Il neige!

We've had our first snowfall of the year, and it already outpaced anything we saw last winter. It was at least an inch and half in Paris, and probably accumulated more to the east and north. And, we're due to get more tomorrow and Saturday. 

A very nice way to enter Christmas week. It will probably be gone by Monday though.

French beer tasting

France is known for wine, of course. There certainly is a lot of it here, and relatively cheap too. But sometimes, you just want a nice beer, like when watching a football game or eating chili.  France doesn't have a lot to offer in readily available beer.  There's plenty of Heineken and a sea of good Belgian beer, but the common French beer tastes a bit like goat pee. 

So after over a year of wandering in the beer wilderness, I finally visited La Cave à Bulles (www.caveabulles.fr) near Les Halles and spent almost an hour talking to the owner. Upon learning I was American, he was proud to show me the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and Porter he had in stock. I left dragging home a trolley full of French artisan beers, all recommended by him as the best in stock of their respective styles.

What follows is the tasting notes of each of the first 3. I will post more as I try them.

#1:  Volcelest, from Brasserie de la Vallée de Chevreuse. Blonde, 5.7%.  This beer produced a good frothy head that stayed throughout the drink. It was a bit hazy, as many of these turned out to be, with a buttery gold color. The nose was of a yeasty hay, or kind of like a musty barn, but in a not-unpleasant way if that makes any sense. Obviously a bottle-conditioned beer. The first sip reminded me of Sam Adams lager (odd, as this was an ale) with a coppery flavor and excellent balance. I noticed a strong crystal malt influence. It had a medium mouthfeel, appropriate for the style. As the beer warmed a bit, the copper gave way to mandarin orange and light toffee flavors.  This is a very well-made beer and I will look for it again.

#2:  Etoile du Nord (North Star) from Brasserie Thiriez. Blonde houblonée.  I knew before opening it that this would be a... ahem... distinctive beer. With a green bottle (against which I am very biased) and a big picture of hops on the label, this was going to a slap-your-face beer one way or the other.  Leaving the bottle it produced a frothy, thick head and carried a heavy hop aroma with some skunk from the green bottle. The first impression was that of alfalfa-laden horse manure, in a sort-of unpleasant way. The beer had good clarity and a rich yellow color. The taste was spicy, and the back-end hops smacks the tongue like a whip. Fortunately, the skunk flavor dissipated quickly (or maybe I just got used to it), leaving a dry, citrusy taste encompassed in a nice creamy mouthfeel. If you love hops, you might like this beer.

#3:  Page 24 with chicoree, by the Brasserie St Germain. Blonde-ish.  Page 24 came out of the bottle with a healthy, soapy head.  The nose was a bit soapy too, herbaceous from the hops.  It had a pretty bronze-amber color that was only a bit hazy.  A distinctly hoppy front-end followed with a slightly sweet orange flavor.  The balance was off, with no middle flavors and a bland vegetal follow-through. The whole experience reminded me of a beginner's homebrew.  It wasn't awful, but I won't be buying this one again. 

Bike riding in the Bois.

Today I took a sort of memorial bike ride through the Bois de Boulogne in honor of a friend of ours who fought hard till the end but lost her battle with brain cancer.  She is now pain free and in a much happier place.  This could not have been a more beautiful autumn day.  It was a great bike ride.

Because I took a lot of pics you will find more on the next blog.

One last thing-Enjoy life to the fullest, don't sit around waiting for life to happen around you.  Terri never did.

Bike ride pictures number two.

Childhood rhymes

OK, we need help.

The little monkey has learned to "put her potatoes in" or whatever your local phrase for it is/was, to select who goes first in games. Know what I mean?  Where the kids put in their hands and do "eenie meenie miney moe..."  until all hands but one are eliminated?

We remember a few of these:

"One potato, two potato, three potato four..."

"Train, train, number nine, going down the city line, if the train goes off the track, do you want your money back, yes or no?"

"Mother and your mother were hanging up clothes. My mother punched your mother right in the nose. What color was the blood?"  

But variety is the spice of life and we need some spice. Which ones do you remember?

Fancy talk

French can be a very formal language. Just as an example, in English you might close a business letter with "yours truly"  or "sincerely", but this is a fairly typical formal closing in French:

Agréez, je vous prie, l'expression de mes sentiments les plus distingués,

Henri Flaubert

Loosely translated, this means "Please accept my humblest and most heart-felt appreciation for your time, and know that I am not worthy to be in the same room with you and breathe your exhaled breath. I would eat day-old mackerel from a gas station toilet seat merely for an opportunity, however remote, to perhaps catch your attention and receive a favorable nod or half-smile. Please walk upon my face and thereby deliver unto me the honor of your contact, Henri Flaubert"

Well, I'm exaggerating a bit. But not much.

More fun with faux amis!

Ages ago, we did a bit on faux amis, false friends that look like familiar English words, but really means something very different in French.  By popular demand, here are a few more:

parent (n):  In France you aren't restricted to just 2 parents. Here, you can have dozens!  Why? Because a parent is any relative, not just Mom and Dad.

canapé (n):  Mmmm...canapes! Hungry? Bring a sharp knife and fork and maybe some Tabasco sauce, because a canapé is a couch. Bon appetit!

blesser (v):  Careful with this verb. Before you go off and blesse someone, expect some resistance. It means to hurt or injure, not to wish well.

pain (n):  You probably know this one. The French love pain. And we do too. It's French for bread. 

Pop quiz:  What do the French call French fries? Right, just fries (frites, actually). And French bread? Well, it's just bread. And a French horn? The rule changes. It's not merely a horn, but a cor d'harmonie, or harmony horn.

Presenting a new wine from the Fitou region

This one tasted kind of funny.  Almost as if the grapes came from the backside of the vineyard.

Une question.

I ask of you this one question.  Is a tomato a fruit or a vegetable?

Today the little monkey had to bring in fruit for her "gouter" or snack.  She has to bring in fruit every Thursday to share with the class.  I have grown bored of buying the standard bananas and apples.  So today I spiced it up and had her bring in the little bite sized tomatoes and an orange.

I pick her up from school and asked how snack time went.  She said, "mama, we can't bring in tomatoes because they are not a fruit!  The teacher said so."  Well now.  We may have an international difference here.   Maybe next time I will let her bring in a pumpkin!

So what do you think?

Huh?

As we drove to Sancerre on Friday, we were presented with a bag of produce at the toll booth. Some tomatoes and peas. Free. In a country where nothing is free. Why? I don't know. I thanked them properly and drove on.

Then today, on the way home, "Sweet Home Alabama" comes on the radio. 

I don't understand this place.

Small charity

Everyone has seen the down-and-out guys on the streetside with a paper cup or maybe a hat, hoping for a coin or two from passers-by.  Today I saw one get a unique contribution.  A well-dressed woman in her 40s walked by, talking with a companion, dragging away on a half-smoked cigarette. She saw the man on the sidewalk (let's call him Hal), and paused. She took a last pull on her fag and offered him the rest. Hal thanked her, stuck it in his mouth and she went on her way.

Giving takes all forms.

A French microbrew

I knew they had to exist somewhere, but it took a while to find one.

I happened upon the brand Le Cagole de Marseille in our local supermarché and decided to try it. The makers, two friends from Marseille in the south of France, (see www.lacagole.com if you are interested) claim that it is a blonde pilsner with a "decent character". So, I got out my beer-tasting jacket, a worn tweed with malt stains on the lapels, and set to work. Here's what I found:

Color:  golden, with an orangey roundness at the edges

Nose:  slightly herbal, but not necessarily of hops

Mouthfeel:  somewhat thin, but properly carbonated for the style

Taste:  the beer had a light, dry biscuity flavor which sort of reminded me of champagne. Nice subtle malt flavor that almost goes unnoticed. Indeed it is very well balanced, with a crisp hoppiness that neither cloys nor fatigues the palate. There was a little rumor of pineapple at the back end. At a mere 4.7% alcohol, I'd bet you could throw back alot of these on a hot day in Provence.  The flavor remained consistent as the beer warmed in the glass.

Most resembles:  a light German helles. Seemed a bit malty to support the brewer's comparison to Pils, but it's not much of a stretch.

Overall, a very good beer for its category (whichever of the two you choose).  But at 9.60 euros, or about $13.44 for a six-pack at current exchange rates, this won't become a standard in my house. Not a bad choice when you tire of the usual Heineken, Leffe, Affligen, or 1664 that dominates the store shelves here, however.

Ten things you will see in the U.S. but not in France

10.  TV ads for restaurants (very few TV ads of any kind, in fact; French TV is subsidized by the government)

9.  Gun stores

8. Men driving without shirts

7. Seedless grapes and watermelons, year round

6. All-you-can-eat buffets

5. Politicians criticized for extramarital affairs

4. American wines other than Gallo, and beers other than Budweiser

3. Size XXXL (see #6 and #10 above)

2. Pick-up trucks driven by someone other than a farmer

1. Minority politicians (of all the mayors and 555 deputies (congressmen) of continental France, none are black or Muslim)

10 things you'll see in France but not in the US

10.   A woman in heels peddling a bike through a insanely busy traffic circle

9.   A dog poop vacuum in use on the sidewalk

8.  Roman Polanski

7.   A police car with 17 cops crammed into it

6.  Statues with boobies! (Hooray for boobies!)

5.  Rental bikes you can check out on your own and leave in any other rental stand when you're done

4. Cheese that smells like a corpse left in a sewer... but tastes sooo good

3. An underground gas station

2. A guy in a suit driving a scooter with a cigarette in one hand, and ice cream cone in the other, his youngest son sitting in front and his eldest sitting behind, zipping down the boulevard. (absolutely true. wish I could have controlled my amazement and managed to take a picture)

1. A man wearing a scarf while jogging, on a 55 degree F day.

Next installment:  10 things you'll see in the US but not in France.

The trolley is dead. Long live the trolley

An essential tool of daily life in downtown Paris is the trolley, also known as a wheelie, Rollser, rollie-thingie and a bunch of other names. In a place where taking the car to the market isn't practical, you drag your trolley with you to carry your groceries home. Everyone has one, and many people have several.

The garish trolley in the right of the picture was bequeathed to us by Rob and Cheryl when they returned home to the U.S. last year. It was a dodgy creature, with shaky wheels, stretched fabric and a distinctively homely exterior. Still, we were very glad to have it. After all, who would steal such a thing? (you leave them outside the market when you go in to shop and they are known to flee under their own power sometimes)

As Troy was leaving Casino (a supermarket) yesterday, it took a curb a little too heavily and broke the plastic supports that help keep it upright. While you can still carry things in it, if you let go of it, it will topple over on its poor ugly face. A bottle of marinara sauce was sacrificed in the ordeal.

Today we bought a new trolley, a little camouflage number we hope will be suitably ugly yet high in capacity. We like it. But it's not our old one.

The trolley is dead. Long live the trolley!

Bonne Fete des Meres

Today is Mothers' Day in America.  We of course are celebrating it here in France which seems a bit strange but hey, I am taking what I can get.  The actual date of French Mothers' Day is May 31st and you betcha I will celebrate that one too!  After all, we went through the torture of getting the little monkey adjusted into the French public school system you bet I will milk that mothers day gift and day for all it is worth.  

All kidding aside, when you are so far away you take stock in what you have, your supportive family network back home, and you also grab on even more tightly to the family you have around you regardless of the fun you are having. :) 

One of the most important things in my life is my little monkey and although she thinks I am a bit looney sometimes and doesn't really understand what Mothers Day is quite yet, I know I am her number one fan and she is mine.

Happy Mothers' Day to my momma and momma in law and all the other mommas out there. May you feel as blessed as I feel.

Contradictions

The Dutch are well-known for their tolerance and socially liberal policies. Where else is drug use and prostitution legal, right? 

Which makes it all the more confusing to me to see the rigor with which they uphold their traffic laws. They will obey the pedestrian lights as if violating them carried a sentence of life imprisonment. It's common to see Dutch people waiting patiently for 3 or 4 minutes, no traffic in sight, for their little green man to appear and assure them it's OK to cross the street. Tired of standing there, several times I made a common sense decision to just cross the street when safe and they looked at me like I had punted a crying baby into the bushes.

But smoking crack while renting a hooker? No problem.

Amsterdam in the spring

Sorry for the absence. We spent last week in Amsterdam where Troy held one of his two big panel meetings of the year. And it was great! Friendly people, beautiful weather (unusual for the Netherlands in April we're told) and endless things to do and see.

While Troy toiled away with his conference, the other Monkeys went to the nicest zoo we've seen in along time, the NEMO science museum, a massive indoor play area, and all sorts of walking. Our Dutch hosts also set us up with a 90 minute canal cruise past all the famous sites:  the Anne Frank house, the Opera, the skinniest house in Amsterdam (about 20 feet wide) and lots of others. On Thursday afternoon, after the conference we all went to the Keukenhof Gardens, where there are literally millions of tulips, roses, hyacinths, etc on display for 6 weeks of the year. Stunning! 

An exhausting week but well worth it. Allie did a great job walking long distances without much complaint, and didn't even seem to notice the ladies in the window dressed only in their underwear as we skirted (ha!) the edge of the red light district. And Troy finally got some Indonesian and Malaysian food. Yum!

And this weekend - off to Bretagne for the 1 May holiday (French equivalent of labor day)!

An interesting Easter discovery

Even though Easter was two days ago, we just got another reminder how differently France and the U.S. celebrate, particularly with regard to Easter eggs.

The French don't particularly subscribe to the whole Easter egg thing. Chocolate eggs, sure, they're OK with that, but the concept of dyeing actual chicken eggs is not something they do here. First, it was pretty difficult for us to find white eggs. All the eggs here are brown. No better or no worse, just the product of darker colored chickens (white chicken breeds typically lay white eggs, brown/gray ones lay brown eggs).  It's not impossible to dye brown eggs, but let's just say pink doesn't work well and the green looks like something out of Dr Seuss.

We did finally find white eggs that we could dye for Easter - in the kosher section of the supermarket. I enjoyed the irony of that. We already had some Paas dye shipped to us earlier in the month, and off we went, a-dyeing.  So far so good.

And then, Allie surprised us by bringing home some candy and 2 colored eggs (real eggs!) home from school. How charming! Understanding that she has kids from all over the world in her class, Allie's teacher went the extra mile (or 1.67 kilometers, I guess)  and had them color eggs. And they were colored very nicely too, in thick enamel paint with a swirling 2-toned pattern.

Dana held one to her ear and shook it tonight. It sounded...different. Good thing Allie never dropped the eggs. Next year, we need to explain to the French that you must boil the eggs first.

A secret glimpse of the Ecole Maternelle

The little monkey had a back to school night at her school a few days ago.  Needless to say we jumped at the chance to get a glimpse inside the school and actually see hard copies of the projects they do in their 15 hour day (Ok, a bit exaggerated).  Some of the past blogs about the Ecole Maternelle explained to our readers that parents are not allowed in.  You leave the kids with a hug and a kiss at the big blue doors and hope that they find their way.  So, we thought it would be fun to smuggle in our camera and sneak a few photos to give you a peek inside a French public preschool. 

Keep in mind this is one of the smaller ones you will see but generally they all follow the same pattern.  The cement courtyard as you see in the picture is quite small and one can only imagine what "recess" is like with 50 kids running throughout.  A lot different than the spacious green grass, monkey bars, swings, basketball hoops we grew up with but then again, we weren't in the middle of Paris.

The classroom is quite organized thanks to the new teacher (Allie's third one for the year).  As expected, we were bombarded with materials Allie has completed throughout the semester.  We were pleasantly surprised that there were more happy faces on her work than sad. (The French grading system in the Maternelle)  She actually understands the assignments now as opposed to resorting to just doodling on her paper.  

All in all, we were pleased with the visit, didn't get caught taking our hidden pictures and glad our little monkey is finally settling in and learning French.

As far as where she will be headed to "kindergarten", well... not this school.

Paris Marathon Pictures-2009

The Paris Marathon

Today was the 33rd running of the Paris Marathon. With something like 35,000 participants expected from 90+ different countries, it's a pretty big deal. And fortunately, the finish line was about 3 blocks from our apartment. 

After watching the first 2 hours on TV, we went down to the final turn to cheer for our friend Steve, who finished in about 3:45.  We also saw strong finishes from Superman, Minnie Mouse (who had a decidedly Asian and male look to her this day), and a man with a plush pig wrapped around his head.

For those who have never done it, be assured that 42.2 km is a long and exhausting run. Hell, it was exhausting just watching it. So, in good Monkeys in Paris fashion, we rested our weary legs in a sidewalk cafe with some light refreshments. Cheers!

Happy Spring Part Deux

Spring Fever has hit the 16th Arrondissement.

Happy Spring

Two water leaks.

Two bad sinus infections.

One wall torn up.

One broken clavicle.

Car stuck in garage twice.

Stomach Flu for the grown up monkeys.

Two major head bonks.

One fall from playground equipment.

150 (OK, slightly exaggerated) colds, temps and flus for the little monkey.

Three missed trips.

So, now it is out of our system and we can enjoy a beautiful spring in Paris.  We really are feeling thankful for this journey even with the above mishaps.  We have forged some great memories so far.  We are sure that spring will bring out the best in Paris and the monkeys.  

Stay tuned.

Spring...is it here?

The last two days have been about 60 degrees and very sunny. Flowers are coming up in the parks. Some of the French are no longer wearing pitch black, instead shifting to the much more festive and flamboyant shade known as "black-as-coal".  Troy no longer goes to work in the dark only to walk home in a new dark. Have we finally turned the corner? Is printemps here? 

Editor's note:  Paris is about the same latitude as the North Dakota/Canada border. Don't hate the monkeys because they're having spring despite their northernness. Hate them because they are beautiful.

A brave friend

It is funny.  Here were are in Paris, France.  Troy wears a suit to work and you never ever see military uniforms except for the occasional French parade.  After living for many years in a military lifestyle ie: bases, commissary shopping, uniforms, promotions, rank etc., we find ourselves in a space in between the two worlds of military and civilian life.  Until you get the news from a good friend and it reminds you of your life choice.

We recently learned that our good friend will be deploying to a far off and very scary land.  She leaves her 3 year old at home with a most capable daddy because this is her job and she does it well. It reminds us of the sacrifices that are taken on a daily basis by men (daddies) and women (mommies) alike.  

For the next year she will be doing what many couldn't fathom doing.  We wish for her safety and that the time go fast until she can come home to her family and to her friends. 

We love you K and are here for you and your family.  This may be the only time you see this loyal Air Force wife say this (although we really are one military)-GO ARMY. 

Safe return my friend.

Onomatopoeia

Of course words and sayings translate differently in other languages, but you'd think at least sound effects are the same, right?  Consider the rooster and his "cock-a-doodle-doo."  In French, it is....

Cocorico!

If you were to redraw the old Batman and Robin comics into French, you'd have to get rid of "POW!" and "WHAM!" for "POF!" and "PAF!" And the bad guy would have to yell "AIE!" when he got hurt, not "OW!"

Our phrase "the cat's meow" doesn't ring too well with the French, who hear "miaou" instead. 

"Tic tac" goes the clock. (Don't worry, clock is horloge so tic toc wouldn't have rhymed anyway).

At least ghosts make the same sound. But they just spell their spooky cries differently. Bouh!

And if all this bores you, can go right to sleep with the same representation as in English:

"Zzzzzzzzz...."

A crack in the road

Well, there we were trying to get through another bad cold and fever that the little monkey caught once again this winter.  She was on day three of the fever.  We were hopeful that after putting her to bed on day three all would be well and that her fever would break.  Well, it did indeed break, along with a curious most important bone in her body.  

The little monkey fell out of bed that night, so we think, as I met her in the hallway four hours after putting her to bed.  She was crying and screaming saying her arm hurt.  She wouldn't move it.  I asked her if she fell and she said "no".  We stayed up all night with her thinking it was a cramp or muscle issue because of the two pillows she had been sleeping on. I even gave her a warm cloth for her neck. (which by the way you don't do with a break)  In the morning we took her to the doctor.  They immediately took an X-ray and the results were shocking and immediate as well:  she had broken her collar bone / clavicle on the right side (of course her dominant side!).

So here we are on day two of the broken bone chapter of Allie's young life.  She has to wear a sling type straight jacket which we are not to remove (and really can't without rendering useless) for three weeks until we return to the doctor. She is to not go to school for three weeks and she is to stay quiet for two weeks.  HA HA!   Today, I caught her standing on a chair shouting "to infinity and beyond" after the Toy story movie, getting ready to jump.

We cancelled our trip to the Italian Riviera which was scheduled to begin Saturday...which completely puts me in a mood, but then things happen and you deal with them the right way.

You have mom/grandma come out!  

Slightly embarrassing French moment

My French teacher's sister was in town last week, and the two spent a fair amount of time going around Paris and just visiting in general.  So I asked her today:

"Est-ce que votre soeur en ville encore?" which means "Is your sister still in town?"

She looked at me kind of aghast and had me repeat it, and then say it in English. Then she looked relieved. Turns out I was off on my pronunciation of "ville".  You really have to put some emphasis on the two Ls or it comes out like "vie" (life) instead.  So I had accidentally asked her "Is your sister still alive?"

Oops. 

Things that are hard to find, revisited

Back in November, we did a blog on things that are hard to find in Paris. With a few more months under our belt, we figured it was time to update it.

red onions:  Well, it turns out with a little searching at a covered market close to work rather than home, we can buy a mesh bag of red onions for relatively cheap anytime we want. Not so hard after all. Cross it off the list.

inexpensive childrens shoes:  Still a problem. However, the exchange rate is improving nicely. I don't understand why. America is leading the way into the economic crapper and our currency strengthens relative to those of other nations.  Eh,  go figure. Either that's a signal of tougher times ahead for everyone else, or American exports are going to become difficult to sell.

spicy peppers (any kind):  go to Chinatown, I'm told. Jalapenos, habaneros, the whole family. Mmmmm.....a Metro ticket away.

churchgoers:  Nah, still none of those. But as we get closer to Easter, I'm sure I'll see more.

I do have a few things to add. You may notice a theme:

English beer:  I like English beer. I think the English and the Belgians have a lot to teach the rest of the world. But apparently not the French. A Brit in my office told me where I have to go to find a Boddington's, John Bull, or Sam Smith's, and it's all the way on the other side of town. C'mon! The friggin Brits are right across the Channel!! How hard can this be?

non-French wine:  Hey, we have American wine. Prepare yourself for a nice glass of Gallo! Are you kidding me? Also, consider this:  Fact #1: The largest producer of wine in the WORLD is Italy. Fact #2: Italy and France share a border. Fact #3: It's easier to find a straight male hairdresser than it is to find an Italian wine in our area.  I need to learn the French word for protectionism so I can rail against it. Maybe I should go on strike. It seems to be the thing to do here.

Oh well. In the grand scheme of things, these are small potatoes. We live in Paris. How bad can it be?

The Superbowl in Paris

Wow, are we late with this post. Anyway, one of the minor inconveniences of living in Europe is that U.S. sporting events  1) are sometimes tough to find and 2) usually air at laughably late hours if you do manage to find them.  There are ways to get around the availability problem. We subscribe to an ESPN affiliate here that shows football, baseball, basketball and North American hockey. And, through the gracious cooperation of Bob and Joanne, we can also use Slingbox to watch whatever the Los Angeleans are watching.

But the time zone problem is another kettle of fish. We can record things via Slingbox. However, it requires us to go on news blackout and avoid the internet until we watch the game.

That's what we did with the Superbowl. Troy took the day off on Monday so we could watch as soon as we dropped off the little monkey at school.  And watch we did. The first Superbowl we've ever watched while drinking coffee and eating quiche lorraine and beignets. 

As you surely know by now, the good guys won. But they didn't make it comfortable, and I couldn't help but feel a little foolish waving a Terrible Towel for a game that had been over for almost 12 hours. I like to think that somehow I helped Santonio Holmes make that game-winning catch by cheering for him at the exact same moment he was probably asleep in bed. 

Either way, the Steelers are WORLD CHAMPIONS!  Looking forward to #7 next year.

Les huitres!

It's oyster season in France. Two dozen went down the hatch today, and I have a little blister on my shucking hand to show for it.  It was my first time cracking that many. Fortunately I didn't run the shucking knife through my hand like my brother did a few weeks ago. Oy!

Spanglishfrench

Well, that was awkward.  Let me give you some background info.  

I take Allie to school every day but Wednesday.  I pick her up for lunch and bring her back for the afternoon session on those school days.  She has been at the Ecole Maternelle now for about 6 months.  By now, all the parents and nannies recognize each other but very few chat while waiting for the doors to open.  To me this is very unnatural.  As Americans, by now we usually have networked, planned the next play date and where we should take the kids for the next vacation.  

From what I can tell there are very few conversations going on at this particular Maternelle. Just in the past month however I have been seeing a change in how I am viewed by the French folks.  Some, albeit very few (because let's face it I am an American in France) are beginning to realize I am here to stay.  So, lo and behold I got a couple bonjours!  Great.  I can definitely handle that with a mild level of fear it may go farther.  

It was bound to happen though.  The little monkey has taken a liking to a little boy whose mother picks him up for lunch as well.  They have now begun to play and walk with each other as we make our way toward our homes.  Do you see where I am going with this?  Well, that leaves me and his mom to chit chat as we walk. HA.  

Bursting with the uncomfortableness of it all, I used my best miming techniques as well as my spanglishfrench to attempt to talk to her.  She claimed she spoke no English and from what I could tell she said she actually speaks Polish, but talks in French here.  Great.  This of course tells me why she is actually speaking to me.  She isn't even French.  

I tried to say that her son has grown taller since the beginning of the school year.  To which she said "grand". That means tall.  That is good I think.  Then I attempted to tell her I would like to learn more French.  She then I believe asked me if I was English, to which I said yes but later remembered I am American...very different.  Then we discussed how old our kids are.  I got that her son is four but when I tried to say my monkey is four as well I think I might have said "He sits there" or something to that effect.  Anyway, it ended quickly, thankfully, because they live close to school.  I was able to get in a "Bon appetite" and I think she might have said, "don't talk to me again." Actually, I think she said "and you as well".  So I am making strides from second grade French to third grade French today.

It sure is a good thing Troy is taking the intense language class isn't it! :)

A morning stroll

Today, I dropped the little monkey off at school and set out for a morning walk.  Temperatures are in the high 30's, sun brightly shining and the best part is the city is just waking up.  No dodging tons of people, dogs, or kids.  (They go to school before sunrise!)

The walk began at Victor Hugo Place,

continued on to the Trocadero, which is absolutely wonderful when there are no tours and throngs of people getting their first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower.  A quick pass by the little monkey's favorite carousel, cross over the Seine river, under the Eiffel Tower and through to the Champ de Mars.  Make a U- turn at the Ecole Militaire and on back up to Victor Hugo via our favorite boulangerie.  Finally, back down to our apartment.   A beautiful morning walk to start the day in Paris.

French treats!

One of the joys of living in France is the exquisitely prepared desserts. Check out the little morsel to the left, called étincelant ressucité.  I can't figure out the real translation, but it might be "risen brilliance" or perhaps "rise and shine".

It is a little raspberry cake surrounded by mango custard and topped with a shaved chocolate leaf and groseilles, which are like tart little cherries (yes those are real!). Dee-friggin-licious!