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. 

Bilingual Babysitting

Okay... I know.  I stink at this whole "regular updates" thing.  Je suis très désolée!  But the past month of being back in Paris has been very busy and very exciting!  As such, I'll do my best to rapid fire a few posts on what we've been up to now that I'm officially a Visa-toting resident of France!

I guess the first point of interest would be that I found a job!  I'll back up a bit to tell the story...

After being in the US for the New Year, I arrived in France on a Thursday at the end of January and spent that weekend chilling out with Paul and readjusting to la vie française.  When Monday morning rolled around, I was still hanging out in my pajamas, contemplating where and how to begin my job search when Hark!  My telephone was ringing!  I was surprised and very pleased when I realized it was the woman who runs an English-speaking babysitting agency here in Paris.  I had interviewed with her in October, but since I did not yet have a working Visa at that time, she couldn't assign me to a family.  Now there I was, having only been in France and able to work for two business days, and someone was calling to offer me a job!  Not bad!!

Since then, I've been babysitting a little girl who is four years old and whose parents want her to learn English.  I pick her up at school 4 days per week, bring her home, give her a bath, and all the while I speak English to her.  In total it's about 2 hours per day.

To be completely honest, I'm not 100% convinced this method for teaching your child English is completely effective.  Or, what might be more to the point, it might be very effective, but it will drive the babysitter and the child crazy for a while!  I'm only supposed to speak English to the little girl.  Absolutely, 100% of the time, all English, no French.  This is to encourage her to work hard on her English skills.  If she has to speak English for me to understand, she will, right?

This totally makes sense... except the only vocabulary the little girl knows in English are the colors and animals.  If I need her to act like a snake and play around making a "sssssssss" sound -- no problem.  (It's kind of weird... she really likes snakes!)  However, when I'm trying to, you know, explain why she can't have another piece of candy, or why she needs to stop coloring and take her bath, this becomes a problem.  Thus, I caved and explained some of these things in French.  (Though I have to say, she learned the word "candy" quickly.  She also started throwing "please" around all the time when she realized it was necessary to say that before she could have said candy).  

Aside from the logistical issues of the language barrier, it's actually impressive to see how quickly she learns English at such a young age.  As we walk to the bus stop every day, I point at the cars and she tells me what color they are.  (This gets complicated when the white cars are dirty and look beige, and the silver-gray line is a bit tough to define.  We manage, though).  I also realized that I say "good job!" a lot, because occasionally she will take our flash cards from me and begin to quiz me on words, and she always says "good job!"  Also, when I tell her she's a good girl, she says, "No!  Good JOB!"  Yes okay... that too.  Right now I'm trying to work on things like "cold" and "thirsty," but what really happens is she speaks to me in French and I respond in English.  Quite often she gets testy when I encourage her to say the word in English, and with things like "cold," I certainly don't want to let her remain too cold outside while I give her an English lesson.

A couple other fun anecdotes:  Don't try to sing the alphabet in English to a kid who is just learning it in French.  She approaches melt-down levels when I try to explain to her that "e" in English is pronounced like "i" in French.  Can not compute!  Abort! Abort!  Since the first week I've avoided the alphabet all together.  Also, it's the funniest thing when I tell her a word in English, and she looks at me as if to say, "How could you possibly be that stupid," and repeats it to me in French over and over again.  I think she hopes that some day I'll learn.  Who knows... maybe someday I will.  Until then, we're teaching each other quite a few things!

PS- Sorry no pictures with this one... I'll make up for it in the next few!