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!

French Holidays (Part II)

While the lights and decorations in Paris at Christmas were lovely, I would be remiss if that were all I shared with you about my first holiday season in France.  So here is a little more about my first French Christmas…

Coming from a very large and very tight-knit family, I was a bit nervous that celebrating Christmas away from them for the first time would make me very homesick.  In Syracuse, we always celebrate with extended family and I’ve always really enjoyed the holiday traditions.  Would the holiday be the same without them?  Would it feel like Christmas?

I guess love of a close-knit family is a commonality that brought Paul and I together, because Christmas with his family was very similar to Christmas with mine.  If I had to sum it up in two words, I submit two possibilities.  “Family and Food,” or “Cousins and Cuisine.”  Since there were a lot of aunts and uncles around, I think I will go with the first to be inclusive.  Either way, I was so pleased to find myself surrounded by a big group of people who loved each other and were excited to be together for the holiday.  Everyone made a lot of noise and had a lot of fun!

So, to get more specific, there were about 22 of us all together for Christmas Eve dinner, which was hosted by Paul’s maternal grandmother.  We put together one looong table in the middle of the living room where everyone sat together, roughly grouped together by age.  (As one of the younger cousins in my family, it was REALLY cool to be counted in with the adults.  All younger cousins should try this at least once!).  And, as you may have guessed by my two submitted phrases, there was a lot of food to be had. 

For Christmas Eve, we enjoyed foie gras and champagne before/while we opened Christmas presents.  (I’m told presents are usually opened on the 25^th, but more cousins were present on the 24^th this year, which explains the switch-up).  This was quite the experience.  In the Italian side of my family, the custom is generally to have one representative from each family hand out the presents to all the other cousins.  From there, we hang onto them all for a couple minutes while everyone gets settled, then we watch each other open them/open them together, trying to see what everyone gets while you open your own.  It eventually descends into chaos, but it’s usually orderly when we begin.

Well, I learned that in France there is not generally a “From” tag.  Also, all the presents are placed under the tree earlier in the day as people arrive.  When we get the go-ahead to open them, you either scurry toward the tree to help distribute presents or hang back (as I did, as a nervous newbie) and in a flurry of activity you end up with presents in your hand.  Everyone opens the presents as they receive them, still in the midst of the finding/distributing stage.  As is universally true of opening presents, this is lots of fun.  However, it is slightly confusing because unless someone makes a comment when you open a present, you have no idea who gave you what.  I kind of hung around the living room for a few extra minutes to chat with the Aunts (the presumed shoppers) to find out who gave which presents!  In short, it’s a lot of fun and there is a lot of excitement and energy in the atmosphere. 

After opening presents we ate dinner, as I mentioned before, at a long banquet table in the living room. Dinner itself was lovely.  It was a traditional French meal, orange duck, or canard a l’orange.  We sang Christmas carols at the table, and each attendant from another country (Along with the French, there was also a cousin from Columbia, a fiancé from Australia, and me) sang one of his or her traditional numbers.  Luckily, we all picked familiar ones and the whole group joined in, so nobody really had to sing alone.  It was really cool to hear different traditional songs and familiar songs in a couple languages.  After cleaning up from dinner we had an impromptu dance party (which I’m told is not traditional) that was captured on video camera before everyone headed off to bed.

Christmas day was also cool.  A few of us went to Christmas mass at the Royal Chapel. The Countess of Paris was there (apparently she would be an heir to the French throne if they opted to bring back the monarchy) so the mass was very formal and included a lot of Latin.  It was also very long.  We ducked out after Communion, at which point mass had lasted one hour and 25 minutes.  The chapel was absolutely beautiful, situated at the top of a hill so it received a lot of light that poured in through the stained glass windows and illuminated all the marble and artwork in the chapel itself.  However, being a bit older, there is no heating system in the building.  We were a little chilly (okay, we were freezing) so I absolutely recommend paying a visit to this chapel… during the summer.  I’m looking forward to going back to check it out when things warm up!

We shared the main meal on Christmas Day with the other half of Paul’s family.  His paternal Grandmother hosted her children and grandchildren for lunch.  We had some more foie gras and champagne (I really like foie gras and champagne. Vive les French holidays!), followed by some delicious roast beef and, of course, the cheese course and dessert.  And then the food coma.  Naturally.  This was a more intimate gathering of about 11 people, so it was slightly less boisterous than Christmas Eve, but just as warm and welcoming as the festivities the evening before.

In order to celebrate Christmas with Paul’s great aunt, we actually had ANOTHER Christmas dinner on December 26^th in Paris.  It was a marathon holiday and I liked it.  We enjoyed the same general atmosphere – lots of people (though the younger cousins were sent to McDonalds because Parisian apartments aren’t quite big enough for whole-family dinners), lots of food, and a really lovely time.  I think the adult cuisine was remarkable, though, so will give a brief run-down of the menu.  We enjoyed chevreuil, which is a type of dear that doesn’t exist in the US, and cepes, a type of mushroom that Paul’s grandparents hunted earlier in the fall and saved for the special occasion.  We also had a buche for dessert, which literally translates to “log.”  It’s a type of cake in the shape of a log and is only available around Christmas.

So that is the gist of my first Christmas in France.  I still got a little homesick when I called my parents, but I really felt like a part of the family and a part of the celebration.  And while I missed my own traditions, it was really special to witness and participate in someone else’s.  In the end, it made me feel truly blessed to be a part of two families.   

French Holidays (Part I)

Well, I survived my first Christmas season far away from home, and I have to say that despite really missing my family and all of our holiday traditions, it was wonderful.  Even though the weather was unseasonably warm (and therefore lacking in the beautiful sparkly snow department), Paris is really lovely at Christmas.  Every neighborhood, brasserie, and boulangerie gets into the act with holiday decorations and lights.

Some of the most notable Christmas decorations were at the grands magasins, Printemps and Galeries Lafayette, in downtown Paris. Though I've never been in the big city around the holidays to witness it, I think this is the Paris equivalent of the Macy's holiday windows in NYC.  We first went to check it out on a Saturday evening at around 6:30 which was... a HUGE mistake!  As we probably should have predicted, the place was packed with families and kids and Christmas shoppers trying to get a look at the windows.  I think we gave up on the last few displays just because the place was so crowded.  Paul took this opportunity, though, to bring me to the rooftop cafe at Printemps were we had a gorgeous view of Paris.  The city was all lit up with regular lights, Christmas lights, and the Christmas Ferris Wheel at Concorde.  It's fun to get tours from real-life Parisians.  :)  

Getting back to the window displays, we happened to be in the neighborhood a few days later and really lucked out.   It was 10:00pm on a Wednesday, so the sidewalk was almost completely empty and we had a perfect view of all the windows.   Here are some of our pictures...

The awnings over the sidewalks were covered with lights that somehow made it look as if it were snowing (I think there were flashing LED lights mixed in among the regular gold lights).

The displays at Printemps were created/sponsored by Dior.  There were at least 4-5 different scenes (that moved) with these lovely ladies in pink and red dresses.  I believe the ladies in the picture above were ice skating with hot air balloons and the ladies in the picture below were at the amusement park in their best ball gowns.  

The Printemps advertisements around the city were also featuring one woman in a pink dress and one woman in a red dress during December... so once you had seen the window displays, every ad made you smile at the memory of the fanciful scenes.  The scene pictured below featured what looks like a holiday ball. 

As you can tell from the superbly fashionable Polar Bear's bag, the Galeries Lafayette windows were designed by Louis Vuiton.

The penguins were also styling....

Both of the grands magasins had little walkways right in front of the windows to give little kids the opportunity to get up close and see everything.  And on the sidewalks of this area there were about a dozen different guys selling roasted chestnuts out of wire grocery carts.  (They seemed to disappear quickly when the police came around, but the chestnuts smelled delicious).  

Although they weren't as intricate as the grands magasins, even just the local "places" and neighborhood main roads in certain neighborhoods were decorated.  The city in general had some extra sparkle, which definitely helps the Christmas spirit.  This is in front of the Pantheon... it was like walking through a little Christmas forest in the middle of the city.

Well, I have lots more to say about Christmas in France (ummm the food?  So much to say about how awesome that was) but I hope you enjoy all of these pictures for now.  More to come about the holidays later. 

And of course, a belated Joyeux Noel!

French Lessons

Greetings, and my apologies for the long hiatus!  The past several weeks have been chocked full of visitors, three out-of-Paris excursions, and our continued efforts to settle into our apartment, just to name a few things.  As usual, it has been a whirlwind, but a lovely one.

The main thing to which I’ve been dedicating my time lately is a French class at La Sorbonne. I’m very proud to say it is an intermediate French class (that’s right… no beginner French for this girl!).  It is also an intensive class, though I’m not sure why they don’t just call it intense!  It’s three hours of grammar every day followed by one hour of a phonetics lab.  Between the class itself and the studying/homework, it has been a lot to handle.  However, it has helped immensely.  I’m learning new words, verb tenses, and (of course!) agreement rules every week.  Taking this class has made it much easier to communicate with people who do not speak English and given me a much greater appreciation of all the gender-neutral nouns and adjectives in English!  Paul and I are even trying to speak French to each other at home, though I think our record is only two hours without slipping into English, if that.

The class itself is very interesting.  There are about twenty students of all ages coming from all over the world.  We’ve got a few Americans (North and South), Europeans, Asians, and even one girl from Australia.  The age range is fairly wide as well, including some people who have just finished high school.  In fact, one of the American students was explaining to me how excited he is to be allowed in bars here!  (Sigh… that made me realize I’m a decade older than some classmates.  Wow).  A few other students are retired or nearing the end of their careers, and simply wanted the opportunity to live in France and learn a beautiful language.  I’m humbled by the fact that for most of the non-US citizens, French is their third language.  I can speak to almost anyone in the class in English without a problem.  Unfortunately, I discovered that learning French has overrun the part of my brain where I used to keep my Spanish and Italian skills.  I tried to speak to one of the girls from Columbia in Spanish and ended up saying, “Yo parlo español.”  Yikes.  Last weekend I did manage to speak one sentence of coherent Italian, though.  Maybe the wine I had been drinking awakened the Italian in me? 

Another fun fact about my French class:  It’s taught in French.  I thought perhaps that’s because we’re an intermediate class, and therefore very advanced learners (okay no, I guess those would be the people in advanced French), but I later learned that even beginner French classes are taught in French at La Sorbonne.  So… they teach you the language you don’t know in the language you don’t know.  I have to say that there have been quite a few instances, especially at the beginning of the course, when I really had no idea what the professor was talking about.  I’m happy to say those instances are few and far between now, but it definitely still happens. 

I’m not sure if I’m holding back my own progress (I hope not!), but after four hours of class in a different language, I sometimes return home desperately wanting English music, prose, TV… or sometimes wanting no words at all!  It’s daunting to consider my goal, which is to be completely bilingual, so I can live and work here as comfortably as I did in the States.  I know it’s a long shot… I sometimes imagine all those words in the English dictionary that I don’t know… and then I imagine the French dictionary right next to it.  Oy. 

Moral of the story here:  Find a native speaker and have them teach your toddlers another language – it will be way easier for them when they’re that young.  OR, give your own brain some exercise and learn a second language.  OR!!!  (This one is the greatest idea in my humble opinion) come to Paris to learn French and hang out with me! :)

Just as a side note – the tiny little pine tree I mentioned in my last post has been planted in our courtyard and is actually doing really well!  It’s grown and spread out its branches!  I can’t say that the French Oak is doing quite as well, but hey… it was supposed to lose its leaves around this time of the year anyways, right?

Champignons and Groceries

One of the most remarkable (and perhaps predictable?) things I've noticed since living in Paris is how different the basic activity of procuring food is in France versus the U.S.  Parisians seem to go every day to the boulangerie for their daily baguette, which lasts only one, maybe two days before it is hard as a rock.  We cross the street to the small shop when we want any charcuterie or cheese (It's so good from this one shop.  Really).  Essentially, if you want something, it's pretty typical to buy it from a shop that specializes in that one thing.  Not a bad strategy if you want quality food, but certainly different from what is typical in the U.S. these days.  Essentially, I guess, the French don't seem to mind going out of their way a little to find really good food.  If eating well is an art form, then seeking out the best foodstuffs is just part of the fun, right?

Last weekend we visited my husband's grandparents outside of Dreux, and I learned another part of this art.  We went mushroom hunting!  Now, please comment and correct me if I'm wrong, but my experience is that the attitude toward wild mushrooms in the U.S. is widely hands-off.  As in, "Sure!  You should go pick mushrooms and eat them if you feel like poisoning yourself this afternoon."  I don't mean to say that you can pick up any old mushroom in the woods and eat it in France.  Far from it.  But Paul's grandparents knew exactly which mushrooms we could eat, where we could find them, and under what weather conditions we should search for them.  Judging by the other cars parked near ours, other people knew these things, too.

Initially, we didn't find much and it seemed that our search for mushrooms was going to be just a nice walk in the rain.  But, after some searching, we finally found a few that fit the bill.  It's hard to see them, as their colors blend in with the forrest floor.  

We also had to compete with other mushroom hunters.  For example, the first mushroom we found was already being enjoyed by a snail.  (Poor snail... Paul shook him off the mushroom and he was then forced to find something else for lunch.  Terrible luck).  We also found some mushrooms resembling those typical of Disney movies, with big red tops and white polka dots.  Word to the wise: Don't eat those ones.  They're very poisonous and called "Fly Killers" or something along those lines in French.  What was Disney teaching us??

Eventually we found 2-3 types of mushrooms, just enough to make a side dish for a two-person dinner.  I learned that the best time to hunt mushrooms is from early September until mid-October or around July 14th.  It's best to look for them after it's been raining for a day or two, but has been sunny during the morning.  They grow in just a few hours.  Hopefully we can go again this fall or next summer and hone our skills some more.  Here are the spoils of our excursion:

We also brought home a tiny pine tree and a tiny oak tree to plant in our little courtyard.  (Really tiny... maybe about six inches tall each).  All in all, it was a lovely and productive morning.  

If going all the way to the woods to search for mushrooms is one end of the Find Food Spectrum in France, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that there are, of course, grocery stores here.  Now, I will be the first to admit that my assessments of grocery stores are almost always biased because I grew up so close to Wegmans.  (Wegmans is perfect.  Grocery stores don't get any better.  You can ask Mrs. Baldwin).  However, the Monoprixs here are pretty good, though they take a little getting used to.

For example: When I first walked into the Monoprix near us, I went up the escalator.  It's right in front of the door, so this seemed like the logical traffic flow.  At the top of the escalator I was rather surprised to find clothes.  The women's accessories department was right in front of me.  "Why yes, I think that scarf would go fabulously with our minestrone soup tonight. Thank you!"  Some more exploration showed me that it was a mini department store up there, and that all the soaps, body washes, and shave gel-type products could be found upstairs, with separate cashiers, rather than downstairs with all the food.  

I thought it best to quickly exit this zone of temptation (I love shopping) and head back down the escalator, where I found what looked to be a more typical grocery store section.  Most things were the same as in the U.S., with a few exceptions.  For example, there is an employee who weighs your items in the produce section and labels them for you.  I wonder if they don't think the customers can figure out how to use the scales or if they don't trust them to honestly weigh the products.  Ah well.  

I also find it remarkable that the milk is warm.  Yeah... it's kept over near the soda and juices.  Warm.  Apparently (according to Paul's explanation) the milk here is super boiled to sterilize it, so you can keep it in the pantry and only need to refrigerate it after you've opened it.  While it seems strange to me, it's also highly convenient.  We can stock up with about 6 cartons of milk and not have to worry about running out for a while.  I wonder why this hasn't caught on in the U.S... we seem to be okay with tinkering with food products in order to give them a longer shelf life.  Maybe a strong dairy farmer's lobby?  I can't really say if the taste is different.  I had been drinking skim in the U.S., and the milk we've found here has fat in it... so it tastes amaaazing.  

One other fun thing:  You can buy hard liquor in the grocery store.  Like, bottles of vodka and gin, not to mention the beer and wine that is available.  For those readers who are French, this is very different from the U.S.  Depending on in which state you live, the alcohol regulations differ.  In New York, you can buy beer at the grocery store, but not wine or liquor.  In Virginia you can buy beer and wine, but not liquor.  In Pennsylvania, you can't buy any alcohol at all.  You must go to special alcohol stores for that.  But I have never found an American grocery store that sells hard liquor.  I wonder what the U.S. would be like had prohibition never occurred.  Regardless, this didn't have a big effect on my grocery purchase, but I did stop and gape a little bit.  

So there you have it.  You can go hunt your own mushrooms in France, or you can pick up your groceries in a big box store with your new jeans and bottle of Jack if you feel like it.  Something for everyone....

à bientôt