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!

Snow Seekers

What is the opposite of a snowbird? Well, whatever it is, that is how we have been feeling lately. When we set upon this adventure to live in France, we could not have predicted what things we would miss from home. Turns out, it’s winter. Now, I realize that those of you who have suffered through this week’s deep freeze in Alberta would gladly trade places with me, and find yourself sipping on a cocktail in my sunny backyard. Or even better, trade places with Gilles and be sunning yourself on a beach in Gabon. But believe it or not, we would like to trade places with you! Well, maybe not on a day when the windchill is -50°C, but you get the drift.

To cure our atypical winter blues, we are heading to Chamonix/Mont Blanc in the French Alps this weekend for some snow fun. We’ll spend our days skiing, snowshoeing, skating, and rolling in the snow. Now, I am not anticipating our trip to be as warm and fuzzy as our past snowshoeing experiences with friends in Alberta. Those trips were made memorable by good company, snowbank beer, elusive lakes, kamikaze jumps, and dizzying heights (not recommended for those who have just given blood!). We’ll reminisce about those great times as we explore a new set of mountains, and hopefully finish the days off with a comforting cheese fondue. Mmmmm…cheese!

I’ll post some photos of our trip once we return. For now, enjoy some photos from the past.

Learnings

Last Friday night I realized how much Gilles and I have adapted to French culture since arriving here last September. This realization came over diner with friends at a local restaurant that serves dishes typical of this region of France. I was with a Norwegian couple and two Scottish couples, all of whom arrived in Pau before Gilles and I. One of the Scottish girls had two friends visiting from Aberdeen, her hometown.

These visiting girls did not speak a word of French, except for a heavily accented bonjour, merci, and enchante. They were wonderfully pleasant and eager to befriend the waiters with their limited vocabulary. They received English versions of the menu, not that these were of much help. The English descriptions of the French dishes on offer were still foreign to these girls. They opted for a dish that appeared safe and familiar: steak, well done.

As I helped them with the menu from across the table, I could not help but reflect back to our first dining experiences in Pau. We did not have the luxury of the English menu; everything listed on the French menu was a mystery. In comparison, we interpreted menus in Italy with ease, and we don’t speak Italian! Gilles and I are adventurous with regards to food, but we do like to know what we are eating. So, for my first French meal, I ordered a salad with goat cheese toasts drizzled with honey.

Last Friday, when this memory came to mind, I was taken aback by how easily I was now reading the menu. I ordered chipirones farci avec piment d’Espelette. Several months ago, I would not have had a clue what this was. But last Friday, I enjoyed skid stuffed with peppers from the town of Espelette with no surprises. I was quite proud of myself.

I may be advancing my French language skills, but I still have plenty to learn when it comes to the Scottish language. When the visiting girls were asked if the speak English, they said “no, Scottish”, and I think they truly are different languages. Here is what I have learned so far:

Tatties = potatoes
Skive = to skip something, ie to skip school
Uni = university
Hogmanay = New Year’s Eve

With all the languages floating around in my head, I did not dare ask the Norwegian couple for a few lessons in their language!