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Posts from the ‘France’ Category

Feb 19

59 Comments

I’m back…je rentre

Salut!

Nearly 6 months gone, but I have made my way back to Paris and decided that it is high time for me to start blogging again. I have missed my cyber friends and the challenge of writing (almost) daily. And I have missed my France.

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Repatriation is never easy, and mine has been no exception. Truth be told, this is my second trip back to Paris since we moved back “home”. The first time I didn’t feel settled enough in either of my two worlds to share my observations and thoughts, and I felt I might be too critical of my new, but old, life in the U.S. of A.

These days, I am feeling like I am in a good place, although I am still struggling to figure out how to find my balance with one foot in Colorado and the other foot in France. I am grateful for Superman’s continued patience with me, as it just might take a man (and woman) of steel to sort out this new chapter of our lives together.

I have found a good handful or two of things I love about Colorado: easy and genuine smiles, lovely neighbors, siblings who only seem to be getting nicer the older we get, sensible shoes, colorful clothing, turbocharged clothes dryers, effortless banking transactions, clean and free public toilets, cheerful customer service, simple access to health and fitness facilities, the great outdoors, and 300-days-of-sunshine a year. In fact, there are some days I even find it easy to agree that everything is “AWESOME!”…as we Americans like to say.

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But as I step back into the City of Light, I am crushed with reminders of the many things I love (and miss) about France, and filled with gratitude for my circle of Paris girlfriends who nurture me, inspire me and make me laugh out loud.

So, I’ve decided to restart the blog and add a minor change to the title. The next weeks will focus mostly on Paris with a sprinkling of antidotes and happenings from my small-town western life. Maybe the very act of writing will help me figure out how to mesh my two worlds together. I am excited to be back in the blogosphere and very much look forward to writing, photographing and posting.

Back to blogging

Thank you to all of you who have sent me personal notes over the last few months and encouraged me to keep writing, and also to those of you in Cyberland who have continued to visit and comment on my blog and kept my stats growing.

Alors, on y va, here we go again…

Vocabulaire

on y va: let’s go

Sep 15

49 Comments

Epilogue: 14 days gone…and it is Groundhog Day again

Golden_Colorado_Howdy.jppI have been staring at my computer all afternoon knowing that I have to write, but not knowing what to say. We have now been back in Colorado for 14 days. It could be 14 years. It is amazing how quickly one can fall back into old habits and routines and how easily a former life seems to slip away. Some days I feel like my life in France never was.

Coming back to Colorado has been like being Bill Murray’s weatherman in the great existential film Groundhog Day. While I have changed immensely, I have been dropped into a life that hasn’t changed at all and I feel like I am living in a sort of Nietzschesque state of eternal recurrence. It is as if I am residing in an alternate universe on a parallel train track never scheduled to intersect the French life I left behind. What bothers me the most is that while I can intellectualize my former life in France, I am having a really hard time feeling what that life felt like, and I am slightly terrified that I will lose that happy girl who lived in that stunning city and felt like she could do anything.

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our Paris doorbell
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turning in the keys

Don’t get me wrong; being back in America is easy on so many levels. I am having a ball chatting up everyone on every subject. It is great to be back in a friendly land where the customer is always right, service is given with a smile and wink and everything is AWESOME. People are so nice here, and you can quickly become BFFs with your waitress over a 90-minute meal, or be ready to exchange Christmas cards with your Verizon/iPhone sales rep after a couple of days battling the “home office” and their quirky rules.

I no longer have to look up vocabulary and practice phrases before I go to the doctor or vet or hardware store. If the shopkeepers dare to give me lip, or sneer or roll their eyes (not likely) when I order or have a question, I can easily give it right back to them using adult words, not toddleresque French or tears. If I order a vegetarian meal, no one looks at me like I am an alien with two heads. Everyone here knows what quinoa and chia seeds are and how to pronounce them correctly, and I have found mean-lean-green juice on offer on more than one menu.

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The postwoman is super pleasant and super efficient. There are even these nutty grocery workers called baggers, who are actually trained to carefully bag your precious food items instead of throwing them down the conveyor belt as if they were bowling for bucks. Xcel, the Colorado version of EDF, will cheerfully let you and your family light up and heat your house after a simple 2-minute phone call without even considering asking you for proof that you have a bank account or a signed lease. The water meter man is free to stop by whenever he likes and doesn’t need you to stay by the door all morning long, meter reading in hand.

Yep. Life is easy peasy, nice and breezy in the U.S. of A.

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So why do I miss France so much?

Would it be masochistic to say I miss the challenge? That I miss not knowing what to expect? That I miss being kept on my toes and discovering new people, places and things every day? There is something to be said for being the odd-(wo)man-out, and for the strong friendships forged as you struggle together against the tide.

I do miss the myriad of cultural offerings, the artisanal bakeries, the Seine, my vélib and feet as my sole source of transportation and our cozy apartment life where it was harder to hide behind closed doors. I miss the architecture and human-made splendor, the tiny cars, my Pilates studio and the French dedication to esthetics, beauty and perfection. I miss fantastic window displays and spending the afternoons licking them. I miss being around people from all over the globe with different ideas and realities. I do NOT miss being from the “greatest country in the world”.

I do miss making mistakes and being forced to learn new things and being forced to live. I miss the tiny triumphs of simply making it through the day or even just making it through an hour. Am I crazy to miss the bustling city vibe of that big, but small foreign town that I called home for three years? Maybe I am crazy, but still, I miss the smells, the sounds, the days, the nights, the tastes and textures, the language, the laughs, and those yummy French leeks. Of course I miss my sparkling tower. Mostly I miss my friends.

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I have gone from a humming city of 2.34 million, to a teeny town of 19,186 folks, living their straightforward lives and cowboy dreams.

I suspect that this transition will continue to be tough, but it is a First World problem, and I am determined to spin it in a positive direction. We all have our Punxsutawney Phils and never-ending Groundhog Days, and I have promised myself to try to see my old life with fresh eyes and not fall into a rut or take the easy path.
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Please check in as I figure out small town life and empty nesting, try to come to grips with American values and politics and hopefully find a little bit of la belle France in Colorado.

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Aug 31

43 Comments

No. 365: France, je t’aime–au revoir et merci

France_je_t'aime.jpgAs I sit here waiting to board the plane, butterflies in my tummy and anxious doggie on my lap, it is time to say au revoir to France and this blog. It seems like just yesterday when I sat down to figure out how this whole blogging thing worked, and now it is 365 days later, and I am writing my final post. It has been a great ride and one I feel very privileged to have taken.

My heart is full of gratitude for every minute of our life in France, the good, the bad, the ugly and the great. One of the greats has been discovering this creative community of fellow bloggers and readers, and feeling a connection to you. Those moments of feeling, “Hey! I get that,” or “Wow, I feel your pain, joy, embarrassment or excitement,” or, “Yowzah! That’s super cool.”

The best part of being part of this cyber community has been learning something totally new or feeling something I never felt before, and secretly wishing I could be there with you. There are so many imaginative and kind voices in the blogosphere. Thanks for sharing your stories, photographs, art, brilliant words, and generous comments.

Donc, au revoir for now. Don’t count me out. Check this space in the near future as I am sure I have a story or two in me about the next stage of our adventure: empty nesting, maddening Americans, reverse culture shock, small town ramblings, large portions and deep-fried food, and of course, return trips to la belle France.

Who knows, maybe I can even come up with 36.5-things-I-love-about-Colorado?

See you on the flip side. Au revoir et merci bien.

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Aug 31

20 Comments

No. 364: Family and Friends

It is our last night in Paris.

It has been a day of lasts. Last croissant, last picnic at the Champ de Mars, last walk along the Seine, last steak and frites, last sparkling tower and last goodbyes. I didn’t think I would be so completely gutted turning the light off for the last time in our apartment, but I was. Locking the door behind us really seemed like the end of an era.

But a great era it was.

Our last five years have been remarkable and memorable both in France and in the U.S. From our first topsy-turvy move to la belle France in 2009 to moving back to Colorado to be with my mom in the last 2 years of her life, to watching Kitcat learn to re-walk and then dance again after her tumor was removed, to our second move to France in 2012, and two more years of highs and lows in the City of Light.

In these last years, Button changed schools four times in five years; Kitcat changed universities twice. Both girls learned to speak a second language fluently, expanded their worldview and truly become transnational citizens. Somehow they have managed to maintain their sense of American optimism, childlike hearts and love of the arts, despite the oppressive French school system. You two widgets inspire me and make our family better.

As for Superman, he did the impossible. He worked his derrière off to bring us to France not once, but twice. Although Paris was never a natural fit for him, he did his best to stay sane in a stressful job in a stressful city with some difficult global characters, all in a foreign language. Wow. That man loves me, this I know.

And me? Well I tried to hold the family together in two alien countries (reverse culture shock, it ain’t easy…), raise good kids, restart my professional life, learn a language and reinvent myself in this complicated and crazy country.

And in the end, France is where I found myself again after so many years of floundering. France is where I relearned to take risks and be more happy with who I am. France is where I finally found my footing and learned not just to stroll, but to stride.

It is possible that this personal transformation could have occurred in a different place at a different time, but I do think it has a lot to do with geography (the heart of Europe), beauty, and the sense of adventure this insular culture inspires, as well as the kind of people that those three things attract. I was very lucky to find myself as a parent at a bilingual school filled with amazing and dynamic women with huge hearts ready for any sort of madcap idea or caper. To all of you who welcomed me with open arms and nurtured and celebrated with me, who were eager to explore this amazing city and country together, who laughed so easily and were so generous with their time and wisdom, and who inspired me with their smarts, hard work, bravery and own reinventions, thank you for being part of my journey and for letting me ride along on yours.

You know who you are et je vous embrasse.

Missing you already, but knowing I will see you again soon, un grand merci to you all…thanks for helping me find my feet in France.

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Aug 26

10 Comments

No. 359-360: M-F and Hélène: the ladies who (make) lunch and (sometimes) spit wine

MF_helene_1.jpgSome of my most cherished memories of my time in France are from the kitchen. I was fortunate to learn about and taste all sorts of global cuisine prepared with love in the homes of remarkable women from all around the world. I was also lucky enough to have the opportunity to spend many delicious days shopping for fresh ingredients at the marché and then learning how to prepare them with the lovely Marie-Françoise and a great group of friends. Yes, when pressed, I would have to say that M-F’s approach to real French family cooking and hands on learning marks some of my most memorable days in Paris.

While in Paris, I also had the great fortune of meeting the marvelous and slightly mischievous Hélène, wine aficionado and friend. Not only has she taught me to appreciate good (and not necessarily expensive) wine, she has also taught me to appreciate life as it comes, warts and all, and to always strive to be in the moment. Those afternoons we spent nose in glass, swirling, slurping and spitting wine and strolling along the Seine were some of the best.

Here’s to my culinary friends:  the ladies who (make) lunch and (sometimes) spit wine.

Vous-allez me manquer.

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MF_helene_chablis.jpgChin chin!

Marie Françoise and Hélène (perfectly bilingual) also cater private dinner parties, wine pairings, birthday and  graduations parties in Paris. For more information contact: marie@mariefrancoiseflavors.com

Aug 11

13 Comments

No. 344: August in Paris

shhhh_the_secret_to_Paris.jpgShhhh…I am going to let you in on a little secret: The best time to visit Paris is.…..August. (Now that  you know, promise me you’ll keep it under your hat.)

With apologies to my French girlfriends who were born and raised in Paris (and I think you might secretly agree), there are no two ways about it, the eighth month of the year here, is just fine. More than fine. Me thinks it is perfectly divine.! Yes siree. August is the most wonderful time of the year!

Why, you ask? Well…I have to say quite frankly, the Parisians have vanished and gone on vacances. Lucky us! Quelle chance!

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There are simply no Parisians to be found here or there or anywhere.

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A breath of fresh air has swept into town, and we can all get off the defensive and relax just a bit. No angry drivers honking and screeching. No stare downs and games of chicken on the crowded sidewalks. And no naughty little boys to stomp all over the ceiling or steal the mail.

Okay, so a few stores and restaurants might be closed (maybe only 70 percent), and yes, there is a large handful of tourists milling about, mais neither are a big inconvenience, compared to feeling like “I’m king (queen) of the World!”

I know it sounds crass, but it is truly freeing to be in Paris without the Parisians. It is the month of the year where I relearn to smile at, and say “hello” to strangers on the street. I remember how nice it is to be smiled back at by other expats and unhurried tourists all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

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It is the month I let my guard down and open myself up to new possibilities and positivity. It is the month of gossiping with girlfriends in empty cafés, strolling along the Seine with your sweetheart in hand, the moon in sight, and lounging on the Paris Plage sipping a pamplemousse pressé watching the world go by.

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August in Paris. Yippee!!

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Aug 7

2 Comments

No. 334-339: Five + 1 Things to Love About Tuscany

I know it is another stretch of a post to add Tuscany to things I love about France, but very simply, we would not have driven to Italy if we didn’t live in France. Travelling down through the south of France, we thought, “What the heck, let’s go to Tuscany!” It has been on the bucket list forever, and there is no time like the present, non?

So far we have not been disappointed, although, I don’t know about the whole under-the-Tuscan-sun-thing. For most of the time we have been under the Tuscan clouds, but yesterday, the sun finally came out. That said, the light has been extraordinary in the clouds, mist, and sunshine, and the family time more than precious. Even for this dedicated Francophile, it has been nice to have a short break from France (although there are so many French here, some days it feels like we never left). The Italians have been gracious and gregarious (except for the Florentines, who can definitely give the Parisians a run for their money on the unpleasant and rude front) and the food, of course, has been fantastic.

Here are a few favorite things I have notice (and loved) about Tuscany on this trip:

Laughing out Loud Loudly

I had not realized how much I miss hearing other people laugh out loud loudly. It is so very rare to hear French people laughing out loud without reserve in public. In Italy it seems like a requirement to laugh out loud.

I am a big laugher, not an annoying one, but I do like to laugh, so being back in a culture where it is okay to express your happy self in public is terrific. I also love watching (and hearing) Tuscans talk to each other. At first I thought every conversation was an argument, but it seems like they are simply just very animated (loud) here. It is liberating to not feel like you have to be reserved and talk in hushed tones all the time. As much as I love the quiet restaurants in France and the French desire to keep their private lives (and observations) to themselves, it has made me quite happy to see strangers laughing it up in public and wearing their emotions on their sleeves.

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The Lack of Litigiousness

Compared to the USA, both Italy and France fall in line with this lovely lack of litigiousness. We enjoy the fact that it is possible in both countries, to do and see things that in America would be a lawsuit-waiting-to-happen. In the States you can sue anyone for anything. No one takes personal responsibility for anything.

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If you trip on a crack and slightly injure yourself on your neighbor’s driveway in Colorado, go ahead and sue them. The potholes are too big after a huge snowstorm and your scalding hot MacDo coffee burns your leg as you drive down the highway? Sue the city for the lack of immediate street maintenance and Mickey D’s for making their coffee too hot. In France and Italy it is the opposite. Climb a narrow winding 700-year-old staircase with your enthusiastic dog, but without railings or proper lighting to capture the perfect sunset over Siena, do it at your own risk. Ride the crazy whirly-doo at the local town fair without seatbelts and be encouraged to stand up and dance in the middle and drag a few strangers with you, bien sûr! Have as much fun as you want. Just remember, it was your decision, you are responsible for the outcome.

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Piazzas

Italians do plazas and grand gathering spaces really, really well. As much as I love café sitting in Paris, it is just not the same as sitting in the sunshine in one of these grand piazzas and being overwhelmed by the history of those who have come before you, and those who are living the experience with you at the moment. Nothing beats an Italian Piazza for people watching.

Prosecco

The Italian’s answer to the French’s champagne. I love them both, but sipping Prosecco with your family and friends on your terrace overlooking Chianti is pretty darn magical.

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source: wikipedia

Burnt Siena Rooftops

The rooftops in Tuscany are very different from the Paris rooftops, but equally as lovely. After spending a few weeks in Tuscany, I now understand where all those colors in the 100-pack Crayola crayons come from. The rolling waves of tiled tops make me want to paint.

Teeny Tiny Cars

As I have posted previously, I am nutty for the teeny tiny cars of France. (Remember I come from the environmentally unfriendly land of the mighty SUVs and Humvees.) So while in Italy, I have forced my family to stop every time I see an adorable mini car. Cliché moi especially loves the itty-bitty Fiat 500.

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