translation.

I, personally, have been listening to the Winter Solstice series during this holiday season.  What have you been listening to?

Earthquake Preparedness

Earthquakes happen every day somewhere in the world.  Some are big and some are small.  Sometimes an earthquake occurs in an unusual place, a place that isn't prone to earthquakes.

I am embarrassed to admit this, but on the last flight from Paris to LA I watched the film, "Ice Age 4, Continental Drift".  It's enough to scare anyone.  The ground opens up, the seas swell, the animals are separated.  Even though it was a really dumb movie, it hit home.

We live in an area that is due for "a big one".  I hate to say "THE" big one since it implies that it will be the last one. 

We haven't reviewed our earthquake preparations in several years.  I've started a list of supplies.   I also need to figure out how to shut off the water and the gas to the house.  This is important but also hard to do because it requires a special tool.

We have flashlights and a radio.  If the electricity is out, we need batteries for all of these. Off to the store I went and loaded up on batteries.  I put new batteries in everything and checked them all.  Our other supplies include face masks, gloves, tape and some drop cloths.  We have a supply of food in our pantry that should last for awhile, although it will not be very tasty.

Now we need water.  They say we will need 1 gallon per person per day for at least 4 days = 8 gallons.  I have to get to the store to get water and then figure out a rotation scheme to drink and replace so that it stays fresh.

What's left?  All the glass.  I've used some museum putty on some vases but I can't use it on every glass, plate and bowl.  The good stuff is in quilted holders but a lot of the other stuff will probably not survive the big one.

So, I'm on my way to preparedness, but not there yet.  

Google Translate II

The need for a cultural spell check device.

I've been happily using Google Translate to write letters and emails in French.  It is so easy and fast.  I write what I want to say in English and immediately a translation appears in French.  Accents and everything. I just copy and paste the French into whatever document I'm working on.  This has saved me many hours of laborious work already. 

Even if I look up a few words, questioning the appropriateness of the translation's choice, it is still very quick and I learn something each time I write something new.  Gone is the procrastination factor, I'm free!

I used Google Translate several times now on an email chain to a French woman.  It is a business deal of sorts, but not very high level.  We had an initial meeting (in person).  We're now clarifying our needs. 

I had been clear up front and so had she.  But, several key points have been forgotten (by her) so we have to return to the original requirements before we can finalize anything.  And, the price keeps changing.

My emails to her have been polite and clear.  I thought. 

But her follow up email to me was terse and almost angry.  What did I do wrong?  Was my message too abrupt?  (I was a journalism major, I try to get to the point without a lot of fluff).   Did I use the wrong word, maybe something that wasn't polite?  No idea.  I think the words were fine but that I didn't follow some unwritten cultural rule.

Will the deal fall through?  No idea.  It wasn't that solid to begin with.  It isn't that important to either one of us. 

We have deferred our discussions until January, as the Noel holiday is approaching and everything is going to start shutting down. 

Google Translate

I am the last one to know about this.  I have a Mac so I don't have a translation program easily accessible.  So, I've been doing it the old-fashioned way; writing a letter, email or whatever in French, looking up things in the dictionary and hoping that the recipient can (at least) understand what I've written.

I wasn't asking for perfect, just passable.

During a WICE meeting, someone mentioned doing a translation from French to English.  I was very impressed.  Then the person confessed that he has a translation program on his computer, so all he has to do is fine-tune the document after the software does the heavy lifting.

I've had a couple of pieces of correspondence that have been nagging me.  They both were in French.  So this morning, I sat down with Google Translate, wrote a paragraph at a time in English, fine-tuned it (they have a special fine-tuning mechanism so that's easy too) then copied each paragraph to a Word document. 

One document needed to be printed and mailed, the other was an email.  So, my correspondence took me 30 minutes instead of 2+ hours. 

I'm sure there were still errors but it only needs to be understandable. 

Try Explaining "Black Friday" To A French Person

My "inbox" is full of "Black Friday" internet offers.  I've been tempted by a few, especially those that offer free shipping.

Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving.  It is a holiday for most people in the US.  It's our only "pont" of the year and we defend it fiercely.  If we had to work on this day, we couldn't visit family that live far away, we couldn't overindulge, we couldn't stand on our feet all day cooking.  And, we couldn't shop!

Black Friday is the day that retailers start to show a profit for the year.  They go into the "black" from the "red".

I've been trying to explain this, in French (which makes it harder) to French people this week, without much success.

I think the French use the words black and red to describe positive and negative numbers on a balance sheet, but the rest of this concept is lost. 

I keep getting snarled up in the middle of the description of the day with people telling me that we Americans consume too much.  They don't mean just turkey, they mean everything.  I can't say if they're right or wrong, I think there are members of every society who buy more than the need/want/can use.  That's why we have Goodwill and the Salvation Army. 

In any case, since there is no Thanksgiving in France, the Christmas decorations here went up before Halloween.  Chocolate is abundant and Pere Noel is everywhere.  Who needs Black Friday?

Austerity was "so" yesterday

Today's demonstrations on the streets of Paris are the opponents of gay marriage. 

Yesterday's demonstrators were against austerity measures.  I can't seem to keep up with it all. 

This is not exactly a scary group of people.  Not the "religious right" either.  I'm not sure that there is such a thing as religious right in France.

In any case, my transportation woes continue.  I'll be running my errands on foot this afternoon.

Austerity

I'm planning my day's activities around demonstrations in Paris.  I will take the metro instead of the bus, since bus routes are above ground, therefore uncertain. 

On Wednesday we went to the Louvre and had to take a metro rather than our beloved #95 bus which takes us through a very beautiful section of town before dropping us off right by the pyramids.

The good thing about taking the metro is that it's faster and more reliable.  The bad things are that it often requires a lot of walking in dirty, smelly corridors underground.  The metro to the Louvre left us off in the Carousel du Louvre which is an upscale shopping center under and beside the museum.  I didn't shop but I looked at the windows.  Of note (and not particularly good) there are two (2) Starbucks within a 5 second walk of each other in the Carousel du Louvre, no idea why there are two.

So, my afternoon will be spent in the metro today going to my various activities.  This is because there will be street demonstrations to protest "austerity". France isn't having as much civil insurrection as Greece and Spain.

Austerity is not fun, we all know this.  If I have less money, I spend less money.  With interest rates and investment income at an all-time low, we are practicing some austerity measures.  If the government doesn't have as much money as they used to, they will have to cut spending.  While we don't like it, I don't think people have to demonstrate for days on end about this.  When they are demonstrating, they aren't working, they aren't taking care of their children, they're not looking for a job.  It's not a very productive way to deal with the situation, in my opinion.

I say this as I get out my Navigo card and hike it out to the metro.

What All The Little French Kids Are Wearing This Winter

I saw this in a store window and had to take a photo. It's faux fur, so it's politically correct. 

I've seen similar outfits on some babies already, the weather is starting to get cold.

Les Sangliers (Wild Boar)

For some weird reason, I have fallen in love with this crazy, ugly and aggressive creature.  This is the French sanglier, or wild boar.  Evidently they reproduce like rabbits and their population has exploded throughout France.

Unfortunately, they eat things that they shouldn't; vegetables in the garden, flowers and plants, maybe even small pets.  They run in packs.  When they're all together, maybe 10-20 of them, they're pretty formidable.  Sharp teeth in addition to little tusks.  Short legs that move quickly and can dart in and out easily.  And, a will to survive.

I've heard that they are a tasty game treat.  I can't imagine how much work it would take to get all that prickly fur off and then tenderize the meat, so I'm not in the market to eat them.  I guess the hunters can rationalize killing them -- deplete the overpopulation of sangliers.

Evidently there are even a number of humans that are killed each year in road accidents with sangliers. I guess that's a lose-lose situation.

In any case, I hope these creature survive and flourish, despite their reputation. 

Plastic Bags

The city of Manhattan Beach outlawed plastic bags last year.  I think this is a great move.  We are all lazy and want new, disposable bags every time we shop.  Now, I have my stash of reusable bags in the trunk of my car.  Most of these bags are from France.  The French bags are bigger and more heavy duty.  I have one bag that has little holders in the side.  These are for wine bottles, of course.  I guess they could also be used for things like juice or olive oil.  They are very handy.

I even carry around a nylon bag in my purse. It folds and I can fit it into any purse.  I carry it with me all the time. 

I could mention the environment here, but the act of not using plastic bags needs to be extended to all things plastic including water bottles, food packaging and everything else.  I think that the plastic bag ban is a bandaid at best.  

I had no idea that plastic bags aren't given out freely in Paris.  Normally I bring my cart and use it to transport food from the grocery store.  I haven't used a plastic bag in a long time. 

I had a few spare moments yesterday, I dashed into the Monoprix at La Motte Piquet-Grenelle.  It is huge.  I needed a lot of things but I'd never been in the store before so I walked around, aimlessly looking at things for awhile.  They already have huge chocolate displays for Christmas. 

I had an appointment after this trip so I couldn't buy anything perishable, but I found some things in the housewares area that are unique, so I put them in my cart.  As I checked out, the checker said, "C'est fragile..." which is understood in any language, I was buying glass.  I agreed with her, not realizing that she wasn't going to do anything to help me wrap the fragile items up.  Finally she asked me if I wanted a plastic bag, I said yes.  She replied that they cost 3 centimes each and I would need a lot of them. 

So, I refused the bags.  I paid.  All the glassware was at the end of the runner and another woman/customer was shoving me toward the front door of the store.  I used to panic in these situations but I've learned to push back. I took my time and thought.  My solution was across the street -- the metro!  I put all the glassware carefully in my bag and entered the metro.  Inside, they have stands with free newspapers -- so I grabbed about 5 "A Nous Paris" and about 10 "Direct Matin" and threw those in the bag too.  I walked to the seats to wait for the train.  The sign said 7 minutes, plenty of time. 

Like an experienced bag-lady, I took the newspapers and carefully wrapped each item in the free papers, placed them in the bag and had time to spare.  Everything made it home without incident.

I guess I don't need plastic bags after all.  But my recycling is full of throw away newspapers this morning.

La Geode

We've been waiting for the IMAX film, "To The Arctic" (Arctique in French) to come to Paris.  Ted's company produced the film and he is very proud of it.

It finally appeared in the "nouveau films" section of Pariscope this week.  It is only in one IMAX theatre in Paris and in fact, there is only one IMAX theatre in Paris.  Off we went, map in hand, as we had never been to the 19th arrondisement. 

La Geode is part of the Parc de la Villette, on the outskirts of Paris.  When we got off the metro, we thought we'd landed in a different country, at least a different city.  Huge piles of trash, vendors selling rotten looking grilled corn, obvious drug addicts were everywhere.  A few other indolent looking people, many wearing plastic sandals were hanging out.  We hoped to get into the theatre quickly. 

Up and down the street we went, looking for the address.  We asked 4 different people, no one seemed to know.  We didn't think that the Geode theatre was the same thing as that huge silver ball in the distance called the Geode.  We thought it was part of some science experiment. 

Eventually we found two security guards.  They didn't want to talk to us, help us.  They were too busy enjoying their afternoon ice cream sitting on a bench in the shade.  We persisted.  One guy finally told us that our geode (the theatre) and that silver ball in the distance were one and the same.  Now, how do we get there?  The entire area was fenced off, under construction.  I was glad it wasn't dark.  

We hiked it out, had to go up and down lots of stairs, the place seemed deserted.  We went in.

No line at the ticket counter.  We'd been walking around the rundown, scary neighborhood for 45 minutes and the movie was scheduled to start in about 5 minutes.  We bought the tickets and they told us to get in a line which we saw in the distance in the dark.  A Disneyland-esque line emerged.   There were about 100 people in the line.  Finally they let us in.  We followed the others through a hallway, up an escalator, more stairs into a room that was dark with no handrails and a large drop on one side.  There was a woman standing there to make sure we didn't take a wrong turn.

Up a steep set of stairs with no handrail.   Really, really steep. Being afraid of heights, I made us sit in the first reasonable set of seats, not too far up. 

The lights dimmed more and blasts of light and sound came from everywhere.  I wished I had a seat belt, my entire brain was on fire trying to figure out which end was up.  Somehow the laws of gravity worked in my favor and I stayed in my seat.  The real movie, Arctique finally came on, it was spectacular. 

On the way out, we got to see the control room for the film.  IMAX films require a lot of equipment and skilled operators.  It was quite an experience, including the metro ride to and from the 19th, which took an hour each way.

Bad Behavior At The Tennis Club

Tennis Club du 16eme before the courts were covered.

We played tennis this morning at the tennis club.

It's been raining a lot so we're happy that all the courts are covered.

The club has three courts that, when covered, are all in one big bubble (bulle).  Unfortunately, the other two courts were filled with men who were screaming and being somewhat obnoxious, like screaming "merde" and even a couple of assorted "shits"  every time they missed a shot (which was all the time).  Finally we all gave each other enough dirty looks and a few prolonged stare-downs and the guys quieted down. 

Funny, but I think that in the US, you'd need to have an exchange of words to accomplish the desired result.  In France, even though they were acting badly, they must have known it and we didn't have to exchange verbal blows.

It was still a stressful morning and I'm sure that these men will forget all about today and will annoy many other players during the next six months.  Then, the courts will be opened up and the screams will compete with the noise from the Peripherique.  

The Epitome of "Cool"

If you look closely, he's sitting right next to a cigarette butt. 

I think that this is the best cafe dog in Paris.  He works/lives at the Cafe Conti on rue de Buci.  I've been watching him guard his owner's place for years.

It is a very crowded area, but he doesn't budge, people have to walk around him.  As you can see, it took two shots to get his face.

I think he is a Cairn Terrier.

 I don't know his name.

Soutine

The L'Orangerie is hosting an excellent exhibition about Soutine.  It is well worth the wait in line, even in the rain.  Even though there were crowds to get into the museum, this exhibition wasn't what everyone wanted to see.

The big attraction is the museum's permanent collection of Monet's waterlilies which are housed in two large round rooms.  They are beautiful.  I read that Monet chose the setting and designed the rooms to provide an area of peace where people could spend time looking at the paintings.  Yesterday's crowd was so loud that the guard in the room kept having to tell the group to be quiet.  Many people were also taking photos with their cameras which is not allowed.   The only way you could remember these paintings in their environment is if you took a video of the 360 degrees of these rooms.

Pumpkins To Enjoy

These beauties were just hanging out in the patch at the L'Abbaye.  I really wanted to ask if I could have one to take home with me.  I didn't think the nuns would understand.  Since I'd already asked a fair amount of dumb questions (like where is the trash...)  I thought it was better if I refrained from asking.

So, the pumpkins stayed in the patch and I returned to Paris with no pumpkins. 

These pumpkins are HUGE.  Each one probably weighs 10-15 pounds.  I don't know why they are different colors, perhaps they are slightly different. 

One thing I do know -- these beauties will never have the fate of most American pumpkins -- decorations.  They are food.  More than likely, they will end up in soup along with the leeks, the cauliflower the carrots and the potatoes.

More Lost In The Translation(s)

I made two "betises" (stupid, silly things) errors in French in the last few days.  Everyone laughs when they hear what happened and I've told this story several times. 

The first one was mistaking the word "cendrier" (ashtray) for the word "sanglier" (wild boar or hog). 

These two words really sound the same.  The context was that a woman stole an ashtray from a hotel and put it in her suitcase but the hotel found out and searched everyone's suitcases.  Since I heard that she stole a wild boar not an ashtray I listened for the end of the story and was not satisfied.  How big was the suitcase, did the sanglier die...  I was very confused and no one else asked any questions, so I had to ask him to clarify the story and when they found out that I heard "sanglier" not "cendrier" they all went into hysterics.  At my expense, of course.

The second was when I pulled out my lipstick to put it on and someone asked what I was doing, I replied that I was putting on my... I didn't know the word for lipstick in French so I said "lipstick" in English.  Another roar of laughter from the French... they thought I said "lifting" as in facelift.  No idea how a little tube of pink stuff could work such miracles.  

Detente is a relative thing in France

The relaxation area is designated

Hmmm, this doesn't look very relaxing to me

I guess I'll have to get over it

The Club Med Gym on rue de Rennes is probably considered nice by French standards.  It's certainly as expensive as the Spectrum in Manhattan Beach.  Besides the price the two places do not resemble each other.

After my workout, I always go to the "Salle de detente" for women which is located next to the locker room.  These are pictures of the space.  The sign says, Shhh! This is a place for relaxing.  But, the hard floor, the weird wooden bars on the wall and the equipment on the floor make me think this is just another spot to work out.  

But, I resist.  I grab a blue plastic mat, put my towel over it since I'm sure it hasn't ever been cleaned and do my stretches.  No one else is ever in this room.  So, I guess in that way it's relaxing.

Road Trip

The Oyster Market at Cancale

All the people staying at the monastery were astonished that we didn't have a car.

We'd considered renting a car but thought that the peace of a few days in one spot would be nice.  We weren't threatened by being stranded, it was a good exercise in enjoying one place.

Days were spent beach combing, walking through the farm, walking into town.

On Friday morning some people we'd met offered to take us to a nearby town for a visit.  We agreed.  We didn't know anything about them, didn't even know their names. 

We met at the appointed time and place and walked to a very small old car.  The man started the car, we drove off, squished in the backseat sitting on an old blanket.  We had no idea where we were going, but they told us that it was a town called Cancale near St Malo.  It is famous for oysters.

Since I'm allergic to oysters I wasn't overly excited, but figured that between an afternoon of speaking french and a drive in the country side, I'd enjoy myself.

We arrived at Cancale and the couple jumped out of the car and headed down the path.  They came back a couple of minutes later and handed us the key to their car, "in case it rains before we come back..."

The situation -- people that we don't know at all, we don't even know their names have taken pity on us because they think we're stranded and have taken us on a road trip.  Now, they've given us the key to their car.   This is not normal (in our universe) but we accepted the key and again they raced off.

We stumbled down the walkway by the ocean looking out to sea.  We finally found the market where the oyster men (oyster people...) bring in the day's catch to sell.  They had blue and white striped tents on a cement slab near the port.  Terry bought some oysters and ate them on a bench.  Then we hiked back to the car.  We decided to introduce ourselves when we returned.  I took one of my cards and wrote our names and a nice note on the card.  We got back to the car about the same time that they did and we gave them the card and had formal introductions.  Their names were Liliane and Gilbert and they were from the Charantes-Maritimes.

We drove away, visited a few more spots before returning to the monastery in time for a quick shower and dinner with the group.

Life At The French Monastery

Motivated by a few days of peace in a beautiful setting, we searched out and found a real, working monastery in Brittany and planned an escape.  We didn't know what to expect but weren't too worried about it.  What can possibly go wrong in a monastery?  Too much quiet, perhaps?

I have so many different thoughts and themes running through my mind now that we've returned.  I will try to get them all into posts at some point.

French immersion was part of the experience.  Who would go to a french monastery in the middle of nowhere except french people.  Because of the low-cost of the trip (Euro 46 per day all meals included) and the lack of luxury, you can rule out a lot more people.

Out of everything that happened and everything that we experienced, the thing that stands out in my mind the most is the kindness and generosity of the people that we met.  We were the silly Americans who stumbled into the monastery from California.  They were mostly devout Catholics (some nuns and priests and an assorted Archbishop around too).  None of them had been to California and most of them had never been to the US.  I think many of them have never been to Paris.   They didn't seem to have the pre-conceived ideas that many French people seem to have about Americans.  Maybe they didn't like us at first, but we grew on them.

The first night at dinner, we were assigned to a table of 6.  We were the last to arrive so there were two seats left.  It quickly became clear that this would be our table for the entire stay and the seats we were in would remain our seats.  Little did we know that the cloth napkin that we had would be put into a little cloth envelope and safely stored with our table mate's napkins in a drawer marked #3 (our table).  Someone would fetch the stack of napkins before each meal and put them away at the end.  We even had a discussion about the best way to fold the napkin to get it to fit properly in the cloth envelope.  I guess this is part of the life at a monastery.

We were all very polite the first night but no one introduced themselves so we didn't know the other people's names.  If we saw them during the day, we would say hi and smile but not linger.

We each quickly found a place in our table's society.  One man was very knowledgeable about the area, so he told everyone about it.  One woman was absolutely sad and silent with her pill bottles at her place for each meal.  Another couple were joyous and talkative, but we couldn't understand much of what they were saying.  Everyone at the table was older than me.  So, my contribution was simple -- I cleared the table after each course.  The method was quickly made clear to me by one of the servers who yelled at me for not doing it right.  The plates and silver wear are cleared and all food is scraped into a bin.  (Compost I think).  There was a place for silver wear, a place for the plates, glasses etc.  So, I jumped up and down after every course.  I was also became the person who fetched more water and, eventually, wine.

That first night no one talked much and no one drank very much wine.  We were too polite.  Terry and I had packed a bottle of wine, just in case, so after dinner, we went up to our little monastery room and had another glass of wine together before bed.  No internet, no TV except French TV in the TV room.  We had our wine, spread out on one bed and read our books until bedtime. 

Our room was spartan.  Two single beds, rock hard, one at either end of the room with an armoire and a small desk in between.  One window which had shutters for privacy and darkness.   A bathroom with a small shower, a sink and a toilet. You bring your own soap and if you want sheets and towels you have to pay extra.  No maid service, if the trash needs to be taken out, you do it.  If you want the bed made, you make it. 

More to come from the monastery. 

The Cloud Ate My Contacts

I still don't know how this happened. 

Yesterday I backed up my iPHONE.  I change the songs, photos and apps quite often.  When I started the sync, a window came up telling me (asking me) if I wanted to download the new software. Yes, why not?

I selected the apps, songs and photos and waited for it all to finish.  Done.  I didn't think about this for another second until this morning.

Part of the good/bad part of having an iPHONE is that you can get your emails anywhere.  So, as I walking down the street, I looked at my emails and found one that disturbed me.  Being impatient by nature, I needed to deal with this immediately.  So, I hit "Contacts" to call the person and settle the issue raised on the email. 

When I got to the contacts, a new screen came up and said to select from a choice of Contacts on the Cloud or Contacts on the Computer.  I selected the Computer.  It was blank.  So, I selected the Cloud, blank.  Back and forth I went until I realized that my Contacts were gone.  All of them! 

Wherever my Contacts went, they weren't in a cloud that I could access. 

A lot of work went into that Contact List.  I meticulously check it, add to it and refine it.  It is an incredibly useful tool.  Note that I'm using the present tense, that's a good sign.

I raced back home and grabbed my computer and the cable.  I plugged the phone in, hit INFO then clicked on everything that said Contacts from Computer and did another SYNC. Voila, the Contacts are back.  I have no idea if someone else's Cloud has my contact list or if my Contact List is going to be updated in the Cloud in the future.  As long as I have my Contact in my phone, where i want them, I'm satisfied.  

The Moment of Truth Has Arrived

My absentee ballot came in the mail today.  I guess I have some time to decide who to vote for.  At this point, instead of picking a candidate that I think is good (for me, my loved ones, the country) I will pick the "lesser of the evils".   Normally I have decided and ready to vote by the time the ballot arrives.

I hope some new information is uncovered that will help me with this decision.

The Weather

I hate to complain about the weather.  But----
Last week at this time, it was warm and sunny.  Delightful.  Everyone was walking around with a smile on their face and sandals on their feet.  Linen dresses and shirts were everywhere.

Now, we've had three days of rain.  One day it was solid all day.  Today is about 20 degrees cooler with wind.  I'm freezing! My tan is fading!  Not yet, it's only mid-September, I'm not ready.

Lost Cards

In the last week, I have lost two different cards that are important in my French life.

This morning as I was getting ready to leave, I grabbed my Navigo (transport) card and realized that I had the outside plastic holder but no card inside.  The plastic on the outside was broken and it had slipped out; probably on the 58 bus coming home last night.  After a futile search of my purse, I realized that a detour was in order this morning. I had to go to the Gare Montparnasse and get my card replaced.  I know the drill for this because I washed my card a few years ago.  It has a chip in it and after washing, it didn't work.

To Montparnasse I went.  Wearing tennis clothes, no makeup and feeling a little bit rushed and unhappy, I arrived quickly at the caisse/kiosk. But the woman at the desk was a trainee and couldn't make me a new card. I had to wait for the permanent woman to return from her break. The clock was ticking on my tennis court time, but I couldn't get there without the Navigo unless I wanted to buy tickets and do this job later.

The woman arrived, processed my card, commenting (I didn't need this) on how much younger I looked in the photo that they had.

The other card had a different fate but the outcome was basically the same.  While doing a big clean out, I accidentally shredded my current Musee d'Orsay Carte Blanche.  Of course,  all the previous years' cards were saved from my manic shredding session.

An email to the M d'O got a quick reply.  They can't replace the card, they can only send me an "Attestation" that I have to present with a photo ID.  I guess this is the best they can do.  It's my fault that I shredded on card and lost the other one.

The Purple Velvet Armchair

An early morning flight last week necessitated a trip to Starbucks at LAX.  I'm not a big consumer of Starbucks. I probably only drink one or two cups per year. 

I was planning to buy the cup of coffee and return to the gate and wait for my flight.  I bought the coffee, looked around.  An oasis of purple velvet flooded my peripheral vision.  Three purple velvet chairs were in the corner.  One was vacant and called my name.  Yum.  To sit in/on velvet is a luxury. 

The chair was big; wide and tall.  Almost a loveseat.  As I wheeled my carry on suitcase over and sat down with an "ahhhh",  I noticed that the other two chairs were occupied by women about my age.  The purple velvet must appeal to our socio-economic group.  Or, maybe no one else is dumb enough to be at the airport that early.

I spent an hour in that chair, luxuriating in the comfort, security and calm that it provided.

Shopping At Goodwill

I had seven huge, heavy bags in my trunk.  A delivery to the Goodwill.

The closet clean out was a success and Goodwill received the proceeds. 

I packed the bags into my trunk this morning.  Packed is the right word, my trunk was overflowing.

There is a new Goodwill near our house.  I dropped by after the gym.  I didn't realize that the drop off point was around in the back so I walked into a Goodwill store.  There were no employees (is this the right word or are they volunteers?) available so I walked from the front to the back of the store.

The store was very tidy, well-lit, quite inviting.

I finally found a man who informed me that I had to drive to the back to drop off my bags.

On the way out the door, the racks of clothes called my name.  The clothes are organized by type (jackets, shirts, pants) and then sub-categorized by color.  So, all black jeans are together.  This is different from a normal store where you search the racks for your size.  Here you have to search by type, then color then hope to find your size. I guess it makes sense, but it's not as easy as a normal store.

I browsed several racks before the thought rocketed through my brain, "What are you doing?  You just cleaned out all your closets and drawers.  There are seven bags in the trunk of your car.  You don't need more stuff..."

The voice won.  I got in my car, delivered the bags and was on my way, empty-handed.

Hoarder or Purger?

I just launched a major clean-out effort.  Two closets were the source of my attention yesterday afternoon.

I feel much better.  I now have three large bags of clothes to take to the Goodwill.  I was nice enough to fold everything and put "like" items together.  I even put outfits together in the bag so that it would be easier to merchandise these items.  Suits, jeans, sweaters and dresses from a bygone era, mostly my life when I worked in an office.  I really had a lot of clothes back then.  Someone will get some nice things, which is great.

Next comes the dresser and closet drawers.  It will feel good to make room for new things.

I think that most people have a tendency to hoard or purge.  I am more of a hoarder, Terry is definitely a purger.  Some of the things in the bags that are earmarked for the Goodwill are probably 10 years old.  I have no use for them but I kept them in a remote closet, "just in case".  There are some old things in this closet that I take out once a year, these items are staying.  They include a red t-shirt with a discreet white heart that I wear on Valentine's Day and two fun Christmas sweaters.

Shamefully, I've found and discarded several things with the price tags still hanging from them.

As I went through the closet, I reminisced.  In addition to the "just in case" scenario, the memories evoked by certain things are too great.  I fear I'll lose that memory if I give the item away.  But, out they go!  Even a hoarder has to clean out and I see the necessity of it as well as the catharsis.

As you can imagine, I don't really understand purgers.  My husband has been known to throw things away prematurely.  Then, we have an all-out APB for the item and never find it.  He purges things one at a time, throwing them in the trash can.  It's not worth a trip to the Goodwill.  Luckily, our cleaning lady usually finds these things and I'm sure either her husband or son are enjoying them and giving them a second life.

Hoarder or purger?  While I want to reform, I doubt that it's possible.

Paparazzi

I'm from Los Angeles; I have lived here all my life (except the French interludes). 

Until today, I've never seen paparazzi in action.  I've seen them on the news, chasing someone famous.  I know that Princess Diana's car was being hounded by some very persistent paparazzi when her driver hit the wall in the tunnel in Paris. 

To be chased by paparazzi you have to be famous, new, hip.  I doubt that the paparazzi chase Regis Philbin around town, but you never know.

I was walking up the street this afternoon in Beverly Hills.  A bit early for an appointment, I was strolling, window-shopping, enjoying the warm, sunny day.  I first noticed that there were several guys standing on the sidewalk in front of me with very large lenses on cameras.  I shrugged it off at first, thinking they were over-equipped tourists.

In a whoosh, about five cars pulled up on the street, double-parked, people jumped out.  All of them had large, expensive-looking cameras with long lenses.  Then it dawned on me -- paparazzi!  Someone famous must be in the neighborhood.

Even though I was dressed and coiffed nicely, there was no mistake.  I was not the target.  I easily walked by all of them, the cameras remained at their owners' sides.  I kept walking even though I wanted to ask them who they were tracking.

I never found out who it was.  I went about my business and perhaps even passed the person without recognizing him or her.  I'm not very current on these things and often movie stars and personalities don't look quite as good as on the screen.

I did notice a couple of interesting things.  The paparazzi have spotters.  These are people in the street with nothing more than a phone.  They look innocent (no camera) so the star won't notice them as they walk by.  There were two of these spotters on the street.  They had obviously called their partners.  I also found out that if the star is in a building, they cover every entrance and exit, just to be sure they don't miss their target.  They don't seem to get parking tickets for double-parking on a busy street in the middle of the day in Beverly Hills.  Maybe they get a ticket once in awhile, but not today.   I guess the fine is just part of the cost of doing business.

I wonder how much money a paparazzi makes for a good photo?  It must be enough to keep them all running. 

An Earthquake Inspires New Vigilance

A 3.8 earthquake hit this morning about 3 AM.  It sounded like someone hit the house with a truck, it shook for a second and it was over.  I braced for another, bigger one, but that was the extent of our seismic activity for now. 

This is a small reminder to tie everything down.  My china and crystal have been used recently so I need to package it all back up securely because the next quake might not be so benign.

It's kind of a chore to have to keep everything packaged up in bubble wrap but it's good protection.  One small earthquake shook every one of our champagne glasses to the front of the cupboard and the next time we opened it, we had a rain of glass from above.  Hopefully we've learned our lesson. 

I also use this stuff called "Quake Hold" that is like museum putty, it keeps objects like vases and even pictures from moving during an earthquake.  The main danger during an earthquake is not that the item falls over it's that it goes to the edge of something (shelf, table, etc) and then falls to the ground and breaking.

Don't Share Your Music With Me...

Our nearest neighbor, Sean, has a keyboard and maybe a drum set in a room that is quite close to our house.  When all the windows are open in the Summer, we can hear him break into song at whim.  This happens day and night.  Luckily for us it doesn't last long.  Today, it's the blues.  Usually it's more rock 'n roll.  In either case, he sings off tune, turns up the base on the speakers and generally annoys me.

The equivalent to this in Paris is the child who is taking up the violin and practices those scratchy notes over and over again.  Or the opera lover who opens the windows early on Sunday morning to share the aria with the entire neighborhood. 

I don't like clutter and in my mind noise pollution is clutter that I can't recycle.  I want to be able to hear what I want to hear, when I want to hear it.  Aren't there headphones for this?

We've tried calling and emailing him and the noise stops for awhile and then, after a week or so, it comes back.  Does he think we forgot that we hate to hear him singing off key, "Love you in the morning, babe, love you every day, love you on the weekend..."  Not a compelling lyric or a true note in our enforced daily concerts.

Aller Simple, A Foreign Concept

Aller simple means a one-way ticket.

Quite a frightening concept for me.  It can mean many things, most literally travel.

It can also mean selling a house, quitting a job, giving something up.  It means you don't plan to go back.

Most things can be reversed or changed, most places can be revisited even if it's not the same the second time. 

Normally we buy our airline tickets aller retour, a round trip.  We're considering booking a one-way ticket for future travel.   It's gotten a bit complicated. 

The airlines haven't made it easy for us to travel in style.  We hoard our frequent flyer miles, trying every possible way to use them to our advantage.  The frequent flyer programs, like the health insurance companies change the ground rules all the time, always to our disadvantage.

The alternative is grim; a coach or premium coach seat for 11+ hours, sharing a bathroom with 50+ people who all want to use it at the same time, terrible food with small portions, tiny seats with enormous next-seat neighbors.

We thought we finally had enough miles to buy Business Class seats round trip.  Yeah!  Champagne and movies for 11 hours.   We'd maximized our miles using a credit card that added miles to our program in addition to the miles earned for travel.  We have one credit card in Euros and one in US Dollars.  We've worked it as hard as we can, we organize, negotiate, research, save.  

We negotiated between each other for weeks, juggling our obligations and interests to select the best travel dates.  We researched the internet to find the best flights so that when we called we wouldn't be pushed into an itinerary with stops in cities we don't want to ever visit.

I might add that even though Air France and Delta Airlines now share planes and code-share, they don't share frequent flyer programs and even though Delta uses Air France planes to go to Paris, they won't book flights as far in advance as Air France will for the same flight.   Unless you specify otherwise, if you fly to France on either Delta or Air France, they will try to award the miles on Delta.   If you call from France, you get Air France not Delta. If you call from the US, you can't speak with someone from Air France, only Delta.  How did they ever figure out this complicated and silly system?  I'm sure a lot of highly paid people spent a lot of time on this. 

We called Air France Flying Blue program.  A nice man informed us that we can't share our miles or gift them to each other so we only have enough miles for two one-way tickets, which he'd be happy to book.  We booked them but haven't bought them yet.  Our idea was that we could call Delta and use our Sky Miles for the other half of the ticket.  Au Contraire.  On Air France using Flying Blue miles, the cost of a one-way ticket is 50% of a round trip ticket.  Makes sense.

Delta's rules are completely different for the same flight, same seats, same plane. On Delta, a one-way ticket using miles is the same price as a round trip ticket.  If we had enough miles to fly round trip, we would have called them first. 

So, now we have a lot of miles that we can't use and a one-way ticket to France.  We'll get back to the US somehow.

On Line Shopping

I prefer to roam the stores, looking, feeling, touching, comparing.  

But my plantar fascitis has roared back, this time on my left foot, making it almost impossible to walk, let alone roam the stores.   I've been shopping on line this Summer, with great success.  My fingers have done the walking for me.

I just "hit" the Nordstrom sale.  I got a pair of boots and a pair of jeans.  Can't wait until it's cool enough to wear them.  I've also ordered from Talbot's and J. Jill recently.  I've been so successful that I had to go out and buy more hangers.  As soon as I can stand up for an extended period of time, I'll have to "weed" the closet and make room for all my loot.

I'm also looking at a great North Face down jacket which comes in black, navy and white.  The white isn't practical but it is beautiful. 

No Hablo Espagnol

My sister and I decided, independently of one another, to study Spanish this Summer.  She bought some  tapes, I bought some books, we've shared.

It's already gotten a bit competitive and she's in the lead.  She started speaking Spanish to me on the phone and I didn't understand and was frozen, zombie-like, unable to answer in Spanish.  Deja vu, franciais.   No comprendo Espagnol!

Today, I decided to apply myself to this long-term task.  Earphones and iPHONE in hand, I listened and repeated Spanish phrases for 45 minutes and some of it stuck.

The pronunciation is really hard for me.  I've had to compare the pronunciation with French in order to remember.  For example, in French, "pardon" is the same as Spanish, "pardon" (not sure of the Spanish spelling since it was on a tape).  In French, it's pronounced, "pahr-don".  In Spanish, it's "perrr-dohn".  I can't roll the r's either.  In order to remember the pronunciation, I have to compare it to the French.

There's a problem with this method.  Speed.  We're now learning and putting together short sentences.  Because I've been comparing the words to French, I have to translate the English into French (remembering the pronunciation) and then translate the French into Spanish.  I don't know why I'm doing it this way, I'll have to try to stop.

In a real-life situation, people don't ask me a question and count to 100 while I do a double-translation, check the pronunciation, smile and blather out some semi-coherent response. 

I thought learning another language would be fairly easy for me.  Au contraire!

I'm Glad I Did This In The U.S.

The Apple Store Genius Bar.

I made my appointment, I showed up on time.  The place was teeming.  I knew I had to check in, but where?  I found a guy and asked, he told me to go to the Genius Bar.  I went there, had to wait, a guy told me I had to check in with another guy who was in the center of the store.  I did.  He checked me in. 

There were about 15 people ahead of me.  Isn't that what an appointment is for?  Obviously not in Apple Land.  I waited and waited. People jostled me, there was nowhere to stand.  People kept crowding in at the Genius Bar, hoping they could get helped right away.

After waiting for about 15 minutes I checked back with the original check in guy who told me that I was late for my appointment, I'd have to wait! I wasn't late, even after circling the store to try to find the check in guy.

At the 20 minute mark, I was about to cry in frustration.  Finally my name came up.  The guy was nice, he helped me, he fixed my problem. 

I had considered buying an AppleCare insurance plan but after this, I think I'd rather take my chances.

As I was waiting, I wondered what it would be like to try to do this in France with the language barrier and cultural differences.  Would I have even understood that I got bounced from person to person without getting helped.  Certainly I would be jostled more, French people tend to crowd more.  They also cut in line if they can, but at this store, all the people were trying to cut in. 

It was a gorgeous, sunny afternoon.  Why are all these people in the Apple Store instead of 1. work 2.  the beach.  Even the dentist is better/easier than this. 

Health Food Stores

I just got back from Whole Foods.  "My" WF is gigantic, maybe 200,000 square feet.  It has an olive bar, a mozzarella bar (fresh), lots of regional, vegan and ethnic choices.  It has fresh soup, two different kinds of pre-cooked chicken, bins of grain, nuts, cereal.

Every time I go to this store, I end up buying less than I expected, I get a bit stalled by the sheer size and quantity of goods.  I just needed a few things.  They also have lots of vitamins, a machine that makes butter out of a variety of nuts, fresh meat and fish, lots of gluten-free selections.

I don't really like this store, but it's the only place around to get some of the things I eat.

Naturalia in Paris resembles health food stores in the US circa 1980.  The first thing you notice is the health food store smell.  What is that?  A combination of spilled health foods, I guess. 

Naturalia is so small (maybe 1500 square feet) that two people can barely pass in an aisle.  Lots of the really good stuff is on the bottom shelf so people are hunkered on their knees or crouching, looking for their products.   It has the basics, even some health food wine (maybe made with organic grapes?). 

Consistent with Whole Foods, I never buy as much as I expect.  Either they don't have it (even if they had it last week), or I can't find it and no one is available to help me. 

They have a few bulk products, like WF but no convenience, pre-cooked stuff.  You buy it, you take it home, you cook it. 

They are both more expensive than regular stores, which is to be expected.