05.11.06: Le déjeuner de six-heures

Can you actually spend 6 hours at lunch, and enjoy it?

We have been given a lot information about social customs here and cautioned about a certain level of formality that is not typically practiced by us new world folks. So, with a just a slight touch of anxiousness I accepted an invitation to a Sunday lunch at a colleague's home.

Appointment for noon on Sunday, and I assumed we would not be watching the NFL on the TV.

I drove down to Bois-le-Rois, only got lost once enroute (not bad for me, actually) and arrived generally on time with a nice bouquet of flowers for the hostess.

They asked me if I wanted something to drink, and I said: "Well, if there is coffee available that would be nice, or just a glass of water". They looked at me like I had a W sticker across my forehead, or something. What was I thinking? Coffee is only for aprés-dessert (and well, it's café, not coffee). And they were seemingly uncomfortable with the notion of giving me a glass of water. After they finished harrassing me for being too américain, they explained that despite the fact that it is noon, it is time for an apéritif, and I should have a glass of champagne or a beer. Well OK then, beer for me it is, and what time does the football game start?

This is then followed by 'pain surpris', little sandwiches of several varities as a little entrée, then a move to the dining room table for the main plat -- beef bourgoignaise served with homemade spaetzel, accompanied by a nice bottle of red wine. A little break, some nice conversation, then a plate of cheeses (yes, you know the kind), a little more nice conversation, followed by a homemade chocolate cake with sauce anglaise, and in acquiescence to my american ways, I was allowed to have café with my dessert. All of this was accomplished in just under 6 hours! Actually, when I looked at my watch after dessert I was a little stunned. We had just had some great conversation all afternoon and the time passed very pleasantly.

So what's on the mind of regular folks in conversations with Americans?

• Well, invariably I get to hear the opinion-du-moment of the W thing, as expected.
  


• Also, almost everyone that I have a decent conversation with eventually wants to know if Ohio has the death penalty. So, that is a big curiosity here (from the folks who invented the guillotine). I have tried to explain the state / federal court systems and appeal processes that result in changes in the death penalty implementation, but this is apparently not well understood. Federalism, state's rights, local rights, etc. is not a concept that France has experience with (Evidence the current situation, where after 12 days of rioting the national government finally gave permission to local mayors to impose curfews. Give permission after 12 days of chaos, excuse me?)
  


• Many people also are confused over the notion that the Supreme Court can have an influence on abortion rights. The typical response is: "why is this something that the court is even involved with?" Well, that's not really a question I even try to answer.
  


• Sunday we spent some time talking about employment contracts. They were absolutely stunned when I told them I have had probably 20 jobs in my life, and never had an employment contract (until now, at any rate). The whole notion of not having every detail in an employment situation explicitly defined and agreed to in writing made them very uncomfortable. I guess we are just living on the edge. Crazy new world people.

So, a Sunday afternoon in November with no Who-dey and no Hudy D-Lite, but all in all, very enjoyable. Welcome to the Jungle, really.

05.11.02: Resto Pensée

I think it was just over 100 years ago that Pavlov won the Nobel Prize for his work on conditioned response. The thing I don't remember (from the only psychology course that I took in high school) is, what did the dogs do after he rang the bell when he didn't give them the damn food? OK, so we know that they salivated, but how angry were they when they didn't get the food, and what did they do next?

I was thinking about this last night (OK, almost every night) when I was waiting for a glass of water, which seems to be a big deal over here. After 40 years of restaurant service in the U.S., I have been totally conditioned to expect a glass of water delivered, without my asking, (and independent of whether I need it or want it) within about 2 minutes after I sit down. Moving here I get to experience the conditioned-response-meets-denial side of the experience spectrum. And on more topics than just a glass of water.

[Sidebar: So anyway, as I'm wondering how many times to request water before it is considered embarassingly rude (by local standards), the woman at the table next to me plops her baby on the table and changes her diaper (the baby's) in the middle of the restaurant dining room. Which gives me another thought ... do people do this in the US and I just never paid attention, or have I just discovered another quaint local custom? I think it might be the latter. OK, aprés-change, a very cute little baby]

I am coming around to recognize that what is so much perceived rudeness between foreigners is just a lot of seemingly common situations (but from independent perspectives) and the participants have vastly conflicting conditioned responses. For a glass of water in a restaurant -- not a big deal. The handshake thing they got going on over here -- hopefully not a big deal in the long run ('cause I cannot just keep it straight every day exactly who I have seen already today, and who I haven't). But, on the other hand, two unfortunate deaths in the suburbs leads to burning 1,000 cars a night in Paris for twelve nights and counting. And 'splain to me again that thing where we end up in Irak. Who rang the damn bell?

For my part, I am trying to pay attention to what I have been conditioned to do vs. what it is that I either really want or need. I hope that's not too french-y for the long haul. It may be a good strategy for holding onto some sanity.

Oh, and did I mention ... hold the H2O, forget about the damn dogs ... the côte du Rhône with the fusilli au saumon is quite excellent, merci.

(The photo is the local Italian restaurant where they do serve water, have a pretty good lasagna, and they keep very polite smiles on their faces while I butcher the french language, mercilessly.)

05.10.24: Le Bilboquet est OK (et bien plus)

I took the metro line 4 to St-Germain-des-Pres to see the district existentialisme remnants. Apparently, this area is famous for smart writers like Hemingway hanging out here in the 20s and 30s (I suppose pre-Spanish revolution), and later still in the 50s for J-P Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, developing their special blend of existentialism. Don't know what it looked like in their day, but very much the nice cafe scene today. Maybe a little heavier on the tourists, and a little lighter on the heavy thinkers than in years past.

But if you forget about trying to find the exact chair at Les Deux Magots that Hemingway sat in while he was musing over ... whatever, and wander around the corner and down one block, you can hear some very nice jazz tunes working their way out of Le Bilboquet.

I sat down for dinner and to listen to the show last Sunday night. 4-person combo. Piano (and vocals), lead guitar, bass, and drums. Basic. Without a doubt the 2nd best pianist I have ever heard. (For the prémiere ... Henry Butler, Christmas Night, Funky Butt's, The Ramparts, New Orleans, 2000). When they opened up with 'And the beat goes on ..' I was a little concerned, but damn if they didn't make that song sound great. La-di-da-di-dee ... la-di-da-di-daah. A big mix, from Rat Pack, to Marley to an excellent rendition of I Put a Spell on You. Now, I'm a fan of Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and I expect Nina Simone might have peddled a few versions around the Paris clubs for many years (recall, after leaving the US in the '70s for racial reasons, and I think passed away last year), but this live jazz version put a big time spell on everybody in the club; and served up with a fondant au chocolat.

[Sidebar: why the heck don't we have this dessert in the US? OK, I think I have had this dessert about half a dozen times so far, and it never disappoints. Basically, it is a single-serving size chocolate cake, bordering on a brownie, but the center is melted (melting?) very dark chocolate. So my question is: how do they bake a little cake in about 5 minutes where the outside is a great little crusty cake, and the center is just melted chocolate? They can be a little inventive over here when they want to be. I will not leave here until I know how this is done. I have also seen it on menus as: moelleux au chocolat and moyenne cuit (sp?) chocolat. Maybe I have become a little obsessed with this.]

It all came together when they launched into a very jazzy-blues version of The Wind Cries Mary; I think Jimi would have been proud (and I didn't hear any rumblings to the contrary from Père Lachaise, either). Sometimes you are in a club and the atmosphere, the music, the food, and the conversation works itself into a very nice fondant au soirée. Le Bilboquet is a pretty good place to start. That's a brand of existentialism that I can hold on to.

La-di-da-di-dee ... la-di-da-di-daah.

[Addendum: There is a jazz radio station here that gets me back and forth to work every day; even in the nastiest traffic Paris has to dish out (well, sans riot zones), this station keeps me sane and entertained. They also stream on the web, so you should check it out ... TSF 89.9 FM - Tout Jazz.]

05.10.22: Cimitière du Père Lachaise

The obligatory visit to see Mr. Morrison's resting place.




I went to see Jim Morrison's grave the other day, but then there were a whole lot of other gravemarkers in the way, so it took a little longer than I expected. I thought it was Jim Morrison's cemetery, but I guess the other 100,000 people buried there have a different opinion.

At the gate to enter, for 2 euro you can get a map and admission.

To me, the kindly gentlemen said: "But for you, you can enter for two greenbacks, if you have them. That's about a 20% discount. The reason is, we never forget '44 and '45."

I wanted to remind him that my grandfather was here in '17 and '18, but there were other people in line, and probably not from the US, so I let it go, this time.

At any rate, the cemetery is on the east side of Paris, and amazingly is about 44 hectares (~100 acres).

The only grave that has a little protective fence around it, and the only grave that has a gathering of people around it is .... Mr. Morrison's.

The simple marker has an epitaph in Greek, and depending on the translation you find, means either:

• "To the divine spirit within himself"
  
• "The devil within himself"
  
• "The genius in his mind"
  
• "He caused his own demons"
  

Nice.
Rock'n'roll should always be an enigma.

05.09.27: Versailles, Le Jardin

OK, so the first time I went to Versailles was about five years ago, and I only had time to visit the gardens; so I did not make it inside the royal living quarters. But at any rate, here is the reaction I had the first time I was there: I walked thru the gate to enter the central garden area and you think: what a nice garden, isn't this interesting. And then, you walk about another 50 meters ... and then you see the garden. What you had seen was really just a patio. And then you say (depending on where you are from, but in my case): "Holy Excessivity! This is unbelieeevable." We are not talking about a garden here. I think basically what we are talking about is maybe the size of New Jersey, but all of it incredibly well manicured.

So then my next thought was this: What took them so long to have a revolution? I mean really, why would you finance a lifestyle like this for some fancy-pants royalty while everyone else is living baguette to mouth. I don't know what King George had in England at the same time, but I imagine if he had tried to build a place like Versailles near Boston or New York or Philadelphia, the revolution would have come just that much sooner.

So this year, I thought it would be fun to take Jen, and just gauge her reaction as this whole thing unfolds before her. It was really a beautiful sunny fall afternoon. I swear to Neptune, she had exactly the same reaction. She wandered across the patio, nodding agreeably about how nice the place is, and then all of a sudden: recognition of the enormity of this place, and then she had basically the same thought I had: "This was all for ONE guy?"

Really, it is that enormous. Kinda makes you wonder how the mob were even able to find Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette when they knocked on the door in October 1789. If Crawford, Texas starts to develop a reputation for impressive water sculptures, let's start re-reading the Constitution.

OK, so don't get me wrong. I am not negative about the beauty of this place.

It is stunning.
It is a marvel of design.
It is a joyous way to spend the day, wandering about and imagining the 18th century coming alive in all of it's regal regalitry. They even pipe in some nice baroque music to help re-create the ambience.
All I am saying is: let's also keep in mind who paid for all of this.

Appended below for your viewing pleasure are some images from the day. The water sculptures were big this day, so these photos are heavy on the water theme; in conjunction with the water fountains there is also an enviable collection of plant diversity, and all very nicely maintained and manicured in a very french-y formal garden style.



And, if you do get a chance to visit, here is my recommendation for the most stunning water / sculpture / garden I have ever seen. The sculpture is called le bosquet d'Encalade. This sculpture depicts the demise of Enceladus during the giants' failed revolt against Zeus. Enceladus was one of the 24 giants that revolted, attempting to reach Mt. Olympus by stacking mountain upon mountain. As it become obvious that the battle was lost, Enceladus attempted to escape, but Athena crushed him under a large piece of extracted earth, that is now the land of Sicily. Go figure.

Happy gardening!

05.09.23: House-hunting à Paris

House-hunting

There is only one sane way to go house-hunting in a foreign country where you don't speak the language: hire a company to take care of the intial screening and the appointments and the interpretations and the contracts and the yadda-yadda-yadda. We actually got something right.

Here are some images of the house we decided to rent and a few interesting images of some of the other places we decided to let go. No fish stories here ... all images without digital enhancement. The last image is of our tour-guide and house-hunting heroine. Without her, I think we would still be living in the States.



We are located ~20 minutes east of Paris, in a nice little town called La Varenne. We are within walking distance to the train into Paris, and not too bad of a commute for me to get to work. If you need to satisfy your mapping curiosity try: La Varenne, postal code 94210 in www.mappy.fr. I haven't tried the digital satellite images from google yet. I'll keep the porch light on, just in case.

05.07.27: A new adventure

For our next adventure ... Jen and I are moving to France for the next three years.

I have accepted a new position with my company which will take us across the pond. I will be supporting the same engine model that I have been working on the for the last several years. For this engine model, we build half of the engine, and our French partner builds the other half. I will be stationed at our partner's facility in Villaroche, France, working as an on-site focal for Engineering.

You can look for Villaroche in mapquest (oú viaMichelin.fr, if you want to feel a little french-y), but you have to zoom in real close. The town I will be working in is essentially a small village supporting a few industrial facilities.

But ... it is located about 45 minutes south east of Paris. We could do worse.
What's the timing? I wish I really knew, but right now it looks like I will be starting over there sometime in August, and Jenny will stay in Cincinnati until early November. We have filed the paperwork with French Immigration, and are now at the mercy of the bureaucratic paper mill. We do get to go to the French Consulate in Chicago to be seen in person before they will give us our visas, and I also have the pleasure of taking a physical from 'un medecin du republique' to be granted a work permit. I'm sure these are just a few of the interesting experiences ahead.

As for our house ... we will be keeping it. We will be returning to Cinti, and we really enjoy our house and our neighborhood (and it was the only condition upon which Jen would agree to go). In the meantime, we expect to find some house-sitters to help us keep the house occupied. For the first go-round, we have been corresponding with a couple who are geologists at a university in Spain, and who will be coming to the University of Cincinnati for a sabbatical, starting this fall. Stop by this winter, si usted quiere hablar español.

Where are we going to live over there? Not sure yet. After we get our visas and the work permit looks like a go, we begin to look for some housing over there. Right now, we are leaning towards looking for a small house to rent just outside the 'peripherique' on the east side of Paris. Should be accessible enough for me to get to work, and also close enough that we can enjoy what Paris has to offer.

Do we speak French? Of course not. We're Americans, for godsakes! Well, hopefully that can change without too much pain (and that's an American 'pain', not the french bread variety.) What we know now, is that sitting in French class for one and half hours is enough to generate a pretty good 'mal de tête'.

When will we be back? I plan to re-enter the US on 21-Jan-2009. Should be a change in mood in the country by then. I expect Jen will arrive several months prior to ensure that transition occurs.

Those are some brief answers to most of the questions we are typically asked. The other question is: what's Jen going to do? Still an open question, and needless to say, Jen is giving up quite a lot to support this move. If anyone has connections for an English speaking psychologist in Paris, don't keep it to yourself.

That's all for now. We'll try to keep you updated, and we'll remember to post an update from time to time for some of the more interesting experiences ahead.

Jenny will maintain the same e-mail address (and she is better at actually replying to the letters she gets).

Love to all (et bon courage),Pat