Joyeux Noël

Joyeux Noël!  I realize it's a little belated, but it has been a busy couple of weeks in the U.S. of A. spending the holidays with family over here.  It has been wonderful, and as I write this post I am sitting in an airport wishing for a blizzard carrying 5 feet of snow that would shut down all air traffic for at least a week and keep us here.  (I'm not worried about being stuck at the airport... I know Mom and Dad would come rescue us!)  But alas, I fear said blizzard is not coming, especially given the rain outside.

Before heading over the ocean to spend Christmas with my side of the family, we did manage to catch a few "must-see" things in Paris around the holidays.  The most fun, I think, were the window displays at Printemps and Galeries Lafayette.  Last year the displays were pretty cool, and this year was just as fun.  Whereas last year I think that Printemps was my favorite, this year the Galeries LaFayette were pretty great.  I'll let you decide....

The Christmas displays at Galeries Lafayette were sponsored and designed by Swatch.  I have to say the clock gear windows were really cool.  You could see all the moving pieces and the hidden clock parts that made everything move.  It was a lot of fun.  Each window was a different scene of a related theme.

I would like to attend a Christmas dinner like this one.  It looked like all the little animals who were invited were having a good time.

This year checking out the Christmas displays was especially fun because we had a visitor with us!  Kim and Paul indulged me and smiled for the camera. 

The windows at Printemps were also cool.  They were sponsored by Prada.  To be honest, though, I really liked the Galeries Lafayette windows better.  A few of these ones had moving parts, but the others were mostly just big mannequins modeling the clothes.

Google made this one sparkle for me.  

These skiing Teddy Bears were pretty cute.

So that's one traditional French thing we did for the holidays.  We also did some serious shopping at the Christmas markets.  We visited the marché on the Champs-Elysées, at La Défense, and in front of Sacré-Cœur.  Although its neighborhood is the least charming, the market at La Défense was definitely the best.  We found a few Christmas presents there and in general were pretty pleased.  The one on the Champs-Elysées was by far the most touristy.  We had a hard time finding things there that were French at all.  We did, however, find the traditional Christmas Octopus!  I was unaware of that being a tradition, and I'm pretty sure that it is not.  But it made for a fun picture.

 So that is a little snippet of some French holiday traditions we enjoyed before our travels.  This year will be my first New Years in France, so I'm looking forward to that.  I'll let you know if anything is very different.

Happy Holidays!

Happy Frenchgiving!

Happy Belated Thanksgiving!

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and that you're still enjoying the leftovers you probably have from your bountiful feast!

This may not come as a surprise to you, but none of the pilgrims landed in France.  Or maybe they did, but they were not met by friendly Native Americans who decided to share their harvest.  Either way, sadly there is no official Thanksgiving holiday here.  We all have to go to work on the last Thursday of November with little or no ceremony, unless you happen to be around other Americans.

Now, mostly for entertainment and informational purposes, I will share a couple of tidbits about preparing a Thanksgiving dinner in France.

• Whole turkeys don't exist in France in November.  Well, they do, but they are still alive.  Here's the thing -- the French roast turkeys for Christmas.  That is all.  If you want to roast a whole turkey at any other time of the year, you need to order it at the butcher's about five days in advance.  Last year we learned this the hard way.  We went to four boucheries and called a few more before we found a place that had turkeys.  When we got there we got to choose between plucked and unplucked.  Yikes.  
• This won't come as much of a surprise, but some American products just don't exist in France.  Sad as it is, the lack of Stove Top Stuffing is somewhat predictable.  However, you might not guess that the canned pumpkin you need to make pumpkin pie isn't a French product and can't be found in a typical supermarket.   
• Okay, it's not that these products don't exist in France.  It's the age of globalization, so of course they exist in France.  However, their prices are inflated to gasp-inducing levels.  Also, right around Thanksgiving all of the "American" stores are swamped.  (At least something feels like home, I guess).
• Apple tartes in France aren't made with cinnamon, so if you aren't making your own, it's not going to taste like it should for Thanksgiving.
• Just about everything here is smaller.  I have a beautiful roaster pan that we received for our wedding.  It does not fit in our oven.  The turkey went in something else.  

Those are just some fun, "Oh France" moments.  If you want to read about some others, this article is pretty entertaining.

In addition to these logistical hurdles, it's a bit strange to be in a foreign country on what is a major holiday to you, but is just another day to everyone else.  I had to keep reminding myself it was a special day, and I tried to say Happy Thanksgiving to everyone I saw who would be interested.  It was a little sad when I thought of how my family was gathering together and my friends were all back in my hometown getting together.  It's tough to realize that life goes on without you sometimes.  Ah well.

But life goes on here too, and we had an excellent holiday in Paris.  On the evening of Thanksgiving, a couple of my coworkers (an American-English marriage) invited everyone from our office over for a potluck Thanksgiving dinner.  There were only about five Americans present, but it was just lovely.  Everyone brought some sort of homemade dish that's special where they come from (or something they were confident cooking) and there was plenty of wine and beer to go around.

While the potluck dinner was delicious, this wasn't what made it special for me.  Last year, after having only been in France for about two months, Thanksgiving was tough.  We cheated a bit and went to Ireland to celebrate a lovely weekend with some close friends.  But we also tried to celebrate in France, trying to embrace our new home and our life here.  What really happened was we spent Thanksgiving with a group of people who weren't quite a group of friends.  But this year, after a season of working with this special mix of people, it felt really great to have friends with whom we could celebrate the holiday.  It's wonderful to have one of those "ah ha!" moments when you realize that you're part of something, that you have a community.  It's especially great when it makes a holiday feel the way it's supposed to feel.  It was clear to me on Thursday night that we have a lot to be thankful for.

After our great big Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday, Paul and I hosted a smaller dinner with a few of our friends on Saturday.  (Since a lot of Americans seem to do their big turkeys on this Saturday, I decided to refer to it as Frenchsgiving).  This also was pretty great.  We weren't meeting people at this dinner like we were the year before.  We were with our friends.  And for this occasion, it wasn't just me, Paul, and people he's known forever.  It was a mix of old friends and new, and it was a dinner that would make my parents proud.  The food was delicious and we set the table for a holiday -- we used our china and crystal for the second time ever.  With the food, the friends, and the little bit of ceremony and tradition, it felt like a real Thanksgiving.

When I think about it, I have a lot to be thankful for this year.  When we arrived, Paul had a lot of good friends and family who were very kind to me.  Today I feel like they're also my friends and family, and they're not just Paul's friends being nice to me.  I'm also really happy to have met some really wonderful new friends of my own in Paris.  Then when I think about the amazing friends and family we have in the US, I realize how incredibly blessed we are.

So, I hope you all enjoyed your holiday as much as I did.  I can't wait to celebrate the next one, Christmas, with my friends and family back (in my other) home.

One Year Frenchiversary

Well, exactly one year ago today I got off a plane at Charles de Gaulle airport with a couple very large suitcases and the strange feeling of landing in a foreign country without the intention of returning any time soon.  It was kind of weird -- exciting and exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.  It helped that my husband of almost 2 months (most of which we spent on different continents) was waiting for me just on the other side of the security barrier.

So... I don't really know how to describe this big One Year mark.  I've survived.  That's definitely an understatement, though.  I think it'd be a stretch to say I've flourished, too.  I've held my own, I guess.  I've done fairly well.  It's been amazing to discover France and all that it has to offer, or at least all a person can see on monthly weekend getaways.  I'm proud to say I almost don't need a French translator anymore.  (Yay!  My husband's almost off the hook!)  That being said, friendly conversations laced with French slang and word games at a natural speed are still a bit too much for me.  There's always room for improvement. 

Looking back, I realize that it's pretty strange to go to a brand new place and situation and watch what happens to your sense of self and identity.  If a person is generally defined by what she does every day, her job and volunteer activities, by who she surrounds herself with, her friends and family, and by the way she interacts with people... what happens when she leaves her job and extracurriculars behind, there's only one person who knows her as anything other than someone's wife (the husband himself), and she can barely communicate with most strangers because she doesn't speak the language?  

I guess there's nothing to do other than adapt.  Learn the language.  Do one's best to meet people.  And I guess you try to keep doing the same things that make you feel like you.  Try to strike the balance of holding onto the things that are familiar and dear, and trying all the things a new place has to offer you.

So, maybe one way to handle this one year mark isn't to gab about it or analyze it, but simply to share what the year has looked like.  Here are a few of my favorite little moments since moving to France.  And here's to another great year.

 My first day here and our first picnic on the Champs de Mars. 

Our first weekend away in Lille - the first new city I visited in France.

 Our first visitors!

The first French chateau I saw (aside from Versailles) Chambord!

An exposition of bears in front of the Eiffel Tower last fall.  Each country got to design its own bear!

Our wine-tasting trip in Burgundy with Dr. Dan.

 Our trip to Ireland!  That's something that was on my Bucket List.

Baking Christmas cookies with Cleme and Robbie.  It's a Magnarelli Family tradition that I was really happy to share with the Terriens. :)

My first trip to the Alps.  Snowshoeing with Paul in this calmest of places.

Our trip to Brussels for Valentine's weekend... another new country for me!

Our trip to Frankfurt to visit friends and see another very cool country... and man was it cold!

Our honeymoon in Turkey.  What an amazing trip.  Also, I love that vacation beard. 

 Mom and Dad's visit!!  Here in Mont St. Michel. 

 Bastille Day!!

Again!

Weekend in Dieppe to just relax and celebrate our first anniversary.

Our little courtyard in the summer looking its best.

Biking around the Loire River Valley for 4 days.  So awesome!  I can't wait to do it again next year!

Paul looking proud as we reached our final destination.

My first trip up the Eiffel Tower.  Thanks, Easy Pass perks. :)

Gorgeous sunset on the island of Brehat in Brittany.

Long weekend in the South of France.  This is the Mediterranean Coast East of Marseille. 

And that's it for one year.  On to the next!

Paris is on Vacation.

That's right.  Paris is on vacation.  As is most of France.  

Allow me to explain: Tons of people go on vacation in France in August.  Not just for a few days or a week, oh no.  Many people go for almost all of August -- two weeks at the very least.  This might be more common in Paris than in the rest of France, but I'm not 100% sure about that.

So, this touches my daily life in a couple of ways.  First: It's hard to find lunch.  Okay, if I'm being honest this is the only way this changes things for me.  There are two bakeries near our office that have good sandwiches, salads, etc.  They are both closed.  For the whole month.  There is also a Subway nearby that is still open where I can grab a sandwich but... ya know... I live in Paris.  Subway doesn't even KNOW what "eat fresh" means.  There is fresher.  And more delicious.  And I miss it.  (Sigh).  

If you don't believe me, please note that it took me all of about 10 minutes (mostly because I walk slowly) to accumulate these pictures.   Please excuse the fact that my reflection is in almost all of these -- I need to be more mindful when taking pictures.

These two shops are on our street.  They are the only shops on our side of the street.  Both closed.

This is where you can get amazing quiches and pastries for dessert at lunch.  I will go there just to celebrate when they reopen... and have a chocolate moelleux because theirs are delicious!

This place was in Tours, France.  Just a little bit of proof that this doesn't just happen in Paris.

Again, you can't really read it, but this is a sign announcing that the bakery IS open in August.  Because you need to say that, because it's not assumed.  This was taken on a Sunday, though, which explains why the place was closed.  

So there you go, just a fun little fact about what life is like in Paris in August.  I hear that if you actually work in a regular business or office, it's impossible to get anything done because too many people are on vacation.  Surely most things can wait until September.  

What's that you ask?  Why do people use up all their vacation in one month?  Surely nobody has more than 4 weeks of vacation to spend!  

Wellllll.... the minimum amount of vacation a person can have each year in France is five weeks.  Five!  Is there a minimum in the U.S.?  Here in France you also have people like my husband who work 40 hours per week instead of the typical 35 (!) who get about nine weeks of vacation to compensate for all of those extra hours.  Nine!  Nine WEEKS!  I think in my earliest jobs I got nine days per year!  Can you imagine how nice it is to just take off for 3-4 weeks in the summertime and either totally decompress on the beach until you are so relaxed you look 5 years younger?  Or you now have the time to drive across the U.S. or fly to Europe or Asia and just travel around.  Or do all those little projects around your house that drive you crazy so that when you're back to work you feel completely relaxed and ready for whatever life brings.  So many possibilities.

Just a thought about life and how nice it is that people here are allowed more time to actually live it.  I miss the bakeries, but have to say I appreciate the vacation.  We're storing up our vacation days to spend Christmas in the States, but we'll still manage two getaways in August, not to mention the two-week honeymoon we took in May.  There really are some things I truly love about France and vacation is one of them.

La fête des Tuileries

I never knew this, but for most of the summer there is a carnival on the Northern edge of the Tuileries Gardens, called La Fête des Tuileries.  (Note, I say carnival because that’s what it looks like to me, but Paul insists that this is not what it is called in French.  In French, anything called a “carnival” has to do with Mardi Gras).  There are the typical rides, such as the Ferris wheel, the Swings, and Bumper Cars.  You can also go into a haunted house, or play carnival games that involve shooting or picking a plastic duck out of flowing water (everyone gets a prize!).  It’s the kind of country fair that almost everyone has been to at least once in his or her life, though probably not in the middle of a city.  For me, it felt like a little piece of the Great New York State Fair brought to me in Paris, just a month early.  (No salt potatoes, though.  Alas).

Paul and I went to check this out with some friends, and it was another one of those things in Paris that he had never done before.  It’s amazing to be married to someone who grew up in Paris, as he can show me all the hidden things a typical outsider can’t find.  However, it’s also nice to make friends with other expats in the city who are excited to try anything and everything the city has to offer, even if it seems a little cheesy.  In the end, my Parisian husband was really pleased to have tried this once. 

The Ferris wheel was our first ride, and we were initially disappointed because it was enclosed in glass.  We had a special treat, though, as we could see a man in the building next to the carnival who was standing on his balcony in his underwear!  Yikes!  (It was quite hot out that night, so I guess we’ll give him a pass?)  I’ve seen a lot of things on the midway of the Great New York State Fair, but never that! 

Also, we happened to be riding the swings at exactly 11:00pm, when the Eiffel Tower began to sparkle.  That made the moment pretty magical.   (The picture below is of the Eiffel Tower with her sparkle lights, though it's not taken from the Tuileries.  The fête was much farther away than this photo).

This last picture is of the moon rising over the Louvre.  Unfortunately, this is one of those things that I simply couldn’t capture with a camera.  The moon was huge and bright rising right over the chateau that night.  It was even glowing a bit orang-y as it climbed into the sky.  I guess it’s the type of thing you just have to come to Paris to see.  

View of the Other ET (Eiffel Tower)

I realize it's been two months since I last posted something on this blog, so I'm going to try a new strategy.  That is.... shorter posts that I can hopefully add more frequently.  So here's the first one!

I think this is a most beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower.  This picture was taken from the Pullman Hotel, which is located very close to the Eiffel Tower, just South of the Champs de Mars.  The hotel temporarily had a restaurant on its 10^th floor.  Here’s an article with a little more information.  (Though I must confess, I had no idea until I read this that the theme was the 7 Deadly Sins.  Nothing I ate in July tasted angry…)  While the cuisine was not quite as extraordinary as one would expect from the price, the view absolutely was.  I took this photo after finishing a Thursday Night Dinner with some friends.  We went for the first time in early July, because the restaurant announced that its last night of operation would be July 14^th.  That was a lie.  They extended the restaurant’s existence (does that mean they need to change the name?), and we had dinner on July 25^th.  Now they’re saying that tonight is the last night it will be open, but we’ll see if it’s extended again.

If it is, it’s totally worth an overpriced drink or dessert (or maybe even dinner) to see this view.  The view over the rest of Paris was also gorgeous, but didn’t photograph quite as well.  I guess it’s just one of those things you have to experience.  There are so many hidden treasures like this in Paris.

New Bike Job

Greetings Family, Friends, and Random Guests who have stumbled onto my blog,

Alas, it has been a while since my last post.  At least I’m predictable, right?  BUT the main reason for this delay is my inspiration for this installment.  That is (drumroll please….) a full time job!  Yes, that’s right.  I am now a fully productive and contributing member of French society.  Or as close as one can come to that with mediocre French language skills…

So, this new and exciting job is with a company that gives tours of Paris geared toward Anglophones via bike, walking, and Segway.  It’s called Fat Tire Bike Tours (shameless plug for the new employer or helpful information about what I’m doing?  I’ll let you decide).   I’m not a tour guide, but I work in the office getting the paperwork and tickets ready for the tours, as well as helping people make reservations and check in before their tours leave.  I’d love to be a guide, but you have to be able to "ghost ride" two bikes at the same time when necessary and, let’s face it, I’ve just never been that coordinated. 

Nevertheless, I really enjoy this opportunity.  Since it caters to Anglophones from around the world, it also employs Anglophones from around the world.  There are a lot of Americans working there (especially from Texas.  The founder is a Texan).  There are also quite a few Aussies, English, Irish, Kiwis (did you know that’s what people from New Zealand call themselves?  I had no idea), and Canadians.  There is also an interesting assortment of mutts.  Some of my colleagues are half French/half American, Irish but grew up in South Africa, German but grew up in Australia with EU passports, etc.  Thus, the place is always interesting and even though we all speak English, the various phrases and expressions people use are a lot of fun.

One of my favorite non-American English phrases: “It’s The Dream.”   As in, “man this job is so awesome… it’s The Dream.”  It’s simple, but I really like that one.  That falafel was The Dream.  That ice cream was The Dream.  I'll stop there.

I think the main reason I enjoy working at Fat Tire is its dynamic environment.  My colleagues are all energetic and outgoing people, chosen by this company because they make you feel comfortable and their enthusiasm for Paris is infectious.  On top of that, the energy from our customers is amazing.  Consider how excited you are when you’re on vacation discovering a beautiful city that you’ve always wanted to visit.  You’re in an exceptionally good mood, right?  Now there are hundreds of you, and I get to work with you every day.  It’s pretty cool. 

I’m relieved that I get to speak English when I work because, ya know, I’m pretty good in that language.  It’s also a great place to make friends.  Like I mentioned, all my colleagues speak English, so that takes the first social hurdle out of the way.  However, I’m a little afraid that my French skills are going to deteriorate.  I don’t have many occasions to speak French in the office.  Occasionally concierges from Paris hotels call us to either make or confirm reservations for their clients.  The funniest thing about these calls is that the concierges insist on speaking French to us on the phone, but then we hear them speak to their guests in English while we’re waiting.  Ah well.  I’ve become more comfortable speaking French on the phone, though, so that’s progress.  I’ve also had a couple concierges tell me that I have a charming accent when I speak French.  (Though they might have been trying to squeeze their clients onto a last-minute tour of the Eiffel Tower…)

So far the job also comes with a lot of perks.  For example, on my first day of work I showed up and completed some paperwork with the HR manager.  Promptly following this step, I went on a bike tour of Paris so I would be familiar with the route.  After that I went home.  So… I got paid to go on a tour!  That happened about half a dozen times!  I’ve been on the Day Bike, Night Bike, Segway, Bike Tour of Versailles, VIP (ooh la la!) Tour of Versailles… I might even be forgetting some.  And I got paid to do this!  I’m also proud to say I might know more about Paris, its buildings, and its history than Paul does!  Muahaha. The picture below is from our VIP tour of Versailles... these rooms aren't included in the standard tours of the chateau.  This is one of the rooms where Louis XIV, XV, and XVI used to hang out with their "inner circles."  Oh my.

That being said, all jobs have their drawbacks.  They aren’t too serious with this gig, but they exist.  Since it’s in the tourism industry, we all have to work nights and weekends.  The managers are sympathetic, though, and I almost always have two days off in a row so I have a “weekend.”  This personalized weekend usually includes either Saturday or Sunday so I can spend time with Paul, which is wonderful.  Also, the night shifts go quite late, since our Night Bike tour gets in around 11:30pm.  Once the group gets back we chat with them a bit, help them find the metro or catch a cab, and once they leave we bring all of their bikes inside the office.  The night tour ranges from 20-50 people right now, broken into smaller, more personalized groups, and the numbers are increasing as the season ramps up.  Thus, we have quite a few bikes to move. I'm hoping to gain some muscle by the end of the season!  We generally finish up somewhere between midnight and 12:45, but I have an amazingly short commute, so I don’t mind.

I forgot to mention that – the office is about a 12-minute walk from our apartment.  I think if I hit the lights it’s a six-minute bike ride.  Not bad, eh?  Also, it’s helped me become more comfortable riding my bike in Paris.  This is great, especially given Paul’s enthusiasm for biking.  We’re planning to bike out to Versailles on one of our days off.  I forget how many kilometers that is (nobody here speaks in miles), but it should be a good beginner’s challenge.

So that is my new gig!  Alas, I had to stop babysitting the little girl whose parents want her to learn English.  Full time at the Bike Office plus an extra 8 hours of babysitting per week would have been too much.  I think she and I will both be okay, though.  And now I get to learn about bikes and Paris.  I'll take that trade.

Grandparents

Forgive me if this post is a bit too sentimental.  This topic has been rolling around in my head on a fairly regular basis and tonight (maybe it was the second glass of porto?) it just seems like a good idea to blog about it.  From the beginning I know I can't possibly do justice to each person about whom I would like to write.  But I will try...

Growing up I was blessed to know the generation before my parents'.  I knew all four of my grandparents for at least twelve years, plus a great-grandmother, several wonderful great-uncles, and a great-aunt who was called the "Fairy Godmother" of the family by all.  (And of course, there are a couple of amazing great-uncles still keeping the family in line in Syracuse, NY).

Even though I now realize that I wasn't nearly as mature at the age of 12 as I thought I was, and I might not have known any of my grandparents particularly well at this young age, I did know them.  I know that they were spirited, fully alive.  They were funny and fun to be with -- storytellers, singers, golfers, travelers.  People who lived through the Great Depression and World War II and provided for their families (rather large Catholic families on both sides), working their way to the "good life" of owning their own homes and giving their children the roots and wings necessary to go out into the world and make their own lives.

I have very fond memories of lunches and shopping trips with Grandma Murphy and Aunt Kate, of breakfasts at Grandma & Grandpa Magnarelli's house every Sunday, of Grandpa Murphy always calling me "Smiley," which made me smile more (until my cheeks hurt!), and Grandma Camilli playing cards and coloring with us.  It's heart-warming to experience that extra layer of parents.  Another set of people who care about you and are interested in you and your life and your success.  Another layer of people who take you on outings and tell you their stories and listen to yours. People who offer you advice and try to guide you as best they can, but with just enough experience and distance to be a bit more patient than your parents might be with you.

And then, as happens to all, between the age of 12 and 22 I gradually learned what life is like without grandparents.  As a 20-something, there were many times when I thought of them.  I wished I could see them or ask them something, I wished they could see me because I knew they would be proud of me.  I still wish this on a regular basis.  "If Grandma were here visiting me, she would love to go to this museum or experience this cathedral."

So... what does this have to do with ET living in Paris?  Allow me to explain:

When I married my husband last summer, I was also blessed to marry into his family -- a slightly younger family than mine (he is the oldest grandson, whereas I am one of the younger grandchildren in my family).  His is a wonderful family filled with boisterous and playful aunts, uncles, and cousins who are also very caring and welcoming.  It is also a family that includes... you might have seen this one coming... wonderful grandparents.

Three of Paul's grandparents are still alive and living near Paris, and I am so happy to have the opportunity to get to know them.  To begin, each of them welcomed me into their lives from the moment Paul brought me to France to meet his family when we were just dating.  They were happy to chat with me (or try... because at that point I really knew no French), host me in their homes, cook me their favorite traditional meals, and share their grandson with me.

Since coming to Paris I've realized that moving can be tough.  Moving far away can be tougher.  Moving far away to a new country with different customs just adds to that.  Then we add the language thing and... sheesh.  It's totally worth the risk and the changes, but when you're new and without your friends or family or support system, it's easy to feel a little lonely or lost.

But sometimes when you feel a bit lonely or lost, your grandparents will call and invite you to a museum and then a nice lunch.  Or they might drop by for a few minutes to say hello and welcome you to the building.  They might invite you to their house for the weekend where you can relax or go mushroom hunting or hang out by the pool.  They might share recipes for bœuf bourguignon or explain to you the proper method for making ratatouille. They might even invite you upstairs for a drink when your husband is away for work and they know you might be lonely.

I guess I simply want to say that I am thankful for the opportunity to have grandparents again.  I am so pleased to have the privilege of getting to know such wonderful people.  (Not just grandparents, but great-aunts included).  My French grandparents enrich our life here so much and help Paris really feel like a home to me.  They help me to remember my grandparents as well.  I really wish my grandparents were alive to meet Paul's.  I think they would get along so well...

So that's that.  Maybe this post is more about merging families than it is about living in Paris, but these things happen.  Maybe I will blame this on that second glass of porto my French grandfather poured me this evening... does that make the story French?

Skiing in the Alps

Okay.... I said I was going to try and catch up on my blog, and I meant it!  

Since returning from the States, we have been traveling around France and its neighboring countries on our free weekends.  So here is the story of our first weekend excursion of 2013.

Let me start by saying that Paul (along with about 97% of the people I've met in France) is an avid skier.  He started when he was something like 5 years old and has loved it ever since.  I didn't start skiing until I was about 14 (thank you Katie B for taking 2 hours to get down the slope with me a single time all those years ago....), so my skills are not nearly what Paul's are.  He's a black diamond kind of guy, and I'm really more of a nice blue circle kind of girl.  (Note: The difficulty scale is different here -- there is a red level below black and no double blacks.  Also there are no shapes involved, just colors).  

Not surprisingly, this discrepancy in our skill levels makes me a little nervous about ski trips.  Really everyone is a much better skier than I am (even the 4 year olds who come whizzing down the mountain past me), so I'm afraid I'll either break myself trying to keep up with them or get left behind on the easy slopes and lost all day.  (Both a little dramatic, I know, but worries often are...)  Also, while Paul's friends are SUPER nice and welcoming, it's still a bit daunting to go on weekend trips with a big group of French speakers.  

That being said, the weekend turned out to be really lovely.  We stayed in a city called Chambéry at the home of two of Paul's good friends and took day trips to the slopes.  We also celebrated the birthday of another friend who was there -- lots of fun things going on!  I was really happy to notice that my French has improved enough for me to be able to keep up with (most of) what's going on around me so I could enjoy the fun too!

When it came time to go skiing, I was a little surprised by what I saw.  In the US, the biggest ski resort I have visited is Killington in Vermont.  Other than that, I've stuck to the relatively small ski mountains in Central New York.  In my limited experience in the US, you choose a ski resort.  That ski resort has ski/snowboard rentals, it runs the ski lifts, it offers a few restaurants or bars, and it usually has some sort of lounge area where people can come inside for a little while.  (This lounge area usually smells like sweaty people and feet.  Just saying).  But in general, when you go to a ski resort, it is completely owned by one big company.  

Well, that's not how it worked in the Alps.  As far as I could tell, the lift belongs to the town or village in which it is located.  So we went to go get our lift passes (which were deeply discounted because the weather was less than ideal) at a little office that was (I think) run by the town's tourism office.  That was it.  Then there was a little plaza, much like those in other small towns, that had restaurants, shops where you could rent ski gear, and I even saw a grocery store a little further from the lift.  The shape of the town was a little bit different and seemed to center around the ski lift with parking lots a little bit further away.  (The picture is from where we parked our car... that part in the upper left side should be another mountain across the valley from where we were, but it was snowing too hard to really see it).  But to me this concept was craziness... I didn't feel like I was trapped into ridiculous prices by a big resort's monopoly on my day.  (Maybe in reality I was trapped by the town's monopoly, but it at least gave me the impression of more freedom).  THEN -- I think this is really cool -- as we were riding up the lift, I saw some apartments on the mountain.  As in... you can own or rent an apartment that is on the slopes.  So in the morning you wake up, walk out your door, and ski down the mountain.  And in the evening you ride up the lift, ski halfway down the mountain, and go into your apartment.  How cool is that?!?  I've never seen that in the US.

The next day was really my favorite of the weekend.  Paul was sweet enough to take a day off from skiing and go snowshoeing with me.  This was really amazing in the Alps.  I absolutely think that snowshoeing is more of a workout than skiing, but when there's a scenic overlook at the end of the trail, all that work is completely worth it!  For our snowshoeing afternoon, it's probably easiest to tell the story in pictures.

Our snowshoeing path started here, at the edge of the little ski town.

It took us through the snow-covered forest which, aside from the occasional snowshoer, cross country skier, or dog sled (!) was completely silent and serene.  

Snowshoeing is a serious workout, so we started to peel off our hats, scarves, gloves, and even open our jackets a little bit.

And at the end of the trail (major credit to Paul who convinced me to keep going when I was tired and wanted to go back into the village for a hot chocolate!) we found this:

So all in all, it was an amazing weekend in Chambéry and the Alps.  Turns out I'm not as horrible a skier as I thought I was, and Paul was giving me some tips on how to improve.  We ate crêpes and raclette and drank some vin chaud (mulled wine) to warm back up at the end of our days.  

Also, if you are able to procure a bottle, I highly recommend you try Chartreuse, which is a local liqueur from the region.  If it helps convince you, Quentin Tarantino thinks it is a tasty beverage.  (Warning- F Bombs dropped in that clip!)  I recommend you sip it and maybe drop an ice cube in there to make it even better.