Welcome Spring!!!

As with many things, I didn't realize this when we moved here.  Based on conversations with family and friends, most people who live in the US don't realize this.  But here it is... there is a HUGE difference in the length of a Parisian day in the summer versus the winter.

I know, I know.  Most people react with a "yeah sure, the days in the summer are longer here, too."  But no... REALLY.  For example: The shortest day of the year here in Paris has 8 hours, 14 minutes of daylight.  I have to be to work every morning at promptly 8:00.  For all of December, my walk to work is like walking at night.  The sun doesn't even rise until 8:15.  

Now, to show you the other side of the spectrum, the longest day of the year in Paris has 16 hours, 10 minutes of daylight.  That's almost twice as long as a December day!  And I can tell you, it is glorious!  No matter how early you have to wake up, the sun is already there to greet you.  (Well at least for me, it rises at 5:45.  Some people might still beat it).  Here is the real interesting fact is that sunset is at 9:58!

I'm told this drastic difference between the summer and winter is because of how far North of the equator Paris is located.  Most people don't realize that New York City is on roughly the same latitude as Rome.  Europe is really quite a bit farther North than the US.  Someone also told me that the late sunset has to do with how far West Paris is located in the time zone.  If we were located further East, in Italy or Macedonia, we would have earlier sunrises and sunsets.   

It's interesting to see how such a simple thing changes certain cultural elements in Paris.  My guess is that this has something to do with how late people here have dinner.  (Typical dinner time is around 8:30.  Many restaurants won't even open until 7:30).  It's also interesting to note that almost all French people have heavy wooden or metal shutters on their windows to completely close out the light.  It's tough to put kids to bed in broad daylight or sleep in on a Saturday if the sun is up at 5:45.  This kind of shutter is necessary here where they're mostly for decoration in the U.S.  (I suppose they could use thick curtains as well, but they seem to stick with the shutters).

So there is a little bit of worldly knowledge to "brighten" your day.  Really, all of this is a very long way of saying how happy I am that spring is finally arriving!  The temperatures may still be a bit on the chilly side, but there is daylight!  Before work and after work!  It is glorious!

Bring on more sunshine and 10:00pm picnics, Mother Nature!  We are all ready!

Update

It's been over six months since I last wrote something for you all... which is too bad.  I enjoy writing, I hear that some of you enjoy reading, and there is so much to say!  That being said, there's so much to say that I feel like I never quite have the time to say it!

So over the last six months there have been trips to Spain, Italy, and Portugal (what can I say?  All of these fabulous places are so close!), amazing birthday surprises for my big 3-0, many visitors, a move to a new apartment, and a very busy work season.  Most of it has been great, and some things have been a real drag, but in general life is always good.  For each one of these events, I've drafted a blog in my head, and then it has faded away as I never got the time to put it down.

I guess another reason why I've not written very often this year is because some of the novelty has worn off.  Last year, there were certain things about living in France that absolutely struck me as being different or crazy, and I just needed to write about them.  Maybe things here now seem less weird, so it's not as obvious to me what people would like to hear about.  The transition to life in France is funny... I sometimes find myself searching for a word in English, and blurting out the French word instead.  I also sometimes speak an awkward form of English, that's essentially a direct translation of a French phrase.  Once I double-kissed my sister without thinking.  She gave me this look and said, "What was that all about??"  I even have to remind myself to look up at the Eiffel Tower on my way to work every day.

Though in a lot of ways, I'm still 100% American.  I still pay a ridiculous amount of money for a cup of Starbucks coffee (it's even more expensive here), and am foolishly excited about their seasonal lattes.  I miss American grocery stores every time I go to a French one.  (They don't bag your groceries here... they just shove them down the little "chute" and you have to bag and pay as fast as you can so as not to upset the people behind you).  And of course, I still 100% argue that Fahrenheit is the best scale for temperature for every day use.  It's degrees are smaller, which makes it more precise!   Also, I still can't get used to saying it's "30 degrees out!" when it's super warm.  Being from Upstate New York, it's just not going to happen.  Thirty degrees means cold!

So that's where I'm at right now.  Many blog ideas swirling around upstairs.  Maybe in the "off season" for my work I'll be a bit more productive here.  Either way, I hope you enjoyed this little update.

The Scariest Thing About Living Abroad

I'm going to focus this post on an aspect of life in Paris that is more sobering and serious than a usual post.  There was recently a death in my husband's family.  Out of respect for our family's privacy, I'm not writing to share any specifics or personal details.  I certainly won't attempt to speak about this person's life, either.  As the newest member of the family, I simply couldn't do justice to such a task.  

I have been reflecting, though, on how things were different here, simply in terms of customs and logistics.  In general, this is exactly what my blog is about.  Also, this type of life event brings a real poignancy to living far from home and makes one question one's motives for doing so.  But we'll get to that.

As I've mentioned in a previous post, all my grandparents are no longer with us.  Sadly, this means I am all too familiar with burial and mourning customs, and so could feel the differences between how things were done here and how they were done back home.  One thing that I found most striking was the amount of time that everything lasted.  There were about ten days between the day the person passed away and when the funeral services took place.  To me this seemed like an eternity, as in my experience things usually take 3-4 days.  I realize, though, that this might be more of a function of living in a big city than it is a function of living in France.  It's strangely similar to going to a nice restaurant -- it simply takes time to get a reservation.

In my experience in the US, all of the children and grandchildren of the deceased met in one place and then rode to all of the services together in a series of limousines.  Being outside of an environment where this is normal, I realized that it might be a bit strange, overly luxurious.  That being said, it's nice when the family arrives together and enters the church together, without having to greet the crowd of extended family and friends.  While of course it's kind and supportive and wonderful of them to be there at such a time, it's also very difficult to face people in these moments.  Here in France, our nuclear family made our way to the services together, and then met everyone outside the church, greeting and chatting with each other for what seemed like 30 minutes, but maybe was only 10-15.  I watched those closest to the deceased hang back a bit, unsure of what to do, and then accept the condolences people offered them gracefully, though sometimes with difficulty.  My understanding is that there are sometimes wakes in France, though not always.  As there was not in this case, perhaps this time outside the church took its place, giving friends that opportunity to speak with the bereft family members.  Whether this happens in a funeral home or outside a church doesn't really matter much, I suppose.  The sentiments and the interactions are the same.  Certainly none of this is ever easy.

One last  observation is that cemeteries in France seem to be all stone and gravel, not grass the way I've seen in the United States.  I don't know why this made such an impression on me, but it did.  The families of the deceased have to bring their own flower pots and either install them permanently at the grave or find a place where temporary containers will stand up well.  The custom is the same though, that people bring flowers and take a sense of pride in making sure their family member's graves look tidy.  I suppose none of us can bear the idea of leaving our loved ones unattended.

In the midst of all of this, of comforting loved ones who are grieving the loss of a beloved family member, there were a few things going on in my mind.  The first, of course, was trying to be there to make everything easier for my husband and make sure he carried on all normal necessary functions, such as eating enough, sleeping, etc.  This was hardly necessary, but it gave me something to do and a sense of purpose.  Perhaps that's simply my way of grieving.

On the other side of things... being here during the death of a loved one terrifies me.  We were here for this one.  We were in the right place.  We had seen this person over the last few months, we were here to be with the family and mourn together.  But... my side of the family is far.  With the exception of a few weeks at the holidays, we've not been able to spend time with them.  What if, God forbid, something were to happen to one of them?  I've wasted precious time with them, living life in some far off country instead of being with them.  What am I thinking?!

And then I remember what I'm thinking.  I remember my husband who is here and who is the most important person in my world.  I remember that he had been away from his home and family for over three years before we moved to France.  I remember how wonderful his family members are and how they've become my family members, too.

And so there you have it.  Plainly put, the one most intense source of anxiety and fear that living abroad carries with it.  The fear that the worst could happen while you're gone, you could lose one of your most beloved friends or family members, and you will have given up time with them during their most precious last days.  But then again, we've chosen a life that means we will face this fear no matter where we go.  (Unless, of course, we convince one entire side of the family to move to another country.  Should be easy, yes?)  So I'll keep saying my prayers that God keeps us on the right side of the ocean, and that He grants us many years with those we love.  May He send us no surprises.  And may He bless the member of my husband's family and keep him always in His care. 

"Dish-aster" or... The Great Cabinet Avalanche of 2014

So I'm coming home from work on Friday afternoon at a little after 12:30.  As I enter the apartment, things seem normal.  All is quiet.  There's a little bit of light coming in through the living room door.  I'm thinking about what my options are for lunch.  And then I catch sight of this: 

Weird... those seem to be parts of our coffee mugs and glasses.  And... isn't that the door to one of the cabinets that hangs on the wall opposite this door from which it's protruding?  Why yes, yes it is.  So if those things are spilling out into the hallway, that means....

and then probably....

So yes.  I've let these pictures speak their thousand words to you (which may or may not be suitable for children).  The cabinets fell off our kitchen wall on Friday.  Unfortunately these were holding all of our dishes and glassware.  

There are a few ways to look at this.  First and foremost, what did we not lose?  The obvious -- nobody was crushed to death by a falling cupboard.  I realize it might seem that I'm overstating this a bit for effect but honestly, I'm not.  We left our apartment a bit before 8:00 on Friday morning, with everything as it had always been.  According to my neighbors, there was a horrible and thunderous crash some time around 8:20.  If we hadn't been out of cereal, and I hadn't convinced Paul that the only logical response to this was to go to Starbucks and get a muffin, my husband might have been cleaning up the kitchen when these fell.  This thought is terrifying.  It's also terrifying that if the cabinets had managed to hang on for a few more years and there were children living in this apartment, the unspeakable might have happened.  None of this even mentions how many pieces of shattered glass lay on the floor, just waiting for us to try and step over them, trip, and open some vein.  We're very blessed not to have been here and to be unharmed.

The second way to look at this: What did we lose?  All those beautiful, almost brand-new dishes and glasses.  I know they're just things, but they were all wedding gifts.  I think of my aunt and cousins and all the glasses they gave us. I think of my other aunt who gave me that pretty serving bowl with the cover (oh the cruelty, the cover survived but not the dish).  Wedding and shower gifts are the things our family and friends gave to us so that we might start out our lives together with everything we need, aside from Love, which they have always given us in volumes.  I do think of the people who gave us these things when I use them.  Having let them break and perish here in this foreign land, I do feel like I've let my loved ones down a bit and not taken care of the things they gave us.  But... they're just things.  On a more practical note, the cabinet fell on the stove top, breaking that as well.  Lucky for me I like baking dinners...

The third way to look at this: How could this have happened?!?  Well, I have a few answers.  

The first is something we may laugh at some day, but not yet....  We installed our own cupboards.  That's right.  We bought them at Ikea and had them delivered in there assembly-ready pieces.  I put them together while Paul was at work and then he and our brother-in-law put them up on the walls.  We even decided to attach the cupboards to each other to make them more "stable!"  Ha.  We probably won't be doing that again!  So I think the rule about how a lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client also applies to home improvement.  Our clients were idiots.

Second... and I apologize that this might be kind of a rant... but why on EARTH would France have the common practice be that the renters, and not the landlords, equip the kitchen?!?  Why???  Then what happens is you end up with people, much like us, who have NO idea what they are doing and are making very large holes in your property.  We didn't know which wall was made of what.  (Apparently one wall is plaster, whereas another is brick, and the wall in question was a combination of the two.   Obviously we didn't go far enough into the brick).  I personally feel that the entity who has a little more ownership and knowledge of the place should be responsible for these things.  (Disclaimer:  I love our landlord.  She is amazing, and very nice.  I do not blame any individuals in this situation other than my husband and me.  I just wish things had been different.  Please see previous post about moving into a French apartment and unequipped kitchen).

Third, and this is obviously less the culprit than the first cause, is my American-ness and lack of familiarity with France and all things French.  I have heard from a few people here (after the fact, of course) that one should never put too much in the hung cabinets, and they've heard of this happening.  The heavy stuff should go in the cabinets that stand on the floor.  Again... what?!?!?  I'm sorry, my assumption was that if there is a cabinet, it is meant to store things.  I have never heard this in the U.S.  My mother's hanging cabinets are chocked full of dishes, glasses, and various other things.  We have never needed to be aware of how much weight is in them.  They were constructed and mounted properly.  That has taken the variables out of the equation.  And, as several of my American friends have mentioned, if this had happened in the US, someone would be paying all of our expenses so as to avoid a law suit.  (Unless, again, we were the idiots who had installed them...)  Had I heard this rule that the upper cabinets should be spared the heavy weight, and had I been born and raised here, we might never have had such a dish-aster.  Ah well.

In the end, quite a few of our dishes survived.  I would really like to fully endorse Fiesta and all their products.  They might have been the heavy dishes that brought the thing down in the first place, but a lot of them survive the fall!  We have about 9 plates, 7 bowls, and various other things.  Also, one of the cupboards is completely in tact.  (I'm sure it's because I followed the Ikea picture directions to a T!)

That's really not such a bad lot to be left.  We have plenty of plates and bowls.  Several mugs (some without their handles, but whatever) and a very good story to tell.  One day.

Before wrapping up this post, I would like to give a couple of shout-outs.  Thank you to AS for answering the phone when I called and giving good advice like, "Don't try to climb into the kitchen for the broom while you're alone, you could get really hurt if you fall on broken glass."  Thanks also for all of your help cleaning up the mess.

Thanks to Aunt B for the moral support, the dinner and scotch later Friday night, and the replacement glasses and temporary use of the mini stove, the pots, and of course, the means to make coffee in the morning!

Our neighbor here in the building, with whom I am not acquainted online, was also incredibly kind and gave us cleaning supplies and even more replacement glasses.  She had some gloves that were thick enough to protect from glass shards, which were a huge help.

And... thanks to Aunt Karen for coining the phrase, "Dish-aster!"

So to my family here in France, thank you for all the support!  To my family in the US, thanks for all the moral support, and don't worry... I promise we're okay.  There's no sense crying over some broken glass.

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!