New Holiday Traditions

We spent a wonderful holiday season in France. My parents and sister joined us to celebrate Christmas and the New Year French style. We incorporated some new traditions into our celebrations, yet managed to squeeze in a few familiar touches from home. Mom brought me chicken bones (only Maritimers will know what these are), one of my favourite Christmas treats. She also brought summer savory to season the stuffing, and I managed to find cranberry sauce. We blared the Christmas tunes, and had a wonderful time.

As for the French traditions, we enjoyed oysters on several occassions, and had a Buche de Noel for dessert after Christmas supper. We cooked a chapon (the castrated rooster discussed previously) for that same meal. The butcher stuffed it with ground veal and mushrooms. It clearly has more fat than the average chicken; it could have been cooked for days without drying out! It was delicious, and Gilles and I did prefer it over a turkey. We visited a bakery at least once a day. My father, who does not speak French, was so accustomed to the procedure by the end of his visit that he was ordering the baguettes. We sampled many, many French wines and cheeses. The fantastic wines were easy winners with our guests; I can’t say the same about some of the cheeses. They did not agree with my theory that the stinkier the cheese, the better the taste.

The weather was warm and wonderful while they were here. We enjoyed a lunch in the backyard wearing only t-shirts. The weather also made for some great day trips. We visited both the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea. The Atlantic Coast is only a little over an hour away. While there we visited the French town St Jean de Luz, and the beautiful Spanish town of San Sebastian. The closest point on the Mediterranean is three hours away. There, we walked along a beautiful sandy beach, wider and longer than any we have ever seen. On the way home from that trip we paid a visit to the medieval town of Carcassonne.

Our visitors left a week ago, with full bellies and memory cards. They spent a day in Paris before returning to Canada. We miss them, and are anxiously awaiting our next visitors.

Sisters in Switzerland

My sister, Julie, and I spent four days in Switzerland before Christmas. The first two days were in the country’s capital, Bern. I have previously visited Geneva, and Bern had a lot of similarities, which I now assume are typical of a Swiss city. Switzerland is clean, punctual and very expensive. The Swiss are extremely environmentally friendly; they choose to walk, bike, or take public transportation to work. The city streets are eerily empty of vehicles. The parking lots devoted to bicycles are crammed, even in the winter. Wherever one travels in Switzerland, it’s hard to avoid the reminders that Switzerland has a long tradition of watch making. It seemed as though Bern had a large clocktower on every street corner in the historic part of town.

After Bern we voyaged to the mountain village of Murren. To access this village, we had to take a large gondola, then a rickety train that chugged along the side of a mountain. Murren is a car-free village. It was traditionally a farming town, but now survives mostly on tourism. I felt more in the mountains while in this town that only a day of snowshoeing or hiking has allowed me to feel before. It is more common to see people sledding or skiing through the village’s narrow streets than walking. Even the mailman gets around on a large toboggan! The gentleman who owns the chalet we stayed at plays the alphorn, and we were fortunate to hear him play a tune one sunny afternoon.

We went sledging, which is what the Swiss call sledding. The ‘sledges’ are like a short and raised toboggan. The sledging trails start at the same elevation as the ski trails, and are accessed by a gondola. We had so much fun flying along the trail, and occasionally crashing into a snowbank.

Julie and I were in German speaking Switzerland. Despite the language barrier, we managed to order all the Swiss specialties for supper. We enjoyed two cheese fondues, which barely resembled any that I have had before. They were so delicious and soothing after a cold day of sightseeing. We were served bread and small boiled potatoes for dipping into the melted cheese. We also sampled several rosti, which were delicious and oddly similar to a hearty breakfast served in a cast iron pan. Rosti are grated potatoes, shaped into discs and shallow fried or baked in the oven. We had it served with fried eggs, sausages, bacon, and cheese (not all at the same time!). We also sampled several Swiss beers that resemble those made by their German neighbours. And to put the finishing touches on a well balanced diet of cheese, potatoes, and beer, we ate chocolate...lots and lots of chocolate. Yum!!

A Paris Christmas

Gilles and I spent a wonderful weekend in Paris before my family arrived for Christmas. We had this trip planned for several weeks, but an extended stay in Gabon for Gilles almost canceled our plans. But thanks to a wedged tool in the well, Gilles and I arrived in Paris the same day!

Paris stays true to form and dons a very classy look for the holiday season. No plastic santas or reindeer in this town. The famous department stores of Printemps and Galeries Lafayette were breathtaking. They come alight at night, with my favourite being Printemps which was covered in delicate pink lights. We were shocked with our first look at the interior of Galeries Lafayete. The large Christmas tree hung above the cosmetics department, and reached up for almost four stories. The buzz inside the store was almost as big as that outside, where thousands of people gathered to get a glimpse of the storefront displays. The animated winter scenes had adults and children alike in awe.

The Champs Elysees was beautiful at night with blue lights lining both sides of the street. We had a wonderful (and chilly) bird’s eye view of the City of Lights Christmas-style with a ride on a ferris wheel that was set up at the end of the Champs Elysees.

We managed plenty of shopping, and avoided getting crushed in the busy gastronomic stores like Fauchon. The French were out in full force stocking up on speciality food and wine for the holiday season. We have never seen a store so crazy and chaotic! Oh, and I finally got the Furla handbag that I passed up while we were in Italy. Merry Christmas to me!

Noel

As we head into the second week of December, and the rain is strongly falling outside, I find it hard to imagine that Christmas is just around the corner. This holiday is certainly celebrated in a very different manner here than in North America. The stores have set up their Christmas wares, which take up a mere aisle, and a small aisle at that. There are numerous chocolate and wine packages, designed especially for Christmas. And children’s toys and books overflow into the aisles. I have not heard a single Christmas carol on the store’s PA system, and I have not seen a flake of snow. I am not holding my breath for the latter!

Christmas trees are now for sale in the parking lots of the various grocery stores. They sell sapins, or fir trees only. I will miss the big beautiful pine tree that we have decorated the past couple of years. The trees for sale here are very short, about 5 feet tall at the most. It will seem tiny compared to the 10 plus foot trees that we put up in Calgary.

The city centre is illuminated with thousands of lights that are strung across the streets in various patterns. Pau must be a shining beacon seen from space at night. The excessive use of lights is contradictory for such an energy conscious population. It is quite beautiful, though. I heard that the lights illuminating the Champs Elysees in Paris this year are LED, giving the street a blue glow.

So far the French Christmas appears much less commercial than the North American holiday, certainly an improvement. And we are told that the week between Christmas and the New Year is all about family. And the centre of attention for the family this week is food. Not surprising for the French! We are starting to see the Christmas treats fill the markets and grocery stores. The list of cherished items is much longer than I will pretend to know, but here are some of the highlights: the famed Buche de Noel. This delectable cake, shaped like a log comes in various flavours. They are pre-ordered at one’s favourite patisserie, and picked up on Christmas morning along with the day’s supply of bread. I will order our Buche next week. Next are the rich treats that preclude Christmas supper. These include foie gras, ris de veau (sweetbreads), and oysters. This is oyster season, and they are for sale everywhere. And goes best with oysters? Champagne, of course. The French do not require a special occasion to drink Champagne. They believe that this wine should be enjoyed frequently, a belief that I also support. But consumption certainly increases during the holiday season. Chestnuts are in season, and outdoor roasting stalls are set up around town. The smell is soothing, and I can’t help but hum the carol, “chestnuts roasting by an open fire” as I walk by. Chestnuts are also used to prepare to French version of stuffing for Christmas supper. However they do not accompany a turkey, which the French consider flavourless and dry, but a chapon. These male chickens (roosters) are castrated at a young age, and apparently offer very tender and tasty meat when roasted. It will be interesting to try.

Fortunately, we will be spending this holiday season with family. We will have a mixed nation experience, as we listen to our Christmas CDs, watch North American Christmas television classics, and incorporate some French traditions.

Gastronomic Adventures

Part of our excitement in moving to France was the opportunity to experience food and drink in (arguably) the most gastronomic country in the world. The French take food, wine, and other drink very seriously. Gilles once started a lengthy debate over the lunch table when he asked his colleagues their opinion on Nouveau Beaujolais. The French have a long list of delicacies that are banned or frowned upon in many other countries either because of health or cruelty-to-animals concerns. This list includes many delicious items such as foie gras, unpasteurized cheeses, capon, and veal, all of which the French would never consider giving up. Even if they do not prepare food, the average French person is incredibly knowledgeable about what they put into their mouths. This education begins at a very early age with children planting herb gardens at school, and tasting wine at supper. It is a vastly different mentality than we are accustomed to, but one we are enjoying.

Gilles and I have jumped into the French food scene headfirst. When the opportunity to try something new comes up, we generally greet it with open arms. We have enjoyed most things, including yesterday when I tried something that I unexpectedly enjoyed. That is until I found out what it truly was. The old adage, ‘ignorance is bliss’ applies here. Before I get into the details, I’ll list some of our other culinary firsts. As for some of the above listed banned/unethical items, we are firm supporters. We have enjoyed foie gras, unpasteurized cheeses, and veal prior to living in France. Gilles says he is happy to finally find people who enjoy baby cow as much as he does. If that statement makes you wince, perhaps you should stop reading now. Our firsts have been frogs’ legs (they do not taste like chicken), pigeon (surprisingly, a yummy, mild red meat), and duck heart. No problems there. Now to yesterday….

I went to one of our favourite restaurants, Le Berry, with a friend for lunch. She is Canadian, and returning to Calgary in July after having lived in Pau for two years. She said that she could not leave France without having tried steak tartare. Le Berry is reputed to make very good quality tartare, so she new it would be the best place to try it. You may recall from a previous posting what this dish is: ground meat mixed with various spices and served raw. At the time I likened it to a package of hamburger meat overturned onto a plate. Upon closer inspection, it does not look quite so unappetizing. She was enjoying it, so I gave it a try. I was shocked at how tasty it was. It had a light, almost fluffy texture. It certainly did not feel as though I was eating raw hamburger meat. It was seasoned nicely with chives, salt, pepper, capers, and worcestershire sauce. I was quite proud of myself so trying, and liking it. I decided I would order it again so that Gilles could try it. Ahappy ending, right?

Last night I was recalling my experience to Gilles on the telephone (he is in Gabon, West Africa). Earlier in the week he discussed steak tartare with a colleague who often enjoys the dish at Le Berry. He discovered an interesting piece of information that he decided to withhold from me until after I had tried the dish. That is that the dish is traditionally not made with ground beef, as I had assumed. It is made with horsemeat. Yes, horsemeat. His colleague claims that that is how it is still made at Le Berry. Huh….

Until recently I did not know that people actually eat horsemeat. Then I read in my France travel book that ‘chevaliers’ still exist. That is, a butcher that sells horsemeat. I have seen this meat at the local market, but still did not really believe that people buy it. But now, I have unknowingly eaten it! It does not change the fact that the dish was tasty. Would I order it again? I don’t know. I am still trying to work out what I think about yesterday’s experience. I do know that it will not stop me from being adventurous with my culinary choices in the future.

Worst Cookies Ever

Today I got up the courage to bake cookies. I will admit that I was quite nervous; the ingredients I purchased are not what I am used to, and my oven contains only a top burner, not exactly a baker’s dream. But despite these challenges, I thought I was ready. I scoured the grocery stores and finally found brown sugar that looks and feels like brown sugar, icing sugar (albeit vanilla flavoured and in a small container for dusting on confectionaries), and baking soda. I started off with a recipe for chocolate chip cookies: nothing gets easier and it does not require too many substitutions for things that I cannot find here. I needed to vary only the fats. They do not have baking margarine here, so I used all butter instead of half butter and half margarine. No big deal, right? Except I have my doubts about the butter here. While it tastes wonderful, it is not creamy, hence is hard to work into a batter.

Nerveless, I was ready to give it a try. I whipped the sugars into the butter with all my might. The large, moist eggs went in well. So did the dry ingredients. Next, stir in the chocolate pieces (no chocolate chips in France). The batter tasted yummy…so far so good. I chilled the batter and had my baking stone up to oven temperature. These two key steps ‘always’ ensure nice, plump cookies. But as soon as I spooned the first bit of batter onto the pan, I knew things were not looking good. The butter seemed to melt and run immediately out of the batter. I threw the cookies into the oven before they melted too much. They did not do much better in the oven. Each piece of batter melted into the others, forming flat rounds. The edges started to brown significantly, so I removed the pan from the oven. The outsides were certainly cooked, but the tops were raw. And not the chewy, good cookie raw: a melted butter raw. But looks are only one thing. Taste is most important. Unfortunately, they do not taste much better than they look. Overly buttery, and my number one pet peeve of bad cookies: I could taste the baking soda. Yuck!

So what do I try next? Muffins, a cake, pizza dough. Something has to work, right?

Strange Medicine

This weekend we made our first official pharmacy visit. I have been understandably intrigued by French pharmacies. The storefront always has a neon sign in the shape of a green cross making them impossible to miss. When I peer inside it looks nothing like a North American drugstore. They are very small. The only things on display in front of the counter are expensive beauty products, specialty toothpastes, homeopathic products, and a selection of infant supplies. There is no sign of vitamins, antacids, pain relievers, cough and cold products, or all the other things we associate with a pharmacy. And despite a closer look inside, including an interaction with a pharmacist, I now have more questions than answers.

The reason we needed drugs is an upcoming visit to Gabon for Gilles. He had an appointment with the Total physician who gave him numerous vaccinations and prescribed several anti-malaria products. Malaria, spread by a type of mosquito found in most African countries, is a dangerous disease that can be prevented with medications and obviously avoidance of being bitten. For the latter, he was prescribed two products containing a high concentration of DEET, one for skin and one for clothes.

Off we went to the closest pharmacy with two prescriptions in hand. One contained orders for the two DEET products and Malarone, an oral anti-malarial medication. The other contained an order for the Hepatitis B vaccination that Gilles will bring to the Total medical office for injection. We approached the pharmacist, provided her with the prescriptions, and off she went to the back to gather the products. This gave me time to peruse the shelves and admire the beauty products. When the pharmacist returned, she handed the products over and totaled the cost. Now I apologize if this next part bores my non-pharmacist friend, but what I am about to say should seem odd to anyone who has ever had a medication dispensed to them. The pharmacist did NOT ask Gilles any questions. She did not need to know his name, address, telephone number or if he has any allergies. Nothing was entered into a computer. She handed him two boxes of Malarone without putting a label on it. There were no instructions for use given. And she handed the prescriptions back to us when she was done! I was shocked! It is not as though she dispensed something most people know how to take, like Tylenol or Advil. And documentation is such a vital part of safety in the medical field. If she later realized she made a mistake, she would have no way of contacting us. It’s a good thing Gilles has his own private pharmacist!

I don’t want to be too hard on French pharmacists. Obviously the medical system is vastly different here than in Canada, and I have yet to see what their true role is. It is likely a very important role, as their University programme is longer than the Canadian programme. Or maybe it just takes that long to be able to properly recommend beauty products and toothpastes…just kidding, of course!

An Emotional Journey

Gilles and I just completed a two-day session designed to give expats the tools necessary to live and work successfully in France. We learned many valuable things, including what to expect along the emotional journey of living in a foreign country. It is not an uphill learning curve; there will be several ups and downs along the way. Apparantly, my banking frustrations were a result of "convenience shock". This low typically occurs within a couple of months of arriving in the new country. It's when one loses patience with things, or conveniences that are easy in one's own country, yet seem so complex in the new home. Funny thing is, after my venting-of-frustrations post, I received three letters providing my confidential code! Needless to say, I now know my number!

After the convenience shock is the adaptation stage. I suspect we are here now. We are feeling more settled in our house, enjoy shopping at the market on weekends, are experimenting with French food at home, and are generally enjoying life. Life will not always be so rosy, as the low of "cultural fatigue" comes next. Trying so hard to adapt and fit-in will ultimately lead to fatigue. This is when one begins to feel homesick. When will this time come for us? Time will tell. Then comes the long stage of involvement, followed by thriving. However, before one can thrive there is another low called "culture shock". The facilitator did not go into much detail about this low-point, but it was accompanied by a scary symbol on the graph. Thus, I am not looking forward to the culture shock stage.

One other important lesson that we learned was how to properly do the bise. This is the name given to the common practice of "kissing" someone on both cheeks when greeting them. I had many questions about how to do this, and turns out I have made many faux-pas in the past. Firstly, there is no touching with the hands unless one is doing the bise with a close friend. I usually touch the arm or shoulder of the other person, kind of as a way to anchor myself. Wrong! This is getting too much into their private space. Secondly, do touch cheek to cheek. I assumed I was supposed to kiss the air beside the cheek. Wrong again! Lips do not touch the cheek. Thankfully, I am not guilty of making this mistake. People usually kiss twice, starting with the right side. But, for no seemingly good reason, some people kiss three or four times, and may start from the left. Our facilitator assured us we will never, ever get it right, so just follow the lead of the French person. Unfortunately, this is usually easier said than done!

St Emilion

Last weekend, we spent a lovely few days in the quaint town of St Emilion. It is perhaps one of the nicest little towns we have visited. St Emilion is one of the renowned regions within the Bordeaux winemaking region. The ground around the town is composed largely of limestone. This makes excellent caves for making and storing their wines.

St Emilion is about a two and a half hour drive from Pau. As soon as we entered the Bordeaux region, the vines began and seemed to stretch on forever. The vines here are so immaculately groomed that they are all the same height. It is quite an incredible sight when you look down a vineyard.

The tiny town is very well equipped to entertain the tourist in search of wine. The tourist office arranges wine classes and has updated information of which Chateaux’ are giving tours. A Chateaux is essentially what the vineyard is called. They may or may not actually have a chateau on the property. It is said there are over 7000 Chateaux in the Bordeaux region! We were fortunate to visit three Chateaux while there.

While in Calgary we took a French wine class. While we enjoyed the tastings, I am not sure we understood the complex nomenclature used to classify French wines any better than before the class. There are regions within regions, each of which has their own classifications. But last weekend, we started to understand. At least we have a good grasp on the wines from St Emilion, which helps understand Bordeaux wines in general.

We learned many things from each Chateau we visited. It is always a pleasure to see how passionate the vintners are toward their profession and their wines. The last gentleman we visited was at least 70 years old. He spent over two hours with us explaining each step in the winemaking process in incredible depth. He walked us through an extensive tasting process, that included lighting a candle and spitting the first mouthful. One would pay a lot of money to attend a tasting class in a big city. We simply bought two bottles of wine.

We left St Emilion with over a dozen bottles of wine and bad colds. I guess the latter is to be expected after spending a day in damp caves!

Housewarming

Last Wednesday we moved into our new home. Things went smoothly, with a couple of exceptions. We were promised a separate washer and dryer because we have the space in our garage. Despite this, we received a combination washer and dryer. These were designed for small spaces: one small machine does both the washing and drying. The problem is it takes over four hours for a cycle, and the drying capability is questionable. Our relocation coordinator promised to get us a separate washer, which we are still waiting for. In the meantime, I visit the laundromat when the laundry basket overflows. The second mix-up was with our bed. The mattress sizes are classified by size. We were told we would be given a 160 cm bed, which is slightly larger than a North American queen mattress. When we stepped into oour room, it was clear that the bed was much smaller than a queen. Thankfully, I had already bought sheets for a 160 cm bed. This guilted our coordinator into getting a new bed rushed over. Of course during the discussion she sighed heavily and used a few "oh la las!".

It was like Christmas morning going through the boxes that were shipped with the moving company. I think we packed quite appropriately, but there are a few things that we would have done differently. Gilles would have shipped our hangers, since the ones here don't quite meet his standards. I would have brought baking powder, since it is not available here. Also, I did not bring my measuring cups. Everything is measured by weight here, which is fine if using a European cookbook. All my recipes are North American, so require things to be measured in cups and teaspoons and tablespoons. Actually, I don't think many people bake at home here. The baking section in the hypermarche (ie grocery store) is tiny. No chocolate chips. I haven't seen brown sugar or icing sugar. Oh la la! And why would the typical French person bake? There is a bakery on every street corner with warm, straight from the oven bread and any dessert one could ever want. I don't even think my oven is big enough to bake a large loaf of bread. Speaking of oven size: Mom and Dad...if you are expecting a turkey for Christmas supper you had better stay home. There is no way a bird that large will fit in my oven!

We are settling in well. Saturday we are taking a trip to the IKEA in Toulouse. Why does every move require a trip to IKEA? Stay tuned for photos of our Baby Benz bogged down by IKEA boxes. I just know we will be coming home with something strapped to the roof!