Life's little pleasures

Regular blog readers will know that American style mayo fetches a steep price here in Paris. The past couple of months, I have gained an alternative source of Hellmans and I just had to share my joy.

An American friend of mine makes a trip to Belgium once a month to shop at the US military commissary. She recently offered to pick me up a few things. Of course, I ordered a big jar of Hellmann's. Upon receipt of the Mondo American sized jar, I did a quick calculation of its street value in Paris, based on the baby food sized jar that I am used to buying.

1.4L of Hellmann's in Paris would be worth $27 cdn!!!! Uncle Sam helped me get it for $6!!! God bless America and my mule who brought it back.

Drinks in the Courtyard

This week the tenants of our building were invited to "prend un verre" in the courtyard. What a lovely idea! Finally, we would socialize with other members of the building beyond the "bonjour", and "pardon" 's in the hallway. I have say, this took some courage. My wingman Rupert was in Finland and D at Pony camp, so it would be just P and I to face the small talk in a foreign language. Small talk is not a particular strength of mine and small talk in french has been one of my biggest challenges since we moved here, but I felt I would be more embarrassed in not going, so I took a deep breath and plunged right in.

In the end, everyone was very nice, I did the best I could with what french I had and finally excused myself after 45min when I felt everyone was exhausted from conversing with me. Hopefully I wasn't judged too severely when I didn't personally say good bye to *each* person individually. It is considered rude not to do so here. You are expected to shake hands or give the b's (two kisses) to each and every person at the party, when leaving. I hit most of the crowd but gave up when the final three good byes required moving two old ladies from their chairs. Hopefully they didn't take it personally.

New route for the Running Moms

Kathleen, Cathy, Darcy and Jane, bored with their running routes in Ottawa, join me in Paris for a run around the Champs de Mars

Four days, three nights, five running moms, a whirl wind weekend visit from my Ottawa urban tribe was just enough time to catch up, walk the city, overdo it on cheese and of course go for a run.

The running moms are group of women who met through a Mom-and-baby running group when P was a baby. The dads were left behind with twelve children, as their wives made the most of a long weekend in Europe.

They had all been to Paris before, but each acquired something new, a souvenir that they will bring back to Canada. Cathy, a vision of bringing the Velib and the Jardin de Luxembourg to the citizens of Ottawa. Darcy, the knowledge of what to do if an emergency arises while she is in the washroom (gardez votre calme). Kathleen, how to avoid irritating the French with her new sensitivity towards cutting cheese and Jane, magical dreams of the sparkling Eiffel Tower.

It was great to have you all here and I look forward to resuming our old routes when we return home.

The Ring Guy

A few weeks ago, we were out for dinner with some friends from Canada and in the middle of dinner, my friend (who will remain nameless), said to me “I am something to show you “ and she starts reaching into her purse. “You have a ring” I said. “Yes” she exclaims in disbelief “how did you know?”. The ring guy.

A visit to Paris is not complete without being hit by the ring guy. Here's the schtick. You are walking down the street minding your own business, all of a sudden a man bends down and picks a gold ring right in front of you. Holding it up, he asks you if it is yours. “Take it,” he motions, “my religion forbids me to wear jewelry”, or something like that. If the target takes the ring, the ring guy will ask for money for lunch and as far as I know that's the extent of the scam.

I have been hit at least twenty times by one of the ring guys and witnessed at least another twenty attempts. My friend was the first person that I know that actually took the ring. Rupert has always wanted someone to take the ring and takes great pleasure that he finally knows someone who did. Good work Sara (oops).

Please take it, it yours. I think its real gold... look at the mark.

The French Riviera

Before visiting the French Riviera, I felt like I had a pretty clear picture of what it would be like. Kazillion dollar yachts, excessive displays of wealth, plastic surgury, and quaint towns with beautiful long sandy beaches, along turquoise waters. All but the later is true. Our four days in the French Riviera was tons of fun, educational and a cultural experience.

Homebase for our long weekend was Cannes, where we enjoyed some great dinners, après dinner walks in the méditerranéen and the obligatory walk on the Festival red carpet. Since the weather was not quite ready for sunbathing, we filled our days with visiting some of the other towns along the Cote D'Azur.

The girls work the red carpet outside the Palais des Festival in Cannes.

Definitely one of the most fascinating parts of our trip was our day spent in Monaco. The second smallest country in the world (next to the Vatican), this country is basically dedicated to keeping a small handful of rich people, richer. The draw of the rich? Monaco's lack of personal income tax. Citizenship here is the most sought after in the world and the citizenship application process can only begin, when the applicant has 2 million Euros and owns an apartment in the principality. Mass obvious displays of wealth, I have seen, but never in such concentration. Two hundred thousand dollar+ cars were the norm here. Royles, Bentleys and Ferrari’s seemed like every other car.

The country is clean, with lovely buildings and is apparently very safe (the entire country is monitored by cameras). With less than two square miles of territory and 33 000 inhabitants, it felt like every square millimetre was maximized to optimal load. This coupled with its mostly exclusive population, made it feel like some sort of theme park.

Monaco was in the thick of getting ready for the Monaco Grand Prix. The bleachers were set up, banners were flying and many of the streets were bordered by temporary heavy metal fencing. Very cool to see how a city gets ready for an event like this!

The grand stands of the Grand Prix along the harbour. Wonder what happens when an exploding tire hits one of the kazillion dollar yatchs?

Outside the Monte Carlo Casino. Rupert tried his luck with 5Euros... you know the outcome.

Our last day of our long weekend was a bit more down to earth. We started off with breakfast and an antiques market in the modest coastal town of Villefranche, then off to Nice.

The relatively large city was bustling and full of life and much more urban than I had expected. We walked through the old town to the Sunday market and sampled some Socca, a chickpea crepe, then set off to walk the miles of pebble beach which borders the city. The beach itself is peppered with restaurant patios all along the way, one of which pulled us in, about a mile in. After a salad nicois and a couple of beers, the rest of our intinerary was trashed and we spent the remainder of the day relaxing and watching the girls look for the smoothest stone on the beach.

Our beauties on the beach in Nice

We did experience some of the beauty of the coast while driving the winding roads of "the Corniches" (best known as the site of Princess Grace's car crash). But much like the disappointed tourist who comes to Niagra Falls, expecting find the great wonder deep in the beautiful Canadian Wilderness, I was a bit surprised in the geographic aspects of the towns of the Riviera.

It was fun to people watch. See the sites. The history. And the hospitality and service of the southerners was a delightful change to our current hometown :).

Easter Weekend

An eventful Easter weekend was kicked off with a big dinner chez nous, with my old Western room mate Sara Charleton, her husband Ian (celebrating the big 40 with trip to Paris sans enfants) and their friends (and now ours) the McKee family.

The BC girls and the McKee kids drool over the McKee contribution to dinner - the Bouncy Bunny cake, complete with whiskers flown in from Boston.

EGG HUNT

A trip to a country Chateau for our Easter egg hunt seemed in order, for our last Easter in France. Our hunting grounds, the Vaux-le-Vicomte is an impression chateau built in the 1600's, about an hours drive from Paris. In true French form the kids were sent off sans parents, to duke it out and we were left out of eye sight, only to imagine what was going on behind the hedges.

D, P and the Sorboen gang, relax and inhale some chocolate after the big hunt.

A prized find!

The Sorboens back at Ours, for a big Easter Lamb feast

FOUNTAINBLEAU

We made the most of our weekend car rental and spent our Easter Monday at another chateau in Fountainbleau, a glamourous hunting lodge home to many past Kings about a hour from Paris. Louis XIII was born here, Louis XV was married here and Napolean was baptized and abdicated his rule here. The girls enjoyed touring the gardens and many lavish rooms. D was most fond of the games room, "lots of chairs for musical chairs".

Big dinners, friends, chateaux and chocolate - an Easter to remember!

B-Cs reunite in Paris

James, Krista, G & H visited us in Paris a couple of weeks ago, and what a week. Cousins, aunts and uncles bonded, big family meals were shared, Paris was explored and experienced, and everyone was happy.

Here for a little more than a week, they packed in a huge list of activities and must see things to do in Paris, including some that we hadn't done ourselves yet - Moulin Rouge, Disney Land Paris, and the Bario Latino Nightclub.

Krista's French was quite good, and she comfortably handled the Parisians while James quickly sorted out the lay of the land, figured out the bus and Metro lines, and they were off. Every day seemed stuffed with adventure, a cafe moment and a good story or two.

James was approached by a ring gypsy, they purchased pornographic postcards at the river, Krista went wine tasting with Jo's expatriate posse, G went to a Paris birthday party, and was baby sat by a movie star (Emily our baby sitter was in the movie Madeleine). H spent 3.5 glorious hours with his Uncle Ru where he was a complete angel, and charmed his way through the afternoon, going to sleep when asked, eating all his lunch and walking to the park like a big boy.

Dad and Gwendy also visited Paris, and overlapped with James and company by a couple of days. They were on a 3.5 weeks tour in the UK/France and went south to visit Tim & Mary B-C in Provence as well. They too did Paris in style, except for their local hotel, which was a bit shocking, and I am sure will be a Paris tale to tell. We all had the chance to share a big brunch together (sorry dad, no pics in this post).

Their visits were over too quickly, but we all have memories that will last a lifetime. Thank you for coming.

Adventures at Disney

Harry plays oblivious to the ubiquitous public displays of affection

One of many Cafe stops

Champagne on a footbridge at night under the Tour Effiel

Serre Chevalier

This year's school winter break, was spent skiing in Serre Chevalier in the Southern French Alps. Our first trip to the Alps, to Club Med, and D's first real go at skiing. It snowed almost every night and we enjoyed beautiful sun everyday. With the kids having a blast in the mini club, we couldn't have asked for better ski week.

Our proud Flocon

P's week was focused on passing her ski level and getting her Flocon badge. She talked about it so much, I started to worry if would she pass. Surely they pass everyone at this low of a level? I asked my Ski instructor and she said, yes, they do in fact fail the poor little things. Rupert and I were quite worried at the big awards ceremony - would she pass and if not would they treat the children who didn't pass with some sensitivity? This is France after all, where sugar coating is generally reserved for pastries. In the end she passed...phew... and she wears her Flocon pin proudly.

P completing her ski exam

D's focus for the week was the big mini club spectacle. Nothing could keep her away from participating. It's amazing that Club Med could pull together over 200 kids, under the age of 10 in 15 odd numbers, but they really pulled it off - it was a blast. Click the link and see D wiggle in her brazilian number (she starts out second from left).

Click here

Leading up to the trip, I was very curious to see how a French ski vacation might differ from Canadian one. In the end, it was pretty much the same, even the ski fashion. My visions of sparkly one piece ski suits and crowds of Parisians clad in fur were not realized. But then there were the Moon Boots. They were everywhere, on everyone and in every color. Please don't tell if these are a la mode in Whistler, I can't bear it.

We ended our week by taking the girls in the egg gondola (very euro) up the mountain. A couple of wrong turns down some very steep slopes and the girls ski lessons were really put to the test. P really loves speed, and was shooting down in a tuck position most of the way. This was a real highlight for Rupert who was in his jock element and was very proud.

Yes we can!

This week Disa's school hosted a cocktail party at the US ambassador's residence just off the Champs Elysees. With Rupert away with work, I cleaned myself up and headed off with friends for a little fun and a peek at how a powerful American lives in Paris.

The event was met with the expected US security measures; our names needed to be submitted two weeks in advance, the taxi was not allowed to stop in front of the residence, our passports and invitation were carefully inspected, and the obligatory metal detector at the entrance to the palatial house set the scene.

Besides an obnoxious speech from the Montessori Director, who implied that the idea for the school had been dreamt up by she and Henry Kissinger in that very room, we had a great time. My friends and I enjoyed touring the many gold gilded rooms, admiring paintings of George Washington, drinking champagne and acting silly for the camera (when no one was looking). We did not however rub elbows with the ambassador himself, according to the butler he was upstairs in bed watching the muppets.

My friend and I were the first to arrive at the party, so we quickly stole a photo behind the podium. "Any questions?....Yes we can!"

With Andrea in one of the reception rooms.

Sortie

Today, I volunteered to chaperon P’s school sortie (field trip) to a live theatre production. It was probably my most harrowing experience since landing in Paris. Our trip, which included long walks to and from the metro down busy Paris streets, a metro transfer through a VERY crowded station, and the loading and unloading of the trains on crowded platforms. With 4 chaperons and 30 kids, our journey didn't exactly scream safe to me. City kids! I can’t imagine any Canadian school assuming this kind of liability, but it worked. P’s maitress was incredibly calm throughout the entire ordeal. I was sweating buckets.

I took it as a good sign that P even asked me to chaperon. As someone who enjoyed misbehaving at school, I never wanted my parents to come on class trips. One of P’s biggest issues at school this year was that she didn't want anyone to know that she didn't speak French. I reminded her that "I don’t speak French very well myself” and she responded “you can come, as long as you don’t speak English”. I tried my best to not “out” her, but many of the kids immediately approached me and asked if I was English (they've always known). Some of the boys made fun of my accent.

Our destination, Le Pantoufle (the slipper), was a children's play about the thoughts and experiences of baby in his mothers womb represented by the slipper.

It was not what you would typically expect for a kids play. It was quite arty in its themes and staging, with a relatively high production value. At the end the “baby”, played by a 50 something year old man, strips down to a naked suit, labia defined and all, to discover HE, was in fact a baby girl.
The "safe" voyage across town, coupled with the "questionably age appropriate" content of the play left me feeling a bit uptight and uncosmopolitan - the French arts never cease to surprise and impress me!