Birthday Reflections

Today is my birthday. My 27th, plus a few anniversaries of my 27th! Each year on this day I like to reflect about where I am, what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with. This year is one of the best so far. I am married to a man I adore. My kids have all grown into exceptional people. Our family has grown with the addition of Trey, Liz, Nicole, Nicole, Joey, and our grandchildren, Lorelei, Carter, Lillian and Avery four of the best grandkids ever! I am at a place in my life where I am happy, retired, and living abroad, just like Alan and I had planned. Life is good!

But as with all the years before, this one I find myself wondering how I got so lucky. Many of you who know me may not know my secret: I had amazing parents.

Not just great parents, but amazing parents. I’m not saying that they didn’t ground us when we got out of line, or spank us when we were bad, but they loved us enough to get mad at us when we got out of line and to expect us to be better people.

I remember my Mom telling me recently that a friend of hers mentioned that we never talk much about our childhood when we’re together. I told her that as an adult I realized that many people didn’t have the same childhood and so after a while it almost feels like bragging to say that you’re family had no dysfunction and that you had an ideal childhood.

But today is different, because it’s my time to reflect and I owe a large part of my success to my parents. They were not the kind of parents who sat on the sidelines watching their children practice baseball, they coached the team. I remember growing up in Redding, California when the summers would get up to 120 degrees. We had a swimming pool in the backyard, but neither of my parents swam. So to ensure that their children didn’t drown in the pool they signed us up for swim lessons, every single summer. I remember my mother sitting on a hot metal bench for hours and hours every day while the four of us girls were in the water. She never complained, not once, not ever.

My mother was completely selfless. She literally was the world’s greatest Mom. Not because the living was full of presents at Christmas (although it was), or that birthdays were not a huge to do (they were — I got a BB gun and a horse [Libertee] for my 12th birthday). It was because she cooked us breakfast every single morning regardless of what her day was like or whether or not she had to go to work, not cold cereal, but bacon, eggs, pancakes, waffles, or omelets. Every. Single. Day.

She and my father put is in private school so that we would get a good education. They drove us round trip nearly 25 miles a day through the school year. Twice a day if one of us had practice since we played softball, volleyball, basketball and did cheerleading.

However, I don’t recall either of them spending money for new cars, new clothes, new shoes for themselves, but us girls never wanted for anything. And we didn’t have to suffer through a parent ranting about all the luxuries they got for us, not once in my entire life did either of my parents make us feel bad for the things that they did for us or didn’t do for themselves. Completely selfless.

They taught us the value of family, those people in your life that drive you crazy, but love and support you, regardless of what dumbass thing you’ve just done. That’s not to say they won’t tease you about it for the remainder of your life, but to the world in general they show complete and total solidarity. At least that’s what I grew up believing to be true according to Mom and Dad.

I remember in high school complaining to a friend about one of my sisters with whom I had recently had a fight when a boy who had overheard said something nasty about her. My wrath was immediate and I swung around and punched him in the face telling him “Don’t you dare speak about my sister like that.” I didn’t break his nose but he was bleeding pretty badly, I nearly got suspended from school, until my Dad asked why I had hit him. I told him why and my Dad told the principal, he probably shouldn’t have said that about her sister. In my Dad’s mind, I was in the right and the boy was in the wrong, he defended me to the principal and I promised the principal that I wouldn’t hit him again as long as he didn’t talk crap about my sister. Family, blood thicker than water, et. al. They always had our backs.

My parents taught us so many lessons about family, faith, persistence, happiness, and work ethic. My biggest fear in life has always been to disappoint these two amazing people. Their lessons have all stuck with me and to this day I still base many of my decisions on whether or not they would be proud of the results.

They are in fact my secret weapon for a simple, happy life. The arsenal: work hard, play hard, love easily, live life to the fullest. Never settle for second-best, when first place is achievable. Hard work will get you all the luck you need, good choices will complete the process. The lessons were many, I cherish them all. Dad had a saying for everything. Some of my dearly loved favorites are:

“Consider it done.” This was a response to anything asked of him, ever.

“If you look under rocks, you’re bound to find snakes.” When boy trouble occurred in a house full of girls.

“Do you want it hard enough to work for it?” When asked about borrowing cash, cars, clothes from either parent.

“Everything is fine when done in moderation.” A response to “there’s a party this weekend, Dad, can I go?”

They were quirky and funny and I love them both so much for taking the time to put thought into childrearing. Every single lesson has made me the person I am today and I am eternally grateful for each and every one of them.

They didn’t chastise often, but let you know that they were onto your fun and games behind their backs. Cruising was very popular when I was a teenager. How else does one find a party on the weekend, right? My parents would let us get ready, leave the house and usually within the hour we would see them “cruising” as well. Kind of puts a damper on the whole idea when your parents are driving by and waving at you.

When I used to go to this one particular dive bar with a borrowed ID, my Dad would often show up outside the bar at 2 am to give me a lift home, nothing was ever said, just a safe ride home for his errant daughter and her friends.

I snuck out of the house a couple of times as a kid, the first night I tried my Dad had fallen asleep on the couch watching the news. As I tiptoed by him, he said to me “Do you have enough money?” I responded, “Yea Dad, I’m good.” He said, “Be home before 5, you know your Mom gets up early.”  “Okay Dad, Love you.” I told him before leaving the house. This became a ritual we repeated many, many times. I hadn’t even realized until I was telling that story about a year after he passed away, that he never told my mother, not even after I was grown and gone, but kept that confidence the rest of his life.

These two people are completely and totally responsible for the person I am today. And, since it’s my birthday, I’d just like to say Thanks Mom and Dad, you guys are awesome!!

momdad

My Mom and Dad, Doug and Etta White, circa 1963

momdadme

Mom, Dad and Me, circa 1964

momme

Mom and Me the day I married Alan, Dad was there in spirit

Bus Riding 101 and a Shark Face

Yesterday we rode the bus for the first time here in Carcassonne.

We are not the world’s most experienced travelers, but we have used public transportation before in San Francisco, Washington, D.C. and Rome while traveling. It isn’t that hard to figure out how a bus, trolley, metro works but there are some differences in each place . . . we learned about some of those differences on our travels yesterday.

We woke up and decided today is the day we will try riding the bus. Where to go? The grocery store, of course. In many places and even in Reno/Sparks the buses always have stops near grocery stores and we wanted to look for better grocery prices than those in the tourist areas, which we know are higher priced with minimal selection. We had visited a Geant Casino supermarket in Montpellier and Alan did a little online research and found there are two here in Carcassonne. So we got ready and headed out to ride the bus to a grocery store.

Which bus to take? There are 11 bus routes around Carcassonne, there is no printed route map that has all of the routes listed. Cathy, our new friend at the tourist office had told us that one street over from ours is one of the main offices of the bus system Agglo’transport. So we headed to the bus system office.

Alan talked to the nice elderly gentleman behind the counter and asked if he spoke English. He said with a surprisingly Italian accent, “a little.” Alan said we wanted to go to Geant Casino, the man asked “which one?” Alan replied “either one.” The little man, circling the times on the route 1 brochure, said “that’s your bus out there, go, I call and let him know you come.”

So without any fanfare, we raced over to hop on a bus. Alan had thoughtfully scooped up the brochure before leaving the bus office.

We board the bus and the driver said, “Geant Casino” we smiled and said “Oui.” We paid him 2 Euro and found a seat.

15 minutes later we arrive at Geant Casino and get off the bus. TaDa! Bus trip number 1 accomplished!! We congratulated each other and entered the store to have our first “supermarket” experience in Carcassonne.

We went inside, found that it is like a mini-mall, and there was a coffee bar so Cafe Creme it is! A nice way to celebrate our successful bus riding affair.

Fortified with caffeine, we go to the corral of shopping carts only to realize that they are all chained together. We look around and see that other people have shopping carts and realize that there must be a way to get one unlocked. We look at the mechanism, there are no directions. Alan notices a slot and realizes that something must fit in it to remove the hook from the cart. We assume a coin of some sort, but there are lots of coins and we’re not sure which and don’t want to jam the mechanism.

Thankfully, a little girl about 10 years old comes by to get the cart for her mom and Alan notices that she got the cart unlocked, then scooped out a handful of coins and asked, “which one?” She grabbed a 2 Euro coin and showed him it was too big. He scooped out another handful of coins and she selected the 1 Euro coin and showed him how to unlock the cart.

So we’ve now been inside the building for 45 minutes and we’ve managed to drink a cup of coffee and unlock the grocery cart. Feeling a bit deflated after our earlier high, we head into the store and spend the next two hours walking up and down every aisle trying to familiarize ourselves with the grocery store.

As some of you have already read, I had issues over the potato chips. Realizing that this supermarket has much better prices than the ones downtown in the tourist area we select a few purchases for the upcoming week and head to the checkout.

And voila! Bus ride and grocery shopping, done. We even figured out how to get the 1 Euro coin back out of the cart lock mechanism – score!

We walk back to the bus stop where we got off the bus and headed across the street believing that the return trip would start there. We only had to wait about 10 minutes before the driver arrived with the bus.

Yippee! Bus ride number 2, commenced!

The bus didn’t use the same route on the return and we unknowingly figured that it would get to where it was going, circle back and repeat the route. It’s how it works most everywhere we’ve been before. So we stay on the bus and when we reach the far side of town, enjoying the sightseeing, in the opposite direction of where we got on, the driver stops and as we are the only ones still on the bus says “Terminus – you must got off!”

A little shocked and wary, we gather our two bags of goodies from the grocery store and hop off the bus. Alan asks the driver “Is another bus coming?” the driver says “Oui” and leaves. We look at each other and realize we haven’t the slightest clue where we are. I told Alan ‘I think we’re near the other Geant Casino, I think I recognized the logo a couple of stops before this one.” He says, “then we’re on the other side of  town.”

Okay then, but we want to be on OUR side of town. Where we got on the bus, near the apartment, not here with bags of groceries and no bus.

We had spotted a KFC across the roundabout and decide to take a moment to regroup, eat something, get something cold to drink and then look at the bus schedule. Alan spotted the bus schedule kiosk so we noted the time for the next bus would arrive and headed over to KFC to grab some lunch. We pulled out the bus route brochure Alan had thoughtfully scooped up at the bus office, look at it after we eat and realize that there are little tiny, hard to see without your glasses, arrows showing the direction the bus travels and realize that the next bus would take us back to our original starting point.

We finish our drinks, walk back to the stop where the driver left us and waited until the bus returned. A different driver thankfully, one that hadn’t been witness to our “tourist” moment earlier.

We hopped on paid the driver and found a seat, rode until we reached our original starting point and felt pretty pleased that we didn’t let the whole extra two hour experience totally ruin the day.

This morning we decide to purposefully ride to the “other” Geant Casino and check their selection and prices and to determine which of the two will make for an easier trip with bags of groceries. Yesterdays experience has made us wary.

We walked to the bus stop near the train station since we now know that we need to be on that part of the route to go where we want to go. The driver, same guy who dropped us at the “terminus” yesterday recognizes us and asks “Geant Casino” to which I stupidly reply, “Yes!” The driver tells us to take the other bus, #2, which had just pulled up behind him thinking that I wanted to go to same Geant Casino as I did yesterday. Confused we walk to bus #2 and ask Geant Casino, the driver shakes his head and points back to bus #1. We walk back to bus #1 and the driver shakes his head. The poor man is probably thinking we’re stupid tourists who like to be lost, but we pay him the fare and find a seat.

We did end up at Geant Casino #2, and did our shopping. Today’s Geant Casino had really, really fresh fish — including a small shark displayed with the head removed and set to the side with a lemon in its mouth! We opted for pork instead. This store had the same deplorable selection of potato chips, in case anyone was wondering. Then managed to catch the right bus to the stop a  block from the apartment. We have decided that Geant #2 is the better route, a longer walk to catch the bus but a shorter walk with bags of groceries.

Now I’m wondering if the driver works that route all the time as I fear that every time he sees us from now on he may think we are his weirdo riders who fly all the way to France to get lost on a bus looking for grocery stores. Can’t image what he told his family about us today!

bus1

Agglo’transport Bus #1 (with our favorite driver!)

morechips

Once again, we found chicken flavoring on chips. But I really love the “bursting with flavor” on the ketchup flavored chips!!

freshfish

Today’s fresh catch.

 sharkface

Lemon Shark??

Kiara Update

These first few weeks have been rough on our little girl. Although it is never easy to determine what emotional or physical stressors your pet may feel, we do have a couple of indicators with Kiara.

Tail up, life is good. Tail down, not happy with you. Ears to the side, life is good. Ears behind me, not happy with you. Ears wiggling, I’m nervous. Ears straight forward, I’m on alert. Eyes soft and mildly sleepy, life is good. Eyes wide open, something’s up. Holding eye contact, life is good. Giving you the “side eye” stare, I’m pissed at you. And regardless of who gives the daily medication, the half-lidded, side-eye stare afterwards means Daddy is a jerk. Not sure why Daddy gets the brunt of the anger over medication, but it’s true all the same.

There are a lot more “tells” with our little dog. We pay very close attention to her and spend a lot of time watching her and trying to interpret what she wants when she stands in front of you looking with her big, soft, dark, dark eyes willing you to understand her. Drink, Hungry, Walk, Bedtime . . . she knows these words. If she stands in front of you and you say the thing she wants, she dances around and her ears wobble. Her way of saying, “good girl you got it!” She hasn’t lived with many other dogs and really doesn’t have much use for them anyway. Kiara is a “people,” she is not a dog and believes that she should not have to interact with some of those hairy, wet-nosed animals that try to flip her over from behind. She will walk around a potential canine friend to “introduce” herself to the person holding it’s leash. She doesn’t even know that dogs don’t usually hold a person’s gaze, she’ll look us straight in the eye and will us to understand what she wants. She’s not a barker either, odd for a little dog, but she rarely barks except to get our attention or to tell us someone is at the door. She’s quirky and funny and quiet . . . and for a week, she was blind. On Friday, April 12, Kiara had 8 seizures throughout the day that left her blind and with a loss of her gross motor skills.

Thankfully, her new French doctor, Dr. Broy, believed it to be a temporary situation. We have known since her first seizure at less than a year old that these symptoms may someday occur. To add to the complication of not being able to see, her gross motor skills were also affected in the seizure event. She was wobbly and toppled over if left standing on her own without support. But Dr. Broy seemed very assured that within 5 to 8 days our girl would be back to normal, or at least her version of normal.

We knew from the first seizure that Kiara’s lifespan would not be as long as other dogs in her weight class. We knew that having to put her on phenobarbital would eventually damage her liver. We knew that our baby required some fairly high maintenance care, medication twice a day for life, blood work twice a year for life, the need for better nutrition to keep her fit so that her medication is always at optimal range. Monitoring her behavior for signs of an approaching event. Making sure that she doesn’t suffer from undue stress. We even made sure to never leave her with strangers but hired sons, daughters, nieces and nephews to care for her when we had to be gone. Traveling meant having to remember to check that there would be enough medication for the trip and travel cases to keep it cold. But we’ve been happy to do it as she is ours to care for and we take that responsibility seriously.

So even though none of the current symptoms is a surprise, it still came as quite a shock to be told “She does not see.”

But let me back up to the stress issue. Her new doctor, a neurologist veterinarian (a dream for parents of a seizure dog) believes that stress played a part in the initial seizure event that got us where we were last week. We thought we took all the right precautions. We got the travel carrier months prior to our departure and put her in it often so that it wasn’t a shock. We opened the side panel and left her to wander in and out on her own. The day we left for France, we added her favorite blanket, her stuffed friend, her travel food dishes that she’s used for 3 years, and her hand-made halter so she wouldn’t beep going through the scanner with Mommy and be scared. We even selected an airline based on their in-flight animal policies so that she could travel on the plane with us.

Once we arrived, we put out her potty grass system that she’s used for 18 months successfully, her special pillow and other favorite blanket. A few of her toys and her food dishes with the food we brought with us. She didn’t have access to the bed like in our old place (it was a low platform bed she could get on by herself), but we tried to make sure that she had access to as many familiar things as possible.

And I think we got it right, for the most part, except for the tile floors (which she hates) and the lack of carpeting (which she loves). We no longer own a car, so we go everywhere on foot. We did prepare for her stamina being different than ours and bought a chest carrier, even used it a couple of times with her before we left until the cold weather drove us indoors. But the mistake that may have been made was in not preparing her for the physical changes we would ask of her in addition to all the new smells of a new home. We now take her for walks three times a day. Not long walks, but in the morning to Gambetta Square, in the afternoon to the river walk, and in the evening to the park on the far side of the river. It’s a lot more physical activity than she is used to and coupled with the cold, cold weather and cold, cold apartment interior upon our arrival I believe that our darling, little girl may have thought she was in the frozen version of hell.

And, although we took her out often, we also left her alone for an hour or two at a time. I believe it was a blend of new surroundings, being alone, jet lag and lack of access to the bed (her favorite place to curl up and sleep), that lead to the stress that caused the seizure event. Although we thought we had covered all the bases our little girl has once again shown us that life has a way of side-stepping all your well thought out plans.

We moved last Saturday, to our permanent apartment here in Carcassonne. We had a couple of surprises for the little one, like a rug in the living room that is closer to carpet and morning sun (one of her favorite things in the whole world). We were just beginning to formulate a plan for how to proceed if these symptoms ended up to be permanent (like how to reintroduce her world to her). But the doctor was correct and tthe symptoms were temporary, and life returned to normal for this precious girl of ours, on day eight just as the doctor predicted. But we are certainly wiser for the experience and hopeful that we can prevent it from happening again by being aware that our little one does not think she is a dog and needs a little extra assistance in accepting a new situation and owning the experience, just as we do.

Safety first

Kiara’s “hospital” bed while she was sick. Surrounded by pillows in case she tried to stand, so she wouldn’t hurt herself on the tile floor.

Kiara

Kiara, fully recovered.

Daddy and Kiara

Kiara and Daddy at the park (Mommy took the photo).

Flavor Hell

A few weeks ago I posted an article titled “Funny French Foods” where I had found some cute and/or funny foods in the grocery store. Today’s article is dedicated solely to potato chips. Some of you who know me well will know that I love potato chips and believe that chip/sandwich pairing is a real art. I cannot even enjoy a sandwich unless there are potato chips on the plate, and of course, I have my own favorite combinations: tuna sandwich with crunchy cheetos, roast beef and provolone sandwich with sour cream and onion potato chips, etc.

Image the horror of walking into the “Walmart of France” Geant Casino and finding the following assortment of chip flavors.

cream-blackpepper and light

Cream and Black Pepper (the ones on the right are Light chips)

olive

Collection of Tapas Olives – I like olives, but in a potato chip?

mustard-pickle

Mustard and Pickle [raised eyebrows] hmmmm

roast chicken and thyme

Roasted Chicken with Thyme (not quite chicken ‘n waffles)

sea salt from the Camargue

Sea salt from the Camargue (located south of Arles, France between the Mediterranean Sea and the two arms of the Rhone River Delta – I looked it up on Wikipedia)

provence

The Herbs of Provence — we keep seeing this everywhere, but haven’t yet figured out just exactly what the herbs are — my guess, lavender.

truffle and wasabi

For the refined palate — truffle and wasabi

paprika

Paprika — in a potato chip, this is just wrong, wrong, wrong

bbq-ribs

For your dining pleasure — BBQ Rib flavored potatoes — mmm, mmm good

old-summergrill

These basically translate as Old Chips with grilled summer flavor — probably not making it into the shopping cart

chorizo

Chorizo flavored chips — ack!

marinatedchicken

Then of course, more chicken, this time Marinated Chicken flavored chips — I am beginning to notice the French love chicken flavored things, not sure why

bacon

Bacon — potato chips even the dog will love!

chewableblondes-sourcream-herb

According to Google Translate this is a bag of “Chewable Blondes” with sour cream and herb flavors. I had to translate it twice because I was having trouble believing the first translation.

There are other types of chips and Alan even found my “comfort food” chips when I was ill during our second week here. But these really are the ones filling up the shelves and not just the oddity that we find on occasion. I must say that I do miss my Nacho Cheese Doritos, they were my “go to” chip whenever Alan made sandwiches!

We have a joke between us, Alan makes a sandwich and we get two slices of bread, a slice of cheese, a slice of meat and if he’s feeling like a chef, a slice of lettuce.

I make a sandwich and we get two slices of 12 grain bread with hummus, feta cheese, slices of sun-dried tomato flavored turkey, shredded romaine, clover sprouts, mini sweet pepper slices and chips that are perfectly chosen to enhance the flavor of the sandwich.

I miss my chips, but there may be some adventurous flavors awaiting me . . . however, I will not lower myself to the Paprika flavored chips, never, never.

Faux Amis – False Friends: False Cognates With English and French Words

What’s a “false friend?”

“False friends” are pairs of words in different languages which have similar spelling, so you assume they must have similar roots and meanings.  Well that assumption can sometimes be embarrassingly wrong.

Our total immersion into French culture and language has presented many opportunities to embarrass myself, thankfully not all of my assumptions made it past my lips in front of Tracy or folks on the street. I am still inching my way toward a basic working knowledge and fear there will be many more of these opportunities to embarrass myself with a “false friend.”

While many of these words may be well understood by anyone with a couple of years of high school French, I’ve posted below some of my more embarrassing/funny misunderstandings:

1.  La Mie de Pain

I assumed with the popularity of Fifty Shades of Grey that this might be a S&M dungeon.  It’s actually a bakery whose name is “The Breadcrumbs.”  Pain is the French word for bread.

La Mie de Pain
La Mie de Pain

2. Hôtel de Police

A travel hotel exclusively for visiting police officers?  No, the local offices of the police department.

Hotel de Police
Hotel de Police

3.  Librairie

Rather than being a public library with books to lend to the pubic, this is a very comprehensive bookstore and stationery business.

bookstore

4.  Menu

Where as in the US the menu is the brochure with a listing of meal offerings, menu in France is often posted on a notice board with a fixed-price meal of three or four courses: “Menu = Plat du jour (the plate of the day, the day’s special with meat and vegetable) + 1/4 vin (1/4 liter of the house wine) + desserte (dessert) + café (after meal espresso).”  Asking for a menu may result in the arrival of an unexpected meal.  The menu is also known as the formula.

Menu
Menu
Formules
Formules

5.  Entrée

This has got to mean the same thing, right?  We use the French word in the U.S.  However, entrée is France is not the main course, it is the starter course or appetizer.  The main course is the “plats principaux.

Entrée

6.  Immobilier

I kept walking around and seeing Immobilier offices on every block of the business district.  My mind went to a “wheel boot,” a wheel clamp used to immobilize a car with excessive parking violations, but I couldn’t understand the need for so many offices.  A closer look revealed that these were real estate agencies (real estate = immobile property.)

Immobilier
Immobilier

7.  Lycées

Lycées in large buildings in residential areas are obviously not Asian lychee fruits.  Lycées are senior high schools for pupil 15 to 18 years old.  Lycée général and lycée technologiques normally lead to university study.   Lycée Professionnel leads to different kinds of vocational diplomas.

Lycee
Lycee

8.  Collège

 Collège in France is not post-secondary education.  It is junior high school for pupils from the ages of 11 to 14 years old.  These collégien and collégienne (boys and girls) are taught by a professeur.  Institutions of higher education in France are referred to as université and taught by professeurs des universités or a professeurs titulaire d’une chaire.

Collège
Collège

9. Defense

Rather than defense meaning “personal protection,” défense d’entrer means “no admittance!”

Défense d'Entrer
Défense d’Entrer

10. Cabinet

A cabinet is not a piece of furniture, but a business or professional practice like attorneys’ or doctors’ offices. Think about the term like the President’s cabinet.

Cabinet
Cabinet

In addition to the language faux paus I have also had the joy of trying to translate the operator’s manual for our clothes washer/dryer from French into English to sort out the directions on how to safely wash a load of laundry without ruining our minimized wardrobe.  I am fairly certain that I didn’t study that hard for my Ph.D. comprehensive exams.

Ten Early Observations

With a little more than a week in residence, there are a few observations I have made.  It will be interesting to see if those observations remain true over time.

1.  I can’t tell you how often I’ve been asked about French men wearing berets. Here in 2013 France I have only seen one older man, in Charles De Gaulle Airport, wearing a beret and I don’t know whether or not  if he was actually French.  The only other berets I have seen are the red military berets worn by members of the French 11th Parachute Brigade, 3rd Marine Infantry Parachute Regiment ( 3e Régiment de Parachutistes d’Infanterie de Marine, 3e RPIMa), a French Army paratrooper unit stationed here in Carcassonne. I did see two young French men in uniformed service with Kepi caps and train conductors wearing service caps.  As a whole I would say most French men seldom wear hats at all during this time of year.  If there was currently an iconic piece of French menswear during this time of year I woud say it is short scarfs tied with a Parisian knot.

2.  Seldom do you see coffee in a “take-away” cup.  Coffee culture here is such that you get your coffee in a ceramic or glass cup with the intent that you will savor it either sitting at a table or standing at the bar. Here coffee is a little harder to locate than in Italy were there were at least two coffee bars on every block.

3.  However, in France it seems that there is at least two bakeries, boulangeries, on every block.  The smell of fresh baked bread will make you detour to get a better whiff of the aroma. Bread appears to be king and you really do see people carrying their loaves of baguettes home.  Bread is made without preservatives so it seldom lasts more than a couple days.  And yes!  The French pantries from the local pâtisserie really are as delicious as their reputation.

4.  The local table wine by the carafe, un pichet de vin de maison, is always a good choice.  Inexpensive and available by the quarter, half, or full liter carafe it can make a meal or just a break in the day more enjoyable.  Blanc, rouge, rosé,  surprisingly rose’ wine is a respected wine choice here.

5.  It is true that French people are more reserved and formal. One will get an odd look if you wish a stranger a bonjour while walking down the street. But it is expected and polite to say bonjour and au revoir when entering or leaving a shop or restaurant.  Please and thank you, s’il vous plaît and merci, are a necessary part of our vocabulary.  But we have also found French people to be extremely friendly and helpful.  Not as many people here speak English as we found in Italy, but all are patient with our broken French, pantomime, hand signals, and pre-translated notes. Attempting to speak French is normally greeted with a smile and an attempt to speak some words of English back.

6.  The “reserved and formal” aspect of French behavior will often melt in the face of a two pound Chihuahua.  Kiara is often greeted with smiles, praises, and even kisses.  She is an amazing icebreaker in a sea of formality.

7.  At least in this time and place we are frequently seen by French people as “generic English speakers” and most often mistaken as being from the United Kingdom.  We assume the majority of English speaking visitors here are from the UK.  We haven’t met any one that can differentiate a British from an American accent yet.

8.  French people take great pride in their work. Baristas, wait staff, ticket agents, sales people, conductors, information desk staff all have a great work ethic and try to completely satisfy you. They often add personal touches above their basic job tasks. I was watching a window washer clean windows with a perfectionist’s attention. It seems the attitude was a job is required to be dome completely and right the first time. The éclairs that I picked up on the run today were exquisitely wrapped and in a precisely sized box, like a gift from Nordstrom’s at Christmas time.

9. Amazing the conventions you take for granted. Keyboards here are not the “QWERTY” style and surprisingly difficult to use after years of typing in the US. The hand sign for “one” is not the index finger, but the thumb. The French start counting with the thumb. Holding up an index finger will make a counter person assume “two.”  Good table service is being left alone to enjoy your meal. Your coffee or meal “rents” you your table for as long as you want it. If you want your bill you need to request l’addition.

10. It is much quieter here. The volume is at a very genteel level in restaurants, stores, on the train, or walking down a city street. The volome of speaking is at a much quieter level. There is still the outburst of laughing, children playing, and public dispute between people, but in all the general tone of conversation is closer to what we expect in a library.

Un pichet de rouge
Un pichet de rouge

End of Week One

Now that we’ve completed week one here are a few things we’ve learned so far.

1) If you set off the smoke detector three times, the hot water stops working.

2) If you stand still in Gambetta Square the pigeons will come after you like a scene from Hitchcock’s “The Birds.”

3) If you walk a 2-pound Chihuahua all stereotypical attitudes of French people no longer apply.

4) Not every gathering with flags and drums is a parade. Sometimes, it’s a strike with color and music and people dancing in the street.

Here are a few fun photos from week one.

Carcassonne Pizza Kiosk
Carcassonne Pizza Kiosk

Just around the corner and down a block is the Pizza Kiosk. Don’t all French neighborhoods have a Pizza Kiosk? No. Well we think they should!

A French staple?
A French staple?

No grocery store we’ve visited has had French Dressing, but they all have American Sauce.

Local butcher uses "scent advertising."
Local butcher uses “scent advertising.”

Business is slow around here on Sundays. Our neighborhood butcher has found an ingenious way to get the message out that he is open for a few hours on Sunday. The smell of rotisserie chicken and duck can be smelled the moment you open the front door. But we need to be sure to get there early, by 11 a.m. they are all gone!!

Oops, not naked dancing girls!!
Oops, not naked dancing girls!!

One must take a second look and READ the signage before guessing what a business actually is. At first glance we thought this might be a topless bar, upon closer inspection we found that it was a beauty school.

What We Know About the French Train System (So Far)

Tracy’s MacBook waited until after we arrived in Carcassonne to start having difficulties, so a trip to the Apple Store was in order.  That accelerated us making use of the French train system sooner than we anticipated.  While we have taken trains in Europe before, it was never with a set appointment at the other end so we needed a bit more planning.

Some background first.  France has three levels of train service run by the SNCF (Société Nationale des Chemins de fer Français), the French National Railway Company.  That includes the TGV (Train à Grande Vitesse) high-speed “bullet trains,” Intercités for long distance express passenger trains, and the TER (Transport Express Régional) for urban and regional passenger rail travel.

Since we are now retired and on a fixed income, we are very aware that we need to save money where we can on everyday items to have more money to spend on the luxuries.  Twenty of France’s twenty-seven regions (a region being roughly equivalent to a state in the US) with TER service has a discount plan that allows discounts train travel for residents within a region.  Within our region of Languedoc-Roussillon, for 26€ a year you can purchase a Carte Via Liberte discount card for up to four people to receive a 25% discount on weekdays and 50% off all weekends and school holidays.  There are some additional discount plans for outside the region too.

With my trusty Carte Via Liberte’ in hand, Tracy and I strolled over to the Carcassonne Train Station (Gare de Carcassonne) which is .6 miles away from the apartment.  The train station was built in 1857 and has one of those classic clock tower passages .  It is located next to the Canal du Midi, the canal connects the Garonne River to the Etang de Thau on the Mediterranen Sea and along with the 120 mile long Canal de Garonne forms the Canal des Deux Mers joining the Atlantic to the Mediterranean in 1681.  A barging canal like the Erie Canal in New York, it is kind of the French equivalent of the Panama Canal connecting two major bodies of water.

My French is very, very basic at this point.  My old “police Spanglish,” high school-college German, and Italian are all better than my French.  My “go to” method at this point is to anticipate what I need to request and to pre-write the questions that I translated using Google Translate into my handy pocket notebook (some police habits never go away).  If the ticket agent doesn’t speak English (and we are finding very few people do speak English) I hand them my notebook so they can read my request.  That and a friendly bonjour, big smiles, and many s’il vous plait and merci.

S’il vous plait Madam, est‐ce que vous comprenez l’anglais?”  Good Karma day for me.  The very helpful ticket agent spoke English fairly well. She scheduled Tracy and I for our round-trip ticket from Carcassonne with a train change in Narbonne for final arrival in Montpellier.  Since the trip was on a Saturday we received a 50% discount with our Carte Via Liberte‘.

The TER trains are modern, clean and very comfortable.  They arrive and leave on the minute to their schedules.  (Although there has been rail strikes in the past.) We travelled  second class, the only real difference between first and second being reservations and seats three abreast in first class and “first come – first served” and seats that are four abreast in second class.  There are large windows to watch the scenery go past with sunshades on all the windows. Arrival and departure times are indicted on electronic display boards throughout the stations, although in French but easy to puzzle out.

While no one checked our ticket outbound, on the return trip our tickets, along with my Carte Via Liberte’ was checked by friendly conductors.  Apparently some people try to ride for free.  They are escorted off the train by the conductor and met by Surveillance Générale, which I understand is SNCF’s private security that has limited police authority.  My understanding is that riders without tickets are fined on the spot.  There are also divisions of the Police Nationale that work on the train lines and metro in Paris and its suburbs (Police Regionale des transport) and major rail lines (Service National de Police Ferroviaire.)

The trip to Montpellier was a pleasant way to do some sight-seeing from the train, get Tracy’s MacBook repaired, and better understand the train system. And we get to do all again in a week or so when Tracy’s MacBook has been repaired.

Trip to the Apple Store in Montpellier

We had to make a trip to the Apple Store today. My baby is sick and needs therapy. Those of you who own Macs will understand. The average PC just needs a medic, a Mac needs a therapist. The actual report listed a “panic attack.” Apparently that is what it’s called when your MacBook doesn’t understand what it’s supposed to do next, it has a panic attack and reboots, all on it’s own. It’s kinda freaky to experience since Macs tend to be pretty hardy, at least mine have always been, so when it got sick I got worried. Thankfully we anticipated future issues when we bought the MacBooks 2 1/2 years ago and purchased the Apple Care Warranty so the new logic board will be replaced free of charge.

I was a little worried that with practically no French language skills that it might be difficult to explain the problem, so last night I stayed up late and used Google Translate to translate into French the problems I was having, what the report said, and a couple of helpful phrases like “May I use one of the computers to open Google Translate.” This trick has been pretty helpful over the last 6 days. When we get stuck with pronunciation, we just hand the person the notebook. Alan did this at the train station on Friday when we had to purchase tickets for today’s jaunt to Montpellier (a 2 hour train ride from Carcassonne, with a transfer in Narbonne — you really want to get the right tickets). Amazingly, though, today I didn’t really need it as the young man at the Genius Bar spoke very good English, and with a Scottish Brogue — which is always pleasant to the ear (Cheers Gregory).

We have found that by using this little trick of anticipating what we may need to say and then attempting to say it in French prior to handing over the notebook is actually getting us a really nice response from the French people we’ve been interacting with. In nearly every case, the person has switched from French to English — except the poor gal at the Post Office, but sign language helps too, not as in American Sign Language, but that sign language you would use with a small child or an animal where you point to something and then to something else like the section on the certified mail receipt and the address your sending mail too. But it’s been working and we’re getting by without too much trouble.

The people that intimidate me are the ones that start speaking in French after you’ve said “Bonjour!” and think you may actually know the language, it’s kind of sad and a bit of a poke to the ego to see the look of disappointment come into their eyes when they realize that’s all the French I know. Oddly enough, Kiara doesn’t seem to have the same problem. Apparently cute is cute in any language and the “aww” that escapes peoples lips when they realize she’s a social butterfly sounds pretty much the same in English, French, and Japanese (at least I think they were from Japan, they were super friendly regardless).

Anyway, for today’s adventure we had to navigate the train system, Carcassonne to Narbonne, a switch of trains then Narbonne to Montpellier, then outside the Gare du le Montpellier, Saint-Roch (train station) to the tram across the street to the Odysseum Mall. We found the Apple Store with an hour or so to kill so we had coffee and danish (chocolatey, warm and yummy) and wandered through some stores. We came across a place called Geant Casino and it’s like the Walmart of France. Great deals, huge lines and an entire aisle of hair care appliances. YIPPEE!! While they did not have the In-Styler I was hoping to find, they did have something similar, and that was good enough for me. Blow dryers are nice by they are not exactly a styling tool, the girls out there will understand.

We also found that the Montpellier IKEA was in the same area so we decided to check that out after the Apple Store appointment. Swedish meatballs . . . need I say more. While we did see Subway and McDonalds franchises, we passed right by those without a second glance. But when we found the cafeteria in IKEA and the sign showed Swedish Meatballs on the menu, that was right up our alley. I am a pretty good cook, but I’ve never been able to make meatballs that don’t taste like little round hamburgers. It was like Mecca for the tummy. And they serve wine, by the glass, by the bottle and even from a miniature wine cask where you can fill a tiny carafe with about 6 oz of wine . . . Alan liked that very much. I cheated and had my first soda in a week, not my first choice but red wine when I’m cold and wet has the same effects as taking a sleeping pill for me.

On our way back to the Gare du le Montpellier, Saint-Roch we noted that we still had about 90 minutes to kill before our train was leaving, so upon arrival at the tram stop, we headed over to the Jardin (garden) at the intersection of the train and  tram stations. It’s obvious spring is on its way here in the Languedoc with everything budding up ready to bloom, but I was still surprised to see the amount and variety of flowers already in full bloom in the jardin. It was raining and we were fully loaded down with purchases from the mall, but I still managed a couple of photos that were not half bad.

After a few minutes of wandering through the garden, we had had just about enough of the rain and headed to the Brasserie du le Gare and ordered up a couple of espressos and sat in the warm, cozy interior until it was time to head to the train.

Upon arrival in Carcassonne, we hopped off the train and started the .6 miles back to our apartment. It is rather amazing how fast a half-mile can become a “short” walk to someone who no longer owns a car. We have been averaging several miles per day on foot and after six days, it is hardly even noticed anymore . . . the rain however, is another story. We are looking forward to the dry season, as one gets plenty tired of being wet really quickly. On a side note: I now own a new umbrella!