A hard-earned win

It was a tough competition, but I finally prevailed. This test of wills was legendary; two committed foes convincing themselves that a tiny chip of soap no bigger than a finger nail was sufficient for cleaning. At times the drama was tense. Who would blink? Would the soap chip dissolve at last? Would it go down the drain if dropped? The stakes were substantial; the loser, broken of spirit and faced with the prospect of a rinse instead of a proper shower, would be forced to take a new bar of soap from under the sink, remove it from its box and place it in the soap dish.

Like anything in life, the worthwhile things are not easy. While proud of my accomplishment, I am humbled too by the tenacity of my foe. She didn't back down. She just could no longer see the soap, it was so small and thin.

And now, I am off to take my own shower, blessed with an almost impossibly large brick of soap with which to clean. And the next Battle of the Soap Bar begins.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year from the Monkeys in Paris!  Unfortunately we have no pictures to share of the Continent ringing it in;  it was foggy and damp here in Paris and there weren't any fireworks to dazzle us.  

In 2009 we took a few minor scrapes (broken collarbone, pneumonia), lost some family and friends (June, Terri, Dylan), and missed the rest of our family and friends because of the distance.  But on the whole, living in our little bubble in the City of Light, it was a good year. We are lucky. The economy has not been friendly to many of our relatives and friends back home and the world continues to prove it is a dangerous place. The Monkeys can only hope that we've turned the corner and 2010 is a great year for everyone.  We will certainly do all we can to make it a fantastic year!

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.