travel
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Un jour à Bruxelles
I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: Paris is so quiet in the month of August! Besides the hoards of tourist at every turn, there are virtually no locals left in town. It’s hard to make plans without first calling to see if the place you’re headed to is open or closed for the next 4 weeks. Even during the work week I’ve been disappointed after walking to some of my favorite lunchtime haunts only to see a closed-for-vacances notice scribbled on sheet of paper and stuck to the front door.
So, Gui and I decided to get out of the tourist-laden city for a bit. Realizing that we’d only just come back a week ago from a full week of holidays, we were still itchin’ to do some traveling before la rentrée and in anticipation of fuller workloads at the end of the month.Belgium is practically down the street from us - the same amount of driving it takes us to get from Austin to Dallas - so, that’s where we spent our Saturday. At first, we couldn’t decide between Bruges and Brussels (we’ve already been to both), but eventually headed towards Brussels so that I could relive a little of the first trip I ever took there in 2008 with Gui and some of my closest girlfriends.
I was pretty amazed at how much I remembered and recognized from my one single night spent there over 2 years ago. It was warmer this time around than that first February trip, so we sipped a beer on a terrace, ate moules-frites and boeuf à la bière among the locals, grabbed some nutella gaufres and strolled around the streets and parks of the city without any rush or fuss. We had no idea that we were coming to the city during one of its most popular weeks – the week of the Flower Carpet – so we were surprised at how big the crowds were in the Grand Place. We didn’t spend too much time there, opting instead to visit some greener areas of the city I’d never seen before.
There was a lot going on in town, though, and we came across a music festival (Massive Attack and some other groups were playing), a park full of people and even a few pianos in the street. It was an interesting daytrip, though much of it totally unexpected. In the end, we came home with full and happy bellies, a trunk full of beer and a few bags of our favorite chocolates. A day well spent if I do say so myself.
So, Gui and I decided to get out of the tourist-laden city for a bit. Realizing that we’d only just come back a week ago from a full week of holidays, we were still itchin’ to do some traveling before la rentrée and in anticipation of fuller workloads at the end of the month.
I was pretty amazed at how much I remembered and recognized from my one single night spent there over 2 years ago. It was warmer this time around than that first February trip, so we sipped a beer on a terrace, ate moules-frites and boeuf à la bière among the locals, grabbed some nutella gaufres and strolled around the streets and parks of the city without any rush or fuss. We had no idea that we were coming to the city during one of its most popular weeks – the week of the Flower Carpet – so we were surprised at how big the crowds were in the Grand Place. We didn’t spend too much time there, opting instead to visit some greener areas of the city I’d never seen before.
There was a lot going on in town, though, and we came across a music festival (Massive Attack and some other groups were playing), a park full of people and even a few pianos in the street. It was an interesting daytrip, though much of it totally unexpected. In the end, we came home with full and happy bellies, a trunk full of beer and a few bags of our favorite chocolates. A day well spent if I do say so myself.
Taking flight |
Gui loves his Kwak |
The flower carpet at the Grand Place |
a little gaufre for Gui |
street pianos |
Manneken pis |
Dernière minute
I'm not really a last minute kind of gal. I like to plan ahead, make reservations, shop around and do everything I can to ensure that whatever is happening is done so in the smoothest and most efficient way possible. I don't mind saying yes to a last-minute invitation or hop off to a movie or dinner on the spur of the moment, but when making plans to, say, host a party or take a trip, quick decisions make me nervous and wary.
This weekend, though, I caught the most wretchedly dire homesickness that I've ever had in my life and nothing could coax me out of my funk. Gui and I grabbed happy hour and a movie on Friday evening (Alice in Wonderland in 3D - beautiful film but the jury's still out on the storyline and oddly-added solo dance), and then had some Tex-Mex for dinner, but I could barely eat from being so run amok with thoughts about my family and how much I miss them. Everything reminded me of my nephews and my far-away friends - now mostly parents of little ones - that I don't see often enough. I felt awful and tried doing things to distract myself, but nothing worked to deter my thoughts.
On Sunday, we had lunch with Gui's dad and sister at the same place we took my mom to on her first and only trip to Paris, and I struggled to keep it together. It was hard to stay composed when they asked how I was doing, how my job was going, and how my family and new nephews where getting along - normal stuff. My heart was totally longing to be near them, to hold my new nephews and run around like a kid with the others. Gui and I talked about our trip in June and all the things we'll do while we're there, all the people we'll see. But, in doing this, we realized how little time we'll actually have to see everyone we want to see. Between Kansas and Austin and Dallas and the traveling between each, two weeks is just not enough time.
Monday morning rolled around and I was in such a foul mood. I dragged myself out of bed, threw on the first black dress I saw, tights and boots, trudged slowly to the bus without much care about the time or my tardiness and then, with immense difficulty bonjoured everyone in the office and sputtered off a lie when they asked how I was doing. I just couldn't be bothered with the day; with anything. How did it get to this?
Despite my lingering Monday workload, all I could think of was leaving - leaving the office, leaving Paris, leaving France. Just leaving. I was so incredibly sad and felt so incredibly guilty about being so sad. All I could think of was going home - being home with my parents, sister, brothers, nephews, friends and their babies. I just wanted to be near them all.
So, as an act of desperation, I checked flights to Texas and flights to Kansas and realized that I could visit my sister (and brother-in-law and 3 out of 4 of my nephews) in Kansas by cashing in on our frequent-flyer miles and paying about half the normal price of a ticket. Originally, I thought about going for a long weekend - taking advantage of the Monday holiday, I could leave Friday night and come back on Sunday, but Gui thought that was just too crazy. He reminded me that I work in France, and when my contract is all said and done, I still won't have used up all of my paid vacation and RTT (days accumulated each month that act like paid vacation). So, I guiltily asked my boss if he would mind my taking a few extra days off - even though I'd already taken two days the week before, and he was totally cool with it. More than cool. He waved his hand and told me to take whatever days I need to and not to worry about any asking in advance. I was elated.
I don't know if this last-minute trip will make everything better or if I'll return with a renewed feeling of positivity and happiness, but I know it will do me some good. Just knowing that I'm leaving on Thursday morning to finally meet my new nephew and see my loved ones has already made such a difference in my mind. I've never planned a transatlantic flight so spontaneously before, and this time it's not about how smoothly everything goes or how efficiently my time is spent. Once I see those toothy grins and hear those hearty grunts from the sweetest boys in all the world, my thoughts will be light-years away from the trifles of time and economics.
This weekend, though, I caught the most wretchedly dire homesickness that I've ever had in my life and nothing could coax me out of my funk. Gui and I grabbed happy hour and a movie on Friday evening (Alice in Wonderland in 3D - beautiful film but the jury's still out on the storyline and oddly-added solo dance), and then had some Tex-Mex for dinner, but I could barely eat from being so run amok with thoughts about my family and how much I miss them. Everything reminded me of my nephews and my far-away friends - now mostly parents of little ones - that I don't see often enough. I felt awful and tried doing things to distract myself, but nothing worked to deter my thoughts.
On Sunday, we had lunch with Gui's dad and sister at the same place we took my mom to on her first and only trip to Paris, and I struggled to keep it together. It was hard to stay composed when they asked how I was doing, how my job was going, and how my family and new nephews where getting along - normal stuff. My heart was totally longing to be near them, to hold my new nephews and run around like a kid with the others. Gui and I talked about our trip in June and all the things we'll do while we're there, all the people we'll see. But, in doing this, we realized how little time we'll actually have to see everyone we want to see. Between Kansas and Austin and Dallas and the traveling between each, two weeks is just not enough time.
Monday morning rolled around and I was in such a foul mood. I dragged myself out of bed, threw on the first black dress I saw, tights and boots, trudged slowly to the bus without much care about the time or my tardiness and then, with immense difficulty bonjoured everyone in the office and sputtered off a lie when they asked how I was doing. I just couldn't be bothered with the day; with anything. How did it get to this?
Despite my lingering Monday workload, all I could think of was leaving - leaving the office, leaving Paris, leaving France. Just leaving. I was so incredibly sad and felt so incredibly guilty about being so sad. All I could think of was going home - being home with my parents, sister, brothers, nephews, friends and their babies. I just wanted to be near them all.
So, as an act of desperation, I checked flights to Texas and flights to Kansas and realized that I could visit my sister (and brother-in-law and 3 out of 4 of my nephews) in Kansas by cashing in on our frequent-flyer miles and paying about half the normal price of a ticket. Originally, I thought about going for a long weekend - taking advantage of the Monday holiday, I could leave Friday night and come back on Sunday, but Gui thought that was just too crazy. He reminded me that I work in France, and when my contract is all said and done, I still won't have used up all of my paid vacation and RTT (days accumulated each month that act like paid vacation). So, I guiltily asked my boss if he would mind my taking a few extra days off - even though I'd already taken two days the week before, and he was totally cool with it. More than cool. He waved his hand and told me to take whatever days I need to and not to worry about any asking in advance. I was elated.
I don't know if this last-minute trip will make everything better or if I'll return with a renewed feeling of positivity and happiness, but I know it will do me some good. Just knowing that I'm leaving on Thursday morning to finally meet my new nephew and see my loved ones has already made such a difference in my mind. I've never planned a transatlantic flight so spontaneously before, and this time it's not about how smoothly everything goes or how efficiently my time is spent. Once I see those toothy grins and hear those hearty grunts from the sweetest boys in all the world, my thoughts will be light-years away from the trifles of time and economics.
Auntie's on her way! See you soon, cuties!
The REAL reason French women aren't fat
So, I'll just go ahead and explain this "phenomenon" to put to rest all the theories being tossed around by curious weight-watchers. It's not because they eat smaller portions or stay away from sugars and fats; it's not even necessarily because of good genes or, as my husband's grandmother puts it, "French people are made differently." But, the real reason women mostly come in size small and medium here is because living in a country where public transportation is fundamentally necessary to live, running after buses and trains and metro cars is just a daily way of life.
When I was first applying for my carte de séjour, I remember being asked during my mandatory medical exam whether or not I exercised. I thought about it for a moment, and decided not to lie, so I told the doctor that since arriving in France, I'd stopped doing yoga, but felt like I got enough exercise just going from place to place. He must have thought that I was either joking or incredibly lazy, but it was absolutely true.
Counting how many city blocks I've either walked rapidly or run through today, I can honestly say I've registered at least a mile. Easy. And that's including getting lucky enough to catch the bus. Let's see, I ran about a block to catch this morning's bus. Walked at least another 2 city blocks through the metro station before running to get to the last car (which is closer to the exit at my destination station). Then I walked the 7 minutes, or 3 Paris blocks from the station to work, then another 4 blocks to get lunch and come back. And, I made the return trip all over again, but took a detoured bus that required me to run another city block to catch the right one before walking the couple of blocks home. And that's on a lazy day! I came straight home after work today and went to lunch closeby. Add, to all this fast-paced commuting, a 10-pound purse, a coat and heels, and you've got yourself a real work-out.
One could argue that my eating habits have changed too, but I can honestly say that I never deny myself any gastronomic pleasure (except for those few days during the Christmas break after I fed myself to the point of sickness...I'll be nice and spare all the details). I love food. LOVE IT. But, in France I've found that although the quantity of food I eat has not changed, the quality and type of food most definitely has. Rarely do I eat processed or fried foods, but I've never eaten so much dairy (cream and cheese mostly), sugar (hello, patisseries and chocolate!), and foie gras in my life! Most of the fatty foods I used to eat in Texas have been replaced by more natural fatty foods, and perhaps that also has something to do with it. I've seen French women eat me under the table (even a certain 70-something mother of my father-in-law), and I never go out to eat with a French woman without having dessert (lunchtime is no execption). But, as much as I'd like it to be so, we're not having a box of fried chicken and crinkle-cut fries or cheese enchiladas and a Coke. So, I guess it all kind of balances itself out.
I'm not too dumb to realize, too that my freakishly, self-diagnosed high-metabolism has a lot to do with my staying thin, but I also know that I'm not immune to gaining weight. My genes are not as generous as they may appear, and after my all-you-can-fit-in-your-gullet stint in Texas this summer, I was feeling the push against my waistline when I returned to l'Hexagone. Of course, none of this is probably true in any scientifically proving way, but after being here for a couple of years now, it's my observation and a good explanation for why the stores can't keep any small sizes stocked. I'm convinced if every French woman could drive where and when she wanted, there'd be a lot more x-smalls and smalls on the boutique racks. And, in an effort to find more clothes in my size round here, I plan on reminding every woman I know in Paris about this Friday's World Nutella Day. No self-respecting [French] woman can resist this. Miam!
February 5th, 2010
And...we're back!
It was a rough ride home and I came back to Paris more than 30 pounds lighter than I left Dallas (damn you, Air France for your crazy expensive and restrictive luggage allowances!). I decidedly and emphatically hate trans-Atlantic travel. But, man, is it good to be back home! There's something to be said about one's own bedroom. It's not like my time in the States was anything less than spectacularly comfortable (we had our own bedroom and bathroom for more than an entire month), but it's the whole living-out-of-luggage and using travel-size toiletries thing that gets old fast. And after nearly two months of bouncing around from here to there, it feels good to be back in the saddle of my everyday life.
And Paris. Lovely Paris. I'm so glad I came back when I did: when summer is winding down and autumn is but an arm's-length away. This is my favorite time in Paris. At home, we restocked the fridge, gave our place a good scrub, opened the windows and let the late summer breeze air the place out. I've managed to reunite with some missed faces and catch-up on what's been buzzing around the city while I've been AWOL. Yesterday, we took to the Marais to see a friend's artwork on display at the Galerie Thuillier, then spent the rest of the day meeting up with like-minded friends soaking up the perfect Paris day. We even caught up with the techno parade running down boulevard Saint Germain for a few minutes of people watching and leg-shaking. I think I finally understand the French obsession with techno music - even the most rhythmically-challenged person can keep the beat.
So, la rentrée has been pretty pleasant and painless and my moleskin is once again filling up with things to do (I've got a carte de sejour renewal coming up this month) and places to go (a close friend recently moved to Bordeaux, so a trip is in the works). Not to mention that there's the looming green card business to take care of for Gui and dates to be set for our impending return stateside. But it's nice to feel like life is carrying on after such a long hiatus. I'm happy to be home and right now, Paris is the only place I want to be!
And Paris. Lovely Paris. I'm so glad I came back when I did: when summer is winding down and autumn is but an arm's-length away. This is my favorite time in Paris. At home, we restocked the fridge, gave our place a good scrub, opened the windows and let the late summer breeze air the place out. I've managed to reunite with some missed faces and catch-up on what's been buzzing around the city while I've been AWOL. Yesterday, we took to the Marais to see a friend's artwork on display at the Galerie Thuillier, then spent the rest of the day meeting up with like-minded friends soaking up the perfect Paris day. We even caught up with the techno parade running down boulevard Saint Germain for a few minutes of people watching and leg-shaking. I think I finally understand the French obsession with techno music - even the most rhythmically-challenged person can keep the beat.
So, la rentrée has been pretty pleasant and painless and my moleskin is once again filling up with things to do (I've got a carte de sejour renewal coming up this month) and places to go (a close friend recently moved to Bordeaux, so a trip is in the works). Not to mention that there's the looming green card business to take care of for Gui and dates to be set for our impending return stateside. But it's nice to feel like life is carrying on after such a long hiatus. I'm happy to be home and right now, Paris is the only place I want to be!
On vacation
There have been a couple of times in the past few weeks when I sat down to update my blog, but gave up after trying and failing to gather all of my thoughts into one focused and understandable blog post. My mind has been going in every which way since I've been on vacation, and I hardly know where I am these days.
Being back in Austin has been so amazing, albeit completely exhausting. My original intention when coming back for my long visit (I've been here since the end of July, people!) was to catch up with family and friends, get reacquainted with my hometown and scout out the job market. And, I can say that I've done exactly what I'd intended to do during these past weeks, although with mixed results.
Getting back into the groove of the city took longer than I'd expected it to. When I first arrived, I felt really confused about where my place was here and what my feelings were about our impending return to Austin. But, slowly and surely I regained a bit of an identity with the city, identified where I fit in and remembered clearly why I want so badly to get back to this place (and no, it's not just for the food). While Gui was here with me, we reunited with friends, caught up on old times and fell back into the swing of life as if we were still locals. After Gui returned to France, I was unexpectedly (although gladly) asked to spend a week in Dallas, to help out with my newborn nephew. As happy as I was to spend some time bonding with baby Xavier, the week away from Austin put a bit of a kink into my job-hunting plans. I never intended to find a job during my time vacationing in Austin, but I wanted to test the waters, so to speak, and check out what kind of market I'd be diving into upon our return. I wasn't really able to do that while I was in Dallas, so when I returned to Austin last week, I was determined to make some progress. What I quickly discovered though, was that this city's job market is nothing like it used to be and I'd be going up against some stiff and brutal competition. Giving myself a week to square away solid leads was an unrealistic goal, so I made the decision to back off and forget about job search until Gui and I have a more concrete strategy and timeline for moving back.
Now, I know this sounds ridiculous, but being on vacation for so long has been a lot more difficult than I had imagined it could ever be. Thank goodness we're blessed with the most hospitable and loving friends anyone could ever dream of having. There's just no way we could have enjoyed our time here so much nor been more comfortable than we have been had they not been so extraordinary. What's been so exhausting for me, is the traveling I've had to do to see my family that doesn't live in Austin anymore. Being here for so long, I've found myself planning and playing as if I've already moved back. I started yoga classes again, reestablished some new and old favorite hot-spots and spent some time going up and down the aisles of my favorite grocery stores. I've reconnected. So, it's hard to imagine that this is my last weekend in town for a while; that after a short stint in Dallas and Kansas, I'll be back in Paris - back to my life and my home. I'm hoping, though, that by the time my plane takes off from DFW airport, I'll have a better sense of what's important to me now and what our next step will be. I'm hoping that my mind will be more settled and focused - aimed and locked in one, solid direction.
Being back in Austin has been so amazing, albeit completely exhausting. My original intention when coming back for my long visit (I've been here since the end of July, people!) was to catch up with family and friends, get reacquainted with my hometown and scout out the job market. And, I can say that I've done exactly what I'd intended to do during these past weeks, although with mixed results.
Getting back into the groove of the city took longer than I'd expected it to. When I first arrived, I felt really confused about where my place was here and what my feelings were about our impending return to Austin. But, slowly and surely I regained a bit of an identity with the city, identified where I fit in and remembered clearly why I want so badly to get back to this place (and no, it's not just for the food). While Gui was here with me, we reunited with friends, caught up on old times and fell back into the swing of life as if we were still locals. After Gui returned to France, I was unexpectedly (although gladly) asked to spend a week in Dallas, to help out with my newborn nephew. As happy as I was to spend some time bonding with baby Xavier, the week away from Austin put a bit of a kink into my job-hunting plans. I never intended to find a job during my time vacationing in Austin, but I wanted to test the waters, so to speak, and check out what kind of market I'd be diving into upon our return. I wasn't really able to do that while I was in Dallas, so when I returned to Austin last week, I was determined to make some progress. What I quickly discovered though, was that this city's job market is nothing like it used to be and I'd be going up against some stiff and brutal competition. Giving myself a week to square away solid leads was an unrealistic goal, so I made the decision to back off and forget about job search until Gui and I have a more concrete strategy and timeline for moving back.
Now, I know this sounds ridiculous, but being on vacation for so long has been a lot more difficult than I had imagined it could ever be. Thank goodness we're blessed with the most hospitable and loving friends anyone could ever dream of having. There's just no way we could have enjoyed our time here so much nor been more comfortable than we have been had they not been so extraordinary. What's been so exhausting for me, is the traveling I've had to do to see my family that doesn't live in Austin anymore. Being here for so long, I've found myself planning and playing as if I've already moved back. I started yoga classes again, reestablished some new and old favorite hot-spots and spent some time going up and down the aisles of my favorite grocery stores. I've reconnected. So, it's hard to imagine that this is my last weekend in town for a while; that after a short stint in Dallas and Kansas, I'll be back in Paris - back to my life and my home. I'm hoping, though, that by the time my plane takes off from DFW airport, I'll have a better sense of what's important to me now and what our next step will be. I'm hoping that my mind will be more settled and focused - aimed and locked in one, solid direction.
I missed the bus
Today, I woke up early without hesitation for the first time in a long time. Not enough can be said about the great things a good night's sleep can do for the body and mind. I felt rested and not rushed, and I was even in a chipper enough mood to check emails and make some toast for myself and Gui before heading out the door on time.
We live about two bus-stops away from the metro, and I try to catch the bus if I see it approaching since it usually shaves about five minutes off of my commute time. This morning, I saw the bus approaching the stop and since I hadn't yet made it in front of the stop, I sprinted across the street, waving my hand knowing the bus driver had seen me since I was literally running in front of the bus. The bus jerked, stopped, and I slowed down, smiled and pulled out my Navigo as I approached the now-closed doors. Then, the bus pulled away. I waved my arms thinking the driver must have thought I was running for some other reason, but the woman commanding the wheel pretended not to see me, glanced away from the doors and drove off. What. A. B*tch! There is NO possible way that she could have not seen me - I was dashing across the street, in PLAIN view of the bus' gargantuan windshield, running up to the front doors of the bus when she turned her head to drive off. The bus was still stopped when I arrived at the doors. Only a jerk would have driven off.
Luckily, the bus comes about every five minutes, so I decided to cool down and wait for the next one instead of walking to the metro. I don't know why, but I was really furious. Maybe it's because I always see bus drivers give others a break and pick people up who are nowhere even near the bus stop. Maybe it's because after how great my day had begun, I was just expecting the world to be a better place this morning. Maybe it's because the driver was a woman and, though I've never met a woman who lived up to the "French woman" reputation, I suddenly felt like the stereotype now held some validity. But, I didn't want it to, and it pissed me off that this stupid bus driver had to be the one to question my otherwise disbelief in the cruelty and coldness of an entire female citizenry.
I jumped on the next bus, still questioning the motives of the mean driver who didn't stop. I tried not to over-analyze the situation, but the whole thing put me in a reflective and doubtful mood. Then, while changing metro lines, I saw this:
...and I suddenly had my happy morning back.
We live about two bus-stops away from the metro, and I try to catch the bus if I see it approaching since it usually shaves about five minutes off of my commute time. This morning, I saw the bus approaching the stop and since I hadn't yet made it in front of the stop, I sprinted across the street, waving my hand knowing the bus driver had seen me since I was literally running in front of the bus. The bus jerked, stopped, and I slowed down, smiled and pulled out my Navigo as I approached the now-closed doors. Then, the bus pulled away. I waved my arms thinking the driver must have thought I was running for some other reason, but the woman commanding the wheel pretended not to see me, glanced away from the doors and drove off. What. A. B*tch! There is NO possible way that she could have not seen me - I was dashing across the street, in PLAIN view of the bus' gargantuan windshield, running up to the front doors of the bus when she turned her head to drive off. The bus was still stopped when I arrived at the doors. Only a jerk would have driven off.
Luckily, the bus comes about every five minutes, so I decided to cool down and wait for the next one instead of walking to the metro. I don't know why, but I was really furious. Maybe it's because I always see bus drivers give others a break and pick people up who are nowhere even near the bus stop. Maybe it's because after how great my day had begun, I was just expecting the world to be a better place this morning. Maybe it's because the driver was a woman and, though I've never met a woman who lived up to the "French woman" reputation, I suddenly felt like the stereotype now held some validity. But, I didn't want it to, and it pissed me off that this stupid bus driver had to be the one to question my otherwise disbelief in the cruelty and coldness of an entire female citizenry.
I jumped on the next bus, still questioning the motives of the mean driver who didn't stop. I tried not to over-analyze the situation, but the whole thing put me in a reflective and doubtful mood. Then, while changing metro lines, I saw this:
...and I suddenly had my happy morning back.
Sunny days in Normandy
We had such magnifique weather during our short stay in Normandy. Although Saturday only provided a few short hours of brilliant sunlight, Sunday gave us an entire day of bright, blue skies, perfect for a trip to see the famous cliffs of Étretat. After a trip to the marché, we took the hour-and-a-half long ride from Caen, passing through the stunning Normandy Bridge, several toll roads and fall foliage to the quaint, but bustling beach-side town of Etretat. Even though I wasn't quite dressed for rock-climbing, the prospect of viewing the seemingly endless pebbled beach from atop the massive cliff was too tempting to pass up. So, 270+ steps we climbed to the highest point, and when the wind had become too much to bear, down we came. We stopped in town for some warm drinks at a 237 year-old hotel before heading back in the general direction of Caen (it doesn't take much to get a little lost in Basse-Normandie) where we and our hosts prepared a full-on feast.
We spent our last day of vacation hanging around Caen's city center, shopping, gorging on top-notch, local cheese, and playing competitive poker. Gui and I also spent some of the day pondering ways in which we could become neighbors with our Normand friends. It's strange how the company of truly fantastic people, great food, and good times can make a place feel like home. I know I said this last time we visited Normandy, but I can't help but repeat my apparent aspiration to live there. Coming back to Paris, the furor and commotion of daily life shocked me back into the reality of living in the big city, and my serious thoughts of a slower life dwindled into a simple reverie. Even though we'll keep the possibility of moving away from Paris at the back of our minds, there's still a lot to focus on accomplishing here. So, for now, my memories and these pictures will have to suffice.
Enjoy!
We spent our last day of vacation hanging around Caen's city center, shopping, gorging on top-notch, local cheese, and playing competitive poker. Gui and I also spent some of the day pondering ways in which we could become neighbors with our Normand friends. It's strange how the company of truly fantastic people, great food, and good times can make a place feel like home. I know I said this last time we visited Normandy, but I can't help but repeat my apparent aspiration to live there. Coming back to Paris, the furor and commotion of daily life shocked me back into the reality of living in the big city, and my serious thoughts of a slower life dwindled into a simple reverie. Even though we'll keep the possibility of moving away from Paris at the back of our minds, there's still a lot to focus on accomplishing here. So, for now, my memories and these pictures will have to suffice.
Enjoy!
Magnificent.
To get an idea of how massive the beach and cliffs are, notice how tiny the people look on the beach.
To get an idea of how massive the beach and cliffs are, notice how tiny the people look on the beach.
FAIL
As you can see, I failed to post yesterday which means I've failed my first attempt at NaBloPoMo. Even though it wasn't for the real deal, it's still a little disappointing. I had every intention of posting some pictures yesterday, but the memory card reader our hosts have wasn't working. So, after a couple of glasses of wine and an exhausting day, I made the decision to skip a day of posting. Being on vacation is not really conducive to daily blogging; we're staying in our friends' home, hoping to be social and enjoy their company and appreciate their hospitality while we can, and sitting on the computer for any length of time just feels kind of rude. If I had toted along my laptop, I'd definitely feel less guilty about blogging before bed or early in the morning while everyone else gets ready. But I didn't, and I'm not too sad that I opted out of a day of blogging to simply enjoy my vacation, the company of friends and the lack of obligation. (In case you're wondering, everyone's napping now, so I'm not being antisocial as I type this.)
I'm still going to try to get something up everyday, but I think NaBloPoMo is really about getting bloggers' creative juices flowing, and that, I can say it has heartily accomplished.
As for the vacation, we've been really enjoying ourselves. Yesterday was absolutely beautiful and we checked out some beautiful cliffs, old architecture and dined on an incredible meal. Pictures are forthcoming, and I expect to be back here posting about our last couple of days in Normandy tomorrow. I don't want to leave this place!
I'm still going to try to get something up everyday, but I think NaBloPoMo is really about getting bloggers' creative juices flowing, and that, I can say it has heartily accomplished.
As for the vacation, we've been really enjoying ourselves. Yesterday was absolutely beautiful and we checked out some beautiful cliffs, old architecture and dined on an incredible meal. Pictures are forthcoming, and I expect to be back here posting about our last couple of days in Normandy tomorrow. I don't want to leave this place!
A day in Granville
We've been having an absolute blast on our trip so far (not that anything less is expected from such amazing hosts). Today, we went into Granville, had a galette lunch, enjoyed the two hours of sun, visited Christian Dior's house and spent the evening at home with drinks and games and drinking games. I love vacation! Needless to say, I'm not giving up anymore of my vacay time to write a post, so my go at NaBloPoMo will have to be satisfied with a picture post. Enjoy!
Gui waiting to head out in the rain.
The hearth with bacon & steaks grilling - where we stopped for lunch.
The hearth with bacon & steaks grilling - where we stopped for lunch.
Gone country
La Rentrée is in full swing and Parisians are abandoning the sand, sun and holiday homes and flocking back to their 20-meters-squared flats in the city. Gui's mom returned Sunday from her few weeks spent on the beaches of Deauville and Normandy, and since we weren't able to meet her at the beach, we decided to spend a day together at her late father's home in the village of Marcq.
Marcq has less than 600 inhabitants and is considered "the country" by city folk, yet it's literally a 20-25 minute car ride from our apartment in the south of Paris. Gui and I spent Christmas day there, and it's where I learned just how much food my stomach could handle in one sitting (I stopped after eating my 6th course). The property that Gui's family owns there is currently for sale, as they're looking to buy property in a more popular place closer to the beach. It's a shame because Les Trois Granges, as the property is called, is really spectacular, especially in the summer. It's comprised of three separate buildings - one main house, a guest house and another completely gutted guest house that once served as Gui's grandfather's workshop. There's also a fairly large garage and enormous carport on the property, but the most striking asset, in my opinion, is the land itself. It's full of gorgeous flower gardens, brilliant green grass, charming stone arches, and a variety of fruit trees. Guillaume and his cousin Ben even have their own trees that they used to hang out in when they'd visit their grandpa as young, nature-loving boys. In one part of the land, there's a scarcely-tended garden that once boasted hearty tomatoes, zucchini, carrots, raspberries, and fresh herbs like lavender, rosemary and sage. There's something very nostalgic about the place. It's rustic, but not in a trendy way; it's grand, but not grandiose; it's mystical, not unlike The Secret Garden.
Being there during Summer was totally different from my first visit in December when we mostly stayed indoors, keeping warm by the chimney and staying drunk on fois gras and champagne. The garden really beckons in the summer sun, tantalizing the nature-loving spirit in even the most stubborn, city-loving folk. It was both a sentimental and exhilarating endeavor uncovering the treasures in the garden and behind the cobwebs of the lifeless buildings. I felt like Guillaume must have felt when he was a kid stumbling upon the tools in his grandfather's workshop imagining himself one day old enough to have his own workshop and tools - except my imagination was envisioning a massive garden and a small farm.
While we were there, a family stopped by unannounced to take a peak at the estate, but were asked to arrange a proper rendezvous before visiting. We were all relaxing after a late summer lunch, and apparently, impromptu visits are less than welcome, especially during August. I felt a twinge of guilty relief that they weren't allowed past the gates to be enchanted by its picturesque beauty, wishing that the place could stay "ours" just a little while longer.
When we finally made our way back to reality, I shared with Gui my newfound interest in living outside of a big city, in a more rural setting someday. I've always been a city girl, but more recently he's heard me gab about owning a garden and living off of our own, seasonally-grown fruits and vegetables, and he understands my appreciation for horticulture. But, the moment I mentioned owning a small hen house, he made it clear that that was where he drew the line. He has no desire to be a farmer, to own any more animals than a cat or dog, or to labor on a farm under a beating sun. I suppose my ideas for a home on the range are going a bit too far, but I guess the part of me that misses the green grass and wide-open spaces of living in Texas is longing for my own piece of earth to harvest and tend. As electrifying as Paris may be, it pales in comparison to the dazzling scape of the countryside and all the possibilities that it brings. Although we don't have set plans on how long we intend to stay in Paris, the Texan in me is optimistic that we'll find ourselves a little closer to my roots wherever we land next - even if that means an apartment with a simple garden.
Marcq has less than 600 inhabitants and is considered "the country" by city folk, yet it's literally a 20-25 minute car ride from our apartment in the south of Paris. Gui and I spent Christmas day there, and it's where I learned just how much food my stomach could handle in one sitting (I stopped after eating my 6th course). The property that Gui's family owns there is currently for sale, as they're looking to buy property in a more popular place closer to the beach. It's a shame because Les Trois Granges, as the property is called, is really spectacular, especially in the summer. It's comprised of three separate buildings - one main house, a guest house and another completely gutted guest house that once served as Gui's grandfather's workshop. There's also a fairly large garage and enormous carport on the property, but the most striking asset, in my opinion, is the land itself. It's full of gorgeous flower gardens, brilliant green grass, charming stone arches, and a variety of fruit trees. Guillaume and his cousin Ben even have their own trees that they used to hang out in when they'd visit their grandpa as young, nature-loving boys. In one part of the land, there's a scarcely-tended garden that once boasted hearty tomatoes, zucchini, carrots, raspberries, and fresh herbs like lavender, rosemary and sage. There's something very nostalgic about the place. It's rustic, but not in a trendy way; it's grand, but not grandiose; it's mystical, not unlike The Secret Garden.
Being there during Summer was totally different from my first visit in December when we mostly stayed indoors, keeping warm by the chimney and staying drunk on fois gras and champagne. The garden really beckons in the summer sun, tantalizing the nature-loving spirit in even the most stubborn, city-loving folk. It was both a sentimental and exhilarating endeavor uncovering the treasures in the garden and behind the cobwebs of the lifeless buildings. I felt like Guillaume must have felt when he was a kid stumbling upon the tools in his grandfather's workshop imagining himself one day old enough to have his own workshop and tools - except my imagination was envisioning a massive garden and a small farm.
While we were there, a family stopped by unannounced to take a peak at the estate, but were asked to arrange a proper rendezvous before visiting. We were all relaxing after a late summer lunch, and apparently, impromptu visits are less than welcome, especially during August. I felt a twinge of guilty relief that they weren't allowed past the gates to be enchanted by its picturesque beauty, wishing that the place could stay "ours" just a little while longer.
When we finally made our way back to reality, I shared with Gui my newfound interest in living outside of a big city, in a more rural setting someday. I've always been a city girl, but more recently he's heard me gab about owning a garden and living off of our own, seasonally-grown fruits and vegetables, and he understands my appreciation for horticulture. But, the moment I mentioned owning a small hen house, he made it clear that that was where he drew the line. He has no desire to be a farmer, to own any more animals than a cat or dog, or to labor on a farm under a beating sun. I suppose my ideas for a home on the range are going a bit too far, but I guess the part of me that misses the green grass and wide-open spaces of living in Texas is longing for my own piece of earth to harvest and tend. As electrifying as Paris may be, it pales in comparison to the dazzling scape of the countryside and all the possibilities that it brings. Although we don't have set plans on how long we intend to stay in Paris, the Texan in me is optimistic that we'll find ourselves a little closer to my roots wherever we land next - even if that means an apartment with a simple garden.
Pictures from our visit in Marcq. Enjoy!
Good news and a bullet list
I'm simply overjoyed at the news that a friend from home is going to be moving to the Paris area in less than three weeks! We had just started getting to know each other before I made my way over at the end of last year and again in June when Gui and I visited, but we've kept in touch through blogs and emails as she's continued working towards getting her visa to be an au pair in Paris. She got news a couple of days ago that she'll be arriving on September 7th, which is just insanely soon! Unlike the first time I packed my bags and headed to France, this will be her first time travelling outside of the US - ever!
Walking to the marché this morning, I started thinking of how I felt the first time I traveled across the world and what thoughts and emotions were running through my mind. My first trip outside of the States was to Trinidad and Tobago (yeah, that was awesome), and then I took a trip to England before making the big move to Nottingham for a few months. I was young, so carefree, so wide-eyed. My summer in Rome was the first time I'd been in a non-English-speaking country, and being in a school setting, having friends and knowing people in the same situation as myself was, I think, what made communication so easy and kept me distracted from my nerves or self-inflicting complexes about speaking another language.
Having lived in and around Paris for a total of about seven months, I can say that many of my initial ideas about this city have changed, but not all for the worse. Reading blog, after blog, after blog of people who've been here and done everything I've done has undoubtedly made the transition so much easier. I thank the blog gods for giving people a place to rant and rave about their woes and joys so that we might all learn from them and feel just a little more normal when our lives begin to unfold like a comic book.
So, in an effort to offer my Paris-bound friend some advice about what to bring, what to leave behind and what to expect, here are a few odd things that cross my mind about my move here.
Walking to the marché this morning, I started thinking of how I felt the first time I traveled across the world and what thoughts and emotions were running through my mind. My first trip outside of the States was to Trinidad and Tobago (yeah, that was awesome), and then I took a trip to England before making the big move to Nottingham for a few months. I was young, so carefree, so wide-eyed. My summer in Rome was the first time I'd been in a non-English-speaking country, and being in a school setting, having friends and knowing people in the same situation as myself was, I think, what made communication so easy and kept me distracted from my nerves or self-inflicting complexes about speaking another language.
Having lived in and around Paris for a total of about seven months, I can say that many of my initial ideas about this city have changed, but not all for the worse. Reading blog, after blog, after blog of people who've been here and done everything I've done has undoubtedly made the transition so much easier. I thank the blog gods for giving people a place to rant and rave about their woes and joys so that we might all learn from them and feel just a little more normal when our lives begin to unfold like a comic book.
So, in an effort to offer my Paris-bound friend some advice about what to bring, what to leave behind and what to expect, here are a few odd things that cross my mind about my move here.
- I desperately wish I would have bought more shave gel on our last trip to TX. I seriously can't bring myself to pay 5 euros for a can of Gillette shave gel when I know I can get the same for less than half the price on the other side of the world. Some things are just too hard to let go of.
- I'm cursing myself for thinking that I'd somehow expect my mom to go through the bags and boxes of clothes that I've left behind in order to pick out what I might need for the winter time so that she could send it to me. I should have been more organized and made more of an effort to gather and label my things for easy reference and shipment to France instead of pawning it all off on my poor mom. Now, I'm left with a very boring and monochromatic wardrobe that's getting old really quickly and will no way last me through the crazy winter we're bound to have. (I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I find a job so I can do some guilt-free shopping at the winter soldes.)
- Flats are my best friends here. I wish I had the insight to buy more flats before coming (even those cheapy Target ones) because one really can't have enough with these crazy cobblestone sidewalks popping up all over the place. If I could, I'd buy a new pair everyday, but we all know that's not possible!
- And, by flats, I don't mean tennis shoes. I brought four pairs of "trainers" or "tennis shoes" with me here, - and I don't mean the New Balance track & field kind, but the cute brown and gold Coach tennis, sporty Pumas, and stylish Diesels - and I've found nothing says not à la mode more than a girl in sport shoes. So, my tennis shoes only come out when I'm moving stuff or actually running (uh, that's pretty much never). Comfy flats are where it's at!
- Resisting the urge to pass a friendly smile to strangers hasn't been as difficult as I imagined, but the guilt I feel after flashing a blank face out of habit to someone trying to be friendly is mortifying. For me, it's harder to revert back to being smiley after I've already conformed to my newfound survival tactics.
- All the friendly peeps in Paris make up for those unfriendly ones. I've learned to take the bad with the good here - it's usually not always one or the other. One friendly smile, or short conversation about the weather from a complete stranger (especially an older one) is enough to keep my spirits up for the rest of the day.
- I don't mind walking around the city or through the marchés and shopping centers, but I really hate walking to my metro station. It's only a 6-8 minute walk from our apartment, but it's the walk I despise the most. I don't know why. I'm thinking it's a subconscious reflection that comes from my years of car-dependency, and walking any further than the garage makes the part of my brain that deals with laziness start going crazy with fury. Hmmm.
- As much as I gorged on Tex-Mex on our last trip, I wish I would have eaten more.
Lovely La Rochelle
La Rochelle was great! The forecast called for rain and clouds for the wedding day, so we were all genuinely surprised that the weather was picture perfect all day. It wasn't until evening that we finally got rain, but by that time we were all too schnockered and full of lovey-doveyness to even care. Plus, we were indoors - dancing like 8th-graders at a homecoming dance (or maybe that was just me and Gui).
Being the first full-on French wedding for me, the classy guests didn't let me down and everyone showed up looking glamorous as ever. Hats were in full-force and it was chignon galore for the rest of the ladies. Thanks to my lovelies back home, I fit right in with the chic femmes as I donned the head-turning feather hat they made me for my bachelorette party. The bride's mom even gave me a compliment on my hair accessory! Gui and I also got a little more wear out of our pricey wedding shoes, which I can't believe I managed to wear again for nearly 12 hours without pain! It felt empowering to strut around in a pair of 4-inchers again - something I miss doing, but will likely never be brave enough to do in Paris.
The food, champagne, cake, wedding gown, views, beach, guests, entertainment and FOOD were just superb. I ate every bite of my five-course meal and drank every glass of wine and champagne I was given - except for that one that the waiter took away while I was in the bathroom. Grrrrr. And we gorged on moules-frites, nutella crepes and Schtroumpf (Smurf) ice cream as our hangover food the next day, after a long day of lounging in the garden and at the beach. I wish we could've stayed longer, but the weather turned gloomy just as we left on Saturday, so we figured it was a sign.
I took pictures of everything - it was all so beautiful!! But, I'll spare you the 25o-picture slide show and just show you a few highlights of our trip. Enjoy!
Being the first full-on French wedding for me, the classy guests didn't let me down and everyone showed up looking glamorous as ever. Hats were in full-force and it was chignon galore for the rest of the ladies. Thanks to my lovelies back home, I fit right in with the chic femmes as I donned the head-turning feather hat they made me for my bachelorette party. The bride's mom even gave me a compliment on my hair accessory! Gui and I also got a little more wear out of our pricey wedding shoes, which I can't believe I managed to wear again for nearly 12 hours without pain! It felt empowering to strut around in a pair of 4-inchers again - something I miss doing, but will likely never be brave enough to do in Paris.
The food, champagne, cake, wedding gown, views, beach, guests, entertainment and FOOD were just superb. I ate every bite of my five-course meal and drank every glass of wine and champagne I was given - except for that one that the waiter took away while I was in the bathroom. Grrrrr. And we gorged on moules-frites, nutella crepes and Schtroumpf (Smurf) ice cream as our hangover food the next day, after a long day of lounging in the garden and at the beach. I wish we could've stayed longer, but the weather turned gloomy just as we left on Saturday, so we figured it was a sign.
I took pictures of everything - it was all so beautiful!! But, I'll spare you the 25o-picture slide show and just show you a few highlights of our trip. Enjoy!
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