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.