Life is like a load of laundry...

A pretty common sight in France, and most of continental Europe for that matter, found in the biggest of cities and the smallest of villages, is the site of laundry that's been hung out to dry. You can't go far in my village without seeing someone's scivies blowing in the breeze, and for most of my village's population, the notion of owning a tumble dryer simply hasn't occurred to them.

So it amused me to read an article in the New York Times that talked about how bans exist in parts of the States against hanging out the laundry, for the simple reason that many find it akin to having an old jalopy parked on their neighbor's driveway- an eyesore and bad for the neighborhood's property prices.

I'd like to think that hanging the laundry out to dry is an example of a collective French environmental consciousness, but I somehow I think this simple act pre-dates any Al Gore rhetoric...

Oops!

Two American tourists will have a pretty embarrassing story to tell their family when they return home from their trip to France. According to our local paper, the Midi Libre, they confused the marche avant et marche arrière sur le levier de vitesse (basically first gear and reverse on the stick shift) on their rental car and drove it into the canal in Sète. Doh! Luckily there was a policeman nearby who helped them fish it out and get all of the water out of the car, but unfortunately their luggage was soaked through. Puts a bit of a damper on the holiday, n'est-ce pas?

I guess I never thought about it too much, but it does seem that automatics are rare here in Europe, and they can be difficult to find at rental companies in France. If you do find a rental company that does automatics, you have to be prepared to pay 20-30% more for it.

I've had clients from the States who've told me they simply do not know how to drive a manual car and I know French people who have never even seen an automatic transmission. So why such a big cultural difference?

I'm American and I learned to drive on a manual car. In fact, my dad dropped me off at the car dealership and told me if I wanted it I had to drive it home (across town). I learned pretty quickly.... I don't think I've ever owned an automatic, for some reason I prefer shifting gears. I guess I feel like I'm more in control or something.

I do sorta think it would be a good idea to know how to drive both; you never know when it might come in handy. And it just might keep you out of an embarrassing situation while on holiday in France!

The secret is out...

As I stand at the school gates waiting to pick the little ladies up for lunch, I can't help feeling proud of how well they've integrated. I watch as they run around with their friends, playing games and jabbering away in French, oblivious to the fact that they are cross-cultural kids- part American, part English, French-born.

But as the gates open and the kids come spilling out for lunch, I know that underneath their outward appearances of being just like any of their French friends, there lies a dirty little secret. Because while their friends head home to eat a hot, homemade 3- course lunch, my girls will come home to a very different plat du jour.

A normal school day lunch chez nous usually consists of a sandwich (with pb&j being the preferred choice), some fruit, some cheese, maybe some cold ham, and a handful of nuts or Bugles. If I'm feeling a bit indulgent, they may get a bowl of hot soup, but this is usually the extent of a 'hot lunch' at our house.

You see, I guess old habits die hard. The light lunch, big dinner habits of my lifetime are being passed onto my kids, even though we are living in the world of eating lunch like a Prince, dinner like a pauper. I just can't seem to shake my ingrained belief in the notion that it is really a full, hot dinner that forms the cornerstone of a good day.

Dinner is given an incredible amount of thought in our house, from finding new recipes to looking forward to what's for dinner each night. Lunch, not so much. And I know, I know, it is so much healthier to eat the French way, it just seems to be one of the hardest habits from the old country to kick.

The other mothers haven't discovered our awful secret yet. Play dates at our house are conveniently scheduled for either the morning up until lunch, or for the afternoon directly after lunch. I'm too worried that the secret of what we eat for lunch will get out and sweep the village. Oh, the shame of it.

I know my children eat well. While their lunch might not be hot or extravagant, it's usually well-balanced and wholesome. But am I doing a disservice to them, raising them in France but serving them an American lunch?

The Crêpe vs. The Groundhog...

It's La Chandeleur today, which means it's crêpe eating day in France. Not that you really ever need an excuse to eat crêpes here, but doing so today could bring your family prosperity for the coming year.

And like Groundhog day in the States, the weather conditions today could predict whether or not we have to suffer a longer winter or are just weeks away from an early Spring. Here are some old sayings related to La Chandeleur:

A la Chandeleur, l'hiver cesse ou reprend vigueur.

Chandeleur couverte, quarante jours de perte.

Rosée à la Chandeleur, hiver à sa dernière heure.

Si le jour de la Chandeleur il fait beau, il y aura du vin comme de l'eau.

It's pretty gray and rainy today, but warm, so your guess is as good as mine what that means. I'm pretty sure there won't be any shadow spotting today though.

So I'll make the little ladies some crêpes for lunch, although traditionally I think you are supposed to eat them after 8 pm. You are also supposed to hold a coin in one hand while you flip the crêpe in the pan with the other hand. If you have a successful flip, you are in the money, apparently. If it lands on the floor, you might as well just go ahead and file for bankruptcy.

Not sure how the coin flipping will come into my crêpe making though. As you can see in the photo, I'm a cheat crêpe maker. I use a gadget which produces 6 small but perfectly formed crêpes at the same time. The flipping part isn't quite as treacherous as it would be if you were using a pan, so I'm not at the same risk of losing the crêpe on the floor. Will it still count?

I'd much rather be eating crêpes today than standing out in a prairie waiting for a groundhog to appear, and I'm hoping the whole flipping prophecy is a little more reliable than depending on the fickle temperament of a fuzzy rodent.

But I think it's my duty as an American in France to invent a tradition which combines the two holidays. Like saying if the groundhog can come out of his hole and whip up a batch of crêpes, then summer will start immediately.

Or maybe I could perfect a recipe for groundhog flavored crêpes...

Of the 101 things I love about France...

#68 would be the coffee culture. I'm quite partial to a frothy grand crème in the morning, une noisette in the afternoon and a sharp little café after a big dinner. I like the simplicity of ordering coffee at a café, although it has taken me a few years to hone my French coffee drinking to perfection. After a few amateur attempts at finding the right coffee for the right time of day, I think I've found my magic formula.

Coffee, how one orders it and how one drinks it, represents a huge cultural difference between France and the States. It's funny how a basic thing, how people satisfy their addiction for a hot legal stimulant, can be so perplexing and different, depending on what country you are in.

What I like about coffee in France is that there's no bs in coffee ordering; no skinnies or mochas or vanilla nut bean. You basically choose milk or no milk and then the size, which ranges from a thimble full to a normal coffee cup size. After all these years in France, I have a hard time remembering what the attraction was to an endless pot of weak coffee.

Before the invasion of Starbuck's, the idea of buying a giant coffee in a paper cup with a lid to go would have seemed absurd to the French. I remember having a travel coffee mug in the States that I never left home without. I don't think I've ever seen a French person drinking coffee in their car here. Part of the enjoyment of coffee drinking in France is the café culture, whether it's sitting on the terrace of a Parisian café or bellied up to the counter in a village bar.

I rarely see the French take milk in their coffee after breakfast, and after dinner, forget about it. When offered coffee at a French friend's house, milk is rarely proffered with it. My local bar owner shudders and says it's simply degueulasse the amount of milky coffee les anglais drink throughout the day.

Sure, great coffee can be found the world over, but the subtle nuances of how to order just the right cup of coffee can be overwhelming in some countries. It seems to me though that once you master the art of ordering the perfect cup, whatever country you are in, you become just that little bit closer to understanding that culture and its people.

Recently, though, I've sensed a shift in the coffee culture here. Cafés are struggling a little under the smoking ban, with some of the regulars who smoke drinking less coffee and not staying as long. And the French love affair with tea and infusions seems to be increasing as well. A non-smoking, herbal-tea-drinking Frenchman just doesn't quite conjure up the same stereotypical image the world used to have. Maybe that's a good thing, but I just don't want to imagine a France without its cafés and coffee...

Birthday parties à la français...

Tomorrow the littlest lady turns 4 and is having a party, or a goûter d'anniversaire as it's called here. Her friends from her class- Faustine, Margot, Ornelia, Celia, Maelys, Ava, Emma, and Léna are coming over for a two hour TinkerBell (la fée clochette) themed party.

I feel like I'm getting the hang of these kid birthday parties in France. One of my first attempts still gets the occasional giggle from one of the French mothers who said the other mothers were very amused at my crudités, pinata and organized games. Apparently here, all that's called for is a cake, a bowl of bon bons and enough space for the kids to run around in a sugar-induced frenzy.

So compared to some of the stories I hear of people in the UK (and possibly the US?) who spend shed loads of money on entertainers, food and party favors, we get off pretty lightly here. And the kids still manage to get over excited and talk of nothing else for the next week.

The hardest part this time will be the small talk with the other parents who stick around, as I don't know that many of them and will have to get through the whole 'oh-you're-foreign-I-can-barely-understand-your-French-but-tell-me-your-life-story-anyway' routine. Integration into a small French village is a never-ending process (or at least it feels like it after 8 years).

The oldest little lady's friends' parents are used to me by now. Let's just hope this new set are as cooperative, er, I mean, nice.....

bowling and castanets....

Two questions on my mind as I leave the house for work this morning:

1. Why do my children insist on calling the game with a ball and 10 pins 'skittles' when they know damn well it's called 'bowling'?

2. Can a skinny white girl from South Dakota every really learn to use castanets properly?

Robin Williams and French Diplomacy...

A whole new take on kitchens...

Can you imagine this commercial playing in the States? Somehow I think not.

From bullfights to His Holiness the Dalai Lama...

Living in France has always been full of mind-opening experiences for me. Trying to get used to a new culture and way of life has been one of the most, shall we say, interesting aspects of being an American in France. As soon as I start to feel as if I'm getting a handle on the way France works, something happens that sends me into a new whirlwind of confusion.

I live amongst people who one day participate in the pageantry and tradition of Spanish bullfighting, and the next day, pay homage to Tibet's exiled spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama. Okay, so it may not be the same people, but the fact that these two events are both happening within 40 minutes of where I live doesn't half confuse the vision I have of the typical French person.

The Dalai Lama arrived in Paris yesterday to start a 12-day conference in France, where he will be visiting various towns in France for temple blessings and religious teaching. One of his last stops will be at the Lerab-Ling Temple near Lodeve, which is a 40-minute drive from my house.

The event is of course surrounded in a bit of controversy, as President Sarkozy has decided not to meet up with His Holiness, in light of his attendance at the Olympics and the ongoing struggles between China and Tibet. However, the first lady will be attending the temple blessing in Lodeve.

What a busy year Mrs Sarkozy has had already....

This is hilarious and thought of you.....

This is the kind of thing I had to put up with living in England for 4 years.

To the citizens of the United States of America from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

In light of your failure in recent years to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves,
we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy).



Your new Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, will appoint a Governor for America without the need for further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded.

A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

(You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary.)



1. Then look up aluminium, and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

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2. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour', 'favour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' with out skipping half the letters, and the suffix '-ize' will be replaced by the suffix '-ise'. Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up 'vocabulary').

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3. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as US English. We will let M*crosoft know on your behalf. The M*crosoft spell- checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of -ize.

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4. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.

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5. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not quite ready to be independent. Guns should only be used for shooting grouse. If you can't sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not ready to shoot grouse.

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6. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

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7. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables.

Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

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8. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline)-roughly $10/US gallon. Get used to it.

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9. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.

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10. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. South African beer is also acceptable as they are pound for pound the greatest sporting Nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer. They are also part of British Commonwealth - see what it did for them. American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.

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11. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie Macdowell attempt English dialogue in Four Weddings and a Funeral was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.

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12. You will cease playing American football. There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body Armour like a bunch of nancies). Don't try Rugby - the South Africans and Kiwis will thrash you, like they regularly thrash us.

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13. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the South Africans first to take the sting out of their deliveries.

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14. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.

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15. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).

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16. Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 pm with proper cups, with saucers, and never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; plus strawberries (with cream) when in season.

God Save the Queen.