....frying up chicken strips the old-fashioned way whilst listening to the dulcet sounds of Joan Jett's "I Hate Myself for Loving You." Ah, good times.
Just as we were getting in the swing with Plan B, Plan A reared its ugly head. My mother-in-law called this weekend to tell us that she found an ad for an apartment for rent in the town where Steph will teach this year. Steph called, and it sounds damn near perfect. There's only one problem (of course!).
The apartment is available the first of November, but we are required to give three month's notice here, unless our proprietors give us special permission to cut out early (or we can always pay rent anyway but by god, who wants to do that?). The proprietor over there tells us that if she finds someone who can take it on November 1st, she will give it to them, even though we're the first to call. To make it even worse, there is still a family living in the apartment, so we have to make an appointment to see it, which is being arranged by the proprietor, and every day that passes is another day we can't talk to our proprietors about what our options are (because we'd like to see the apartment first, to see if it's worth begging to leave in two months instead of three).
If you know me well, you know that I hate waiting. I am practically jumping out of my skin, and I would feel better if there was something I could do about the situation, but for the moment our fate is in other peoples' hands and it's driving me crazy. Hopefully a little walk around town will help take my mind off things for a while.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Saturday, August 20, 2005
an interlude
The scene: Vivi is flipping through the bi-weekly advertisements from the supermarket, as she and Steph enjoy their morning coffee.
Vivi: 40 euros for a keyboard! That's outrageous!
Steph: (glancing at the ad) Well, it does come with a moose.
Vivi: (cracking up) No, mouse, not moose! A moose is that big animal with the antlers...
Steph: Ah, yes! That's what I need! A moose will be an extra large mouse with antlers on it; it will be excellent for killing more elves!
...and scene.
In other news, we called about the apartment on the 4th floor, only to learn that the last owner was a woman who lived there for 40 years. To say it's a fixer-upper is quite an understatement. We are ok with minor touching up over the next few years, but rewiring the electricity does not fall under those guidelines. We put a call in to another agent regarding another interesting apartment, but he hasn't called back yet. The search continues...
Vivi: 40 euros for a keyboard! That's outrageous!
Steph: (glancing at the ad) Well, it does come with a moose.
Vivi: (cracking up) No, mouse, not moose! A moose is that big animal with the antlers...
Steph: Ah, yes! That's what I need! A moose will be an extra large mouse with antlers on it; it will be excellent for killing more elves!
...and scene.
In other news, we called about the apartment on the 4th floor, only to learn that the last owner was a woman who lived there for 40 years. To say it's a fixer-upper is quite an understatement. We are ok with minor touching up over the next few years, but rewiring the electricity does not fall under those guidelines. We put a call in to another agent regarding another interesting apartment, but he hasn't called back yet. The search continues...
Friday, August 19, 2005
the big plan
I have been suspiciously quiet this week, because I've had my nose shoved in a couple of books. Last time I saw Doc, she lent me her Harry Potter set, including the new book, so I've been catching up. This week I read books 4, 5 and 6 (and I'm scandalized!), having just finished a few hours ago. Normally I try to make books last, as books in English here are few and far between, but I gulped these down like water in the desert. Doesn't make for good blogging, but I enjoyed it.
We've also implemented the Secret Plan, which isn't really a secret, but I wanted to be sure we were going to move ahead with the Plan before I said anything, and now it can be told: we are looking to buy an apartment.
The original plan was to wait until I found work to buy a place, as we would have the relative comfort and buying power of a double income, but I'm afraid I was a bit over-confident in my ability to join the workforce this soon. Nevertheless, a few weeks ago I confessed to Steph that, while this place is certainly a swingin' bachelor pad, it is just a bit cramped for two people and all their stuff and I am quietly going insane. Usually I wouldn't mind a small space (god knows I've lived in smaller places on my own), but with the bedroom containing the computers, the tv, and the clothes dryer, we spend the vast majority of our time in here and I desperately need a quiet space to lay my head at night. Shortly after that, we implemented Plan A.
Plan A was to move to the town where Steph will be teaching this year, about a half an hour north of Troyes. It's a quiet town, quite a bit smaller than Troyes but no village, either. We figured we could find a bigger apartment or house to rent for around what we're paying now, and instead of Steph driving to work everyday, I'd drive to Troyes when the need arose (French lessons, choir rehearsal, etc.). Unfortunately, that proved fruitless. Not one dang apartment or house for sale in the town or surrounding area. It was then that we moved swiftly on to Plan B.
Plan B is to actually purchase an apartment here in Troyes. We figure we can kill two birds with one stone: find a place just a little bigger than this one, and actually start investing and stop throwing away money on rent. After a visit to the bank to work out the financial bits, we started our search today with a place that was too good to be true. Well, you know what they say about something that's too good to be true...
The lowest price going, three bedrooms (one more than we are looking for) and right in the middle of downtown. The only problems were the distinct lack of parking, the view (right down in the the garbage in the stanky courtyard), the windows (which would need to be replaced), the heating (which was electric and therefore very expensive) and the ceiling (which was wet and coming down in places)... you know, little stuff. *snort*
And so it begins. We'll have another one to check out tomorrow. This one's on the fourth (fifth for the Americans) floor. Can't wait!
We've also implemented the Secret Plan, which isn't really a secret, but I wanted to be sure we were going to move ahead with the Plan before I said anything, and now it can be told: we are looking to buy an apartment.
The original plan was to wait until I found work to buy a place, as we would have the relative comfort and buying power of a double income, but I'm afraid I was a bit over-confident in my ability to join the workforce this soon. Nevertheless, a few weeks ago I confessed to Steph that, while this place is certainly a swingin' bachelor pad, it is just a bit cramped for two people and all their stuff and I am quietly going insane. Usually I wouldn't mind a small space (god knows I've lived in smaller places on my own), but with the bedroom containing the computers, the tv, and the clothes dryer, we spend the vast majority of our time in here and I desperately need a quiet space to lay my head at night. Shortly after that, we implemented Plan A.
Plan A was to move to the town where Steph will be teaching this year, about a half an hour north of Troyes. It's a quiet town, quite a bit smaller than Troyes but no village, either. We figured we could find a bigger apartment or house to rent for around what we're paying now, and instead of Steph driving to work everyday, I'd drive to Troyes when the need arose (French lessons, choir rehearsal, etc.). Unfortunately, that proved fruitless. Not one dang apartment or house for sale in the town or surrounding area. It was then that we moved swiftly on to Plan B.
Plan B is to actually purchase an apartment here in Troyes. We figure we can kill two birds with one stone: find a place just a little bigger than this one, and actually start investing and stop throwing away money on rent. After a visit to the bank to work out the financial bits, we started our search today with a place that was too good to be true. Well, you know what they say about something that's too good to be true...
The lowest price going, three bedrooms (one more than we are looking for) and right in the middle of downtown. The only problems were the distinct lack of parking, the view (right down in the the garbage in the stanky courtyard), the windows (which would need to be replaced), the heating (which was electric and therefore very expensive) and the ceiling (which was wet and coming down in places)... you know, little stuff. *snort*
And so it begins. We'll have another one to check out tomorrow. This one's on the fourth (fifth for the Americans) floor. Can't wait!
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
summer draws to a close
It may be the middle of August, but it's becoming more and more apparent that summer is on the way out the door. The most obvious difference is that the weather is starting to change. We've had something of a cold snap, for August anyway, and it's been in the 70's during the day and getting down to the 50's at night. It's getting dangerously close to the time when we have to close the windows at night.
Another obvious sign is that the stores are doing a brisk business on what they call the rentrée, or the return to school (and work, for those who are taking the month of August for vacation). The supermarkets are filled with kids dashing around with their newly chosen backpacks on, and the lines at the cashier are full of moms buying paper, pencils, crayons, notebooks and all the other goodies you need to get back to school. I had heard that a lot of schools back home are already back in session (particularly in the south), and I admit that it struck me as odd. I've already taken for granted that school will start after September 1st here, and anything earlier already seems strange. Pretty soon I'll be sending Steph off to school everyday and I'll be playing the roll of placid housewife (please try not to laugh so loud!) once again.
Speaking of that, in a couple of weeks I'll be heading back to the classroom myself. Once again I'll be studying French twice a week, and going to the Conservatory once a week, and in the meantime I'll be scouring the want-ads in the vain hope that something perfect will come along. I don't think I'll be tearing my hair out, however, as I've got some small projects scattered around the place to keep me occupied.
The end of summer also brings me to the end of my first year in the blogosphere. Anyone have any suggestions on how I should celebrate?
Another obvious sign is that the stores are doing a brisk business on what they call the rentrée, or the return to school (and work, for those who are taking the month of August for vacation). The supermarkets are filled with kids dashing around with their newly chosen backpacks on, and the lines at the cashier are full of moms buying paper, pencils, crayons, notebooks and all the other goodies you need to get back to school. I had heard that a lot of schools back home are already back in session (particularly in the south), and I admit that it struck me as odd. I've already taken for granted that school will start after September 1st here, and anything earlier already seems strange. Pretty soon I'll be sending Steph off to school everyday and I'll be playing the roll of placid housewife (please try not to laugh so loud!) once again.
Speaking of that, in a couple of weeks I'll be heading back to the classroom myself. Once again I'll be studying French twice a week, and going to the Conservatory once a week, and in the meantime I'll be scouring the want-ads in the vain hope that something perfect will come along. I don't think I'll be tearing my hair out, however, as I've got some small projects scattered around the place to keep me occupied.
The end of summer also brings me to the end of my first year in the blogosphere. Anyone have any suggestions on how I should celebrate?
Sunday, August 14, 2005
a night with the caped crusaders
Earlier this week, Doc invited us to join her in Langres, a medieval fortified town about an hour southeast by autoroute, for checking out La Compagnie des Hallebardiers de Langres. We were not quite sure what to expect, though we had the vague idea that it was some kind of show about the history of Langres.
After a bite to eat downtown, we headed toward the College Diderot for the presentation. There we found the courtyard packed, and everyone was wearing capes. Yeah, you read that right, capes. Black ones and red ones and maroon ones. After a few minutes of confusion, we learned that our 12 euros weren't going towards just any old show; those who arrive early are able to choose from three different walking tours of Langres, accompanied by three different acting troupes, designated by color. Since we were among the last to arrive, we didn't have any choice but to join the black-capes, and I'm not sorry we did.
After a couple of ancient guns fired to mark the beginning of the evening, the actors burst forth from inside the college, rounded us up by color, and we were off. After a brief presentation from our group (we got the very silly "modern" group; I know there was a "belle epoque" group and I don't remember what the third group was) we were off and running through the town. I have to confess that they spoke so quickly (and in some cases, with affected speech impediments for comedy) that I didn't understand most of what they said. I didn't realize my French was slipping so bad - happily school starts back in a couple of weeks. That being said, my favorite tableau was at the Renaissance house, where we stood outside and the troupe used the windows to appear and tell the story of allowing tourists to visit the stately home, to very silly results. As we walked from place to place, the actors kept us laughing and bouncing around by teaching us a song about how we love being tourists in Langres, or playing polka music and dancing through the town. Afterwards, we went back to the College Diderot courtyard to enjoy a free beverage.
If you are looking for something to do before the end of the month, and visiting Langres is not too far away to consider for a day or overnight trip, I highly recommend this. Shows are every Thursday, Friday and Saturday in August, and begin at 9:00pm (though I recommend getting there early for choosing your tour/cape).
Once again, I'm sorry I don't have pictures to show you, as they are still trapped in my old-school camera, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Good times!
After a bite to eat downtown, we headed toward the College Diderot for the presentation. There we found the courtyard packed, and everyone was wearing capes. Yeah, you read that right, capes. Black ones and red ones and maroon ones. After a few minutes of confusion, we learned that our 12 euros weren't going towards just any old show; those who arrive early are able to choose from three different walking tours of Langres, accompanied by three different acting troupes, designated by color. Since we were among the last to arrive, we didn't have any choice but to join the black-capes, and I'm not sorry we did.
After a couple of ancient guns fired to mark the beginning of the evening, the actors burst forth from inside the college, rounded us up by color, and we were off. After a brief presentation from our group (we got the very silly "modern" group; I know there was a "belle epoque" group and I don't remember what the third group was) we were off and running through the town. I have to confess that they spoke so quickly (and in some cases, with affected speech impediments for comedy) that I didn't understand most of what they said. I didn't realize my French was slipping so bad - happily school starts back in a couple of weeks. That being said, my favorite tableau was at the Renaissance house, where we stood outside and the troupe used the windows to appear and tell the story of allowing tourists to visit the stately home, to very silly results. As we walked from place to place, the actors kept us laughing and bouncing around by teaching us a song about how we love being tourists in Langres, or playing polka music and dancing through the town. Afterwards, we went back to the College Diderot courtyard to enjoy a free beverage.
If you are looking for something to do before the end of the month, and visiting Langres is not too far away to consider for a day or overnight trip, I highly recommend this. Shows are every Thursday, Friday and Saturday in August, and begin at 9:00pm (though I recommend getting there early for choosing your tour/cape).
Once again, I'm sorry I don't have pictures to show you, as they are still trapped in my old-school camera, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Good times!
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
meme-o-rama
As I mentioned in my last post, I was recently tagged for another meme, which was extremely timely as there really isn't much going on right now apart from MMORPG marathons. Well, that's not exactly true; there is something interesting simmering in the background, but I'm holding off on blogging about it until more info comes to light.
Anyway, I was tagged by Kristin, who writes the wonderful French Word-A-Day.
"Name five foods, dishes or otherwise, that were a part of your childhood, and that you sometimes miss when nostalgia gets to you..."
1. The number one memory that stands out is my father's popcorn. Except for the brief moment where he was lead astray by the call of the air-popper, he has always made it the same way, in the same pot: on the stove with butter-flavored oil and lightly sprinkled with salt. I have spent many an evening watching tv scooping bowlfulls of his wonderful popcorn down my throat. I have tried, but have never been able to duplicate it.
2. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches. My god, I haven't eaten one of these in years. Hm, and I do have peanut butter hanging out in the pantry...
3. Carvel ice cream cakes. The absolute must-have at any birthday celebration. I was shocked when I went away to college, and nobody knew what Carvel was. Seems it's grown a bit since my childhood, at least covering the East Coast.
4. Dixie Crossroads restaurant, Titusville, Florida. Best known for their rock shrimp, this seafood restaurant somehow managed to become the most famous seafood restaurant in Central Florida. By the time I was a teenager, you were looking at up to an hour's wait with a reservation, two to three hours without one. Damn shame I hadn't discovered for myself the wonders of seafood before I moved away. Now I have an excuse to go back. Since this meme is about food and not restaurants, I will say that they have the best hush puppies I've ever eaten in my life.
5. Italian food! Spaghetti, lasagne, manicotti, baked ziti..... I could go on and on. Mom and Dad always made their own sauce - Ragu and all other pretenders were forbidden in our house! Making Sauce was an all day affair and filled the house with the promise of a delicious meal that night, as we tortured ourselves by eating as little as possible all day so we could reward ourselves with piles of pasta. Nobody can light a candle to the sauce my parents spent 35 years perfecting.
I confess that I am meant to tag four other people and ask them to fill this one out, but as it's summer and there seems to be a little less blogging going on these days (hope everyone's enjoying their vacations!) I'll leave it up to you. If you like it, please feel free to grab it and let me know if you use it.
Now if you'll excuse me, I feel another MMORPG marathon coming on....
Anyway, I was tagged by Kristin, who writes the wonderful French Word-A-Day.
"Name five foods, dishes or otherwise, that were a part of your childhood, and that you sometimes miss when nostalgia gets to you..."
1. The number one memory that stands out is my father's popcorn. Except for the brief moment where he was lead astray by the call of the air-popper, he has always made it the same way, in the same pot: on the stove with butter-flavored oil and lightly sprinkled with salt. I have spent many an evening watching tv scooping bowlfulls of his wonderful popcorn down my throat. I have tried, but have never been able to duplicate it.
2. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches. My god, I haven't eaten one of these in years. Hm, and I do have peanut butter hanging out in the pantry...
3. Carvel ice cream cakes. The absolute must-have at any birthday celebration. I was shocked when I went away to college, and nobody knew what Carvel was. Seems it's grown a bit since my childhood, at least covering the East Coast.
4. Dixie Crossroads restaurant, Titusville, Florida. Best known for their rock shrimp, this seafood restaurant somehow managed to become the most famous seafood restaurant in Central Florida. By the time I was a teenager, you were looking at up to an hour's wait with a reservation, two to three hours without one. Damn shame I hadn't discovered for myself the wonders of seafood before I moved away. Now I have an excuse to go back. Since this meme is about food and not restaurants, I will say that they have the best hush puppies I've ever eaten in my life.
5. Italian food! Spaghetti, lasagne, manicotti, baked ziti..... I could go on and on. Mom and Dad always made their own sauce - Ragu and all other pretenders were forbidden in our house! Making Sauce was an all day affair and filled the house with the promise of a delicious meal that night, as we tortured ourselves by eating as little as possible all day so we could reward ourselves with piles of pasta. Nobody can light a candle to the sauce my parents spent 35 years perfecting.
I confess that I am meant to tag four other people and ask them to fill this one out, but as it's summer and there seems to be a little less blogging going on these days (hope everyone's enjoying their vacations!) I'll leave it up to you. If you like it, please feel free to grab it and let me know if you use it.
Now if you'll excuse me, I feel another MMORPG marathon coming on....
Friday, August 05, 2005
2 memes
Because I am a procrastinator of the highest order, there are two memes I've been tagged for that have been languishing on the internets for some time now. (Freakishly, as I'm typing this, I've been tagged for a third, which I'm going to hold off on for the moment.) Therefore, we're going to take a pause from our regularly scheduled hilarity, so I can restore balance to the universe.
First up is a music meme from My Favorite Texan, Tracy at durteemartini. I am instructed to list my six favorite songs. Now, there is no way I can pick my six favorite songs Of All Time, as they change so frequently. What I can do, however, is list six songs I am digging on right now:
1. "What'd I Say," Ray Charles
Thank you, Dad, for teaching me what real music is.
2. "Daylight," Alison Krause & Union Station
I love love love Bluegrass music, and in my humble opinion, Alison Krause & Union Station are working wonders to keep it moving forward. This song simply soars.
3. "Birdhouse in Your Soul," They Might Be Giants
Bouncy bouncy happy happy music.
4. "Warning," Incubus
Number one song for inspiring me to get up off my butt and make stuff happen. "Don't ever let life pass you by." Please listen to this song and then go take over your world!
5. "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," Me First and the Gimmie Gimmies
Must be heard to be believed. Please go find and pogo furiously.
6. "Jealous of Your Cigarette," Hawksley Workman
I'm not as up on current music as I was before I moved here, but now I have mycrack dealer music dealer in the form of our dear friend Eric, who makes me cd compilations of cool music. This song was on the most current compilation and I love it.
Bon, voila, quoi. Now it's taggin' time! Here's who I'm callin' out for this one:
Epiphany, because she is mah home skillet, and she probably has more music in her Media Player than anyone else I know.
Kim, because I know she knows her tunes as well, and maybe can help with my lack of cool tunes.
Last, but certainly not least, the super fabulous Lee, who can perhaps enlighten me as to what the super fabulous are listening to these days.
Moving swiftly forward to part two, which comes from the lovely Kinga at Kinuk in Poland, who wants to know five of my personal idiosyncrasies:
1. I need to eat something for breakfast. I've always been amazed at people who can skip this meal, because if I don't eat something in the morning, I will not only feel nauseous by 10:00, I turn into psycho-snappy woman. I don't require a huge American breakfast, just a bowl of cereal and maybe a cup of coffee or juice, but I must put something in the tummy.
2. I can only read one book at a time. Granted, I'll read that book pretty quick, but once I'm immersed in a good book, I want that story and only that story floating around my head.
3. I must fold the laundry as soon as the dryer is finished. I hate ironing. I'm going to do everything I can to avoid it, even if it means putting off going out until everything is folded. If I'm doing laundry, I'm home for the day, and that's all.
4. I can't go to sleep until I've made one last trip to the bathroom. This was most apparent when camping, as I made Steph escort me up the big scary pitch-black hill to find the bathroom facilities every night.
5. No matter how hot it is, I have to have some kind of cover when I go to sleep, even if it's just a sheet. Also, no matter how cold it is, I can't wear socks to bed, because you know at some point your body temperature will adjust and you'll just end up waking up at 3:00 in the morning to rip them off. Or maybe it's just me.
I'm going to pass the torch on to the following people:
My good friend Doc, who just made her blog, 10 rue de la charme, public.
The lovely and always effervescent ms.mac.
The very clever Peter at dot.bench, who may welcome a distraction from the 2500 emails waiting for him upon his return from vacation.
First up is a music meme from My Favorite Texan, Tracy at durteemartini. I am instructed to list my six favorite songs. Now, there is no way I can pick my six favorite songs Of All Time, as they change so frequently. What I can do, however, is list six songs I am digging on right now:
1. "What'd I Say," Ray Charles
Thank you, Dad, for teaching me what real music is.
2. "Daylight," Alison Krause & Union Station
I love love love Bluegrass music, and in my humble opinion, Alison Krause & Union Station are working wonders to keep it moving forward. This song simply soars.
3. "Birdhouse in Your Soul," They Might Be Giants
Bouncy bouncy happy happy music.
4. "Warning," Incubus
Number one song for inspiring me to get up off my butt and make stuff happen. "Don't ever let life pass you by." Please listen to this song and then go take over your world!
5. "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," Me First and the Gimmie Gimmies
Must be heard to be believed. Please go find and pogo furiously.
6. "Jealous of Your Cigarette," Hawksley Workman
I'm not as up on current music as I was before I moved here, but now I have my
Bon, voila, quoi. Now it's taggin' time! Here's who I'm callin' out for this one:
Epiphany, because she is mah home skillet, and she probably has more music in her Media Player than anyone else I know.
Kim, because I know she knows her tunes as well, and maybe can help with my lack of cool tunes.
Last, but certainly not least, the super fabulous Lee, who can perhaps enlighten me as to what the super fabulous are listening to these days.
Moving swiftly forward to part two, which comes from the lovely Kinga at Kinuk in Poland, who wants to know five of my personal idiosyncrasies:
1. I need to eat something for breakfast. I've always been amazed at people who can skip this meal, because if I don't eat something in the morning, I will not only feel nauseous by 10:00, I turn into psycho-snappy woman. I don't require a huge American breakfast, just a bowl of cereal and maybe a cup of coffee or juice, but I must put something in the tummy.
2. I can only read one book at a time. Granted, I'll read that book pretty quick, but once I'm immersed in a good book, I want that story and only that story floating around my head.
3. I must fold the laundry as soon as the dryer is finished. I hate ironing. I'm going to do everything I can to avoid it, even if it means putting off going out until everything is folded. If I'm doing laundry, I'm home for the day, and that's all.
4. I can't go to sleep until I've made one last trip to the bathroom. This was most apparent when camping, as I made Steph escort me up the big scary pitch-black hill to find the bathroom facilities every night.
5. No matter how hot it is, I have to have some kind of cover when I go to sleep, even if it's just a sheet. Also, no matter how cold it is, I can't wear socks to bed, because you know at some point your body temperature will adjust and you'll just end up waking up at 3:00 in the morning to rip them off. Or maybe it's just me.
I'm going to pass the torch on to the following people:
My good friend Doc, who just made her blog, 10 rue de la charme, public.
The lovely and always effervescent ms.mac.
The very clever Peter at dot.bench, who may welcome a distraction from the 2500 emails waiting for him upon his return from vacation.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
vivi's helpful hints
- If you're the conductor of a train traveling from Troyes to Paris, and the train, not in front of you, but the one in front of that, dies, please be kind to your passengers. Don't give them false hope that you will be only an hour late, when in fact you will be two hours late, significantly shortening the amount of time they will have to do lovely touristy things.
- Please remember that once you set foot in the American Consulate, you are indeed now on American soil and not French, so when paying (the outrageous sum of) $30 to have something notorized (which is free if you're actually in the states) , please remember that using the bankcard with your husband's name on it and the signature wiped off just will not work. Also remember to stop at an ATM, because they do not accept checks.
- Be sure to bring a friend with you who has the sense to travel with cash and is willing to spot you, so you don't have to go through the hassle of leaving the Consulate to look for an ATM and starting all over again. Make sure you thank her profusely and buy her lunch.
- If you work at a restaurant in a touristy part of Paris, and your job is to intice passersby into dining in your establishment, it is not wise to yell "waassap homie!" to passersby you suspect are American, because they will only snigger as they walk away.
- When dining in a very good Chinese restaurant with your friends, it is perfectly acceptable to celebrate the fact that you are eating very good Chinese food, which you haven't had in a very long time, with ecstatic moans and exclamations.
- When visiting a Canadian bookstore, take care with your oversized bag, so you will not accidently topple over a tall pile of books, which would be very embarrassing indeed.
- When strolling through Paris when you have a limited amount of time, be sure not to pass a church which is advertising that they will host a performance of Vivaldi's Four Seasons that very evening, as you will be very sad and jealous.
- When stopping for gelatto at a very lovely ice cream shop, please remember that your eyes are always bigger than your stomach, and take the smallest cup, instead of the next biggest one, even if you're taking sensible flavors like chocolate and mint, and not wacky (but perfectly tasty) combinations like pina collada with mint.
- Upon leaving Paris, try not to be too sad that the day went by too quickly. Try to remember that you only live an hour and a half away by train (well, usually; see first item) and there will be plenty of opportunities to visit the City of Light in the future.
Monday, August 01, 2005
a trip up north
My in-laws grew up, met and married in the departement of Pas-de-Calais, which is the northernmost tip of France. Every year, they go back to their village for two weeks for visiting family and friends. Last week, Steph and I drove up to spend a few days there.
Now, I should say right up front that we didn't get as far north as Dunkerque or Calais; actually we did more visiting with family than we did touristy stuff, but I can tell you a little about what we did.
My first impression was that, even though we were only 40 kilometers from the sea (or the English Channel, if you want to be really technical), you would never, ever know it. Well, at least I wouldn't, having grown up only half an hour from the beach myself. Everywhere you look is just farmland, farmland, farmland, and then suddenly you catch a whiff of some salt air, you drive over a hill, and bam!, there's the sea.
Steph's brother, sister-in-law, 14 year old nephew (boy, he's gonna be a heartbreaker in a couple of years!) and mother went with us towards the sea on Wednesday. We spent the morning in Berck-sur-Mer. Actually, we spent the morning walking toward the sea. You see, we arrived just at low tide, and I am not kidding you when I say that we walked at least a mile to get from the street to the water, including doing some clever maneuvering to reach a little sand bar. In any case, it was really lovely to stick my feet in the sea again (even if it only was the English Channel!).
By the way, as a quick aside, I wouldn't recommend going around France calling it the English Channel. They call it "La Manche," which means "The Sleeve." Now that I think about it, it is rather odd that the English would name it after themselves, as it is shared with a couple of countries. Well, I don't want to start an international incident, so I'll move swiftly along....
After a lovely lunch of moules frites in a restaurant overlooking the sea, we jumped back in the car and we headed down the coast to a lovely little town called St. Valery. Here we walked along the river that comes off the sea and climbed up into the town to walk around a bit. In the rain. Yeah, it was a light rain, but it didn't stop us. Anyway, it was a lovely town to walk around and quite a lot of French luminaries took their vacations there, so there is a bit of history there as well.
Like I said before, most of the rest of the trip was visiting family or going fishing, so there really isn't that much more to report. I can gladly tell you that we did not sleep in a tent, which Steph threatened on me, because it was much too damp, due to days and days of rain. Instead, we crammed on the not-very-comfortable sofa-bed. Be careful what you wish for....
And finally, I don't have any pictures to show you, as once again I'm using a disposable camera and I haven't finished the roll yet. But! I did make my artistic impression of our day on the beach here (which I nicked from her), complete with cabines, sandbar, and threatening clouds.
Honestly, I don't think she's got any worries where competition is concerned...
Now, I should say right up front that we didn't get as far north as Dunkerque or Calais; actually we did more visiting with family than we did touristy stuff, but I can tell you a little about what we did.
My first impression was that, even though we were only 40 kilometers from the sea (or the English Channel, if you want to be really technical), you would never, ever know it. Well, at least I wouldn't, having grown up only half an hour from the beach myself. Everywhere you look is just farmland, farmland, farmland, and then suddenly you catch a whiff of some salt air, you drive over a hill, and bam!, there's the sea.
Steph's brother, sister-in-law, 14 year old nephew (boy, he's gonna be a heartbreaker in a couple of years!) and mother went with us towards the sea on Wednesday. We spent the morning in Berck-sur-Mer. Actually, we spent the morning walking toward the sea. You see, we arrived just at low tide, and I am not kidding you when I say that we walked at least a mile to get from the street to the water, including doing some clever maneuvering to reach a little sand bar. In any case, it was really lovely to stick my feet in the sea again (even if it only was the English Channel!).
By the way, as a quick aside, I wouldn't recommend going around France calling it the English Channel. They call it "La Manche," which means "The Sleeve." Now that I think about it, it is rather odd that the English would name it after themselves, as it is shared with a couple of countries. Well, I don't want to start an international incident, so I'll move swiftly along....
After a lovely lunch of moules frites in a restaurant overlooking the sea, we jumped back in the car and we headed down the coast to a lovely little town called St. Valery. Here we walked along the river that comes off the sea and climbed up into the town to walk around a bit. In the rain. Yeah, it was a light rain, but it didn't stop us. Anyway, it was a lovely town to walk around and quite a lot of French luminaries took their vacations there, so there is a bit of history there as well.
Like I said before, most of the rest of the trip was visiting family or going fishing, so there really isn't that much more to report. I can gladly tell you that we did not sleep in a tent, which Steph threatened on me, because it was much too damp, due to days and days of rain. Instead, we crammed on the not-very-comfortable sofa-bed. Be careful what you wish for....
And finally, I don't have any pictures to show you, as once again I'm using a disposable camera and I haven't finished the roll yet. But! I did make my artistic impression of our day on the beach here (which I nicked from her), complete with cabines, sandbar, and threatening clouds.
Honestly, I don't think she's got any worries where competition is concerned...
Sunday, July 31, 2005
one year of wedded bliss
Yesterday, we celebrated our first anniversary. Last night, we found ourselves back in the same restaurant we went to for Valentine's Day, L'Illustre. I had the biggest escargot I've ever seen, followed by a parmesean pasta with an excellent mild and creamy foie gras. Steph had a very asian themed dinner, starting with some very tasty spring rolls and followed by an assortment of steamed fish and veggies. I really love the atmosphere of this restaurant - the decor is modern and whimsical, the music last night was jazz, and the service was top notch.
Then we came home and exchanged gifts. Steph gave me a very traditional (and beeeyoootiful!) gift, and I gave him a less-than-traditional gift, but one he had asked for. And all was alright in our little world.
Honestly, I can't believe it's been a year already. We've been through so much - the highs and the lowest of the lows - that the last year nearly seems like a blur. Sure, living in France is nice, it's an adventure, and sometimes it's so frustrating that I want to pack it in and go home, but I still feel the same way (if not even more!) than I did a year ago: France is nice, but I'd follow this man to the moon. He's still the best thing that ever happened to me, and married life just gets better and better.
Then we came home and exchanged gifts. Steph gave me a very traditional (and beeeyoootiful!) gift, and I gave him a less-than-traditional gift, but one he had asked for. And all was alright in our little world.
Honestly, I can't believe it's been a year already. We've been through so much - the highs and the lowest of the lows - that the last year nearly seems like a blur. Sure, living in France is nice, it's an adventure, and sometimes it's so frustrating that I want to pack it in and go home, but I still feel the same way (if not even more!) than I did a year ago: France is nice, but I'd follow this man to the moon. He's still the best thing that ever happened to me, and married life just gets better and better.
Friday, July 29, 2005
and back
... back from meeting new relatives, dipping my feet into the ocean, walking around in the rain, and barbecuing trout. Steph's already snoring away, and I'm about to go scrounge up some food for dinner. Hope everyone had a great week, and I'll have a more detailed post soon.
Monday, July 25, 2005
on the road again
In the wee hours of Tuesday morning (well, at least "wee" compared to the time we've been getting up in the last few days) we shall load up the car once again and drive far, far away. This time we're going north, to the place my in-laws grew up. Due to a scheduling malfunction (I won't name names, and they do not begin with an "S" or a "V," and I am not pleased, let me tell you) we will be sleeping in a tent outside.
As much as I am glad we will be there at the same time as most of my extended family, I am baffled at why my dear husband would prefer to sleep in a tent when there is perfectly good living room space available.
It is scheduled to rain all week. This is going to be very interesting.
When I come back, I will have some more pictures to sort out and will probably load everything on flikr again, as the benefactor of my photoblog has disappeared without a trace, and will be gooshy and mooshy about our first wedding anniversary on Saturday. You have been warned.
Have a great week!
As much as I am glad we will be there at the same time as most of my extended family, I am baffled at why my dear husband would prefer to sleep in a tent when there is perfectly good living room space available.
It is scheduled to rain all week. This is going to be very interesting.
When I come back, I will have some more pictures to sort out and will probably load everything on flikr again, as the benefactor of my photoblog has disappeared without a trace, and will be gooshy and mooshy about our first wedding anniversary on Saturday. You have been warned.
Have a great week!
the birthday barbecue
Saturday evening, we drove out to the country to celebrate my friend Doc's birthday. For those keeping score at home, it is Doc's fault that I am living in France now; she is the college buddy who married a Frenchman and introduced me to the love o' my life. She, her hubby Marc - a very cool guy in his own right - and their adorable son live in a small village in Haute-Marne, about an hour away.
We joined a dozen or so friends at chez Doc for a barbecue extravaganza. Since the weather wouldn't cooperate, we set up tables in one of the garages (Doc's family are farmers so loads of storage space is required), next to the satanic fridge and directly over the champagne cellar. I should mention here that I've tasted a lot of champagne since I've moved to France, and in my humble opinion, their family makes the best - and they only do it as a hobby!
After dinner, Doc totally surprised us by giving us some gifts for our first anniversary, which is next Saturday. Being a traditional sort of girl, we received the traditional first anniversary gift: paper. Lots of paper. Paper towels, toilet paper... you get the idea.
We also received a very useful gift: a clock with the temperature in both Celsius and Farenheight. You'd think that after nearly a year I'd have a handle on Celsius, but so far I've got that if it's over 30 it's really hot, and if it's under 20 it's quite cold. Finally, we received a bottle of the lovely champagne, from her in-laws. I'm really looking forward to cracking that open on Saturday.
Despite the bad weather, we had a really great time, so thanks Doc, and happy happy birthday!
We joined a dozen or so friends at chez Doc for a barbecue extravaganza. Since the weather wouldn't cooperate, we set up tables in one of the garages (Doc's family are farmers so loads of storage space is required), next to the satanic fridge and directly over the champagne cellar. I should mention here that I've tasted a lot of champagne since I've moved to France, and in my humble opinion, their family makes the best - and they only do it as a hobby!
After dinner, Doc totally surprised us by giving us some gifts for our first anniversary, which is next Saturday. Being a traditional sort of girl, we received the traditional first anniversary gift: paper. Lots of paper. Paper towels, toilet paper... you get the idea.
We also received a very useful gift: a clock with the temperature in both Celsius and Farenheight. You'd think that after nearly a year I'd have a handle on Celsius, but so far I've got that if it's over 30 it's really hot, and if it's under 20 it's quite cold. Finally, we received a bottle of the lovely champagne, from her in-laws. I'm really looking forward to cracking that open on Saturday.
Despite the bad weather, we had a really great time, so thanks Doc, and happy happy birthday!
Saturday, July 23, 2005
the highs and lows of it
This week, I took the second step in looking for work. After registering at Assidic, I had a month to register at ANPE, the national employment agency. I printed out a copy of my resume, filled out a work history survey, and went to ANPE on Thursday afternoon.
After about a forty-five minute wait with only two people waiting ahead of me, I nervously made my way to my assigned cubicle. I was greeted by a guy who must have been sent from heaven - he was unbelievably nice, complimentary of my French (!), and was very positive about my ability to find a job. We agreed that finding a job would have the added benefit of improving my French, and in any case I should continue taking my French classes when they resume in the fall. In the meantime, we found a job offer that sounded perfect: an administrative job with strong English skills.
Needless to say, I nearly floated out of the office! Suddenly, I was brimming with confidence. This is it, I thought. It's all going to start now!
Well, there's nothing like a Temp Agency to burst anyone's bubble.
The next day, I presented myself to the Temp Agency that was offering the job. I gave the document with the job description to someone who passed it on to someone else. The conversation went something like this:
"Oh, you're bi-lingual!"
"In fact, I'm American. I've been living here since September of last year."
"Oh."
"Excuse me, I know my French isn't perfect, but I do understand better than I speak."
"So, can you write in French?"
"Erm... not very well, actually...."
"And on the telephone?"
"Yes, well... obviously it's more difficult on the telephone for the moment..."
"I see. Well, you'll have to register with our company before we can consider you for this position, and we don't do registrations on Fridays. Can you come back on Monday?"
"Yes, sure, no problem, thank you."
And with that I slunk out the door.
And to think Steph and I were actually making plans if I'd gotten this job. I should have known better.
After about a forty-five minute wait with only two people waiting ahead of me, I nervously made my way to my assigned cubicle. I was greeted by a guy who must have been sent from heaven - he was unbelievably nice, complimentary of my French (!), and was very positive about my ability to find a job. We agreed that finding a job would have the added benefit of improving my French, and in any case I should continue taking my French classes when they resume in the fall. In the meantime, we found a job offer that sounded perfect: an administrative job with strong English skills.
Needless to say, I nearly floated out of the office! Suddenly, I was brimming with confidence. This is it, I thought. It's all going to start now!
Well, there's nothing like a Temp Agency to burst anyone's bubble.
The next day, I presented myself to the Temp Agency that was offering the job. I gave the document with the job description to someone who passed it on to someone else. The conversation went something like this:
"Oh, you're bi-lingual!"
"In fact, I'm American. I've been living here since September of last year."
"Oh."
"Excuse me, I know my French isn't perfect, but I do understand better than I speak."
"So, can you write in French?"
"Erm... not very well, actually...."
"And on the telephone?"
"Yes, well... obviously it's more difficult on the telephone for the moment..."
"I see. Well, you'll have to register with our company before we can consider you for this position, and we don't do registrations on Fridays. Can you come back on Monday?"
"Yes, sure, no problem, thank you."
And with that I slunk out the door.
And to think Steph and I were actually making plans if I'd gotten this job. I should have known better.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
clear the roads
Yesterday, I kissed another part of my American life goodbye. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I've been here nearly a year but yesterday was the first time I really felt like I was giving something up that would make it difficult to go home and pick up where I left off (not that I have the least intention of doing so).
Yesterday, I exchanged my American drivers license for a French one.
This may sound like small change, but in the states, a drivers license is more than a permit for driving, it's the most recognized form of identification. I'd wager that the vast majority of Americans don't have a passport, and if they do, they certainly don't carry them around on a day to day basis. For the time being, national identification cards do not exist (though I understand some people would like to see that happen). Identification cards are available at the Department of Local Vehicles, and look exactly like drivers licenses, and are the preferred form of ID if one doesn't drive. Along with military ID's, these are often the only picture identification cards the majority of organizations accept.
So going to the Prefecture yesterday to get my new driving permit was more than applying for permission to drive here, it was crossing a bridge and not looking back.
Luckily, I come from a state that has an agreement with France, so it only involved about an hour of time, filling out a short form, making photocopies, and of course, turning in my old license. I walked out with a piece of paper giving me permission to drive until I can pick up my permanent license in a couple of weeks.
Last night, I drove in France for the first time since I moved here. After nearly a year of living here, I'm finally starting to feel like I'm home.
Yesterday, I exchanged my American drivers license for a French one.
This may sound like small change, but in the states, a drivers license is more than a permit for driving, it's the most recognized form of identification. I'd wager that the vast majority of Americans don't have a passport, and if they do, they certainly don't carry them around on a day to day basis. For the time being, national identification cards do not exist (though I understand some people would like to see that happen). Identification cards are available at the Department of Local Vehicles, and look exactly like drivers licenses, and are the preferred form of ID if one doesn't drive. Along with military ID's, these are often the only picture identification cards the majority of organizations accept.
So going to the Prefecture yesterday to get my new driving permit was more than applying for permission to drive here, it was crossing a bridge and not looking back.
Luckily, I come from a state that has an agreement with France, so it only involved about an hour of time, filling out a short form, making photocopies, and of course, turning in my old license. I walked out with a piece of paper giving me permission to drive until I can pick up my permanent license in a couple of weeks.
Last night, I drove in France for the first time since I moved here. After nearly a year of living here, I'm finally starting to feel like I'm home.
Monday, July 18, 2005
camping recap
We got back Saturday evening and truth be told, I'm still recovering, in a classic case of "I need a vacation from my vacation." I'm still exhausted and my legs are like jello, but it was a great trip.
Monday, Steph's colleague Eric arrived, and after lunch we stuffed everything in our cars and took off for the departement of Jura. Our campsite was just outside of the town of Morez, about a three and a half hour drive from Troyes using the toll roads (which were totally worth the money!). We staked out our site and set up our tents - Steph getting one done in the blink of an eye while Eric and I struggled along for a small eternity. We ate dinner and for entertainment, gazed at a multitude of stars I never knew existed. Finally, I made my first nightly pilgrimage up the steep hill to the restroom facilities, which were admittedly better than expected.
Tuesday was hiking day. We drove about half an hour away to the blink-and-you'll-miss-it village of La Fromagerie and hiked to the Cascade de Herisson (Hedgehog Waterfall) and surrounding waterfalls. Round trip was between 4 and 5 kilometers, up and down a valley that reminded me of hiking along the Blue Ridge Mountains. I only fell on my ass once.
That night we lit up the barbecue for the first time, and ate the first of innumerable sausages. I think I'm good on sausages for about six months, thanks.
Wednesday we went to Switzerland for an ice cream.
OK, that's not exactly true. Looking for some lighter exercise after the greuling hike from the day before, we went on a pedal boat hunt. Drawn by the gigantic Lac Leman, we spent the afternoon in Nyon. We ended up just strolling around the town, giggling at the Monopoly money that is Swiss Francs (they are freakin' huge!), buying shoes (bwahahahhaha), pausing for a cool drink at a cafe, taking pictures, and finally, in order to get rid of our remaining Francs, buying ice cream from a street vendor. In the end, it was too hot to contemplate taking pedal boats on the lake.
That evening, we built our first campfire and listened to the fireworks in the neighboring towns celebrating Bastille Day (apparently the fireworks are often the night before) and I introduced the guys to the wonder that is roasted marshmallows.
Thursday was Walking Up Impossible Hills day. We started the day at a lake near Clarveaux les Lacs that had a nice little beachside. After a lakeside lunch, we jumped on a pedal boat and roasted in the sun for about half an hour before heading back to shore. I wish we'd brought our swimsuits that day - the water was freezing but after sitting in the sun I was ready for a dip in the lake.
We then went over to a neighboring lake and hiked down to the shore. Steph suggested we "take the road less traveled by," and it certainly "made all the difference" because I wanted to kill him. Dead ends, twenty foot drops, and a machete would have been nice at certain passages. We took the road back to the top, which was so steep I could only take baby steps in order to keep a steady pace. Once again, it was sausages and marshmallows to close out the day.
Friday was Game day. We loaded up supplies at nearby Longchaumois and parked in the common room of the campgrounds for most of the day, playing Mille Bornes and the like. When the temps cooled off, I played petanque for the first time, and was pleasantly surprised that it is exactly like the Italian game Bocce that I grew up with, except the balls are metal instead of wood. We played cards into the wee hours (which is 11pm if you're at a campsite) and prepared for our return to civilization the next day.
Steph had one more thing he wanted to do before we came home. Saturday morning, we stopped in the area of the town of Baume-les-Messieurs, which is famous for being surrounded by sheer 500 foot high cliffs on three sides. People like to hike up and down these cliffs for the heck of it. It's ten minutes down the cliffs, and around fifteen to go back up. We started at the top with the intention of eating lunch at the bottom before coming back up, and wouldn't you know it, I blew my knees out on the way down. I limped to the hot dog stand with the guys and ate my last sausage for what I hope is a long, long time. Steph offered to get the car and drive down to pick me up, but I knew going back up wouldn't be so stressful on my knees so I said I'd be ok. It took us twenty minutes to get back to the top, with lots of breaks. Eric made it back up in 12.5 minutes (oh to be young!). Then we drove home.
I'm still nursing my knees, and my legs are less jello-like than they were yesterday, but all is good. I did bring a disposable camera which I'm taking to be developed today, so I'll have some pics to put up at the end of the week or so.
Now we have a week to relax before Steph takes me to get my ass kicked in Northern France.
Monday, Steph's colleague Eric arrived, and after lunch we stuffed everything in our cars and took off for the departement of Jura. Our campsite was just outside of the town of Morez, about a three and a half hour drive from Troyes using the toll roads (which were totally worth the money!). We staked out our site and set up our tents - Steph getting one done in the blink of an eye while Eric and I struggled along for a small eternity. We ate dinner and for entertainment, gazed at a multitude of stars I never knew existed. Finally, I made my first nightly pilgrimage up the steep hill to the restroom facilities, which were admittedly better than expected.
Tuesday was hiking day. We drove about half an hour away to the blink-and-you'll-miss-it village of La Fromagerie and hiked to the Cascade de Herisson (Hedgehog Waterfall) and surrounding waterfalls. Round trip was between 4 and 5 kilometers, up and down a valley that reminded me of hiking along the Blue Ridge Mountains. I only fell on my ass once.
That night we lit up the barbecue for the first time, and ate the first of innumerable sausages. I think I'm good on sausages for about six months, thanks.
Wednesday we went to Switzerland for an ice cream.
OK, that's not exactly true. Looking for some lighter exercise after the greuling hike from the day before, we went on a pedal boat hunt. Drawn by the gigantic Lac Leman, we spent the afternoon in Nyon. We ended up just strolling around the town, giggling at the Monopoly money that is Swiss Francs (they are freakin' huge!), buying shoes (bwahahahhaha), pausing for a cool drink at a cafe, taking pictures, and finally, in order to get rid of our remaining Francs, buying ice cream from a street vendor. In the end, it was too hot to contemplate taking pedal boats on the lake.
That evening, we built our first campfire and listened to the fireworks in the neighboring towns celebrating Bastille Day (apparently the fireworks are often the night before) and I introduced the guys to the wonder that is roasted marshmallows.
Thursday was Walking Up Impossible Hills day. We started the day at a lake near Clarveaux les Lacs that had a nice little beachside. After a lakeside lunch, we jumped on a pedal boat and roasted in the sun for about half an hour before heading back to shore. I wish we'd brought our swimsuits that day - the water was freezing but after sitting in the sun I was ready for a dip in the lake.
We then went over to a neighboring lake and hiked down to the shore. Steph suggested we "take the road less traveled by," and it certainly "made all the difference" because I wanted to kill him. Dead ends, twenty foot drops, and a machete would have been nice at certain passages. We took the road back to the top, which was so steep I could only take baby steps in order to keep a steady pace. Once again, it was sausages and marshmallows to close out the day.
Friday was Game day. We loaded up supplies at nearby Longchaumois and parked in the common room of the campgrounds for most of the day, playing Mille Bornes and the like. When the temps cooled off, I played petanque for the first time, and was pleasantly surprised that it is exactly like the Italian game Bocce that I grew up with, except the balls are metal instead of wood. We played cards into the wee hours (which is 11pm if you're at a campsite) and prepared for our return to civilization the next day.
Steph had one more thing he wanted to do before we came home. Saturday morning, we stopped in the area of the town of Baume-les-Messieurs, which is famous for being surrounded by sheer 500 foot high cliffs on three sides. People like to hike up and down these cliffs for the heck of it. It's ten minutes down the cliffs, and around fifteen to go back up. We started at the top with the intention of eating lunch at the bottom before coming back up, and wouldn't you know it, I blew my knees out on the way down. I limped to the hot dog stand with the guys and ate my last sausage for what I hope is a long, long time. Steph offered to get the car and drive down to pick me up, but I knew going back up wouldn't be so stressful on my knees so I said I'd be ok. It took us twenty minutes to get back to the top, with lots of breaks. Eric made it back up in 12.5 minutes (oh to be young!). Then we drove home.
I'm still nursing my knees, and my legs are less jello-like than they were yesterday, but all is good. I did bring a disposable camera which I'm taking to be developed today, so I'll have some pics to put up at the end of the week or so.
Now we have a week to relax before Steph takes me to get my ass kicked in Northern France.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
gone adventuring
Tomorrow we're leaving for a week long adventure, which will undoubtably include tents, mosquitoes, hiking and dodgy bathroom facilities. We'll be back sometime during the weekend.
Please take this time to visit some of the people who are listed on the right hand side of the blog, as they are much more clever than me.
Have a great week!
Please take this time to visit some of the people who are listed on the right hand side of the blog, as they are much more clever than me.
Have a great week!
Friday, July 08, 2005
the appointment
I've just posted a new entry on the tag-team French website, from rooster to donkey. If you'd like to read the English translation (before or after), please click on "Tell me more!"
I should also add that the reason my French looks reasonably good over there is because Steph edits it before I post it. Otherwise, my pathetic French would completely unreadable. ;)
I've been wearing glasses since I was 15 years old. In March 2004, I went to the eye doctor for the first time in four years, because my insurance didn't cover eye doctors (ah, I'll talk about the differences between French and American insurance another time!). I learned that the pressure I felt in my eyes and the headaches were an early sign of glaucoma. He told me that it's very important to get my eyes examined every year.
This year, for one reason or another, we always forgot to call to make an appointment. It seems that every time we remembered, it was the weekend or after 6pm. Finally, Steph called for me last month.
At first, the receptionist told him that the first available appointment was in March.
"March? March 2006?" he said.
"Yes, sorry," she responded. "Oh but wait, we have a new doctor, and she has an appointment available on December 2."
Of course, we took it.
The idea that it's difficult to see a doctor without a long wait is still very strange for me. Especially the opticians, because it seems there are several of them in everywhere you look in the states.
In Troyes, it seems there's an store for eyeglasses on every street downtown (is it like that in Paris, too?). Imagine there was an optician in every store (like in the states), and you have an idea why I'm so surprised.
Well, there you go, that's my new life. It's not bad, just different. In the meantime, I know that if my eyes explode, there's always the hospital...
I should also add that the reason my French looks reasonably good over there is because Steph edits it before I post it. Otherwise, my pathetic French would completely unreadable. ;)
I've been wearing glasses since I was 15 years old. In March 2004, I went to the eye doctor for the first time in four years, because my insurance didn't cover eye doctors (ah, I'll talk about the differences between French and American insurance another time!). I learned that the pressure I felt in my eyes and the headaches were an early sign of glaucoma. He told me that it's very important to get my eyes examined every year.
This year, for one reason or another, we always forgot to call to make an appointment. It seems that every time we remembered, it was the weekend or after 6pm. Finally, Steph called for me last month.
At first, the receptionist told him that the first available appointment was in March.
"March? March 2006?" he said.
"Yes, sorry," she responded. "Oh but wait, we have a new doctor, and she has an appointment available on December 2."
Of course, we took it.
The idea that it's difficult to see a doctor without a long wait is still very strange for me. Especially the opticians, because it seems there are several of them in everywhere you look in the states.
In Troyes, it seems there's an store for eyeglasses on every street downtown (is it like that in Paris, too?). Imagine there was an optician in every store (like in the states), and you have an idea why I'm so surprised.
Well, there you go, that's my new life. It's not bad, just different. In the meantime, I know that if my eyes explode, there's always the hospital...
Thursday, July 07, 2005
tour de france
Today is one of those days that I'm smacking myself in the head for dropping the camera, because it's not everyday that The Tour de France departs from your town. Nevertheless, I'll do my best to describe the scene.
Since the route took the competitors only a block away from our apartment, we decided not to go to the departure point in the middle of town and instead headed out at 10:15 accompanied by a sister-in-law and my two youngest nieces down the street. We found a great spot on a corner where the route took a sharp right hand turn. There weren't too many people around, and I'm guessing most folks went to the center of town to see the departure.
Just after 10:30, we were treated to little parade of all the sponsors of the tour. Most of the cars were blaring some kind of music, and were decorated according to their business, and had people chucking trinkets out to the crowd. The kids had brought a backpack, and at the end it was stuffed to the gills.
At 11:00, the parade was over, and we had an hour and a half to kill before the cyclists came by, so we came back home to check out our stash. Some of the things we got included
And just like that, it was over. Before you could say "maillot jaune," the crowd dispersed and we were off to Chez MacDo with everyone else in Troyes for a celebratory lunch.
Since the route took the competitors only a block away from our apartment, we decided not to go to the departure point in the middle of town and instead headed out at 10:15 accompanied by a sister-in-law and my two youngest nieces down the street. We found a great spot on a corner where the route took a sharp right hand turn. There weren't too many people around, and I'm guessing most folks went to the center of town to see the departure.
Just after 10:30, we were treated to little parade of all the sponsors of the tour. Most of the cars were blaring some kind of music, and were decorated according to their business, and had people chucking trinkets out to the crowd. The kids had brought a backpack, and at the end it was stuffed to the gills.
At 11:00, the parade was over, and we had an hour and a half to kill before the cyclists came by, so we came back home to check out our stash. Some of the things we got included
- 11 (!) assorted hats
- 2 blow up batons for clapping together and making lots of noise
- 2 mini bags of pretzels
- 2 chocolates
- a cheese snack pack
- 1 can of beer (!)
- assorted key chains
- assorted magnets
- 2 umbrella hats
And just like that, it was over. Before you could say "maillot jaune," the crowd dispersed and we were off to Chez MacDo with everyone else in Troyes for a celebratory lunch.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
news & notes
I've been neglicting my blog. I've got a couple of things in the works that I want to post about, but for now I'm going to leave you with a couple of newsy and notey things:
- In case you haven't heard, London won the 2012 Olympic games. Steph tells me this is the third time Paris has been a candidate and lost, so the French are understandably sad. The French reaction on tv was filled with shrugs and in one case, nearly tears. As for me, I'm a little disappointed, but I'm just glad I don't live in a candidate city!
- The Tour de France departs from Troyes tomorrow! We're not going downtown, but just down the street, because the route takes them very close to our apartment. Be sure to check out the departure (surely it will be on the highlights in the states!) to take a gander at our town and maybe even us!
- I'm in the process of writing up a new post on the French website, from rooster to donkey. I will write an English translation to post here as well. Also, I have been tagged by the coolest Texan I know (until someone else bribes me more), the lovely durteemartini. I haven't forgotten, I swear! The thing is, she's asked me to choose my six favorite songs. That's like choosing my favorite child (providing I had more than one)!
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