Top 5 Things I Miss While Living In France

1. Money: I hate to start off with such a materialistic beginning to this list, but I can’t help it. I hate being poor. Amy and I are doing ok here, we’ve got a good budget and manage to have a nice place to stay and eat good meals every day. But man, I miss being able to buy movies, music, and books and being able to go out to dinner more than once a month. We were far from rich in Indiana, but we were able to splurge a little without having to worry about paying the bills.

2. Hamburgers: Once in a while we buy some red meat and I make my own burgers. Other than that and the occasional overpriced McDonalds/Quick pit stop that’s the only time I get a burger. There is nothing like stopping by your favorite greasy joint and tasting a big, fat, juicy burger.

3. My car: I drive a little 1996 Saturn. It’s nothing fancy, or fast, but it’s a solid car and rides well. I love to drive. If it is not overseas or our honeymoon Amy and I drive to where we’re going. I love to have control of a vehicle maneuvering in and out of traffic or taking it fast down a deserted highway. Strasbourg is a nice city to walk around in, and the tram/bus system is top-notch. But I miss the whir of sliding my car through traffic.

4. TV: I hate to put this on this list. As a card-carrying member of the “blow up your TV” club I’ll be dismembered for missing television, but darned if I don’t. Most of what’s on TV stinks. We had a satellite in Indiana and I generally just watched the news, the History Channel, and old movies on TCM. Even with all the crap I still miss being able to sit mindlessly for a little while and flip. I really like the unexpectedness of it. I never subscribe to any kind of TV guide so it’s generally a mystery to me what is on at any given moment. That was a certain joy in flipping channels to find an old favorite movie on or a great episode of Cheers.

5. Convenience: A car might help this out by making trips to anywhere quicker, but even with faster transportation Strasbourg would still be very inconvenient. There isn’t a store with everything in it. If you want aspirin or antacid you go to a pharmacie. If you want good bread you go to a boulangerie. Good desserts you go to a patisserie. You need to buy the groceries for the week you have to go to three different supermarches, and that’s if you don’t want really fresh fruit, otherwise, it is another trip to a street market. Do you want lights? Go to one store. A shade for the light, that’s another store altogether. Heaven forbid you should need any of this on a Sunday or Monday or after 8 pm on any day. Nothing is open 24/7 here. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe we’ve gone crazy in the US where everything is open all the time and you can get everything you need in one store. But it is extremely annoying to be used to that kind of convenience your whole life only to have it lost in France.

A Non Movie Review Post

Sorry that it seems all I have been doing is reviewing movies lately. I've gotten into a nice groove of watching/reviewing and my real life hasn't been that exciting.

I've been a bad boy this week. Monday I was supposed to have a French lesson with Ann at 5 pm. The lessons are normally at six and I totally forgot about the time change. At 5 I was making supper (tuna patties, which were surpisingly delicious) and thinking about the supposed lesson at 6. At a quarter after 5 Amy came home and said Elizabeth had invited us to dinner. The selling point was we were going at happy hour when tarte flambee's sold for 2.80! In my excitement I put away the tuna, rushed out the door, and totally forgot about the lesson. It was midway through the second flambee that I suddenly remembered the lesson. I ran out the door and flew to Subway. Alas, no Ann. Which was actually good since I was really late, but she has waited for me a long time before. I felt even worse when I got home and realized that not only was I late for my 6 lesson, but it was actually at 5!

Tuesday we went out to dinner with Daniel and Tammy. We went to a little Italian joint downtown. I had a delicious lasagna, Amy had a pizza. The waiter was very rude. He quickly took our order, delivered our food, and took the check. No smiling, no chatter, no extra stops. We decided it was because were were obviously American and spoke English. Afterwards we headed to the movie theatre, but Amy developed a headache and we decided to go home.

In a few moments I am going to deliver a couch. A friend of Jean Claude's is giving him a couch so Daniel and I are picking it up and then lugging it up 7 floors to Jean Claude's place. Oh what fun I have in France.

Fete des Rois

image host

January 6 is a European (?) holiday called Fete des Rois. It’s mainly for the kids, but Elizabeth had a party for us kids at heart. For the holiday you buy these yummy cakes that have a little toy inside them. Someone cuts the cake into equal pieces. Then the youngest of the group sits under a table. Another person takes a slice of cake and asks the person under the table who gets that slice. This repeats until all the cake is accounted for. The youngest then comes out from under the table and everybody eats their cake (very carefully so as to not swallow or crack a tooth on the toy). Whoever gets the toy is then King or Queen for the day and gets to wear a little crown. This year both Amy and Elizabeth got the toys and became our reigning Queens.

Editor’s Note, June 2023: I was clearly clueless as to my Christian Holidays back then (I’m not exactly an expert now either) because January 6 is Epiphany when many Christians celebrate the gifts of the Magi.

A Fine How Do You Do

Seems I’ve been reviewing a lot of stuff lately, but not giving any details on my life in France. We’ve had a fine week back from Paris. The weather has been nice at least. It was still 70 percent cloudy and overcast, but it remained rather warm for January. We even had a couple of bright sunny days (like today).

I’ve been mistreating my French tutor. Last Monday I was playing a game and forgot about my session. Luckily her previous student had a cell phone and called me. Today I completely forgot about it. Amy came home from school and said we were invited for tarte flambes in a few minutes. My stomach got the best of my memory and out the door we went. It was into our second flambe that I suddenly remembered and flew out the door and ran to Subway, our meeting place. She had already left by that time. I came home to an e-mail wondering where I was. It’s amazing that I only have about two things to do a week around here and I still can’t remember to do them.

Tomorrow we’re going out with Daniel and Tammy. We’ll bring laundry over and then go to dinner and a movie. A double date it is.

Frida (2002) and Seven Brides For Seven Brothers (1954)

movie posters

We recently borrowed Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and Frida from some friends. While completely different movies I don’t have enough on either of them for full reviews so I’m bunching them up in the same post.

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers is a pretty by-the-books MGM musical. It is based on a book entitled The Sobbin’ Women which is in turn based on a Roman story titled The Rape of the Sabine Women. Which, like the title implies is about the kidnapping and rape of several young women who eventually come to ‘love’ their captors. How someone decided to make a musical out of this one wonders.

The movie is very sexist. The oldest brother, Adam (Howard Keel), sets out at the beginning of the movie to find a wife. He doesn’t do this because he is lonesome, or loveless, or in need of company. No, he seeks a wife because he lives in the mountains with six brothers and they need someone to cook for them and clean up after them. Even his method of finding a wife is pretty awful. He comes to town to shop for various goods and reckons to add a wife to that list. The remainder of the story focuses on the wife he finds, named Millie (Jane Powell), and how she manages to turn the brothers into refined gentlemen. The original story figures in with a kidnapping plot designed to win the hearts of potential brides for the remaining single brothers.

Sexist plot aside Seven Brides really does sparkle as a gem in the musical hat of MGM. This can be mainly attributed to some fine songs by Johnny Mercer (including the hillbilly charm of “Bless Your Beautiful Hide”) and some incredible choreography by Michael Kid. The ‘Barn Raising’ scene is worth the price of the ticket alone. Add to that the subtle beauty of ‘Lonesome Polecat’ and you have a winner.

I have personal memories of this film being watched in a dormitory lobby in college. Some bubbly friends of mine insisted that we had to watch it immediately after finding I had never seen it. They proceeded to quote most of the lines, sing every song, and practically dance along with every scene. They did so with such energy that I was swept along as well, hardly paying attention to the jokes or the plot. Upon viewing it again I couldn’t help but remember that enthusiasm, but this time I was unable to miss the bothersome plot. In the end, one must realize the time and place this movie came from without overlooking what is a pretty disturbing bit of plotting. The songs and the movements will most assuredly win most of the skeptics over though.

When Frida was released into theatres I had absolutely no desire to see it. I’m not a fan of Salma Hayek, biopics in general, and biopics about artists especially. Add to that my zero knowledge about the artist Frida herself and the movie’s fate was sealed into never being seen by the likes of me. However, my general lack of new movies here in France and being able to borrow them from a friend for free helped me to reconsider watching it. When I realized it was directed by Julie Taymor who also directed a marvelously beautiful version of Titus then I was actually excited by it (almost).

Like Titus, Frida is an amazingly visual movie. Taymor, who is known mainly for her Broadway adaptation of the Lion King, has an artist’s eye for visual flair. She has found a way to take something as static as a painting and made it alive. Throughout the film, she recreates several of Frida’s works and makes them a part of the action. It’s impossible to explain on paper (or cyberspace) but what she creates is something pure magic.

I can’t say how accurately Frida is portrayed in this movie. The picture we get is of a rather flawed woman who lived with a great deal of suffering. Her suffering comes in both physical ways (stemming from an accident early in life) and emotionally (from a cheating husband and her own mistakes). Yet it is this suffering that creates such remarkable art. Taymor manages to create an interesting and moving story within her excellent images.

Both Salma Hayek and Alfred Molina pull out excellent performances. I was especially impressed with Molina portraying the very flawed and yet sympathetic Diego. I had pretty much written this actor off after playing Doc Oc in the highly overrated Spider-man 2. But here he shows a real sensitivity to his character. Don’t be fooled by the billing of this film. The cover of the DVD would have you believe that Ed Norton, Antonio Banderas, Ashley Judd, and Geoffrey Rush all star in it. In fact, with the exception of Geoffrey Rush, all of them have, what amounts to cameos in the picture. Rush is in the movie a bit more, but I wouldn’t call even that a starring role.

Though neither Seven Brides or Frida are perfect films. Both of them win you over with sheer energy and charm.

Christmas in Paris

amy and the eiffel tower

Paris

Day 1
Our train left just after 8 am on Thursday, December 23. We had to take an early train so that we could be in Paris to meet Elizabeth and Paco before they left for Spain. I have never ridden a train before. Trams and subways, sure, but I’ve never even set foot on a traveling train. It was much different than the flights I have taken. You can take any amount of luggage you want and there is no waiting to get on the train. I was proud of my wife, who packed a weeks worth of belongings into one suitcase and a backpack. Sure they were stuffed to the gills, but considering we usually take 4 bags for a weekend I thought we were doing quite well.

Our seats were next to the window and there were no other seats next to ours. We had a very small table between us as we faced each other. Still, there was virtually no leg room and my legs began to cramp after about half an hour. On a plane, I eliminate some of this pain by crossing my legs, but that little table kept me from doing this here. To pass the four-hour ride I read Bridget Jones’s Diary and played Super Mario World on my game boy. It seemed a very long ride.

We arrived in Paris right on time, a little after 12 noon. Elizabeth was there waiting for us. Two metro rides later and we were in Paco’s snug apartment. It was actually a nice little place. Decent-sized living quarters with a little table to the side to make a dining room. Pleasant kitchen and one bedroom. It has a little washroom, with a small shower and a separate toilet. The toilet was the one thing I could stand to improve. More like the traditional water closet you hear about, it was literally the smallest toilet I have ever been in. You actually had to stand to shut the door within an inch of your face then somehow maneuver yourself downwards to a sitting position without hitting your legs. You could not ask for a better location though, and I am eternally grateful for the place. It was located about six blocks from the Eiffel Tower and about the same distance from Les Invalides where Napoleon is entombed.

A little note about Elizabeth and Paco. Elizabeth is a friend from Strasbourg. She is working in the English department with Amy. She is from New York State and is working on her PhD at Penn State. However, she has lived off and on in France for some four years. We did not know her in the States at all. Paco is her long-term boyfriend. He is an engineer in Paris, though he is originally from Spain. They were kind enough to offer us their apartment while they were visiting Paco’s parents.

Day 2
Slept long and hard last night, waking at 10. Went out for an early lunch and then headed out to the Eiffel Tower. As I said earlier, the flat was not but a few blocks from the Tower, but walking in the streets I had not yet seen it because of the high surrounding buildings. About a block away I finally saw the top of it. My first impression was that it looked like an Oklahoma oil well. All steel and unimpressive. Once on the lawn where I could take a good look, I liked it more but was still not overwhelmed. We decided to take the stairs up since the line was shorter and it didn’t seem that high.

Whoops, it’s some 300-plus steps to the top. There are three “floors” to the tower. We stopped at the first one already exhausted from climbing. Even from this level, you can see most of Paris. All around this floor are panoramic photographs labeling and giving a brief history of all of the Parisian sights. From here we could see all of the places we would stop later in the week. It was an excellent place to begin our first day. From the second floor, the view is even more spectacular, and from the third, it is as if you are flying.

After the tower, we went home to rest. In the early evening, we decided to take a walk. We headed to Place de la Concorde and the Egyptian obelisk.

This is one of the coolest things I have ever seen. My American brain thinks of time in terms of hundreds, this thing is thousands of years old. It was absolutely astounding. Place de la Concorde is also the Place de la Revolution, holding in its center the guillotine that executed Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette, and some 2,000 others. I was so overwhelmed by the spectacular sight of the obelisk that I forgot this for a moment. It was quite a change of feeling to go from the spectacle of Egyptian mystery to sensing the death of thousands at your feet.

From the obelisk, you can see the Arc de Triomphe down one of the main streets. It didn’t look that far and so we proceeded to walk towards it. Looks were highly deceiving because it took a good hour to walk to it. Knowing very little Parisian history I had always believed the Arc to be some leftover from an Ancient Roman architect. To my surprise, I found that it was yet another monument from Napoleon to honor his army. It is much, much larger than I ever imagined it to be. There is a passageway underneath so that you can walk right up to it without having to cross the famous menagerie of Parisian roads that circle the monument. Inside the Arc are dedications to the soldiers of many wars and an eternal flame to the unknown soldiers.

From here we walked to a shopping district. We saw clothes designed by Versace, Gucci, and all those classy designers I’ll never be able to afford. In one window we came across a lady’s coat costing over 4,000 Euros. With the conversion rate that is some $5,500! We also walked passed Printemps and Gallerie Lafayette. These two stores have a tradition of trying to outdo each other with Christmas windows. Each window was more elaborate and odd. Baby dolls tied to strings flew back and forth across the window. Mannequins dressed in crazy black feathered costumes and so forth. A very interesting sight.

Day 3

Again a very hard and long sleep. All that walking made me get plenty of rest. It was Christmas day. Paco doesn’t have a TV, or an internet connection, and we couldn’t figure out how to work his radio. So in our downtime, we read. I brought Bridget Jones’s Diary, Murder on the Orient Express, and Nick Hornby’s 31 Songs with me and have at this point finished them. Paco has books in Spanish, French, and English so I began reading his English section. Amy made a very nice meal out of a full chicken, potatoes, and carrots. Due to the travel and our limited budget, we had already exchanged gifts before the trip with a promise to do a little shopping in Paris. It was a lazy day. In the evening we decided to walk out to Les Invalides and then out to the Louvre. They say Paris is the city of lights and it shows on Christmas at night. There are lights everywhere, the city just glows. This night is simply gorgeous. Clean crisp air.

Day 4

After some rest and reading we headed to Notre Dame around 11. We swung by the obelisk and cut through the park surrounding the Louvre. Notre Dame is smaller than I imagined. It is hard to imagine Quasimodo hanging from its rafters. They say after the Revolution it fell into great disrepair and it was Victor Hugo’s book that sparked interest in its upkeep.

It is truly a beautiful building. Great gothic art preaching, teaching, and flying buttresses swinging into infinity. After a quick walkthrough, we realized that we would like to know more about its history and decided to rent the audio guides after lunch. We stopped at one cafe and enjoyed its menu, but decided to continue down the road for something better. A block away we run into a similar restaurant with cheaper prices only to discover it is the same restaurant and the prices are cheaper because the food is cooked at the first building and walked down to the second. The food was cheap and very tasty, but the glasses of Cokes cost 5.50 Euros a piece! After lunch, we enjoyed the guided tour of Notre Dame. It was a thoroughly fascinating experience. I am continually astounded by the craftsmanship of men hundreds of years ago. So much of the design is meant to inspire the people into worship and teach the illiterate with simple picture stories. I can see how it would work. There was a small museum section housing various artifacts and what claimed to be a sliver of the actual cross. But I am more than suspect.

Day 5

Up at 8:30 hoping to make the Louvre by 10. Made it at 10:30. Full stream of people flowing through the doors, but nothing like there would be in the afternoon. As Amy once said, “Even those who don’t like art, go to the Louvre.” We first made our way through the underground where we viewed a section of the original castle that once stood where the museum now is. We slowly made our way through the Egyptian artifacts. Ancient stuff. Hieroglyphics, carved tombs, everything you think of when you think of Egypt, sans the Pyramids. We spent longer here than expected and after a couple of hours, I realized we wouldn’t make it to Musee d’Orsay as planned that afternoon. Around 1 we escaped Egypt and shuffled our way through Greece and into Italy. Here we are above ground and the rooms are especially ornate. Paintings on the ceiling, gold inlaid mirrors, sculptures throughout, and hung paintings everywhere. We decided to catch the Mona Lisa before lunch.

Mona Lisa: My thoughts about the Mona Lisa consumed me. I thought about the Mona Lisa the night before. Thinking of her as I slipped into sleep and she was my first thought when I awoke. I have seen many pictures of the Mona Lisa. Hung on walls, on t-shirts, on postcards, commercials it seems her image is everywhere. The thing is, I have never found the image particularly amazing. There are certainly many more artistic works that I find more moving and even find other DaVinci works more lavish. What is it about that one painting that consumes me (and millions of others)? Through Egypt, Greece, and Italy my underlying thought was that with each step I drew close to the Mona Lisa. As we drew near crowds of people formed a moving line. Signs pointed in the direction of the Mona Lisa. No video, no flash, no cameras whatsoever. We arrive at the Mona Lisa room and follow the group where ushers are shouting at those disobeying the signs and pulling out cameras, then shouting again for them to move on. Finally, we are there before her. It’s kinetic. Like lighting flashing. The museum is luring everyone into her arms, yet immediately rushes them out. Ah, the Mona Lisa.

I think she smiled at me.

We lunch at an overpriced deli and continue our trip through the Louvre. There is so much to see it is impossible to take it all in. We stumble across the Winged Victory of Samothrace on our way toward Psyche and Cupid. After getting lost a dozen times we find the winged angel wrestling Psyche. Here I discover that the Code of Hammurabi is not far away. We walk the few rooms to Mesopotamia and are awed by the earliest code of laws still intact. Our last stop is the Venus de Milo before we realize we are too exhausted to go any farther. And thus ended our trip to the Louvre, without even visiting the 2nd floor.

Day 6

We started out for Musee d’Orsay, but the day was too gorgeous to be stuck inside (and the lines were really long). Instead, we took the metro to Sacre Coeur. It is a stunning church built on a hill that makes it viewable from just about anywhere in Paris. There are large white steps leading up to the church proper and it was on these that we realized that parts of Amelie were shot here. It’s the scene where Amelie draws chalk arrows on various steps leading Nino on a goose chase to find his lost book.

The church looks a bit like a Muslim mosque to my untrained eyes. Definitely different than any church I have ever seen. From the top, you get a lovely view of the city. The day was so beautiful we spend a good while just standing on those steps basking in the sun with all the other tourists. I dare say the inside of Sacre Couer is more beautiful than Notre Dame, though it has far less presence than that church. Upon entering there was a large guard telling us to put up our cameras. However, I noticed about 15 steps past him everyone was taking their cameras back out and openly taking pictures as they pleased. So, I was able to get some very nice shots.

We bought sandwiches for lunch and ate outside at a spot overlooking the city. Montmartre is a rather artistic community within Paris and we were overrun by faux DaVinci’s trying to paint our picture. They were extremely aggressive. Four or five people sticking a canvas our faces begging us to be painted or more likely caricatured. There was a little square where fewer pandering artists were painting various models sitting on little stools.

After lunch, we went looking for the Moulin Rouge. Apparently, besides being the name of a quirky film, it is also the dancehall where the can-can was invented. It is also in a very seedy part of town. For several blocks, there were peep show booths, lingerie shops, and sellers of sex of every kind in every store. We had some pastries at the Quick (similar to Mcdonald’s) next to the Moulin Rouge and headed toward the Montmartre cemetery.

Parisian cemeteries are different than anything I have ever seen. In the cemetery I have seen in Strasbourg the tombstones are generally larger and more ornate than the ones we have in the States, but pale in comparison to the Parisian ones. Here they have huge sarcophagi jutting out everywhere. Usually, they are like small homes where visitors can actually enter in and light a candle and say a prayer for the dead. Many were familial tombs with several members of the family buried beneath. Upon entering the cemetery we were greeted with a sign directing us to the artists/filmmakers/composer, er famous people buried there. We paid our respects to:

Alexandre Dumas
DeGas
Francois Truffaut

The latter one took me by surprise. I have rather enjoyed all of the films of Francois Truffaut I have seen and thoroughly enjoyed his acting performance in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. He always seems very young to me, and though I knew he died years ago, seeing his tomb seemed very sad.

From there we walked to an English books store where we finished our Christmas shopping (Death on the Nile, and Playback for me.) Then we headed towards the Louvre again and stopped nearby at the Palais Royale. The gardens here are where the French Revolution essentially started. A few impassioned speeches stirred the crowds enough to storm the Bastille and murder a few thousand. We walked home singing
“You say you want a revolution?
Well, you know.
We all want to change the world”

Day 7

Went to Les Invalides in the morning. The main building with the golden dome holds Napoleon’s remains. It is a beautiful, ornate building. There are several other important military men housed there as well, but Napoleon is who everyone comes to see. Apparently, he was originally buried elsewhere, and a few years after the fact they dug him up and moved him near the Seine River as he wished.

He is now entombed in five different caskets all of which are laid snug in this giant wooden monument. The tomb itself is on a subfloor that opens up to the main floor so it can be viewed. The dome is also directly above his tomb which creates this spectacular movement directed straight towards Napoleon. I suppose it would have pleased the emperor very much were he alive. I couldn’t help thinking that even with all that grandeur, his bones are still rotting underneath it all.

Next to Napoleon is a museum for various French wars. It concentrates mainly on General DeGaul and World War II. There are some highly moving videos of the Nazis marching under the Arc de Triomphe and the Allies joyous homecoming a few years later beneath that very Arc. There is a room dedicated to the concentration camps which were appropriately heartbreaking.

The rest of the day was spent walking the streets of Paris visiting lesser-known monuments and churches. We visited St. Germain des Pres which holds Paris’s oldest bell tower, the observatory, and the cafe where Ernest Hemingway wrote The Sun Also Rises.

Day 8

We spent the entire day in Musee d’Orsay. This museum was built in an old train station which gives it a very interesting look.
It also houses art from just before the Impressionist era and just after it. We saw some of the world’s most famous and my own personal favorite paintings. There were paintings by Van Gogh, Monet, Manet, Renoir, Degas, and others. It is very peculiar to look at the original work of paintings I have on my walls and have seen copies of all over the place. It was interesting to see many of the tourists taking pictures of these paintings. I saw many a man rest his camera on his mate’s head or shoulder to balance the camera while he zoomed in for the best shot. Rather than try to photograph something I could buy a better copy of in the mall I decided to try to take interesting pictures of people looking at and photographing the famous paintings.

Day 9

We went back to the Eiffel Tower to get some pictures from the other side. There is a very nice elevated place to stand and take pictures from the far side of the Tower. We then took a metro to the cemetery Pere Lachaise. This cemetery is much larger than the one in Montmartre and houses many more of France’s artists, though the most visited tomb is that of Jim Morrison. We visited the tombs of:

Chopin
Balzac
Delacroix
Oscar Wilde
Jim Morrison

I got lost looking for Moliere’s tomb and we ran out of time to look for any others. It is very peculiar wandering a graveyard looking for famous tombs. There was literally a crowd at Jim Morrisons’ grave. Cemetary as a tourist trap. There were maps at various points of entry throughout the cemetery, but I easily got lost. I found that you would generally wind up at a grave of interest, so to speak, if you stopped at a grave with a lot of flowers or if there were several people gathered around. Unfortunately, I tromped along to one section with numerous people gathered around it only to realize it was for someone recently deceased and the people were real mourners. Brought it back into perspective for me.

For the evening’s festivities (for it was New Year’s Eve) we decided to go back to the Eiffel Tower. It was absolute madness. We entered from the back of the garden walkway and could only begin to see the chaos that was about to happen. As we got closer we could hear the shouting, laughing, chanting, and general noise from the crowd of thousands. Just before the crowd became a mass a large group of hawkers (the annoying sellers of junk you run into at all the landmarks) suddenly began running away from the crowd.

This was no normal let’s get out of here run, but a fierce we’re scared for our lives bolt. Amy and I both stopped cold wondering what the heck is about to happen. Seeing that the rest of the masses were holding to their partying we decided they had either stolen a purse or been run off by the cops. We stopped directly under the Tower which was the center of the madness. On the far side of the tower where we had walked earlier in the day, we could see the dark wave of an enormous crowd jockeying for position. All around us though were people waiting for the strike of 12. Alcohol flowed, and cries of joy and anger pummelled out from all around us. And as if the official fireworks going off above our heads were not unnerving enough many of the masses brought their own. Firecrackers were exploding all around our feet, and bottle rockets and Roman candles were ejecting about our heads. After an hour or so we decided we were not prepared for the absolute madness that would be midnight and headed back to our home just after 11. We could hear the partying until well after 3 am.

Last Day

Our train left at 4 and we slept in so there wasn’t any time to do any sightseeing. We cleaned up Paco’s place and went out for lunch. The train ride back was just as miserable as it was coming down. This time Amy and I sat next to each other with two strangers facing us. As the stops led us to Strasbourg it seemed nearly every other seat was emptying except for ours. We sat the entire four and a half hours trying not to bump into each other. Unluckily for the guy in front of me, I was not particularly successful at that endeavor. I kicked and kneed him several times.

5 complete novels read. 2 halves of novels read. 8 monuments were viewed. Miles after miles walked. 10 days. All in all, it was a fabulous week in Paris.

Thanks for reading.

Joyeux Noel

Amy and I are leaving for Paris Thursday morning. We have a rather busy Wednesday so I suspect I will not have time for writing. I don’t believe I will have internet access in Paris so I will not be writing again until around January 2.

All of this is to say I wish all my readers a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Hug your mom, kiss your dog and please, be careful people!

Mardi Malade

Originally posted on December 14, 2004.

Living’s mostly wasting time
And I waste my share of mine
But it never feels too good
So let’s not take too long
You’re as soft as glass and I’m a gentle man
We got the sky to talk about
And the world to lie upon

–Townes Van Zandt

A late update today. I’ve been rather ill most of the day and have not felt like writing much. I did manage to do quite a bit of reading, watching a lot of old Simpsons episodes, and do a lot of napping. It’s a hard life, I know.

I’ve always been a bit of a voyeur. Not in the dirty, peeping kind of way. I find myself looking into lighted windows, watching people pass me by, and studying others while in a restaurant or store. I find the behavior of others utterly fascinating.

I still remember standing in line at Wet n Wild or Universal Studios in Orlando, FL when I was 14 or 15 and being amazed at all the people. There were gobs, and gobs of people everywhere. We would stand in line and I remember thinking, as I stared at the same people in front and behind of me, that this is the only moment in my life I would ever see these people. But they all obviously had their own lives.

It was a profound moment for me to realize that the world is full of people and I will never know in the mildest sort of way. Since then, I guess, I’ve always liked to watch others when they don’t think they are being watched. These days as I look out my window and catch glimpses of others in the apartment across the street I find myself thinking of language. The people over there are just like everyone else, more or less, but I realize that if I could hear what they were saying, if I was that fly on the wall, I would have no idea what they were talking about. Oh, I might catch a word or two, I might gather some gist through gestures and will, but mostly I would just sit confused.

If there is anything I have learned in France thus far it is the utter complexity of language. I speak, in English, every day without thinking about it. Words fly off the tongue and they are gone, meanings are grasped but the words disappear. Yet every day I hear people speaking in French and have no idea what they are saying. I know those strange words have meaning for others to understand and respond to, but it’s like some old mystical song to me. Like that scene in Shawshank Redemption where Tim Robbins plays the bit from the opera. It’s like the words are a cryptic puzzle and I’m missing the key.

I suppose I am learning little pieces of the language at a very slow pace. It’s amazing how nervous I am when trying to speak it to others. Last night I had my French lesson in a Subway. After Ann bought her sandwich I went over to buy myself a drink. I was literally nervous about ordering a Coke. I didn’t even have to ask for it politely, pointing towards the can on the shelf and saying “Coca” would suffice. But I had no buffer with me.

I feared that the lady behind the counter would not be satisfied with my simple order and may ask for more information. Or that she may be friendly and ask about my family, where I was from, or any number of pleasantries. I don’t want to appear as some rude American who refuses to say “I’m fine thanks, and you?” Relations between our countries are difficult enough without me adding to the trouble. What if she asks if I want a sandwich a bag of chips and a cookie? My usual response to French I don’t understand is to smile and nod politely, this could be confused as acceptance of an order I can’t possibly afford. When I finally did order the Coke the two ladies whispered to each other, pointed upstairs to where Ann was and then one spoke in English, “You get free refills with the meal.” Referring to the meal Ann had ordered. I explained I wanted a Coke for myself and somehow felt let down that I had not been challenged with the language.

Walking

Walk down that lonesome road all by yourself
Don’t turn your head back over your shoulder
And only stop to rest yourself when the silver moon
Is shining high above the trees

–James Taylor

This morning I had a French lesson at Mcdonald’s at 11 am. Or I was supposed to have one. I left my place at about 10:30 which is a bit more than you need to take the tram, but I was hoping to walk most of it, hopping the tram if I saw I was running late. Mcdonald’s is right off the tram track so I normally walk along the tramway to get there. This time I decided to take a shortcut.

From my flat, the tram actually makes a little curve on its way to Mcdonald’s. By my way of thinking I was going to make a straight shot of it, going from one point of the curve to the next without actually taking the longer curve of it. Does that make sense? Think of a circle and realize that the shortest distance from one point to the next on the circle is a straight line, not a curve.

Apparently, the actual curve is a lot less than I imagined it to be and so I wound up walking more parallel with the tram than actually running into it. This comes from hindsight and was unknown to me at the time. I walked, and walked, and walked always believing I could spot the tram tracks just ahead of me. Eventually, I noticed a little garden section of the city that is on the road to Germany. Knowing that McDonalds was not on the way to Germany I decided to turn.

I walked, and walked, and walked and the road ran out. Before me was a section of a field followed by a lot of trees. Mcdonald’s was definitely not in a forest! I managed to find a map at a bus stop, but I could not find any of the streets around me on the map. Again I walked. Did I mention that the temperature was right around 0 degrees Celsius? Freezing is the word.

Back in the city, and not the forest, all the streets look the same. They are all lines with the same type of tree, they all have the same sort of stores and the apartments look identical when you’re lost. I began to just backtrack hoping to get back to something familiar. Finally, after an hour and a half, I saw the tram pass in the distance! I didn’t know what tram it was or where it was located, but I nearly lept knowing it would take me somewhere in my knowledge of Strasbourg. I kept staring at that spot waiting for another tram to pass, hoping I hadn’t hallucinated it the first time. Nope, a second one passed in minutes.

At about 12:20 I made it back to Mcdonald’s where, of course, my tutor was no longer waiting on me. Another 15 minutes and I was back home. After a few e-mails (EVERY call in France costs money, so it’s easier to e-mail) and lots of apologies Ann, my tutor, forgave me. It turns out the student before me had also not shown up. So poor Ann had waited in Mcdonald’s for three hours!

The rest of the day was uneventful. We went to Daniel and Tammy’s and had a good visit. Then we went grocery shopping. Constantly grocery shopping. When you only have a small cart to carry them in, and a small refrigerator to put them in, you are always grocery shopping.

A Little of This, a Little of That

I am already re-editing my 2001 review. That’s quite a movie to get just right.

Not a lot going on today to talk about. In doing a little laundry I discovered I am missing two pair of blue jeans! Because laundry is so expensive, and our inability to do laundry and Daniel and Tammy’s, we have been rather behind on our laundry for many weeks. Our tendency has been to do the necessary items when needed and to throw an odd pair of pants/shirt in with those. We haven’t actually laundered all of our clothes in well over a month!

This being true, I have no idea when my jeans went missing. I could have left them at Daniels or the boys, but my suspicion is somebody swiped them when we did laundry at one laundromat. There is one mat we went to a few times that has a person on duty who supposedly watches the clothes so that you don’t have to stay there.

This person also moves the clothes from the washer to the dryer and folds them when everything is done. All of that and it is actually a little cheaper than most of the do-it-yourself laundromats. However, the last time we went I noticed that the person on duty doesn’t really watch the clothes all that well. In fact, several times that we have come in, there was no one out front at all. So in one of those absences, I suspect someone may have seen my pants and ran with them. Who knows, maybe I’ll find them under the couch!

We are going to see Touch of Evil tonight. It is playing in VO which means it retains the original English soundtrack with French subtitles. I have only seen this film off of cable so I am quite excited to watch it again on the big screen. I’m not sure if it is the original version or the recent “director’s cut.”

Apparently, the studio made a number of changes to Orson Welles’ version of the release. Welles wrote a 58-page memo detailing the changes he wanted to make to the version actually released. The studio paid him no mind. However, in 1998 some folks took the memo and tried to re-edit the film according to that memo. That version is quite a movie. Next week we get to see Casablanca at the same theatre! Cool beans! They actually show quite a few older movies and have some pretty neat “festivals” showing the films of a particular actor or director or theme. Needless to say, I am excited.