Granada

After a great two days in Barcelona, the Jupps and LeBlancs hopped on a flight to Granada, in southern Spain. We were scheduled to land around 9:30 PM, so decided to wait until we reached Granada to have supper. Spaniards eat supper notoriously late, often starting after 10 PM, so we would be right on schedule. Unfortunately, we were delayed on the plane in Barcelona for over an hour before departing. We landed in Granada late and famished. We hit the pavement at midnight in search of a drink and tapas. It soon became obvious that the restaurants and bars were closing up. We ran frantically from bar to bar, asking “do have tapas?”. Finally, we found a lively late-night bar still serving food. We randomly ordered a couple of dishes, and laughed when we saw what was presented. The first dish was a plate of fries, covered with cheese, cooked jamon (cured ham), and topped with nearly raw eggs. The second dish was tiny deep-fried squid. They were about 1-2 inches long, and included everything, even the little black eyes. We were so hungry it didn’t matter what we were served; we tucked in with fervor and finished off everything.

The next day, fueled by late night fried food, we packed in a full day of sightseeing. Granada was the last Spanish Islamic town to fall to the Catholics in 1492. As a result, there are great Moorish sights in Granada, including the old silk markets and the beautiful Alhambra (Moorish palace). The Alhambra is one of the greatest sights we have seen. There are lush, fragrant gardens that surround the buildings. The palace sits atop a hill overlooking the town of Granada, and is surrounded by the Sierra Nevada mountans.

That night we stepped down into a cave to watch flamenco dancing. Flamenco is a form of dance that originates from southern Spain. It was a very intimate show: about 20 onlookers, 7 dancers, 2 singers, and 3 musicians. It is a dance accompanied by clapping, guitars, and occasional singing. Each dancer performs individually, and his or her routine is mostly spontaneous. We watched the lively and loud show for close to two hours. It was a wonderful local experience, accompanied appropriately with sangria.

The next day we parted ways. The Jupps continued on their tour of southern Spain, and we returned home. We had a great time with our friends, and were very sad to say good-bye to them. Thanks for a great trip!

Barcelona

We just returned from a trip to Spain with our latest Canadian visitors. Jen and Dave Jupp arrived in Pau last Friday after an exhausting two days of travel. They landed here on a hot and sunny spring morning and were thrilled to see the lush greenery after departing Calgary amidst spring snow. They were only here for 24 hours before we ventured further south, but we squeezed in as much of France during their short stay: steak tartare, escargots, stinky cheese, baguettes, and l’apéro.

Saturday morning, we packed up the Baby Benz and headed toward Barcelona. Thankfully, Dave was the co-pilot as I would never have succeeded in getting us through the three-tiered traffic circle that took us all by surprise. After some more stressful driving moments, we safely parked the car in a parking garage and were ready to explore the city by foot.

I have heard only good things about Barcelona. Everybody seems to love that city. But now that I have seen it for myself, I must say I was a bit disappointed, yet also pleasantly surprised. First, some of the downsides. The city was incredibly expensive; pricier than anywhere else we have visited. Every time we left a restaurant or bar, we felt robbed. The hotel and parking lots were ridiculously expensive. We were relieved to leave the city just to have some control over our money again.

Barcelona is an exhausting city. It is packed with people all hours of the day. Unlike other busy cities we have visited, we could not find anywhere to get reprieve from the crowds. These crowds were certainly packed with tourists, but the city itself is huge, and not as ‘pretty’ as most other European cities. I often felt as though I was in a large South American city rather than a European city.

Now for the good stuff. Spain has produced many great modern artists, and some of their work is on display in Barcelona. We really enjoyed the Picasso museum. But the best surprise was Gaudi’s work. If you are not familiar with him, look up a picture of the Sagrada Familia, the unfinished church that he started in 1882 and will not be completed for many, many years to come. From a distance and on photos, the church appears to have a melting, ugly façade. But a close-up view of the church reveals stunning detail carved into the odd-looking façade. It is a truly great piece of art and a wonder to see in production. I would love to see it completed, but I have a feeling I will be a very old woman when that day arrives. Our next favourite Gaudi sight is his Park Guell. This public park is situated on a hill overlooking the city of Barcelona. It is a wondrous mix of green space and colourful architecture.

Barcelona has a tireless vibrancy to it, and there is no better place to experience this than on the famous street Las Ramblas. Some of its sights include outdoor pet shops selling everything from rabbits to roosters, street mimes wearing the most amazing costumes I have ever seen, art vendors, pickpockets, and clever salesmen trying to sell single cans of beer from six-packs.

More on the second leg of our trip to come.

Canals, Red Lights, and Really Tall People

Gilles and I just returned from a great visit to Amsterdam. This city, whose motto is “live and let live”, has something for everyone. It is a beautiful and mostly peaceful city. There are as many bicycles in the Netherlands as there are people. Forty percent of the vehicles on the road in Amsterdam are bicycles. The lovely, strolling bikes with baskets (often milk crates), rust, and so tall that it is impossible to slouch. Their strong presence, and lack of cars, makes for an oddly quiet city. Unless of course, one is strolling through the infamous Red Light District or busy Damrak street.

The city is built around a meshwork of canals. Similar to Venice, but the buildings are usually set further back from the water. Low boats leisurely cruise the canals toting both tourists and locals. The winding canals make for some challenging navigation on foot. We managed to get misdirected in Amsterdam almost as much as when we were in Rome.

One thing we noted was how tall the Dutch are. Very, very tall. I felt short for the first time in my life. That feeling was particularly odd considering I tower over most women (and many men) in France. Last week, I was told that the athletic store in Pau only carries my preferred sneaker up to size 9. Not very convenient when I wear a size 10. I have a feeling I would not have the same problem shoe shopping in Amsterdam!

We are back in town for only two days before we pack up the car for a trip to Barcelona with our friends Jen and Dave who arrive Friday from Calgary. More traveling updates when we return!

French Genes

After an observant seven months in France, I now feel comfortable pointing out two physical traits that most French people exhibit. My sociological study is based purely on my own observations, yet I believe the results would stand more rigorous testing. And as with any culture assumption, there are certainly French people who do not fit this mold (although the non-conformists are few and far between).

Now that I have stated my disclaimers: most French people have the genes for skinny legs and big noses.

As for skinny legs, you may be thinking that most French people are at their ideal weight, or even skinny, so of course they have skinny legs. But there’s a difference. I am not talking about thin legs or ‘normal legs’. I mean skinny-like-twigs legs. I sometimes wonder how they support the person on top. Legs that inspired the skinny-leg jeans style. Legs that sometimes make skinny jeans look baggy! Ugh!

There is not much that I can say about the big nose, except it’s big. And it appears to increase in size with age. I also noted this characteristic on Italians, so perhaps it is a southern European trait.

Where do I fit in? I clearly possess neither skinny legs nor a big nose. Any French genes in my past have clearly been diluted. My lack of skinny legs and a big nose, along with my freckles and blond hair, clearly identify me as non-French. While I am quite fond of my cute little nose and would never wish it away, I wouldn’t have minded dipping into the skinny legs gene. After all, those genes would make it much easier to buy French jeans!

Bureaucracy and Wine

France is notoriously bureaucratic. The French may even have invented bureaucracy. Well, that’s surely an exaggeration, but the word bureaucracy does stem from the French word bureau.

We were geared up to face bureaucratic roadblocks while settling in this country. Some requirements are frustrating, yet manageable: one needs a special license to play golf and go boating. To show proof of residence in France, one must procure a bill from the electrical company. Not a water bill or telephone bill, it must be from the electrical company. Fine, we’ll play along.

There are other regulations that are absolutely infuriating. For example, France and Alberta do not have a driver’s license accord. We, after having driven for 15 years, have to attend driving school! Yet if our licenses were from Quebec or Manitoba, we would be in the clear. Strangely (insert sarcasm), an Albertan can move to Quebec or Manitoba and exchange licenses without a problem. We also would have the driving green light if we were from Norway, Scotland, Australia, Indonesia, or Gabon. Several of these countries drive on the opposite side of the road, and I am not sure there are even paved roads in Gabon (another exaggeration, but you get my point). I’ll spare the details of how challenging driving school is supposed to be here. But to give you an idea, as part of the test I will have to lift the hood and identify engine parts…in French!!

To be fair to the French system, we are also facing difficulties with Canadian regulations. We are one of the only countries (along with the US), that does not permit its residents to have two passports. This does not pose a problem for most, but Gilles is constantly working in countries that require a Visa for entry and occasionally to exit. This means his passport is frequently held up at a consulate, which is not particularly safe or convenient.

Back to French headaches. Gilles has been requesting a six-month multiple-entry Visa for Gabon from their consulate in Paris. For months the answer has been firmly, no. A multiple-entry versus a single-entry Visa would make our lives easier for a variety of reasons. Gilles explored his options, and discovered that the Gabonese consulate in Rome would provide him with a multiple-entry Visa without question. So off to Rome goes Gilles. He was away from Pau for less than 30 hours. Being the good husband that he is, he knew he could not step foot in Italy without buying his italophile wife something characteristic from the country. So, in his brief but free time in the city, he managed to purchase eight bottles of wine, a bottle of olive oil, a two-foot salami, and lugged it back to France (you gotta love open borders!). If this were always the reward for suffering through bureaucratic processes, we would have no reason to complain. I would gladly learn the French word for spark plugs!

Supporting the Team

Thanks to a technological wonder called a Slingbox and some wonderful friends in Calgary, we are able to watch and record television programmes the same as when we lived in Calgary. Now we certainly do not experience the image quality of HD programming (in fact non-HD shows stream better), and weekends often provide bad viewing due to internet traffic, but we can hardly complain. The Slingbox has allowed us to stay in-touch with home, and has warded off homesickness due to a disconnect from one’s country that other expats experience. Above all, it allows us to cheer on the Oilers during their current playoff run. Because most games take place during the early morning hours here in France, we often watch games hours after they have ended. It takes much willpower to avoid checking the results on the internet. Last Saturday, the Oilers played an early afternoon game allowing us the rare chance to cheer on our team real-time. To our delight, the Oilers won…it must have been because we wore our jerseys!

Visitor

I said good-bye to our latest visitor today. Frankie McKibbon, an old friend from home, made his way down to Pau after completing a course in England. Frankie and I go back a long way, I don't remember not knowing him. We did plenty of reminiscing and got caught up on recent events in our lives. It felt particularly apropos to reflect on our French learning days at Croft Elementary School, as we sipped on wine and practiced our second language in France.

Frankie was an adventurous guest, wanting to try all the local delicacies. His only complaint was a cheese that was on the cheese platter at a local restaurant. We named it ‘le fromage du plancher de la grange’ (cheese from the barnyard floor).

We had a wonderful picnic on the beach at St jean de Luz, pretended we were knights fighting intruders at the castle of Carcassonne, and enjoyed Basque tapas and narrowly avoided getting soaked by the powerful waves at St Sebastian. A good time was had by all!

Prague

Wow! There’s nothing better than visiting a new place and being blow-away by how wonderful it is. Not that we expected Prague to be unworthy of a visit, we had certainly heard a lot of wonderful things about this city, but it exceeded our expectations in every aspect.

Prague is perhaps the most beautiful city we have seen. It was not damaged during WWII, so has architecture from centuries of growth. Every view is colourful and varied. Art nouveau buildings surround a gothic cathedral. Spires and domes fill the skyline. The 14th century Charles Bridge is wonderful. This famous bridge is a highlight for many Prague visitors, but before seeing it, I could only wonder “what’s so great about a bridge?”. Well now I know. It provides great views of the city, especially when the castle district is alight at night. The looming statues of saints, the art vendors, the tourists and locals strolling along the cobblestone…magical.

The history of the Czech Republic is fascinating. We spent a morning with a local guide who gave us a crash course on Czech history. It is the first time we have visited a country with significant Jewish history and a communist past. Hence, we loved the historic sites in the Jewish district and the museum of communism. The bottom line is the Czech Republic is now experiencing a rare independence, and yet despite its past oppression, Prague is a thriving, lively, beautiful, and friendly city.

We always enjoy trying the cuisine of places we visit. As for Czech food, there was little worth mentioning of their hearty meals: sausages, meat, gravy, and strange dumplings. I always thought it would be difficult to be a vegetarian visiting France, but as a vegetarian I would certainly choose France before the Czech Republic! Regardless, for what they lack in food, they make up for in beer! Pivo, as it is called in Czech, is THE drink. Czechs consume more beer than any other country, and I believe this stat. It’s easy when a beer is 0.5 L and costs about 1 euro. Much cheaper and certainly more accessible than water. We tried many of the local brands and found favourites in Kozel (Gilles) and Krusovice (April). We also enjoyed the liquor Becherovka, and brought a bottle home.

If you are considering a visit to the Czech Republic, or any of the other Eastern European countries, go now before they convert to the euro and prices become sadly inflated.

#1 Paris Activity

There is one activity that is absolutely essential to any stop in Paris. It is not the obvious: a visit to the Louvre, mounting the Eiffel Tower, or a Seine boat cruise. No, my favourite activity is much cheaper and tastes better. It’s a late-night stop at a crepe bar.

These street-side vendors are open reliably late, perfect for a sweet snack after supper. The crepe is a wonderful companion for a leisurely stroll through the city of lights. The best creperies are usually the darkest and dingiest, as is often the case with street vendors.

On a recent stopover in Paris, the promise of a crepe was the only thing that made us feel better about our travel troubles. We decided to forego a visit to our favourite creperie, and try the products from a vendor that is boldly named “Aux Meilleures Crepes de Paris”, which translates to the best crepes in Paris. Tempting. Now, there are many flavourings on offer at the creperies, both sweet and savory fillings. But when in Paris, we never, ever sway from the Nutella and banana crepe. Yum! So before I reveal whether the ‘best crepes in Paris’ are all they are claimed to be, here are the essential qualities of a great crepe: because these are walking crepes, they must hold together well, not allowing the filling to ooze over the sides of the crepe onto ones hands, or worse, shoes. The filling must be plentiful and evenly spread, ensuring that each bite offers just the right amount of gooey filling. In fact, it’s a fine balance. The crepe cannot be too thin (not able to hold in the contents) or too thick (taking away from the flavour of the filling). Definitely a science. So, as you probably guessed, the ‘best crepes in Paris’ were a bit of a disappointment. The crepe was too thick and overshadowed the best part: the filling. It was too filling, leaving us feeling stuffed rather than pleasantly satisfied. Oh well, if not the best, it was still good and soothed our craving and sorrows.

One reason France sucks...

One thing that I will never get used to in France is the seemingly endless strikes. Les grèves. It seems as though every time we are planning a trip, there are circling rumours of strikes. It has ranged from Air France and airport employees (at least four times since we have been here), SNCF (France’s passenger train company), taxi drivers, and public transportation workers. Fortunately, we have always managed to avoid the inconveniences of the strikes, until now…

I will back up the story a bit. The previous blog told of our plans to visit the French Alp town of Chamonix. Unfortunately, Gilles was detained in Gabon for an additional week making our original trip plans impossible. We were quite discouraged, so to give us a positive outlook and a fresh start we decided to plan a new trip for his return. We had heard wonderful things about Prague, so decided to check out this capital city of the Czech Republic. And here come the strikes.

France is notorious for their strikes. We were aware of them prior to moving here, but I will not pretend to understand them. In Canada, striking is usually a last resort. There are clear requests that are disputed between workers and management. After much negotiation, a strike commences and continues until an arrangement has been agreed upon. How often have you been directly inconvenienced by strikes? Last summer’s Vancouver garbage strike would certainly not have been pleasant, but this is a rare event. Given that many ‘essential services’ in Canada are not allowed to strike, one could easily go several years without being directly affected by a strike. But not in France. We have friends with two children that attend school in Pau. The kids miss many days of classes due to strikes. But it is not because all teachers are on strike to negotiate a new contract. The strikes seem random and the reasons rarely disclosed. An individual teacher may choose to strike for a day. Classes for the rest of the unlucky students continues. The striking teacher returns to work the next day well rested.

We commenced our Prague trip last Monday at the Pau airport. Some air traffic controllers at the Paris airports were striking from Monday to Friday. We initially felt lucky as all flights from Pau to Paris’ Orly airport were cancelled; we were flying to the Charles de Gaulle airport. We arrived in Paris on time, and patiently waited for our next flight to Zurich. This flight was delayed by an hour. We knew it would give us little time to catch our Zurich to Prague flight, but we were still optimistic. I passed in my boarding pass first, and as I was walking down the gateway to the plane, Gilles and the Swiss Air employee called me back. All we were told is we were being put on another flight. We had to leave the secure area, collect our luggage, and visit the Swiss Air ticket counter. Turns out that because of the strikes, most flights out of Paris CDG were delayed. Efficient Switzerland did not want to deal with any passengers that may get stuck in their country because of France’s irresponsible strikes, so we were not allowed to fly to Zurich. Swiss Air put us up in a dingy airport hotel, and rescheduled our flights to the next day. We did finally arrive in Prague, almost 24 hours later than our original plans. And despite the ‘free’ hotel, we ended up coughing up plenty of money for a night out in Paris. Vive la France!