Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
Wednesday, July 7th, 2010
The other night I had a dream that I had to sit an exit exam at the prefecture before I would be allowed to leave France. This is either a sign that we’ve fully acclimated to life here or that we’re leaving just in time. Day by day, and with each appliance I sell, the decision to leave feels more fraught. Then I remember, that in fact it’s not really a decision as we don’t have the right to stay here beyond a few more months. It’s just that time; the curtain is closing on the adventure. I feel somewhat like I used to feel as a kid, stuck in school all winter, plodding along as if summer would never come. I could not imagine that my summer camp still existed when I wasn’t there–wasn’t it all a dream? At this point, I cannot imagine not being here. I cannot imagine being back in California. California, are you even still there? And Paris, what do you do with the sets when we’re not here?
I could go on like this at length, but instead, I point you to the list, perhaps an evolving list, entitled “What I will miss, and what I not”:
- our friends.
- our baker.
- all our merchants: our fruit and veggie guy, our enthusiastic cheese guy, the polite coffee lady, the nosy supermarket checker.
- our apartment, so small, yet so cozy.
- walking, everywhere (almost).
- sundays
- vacations
- being around for my girls
- T as a 2-4 year old in Paris. I hope she remembers this time.
- and surprisingly, speaking french.
and not:
- smoking at the playground
- the prefecture
- the CAF and just about all the other administrative bodies I’ve encountered, save the public health option.
- individual sized yogurt
- the very small refrigerator
- those first few weeks of March 2010
- the crazy guy who stands at his window shouting
We’re going offline for a couple of weeks, so you might not hear from me until we’re on this side of the ocean, although the other side of the continent:
(Thanks for lending the photo, C).
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Tuesday, June 1st, 2010
Three months old already. La petite puce just hit 5 kilos (11 pounds). She’s packing on the grams, and at a much slower rate, adding some minutes of sleep to nightly cycles.
Her little pixie hat below, quite similar to the flower hats worn by some of T’s playmobil fairies.
She also models some poofy pants, poofy enough for her diapered butt, but flattering nonetheless:
And so time marches forward. Making the most of our last two months here and not thinking too much about the rest.
Happy June to you all.
Posted in Uncategorized, knitting, sewing | 2 Comments »
Tuesday, September 29th, 2009
The great Internet black out of summer ‘09 is over. I’ve never been so glad to leave an apartment before. Without the Internet, there was time for sewing some back-to-school projects. They will follow as soon as the all of the appropriate hardware is reconnected.
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In the meantime, last night at dinner:
T: Mama, after you eat dinner, your belly gets big?
Me: Yes.
…pause…
T: Mama, is there a baby in your belly?
Me: Yes.
T: Mama, is there a baby in your belly?
Me: Yes.
T: Mama, is there a baby in your belly?
Me: Yes.
…dinner resumes, but 20 minutes later, while brushing her teeth with C….
T: Dada, there’s a baby in Mama’s belly!
C: Yes, are you excited?
T: YESSSSSS!
Introducing the proto-sibling. Here we go.
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Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009
I had my longest conversation ever with our corner baker yesterday. She has a daughter the same age as T and she asked me about our school plans for next year. It turns out that we’re assigned to the same school, there’s an orientation meeting on Saturday, and I hadn’t properly enrolled T yet. These are things I would have never known without my rocking “11 months in Paris style” French.
Yesterday was a holiday here, so this morning I called the school. The directrice answered her own phone and I immediately began to weigh my expected conversation against the one that was happening. I heard “can you come down right now?” but I didn’t believe it, that is, until she repeated it five times, progressively slower each time. We scheduled a rendezvous for 2, or um, 14 as they say here.
She was in a meeting when I arrived so I sat on the low bench outside her office, feeling small and vowing to flee and force T’s way into the private, bilingual, international and montessori preschool across town. I really wasn’t prepared for the crappiness of the school. It’s very, well, institutional, but the key feature is the price tag: free. Before I could get myself too down on the situation, the directrice arrived and was so freaking nice, possibly the nicest person I’ve met since we arrived here. Okay, in the top ten at least. The conversation went quite well. She asked if T would stay for lunch (the most minimal option is 4 days/week 8:30-11:30, but at most the day runs until 4:30 and no school on Wednesday) and I said I wasn’t sure. She placed the “point d’interrogation” next to that question on the form and we moved on. She eats lunch at her school now, but it’s such a little place with only 16 kids. I peeked into the lunchroom today and it was a slightly smaller version of the one I remember from grade school–it’s so hard to say how my big, yet very little girl, would manage there. As far as I understood, we can leave the question mark for a while yet.
She asked me if I had any questions. I do, but I said no. How do you ask a question like: how French will you make my daughter behind these doors? Or, there’s a rumor among us anglos that you make them sit in rows right from age 3, is that the case? So, I left it at no. She said it’s okay, it’s always that way and I can call her if I think of anything later on, or I can ask her at orientation on Saturday. We said goodbye and I suffered my typical moment of panic as I wondered whether we had to kiss. No, just a handshake.
Anyway. All of this might be moot as we’re in the process of looking for a new apartment, or if life goes my way, a petite cottage in the country. More on that later.
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Saturday, May 2nd, 2009
The child sleeps, knowing that when she wakes, it will be the day of her pah-tee and as luck would have it, her birthday as well. I’ve just finished the last of my projects–sewing the eyes on her owl sweater. The list now stands at:
one owl cardigan, completed and already snug.
one shirt to wear under said cardigan.
one bicycle handlebar bag, final embellishments added.
one bicycle, assembled and looking fine.
one birthday crown, somehow sewn under her watch without her realizing the implications.
C is in the process of removing my name from last week’s birthday sign and replacing it with T’s. It should be a fine day.
Pictures to follow.
Posted in Uncategorized, child | 1 Comment »
Wednesday, April 29th, 2009
My friend H designed these excellent cards for the shop. They arrived today, with a just a few weeks to go before I attempt to sell my goods to live people at a little fair around these parts.
Free with every ‘puter!
Posted in Uncategorized, craft and art | 2 Comments »
Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009
The little traveler and I are crossing the northern border together tomorrow. She hasn’t chosen her traveling clothes yet, but I expect it to be something outlandish to support the reputation she’s earned at school. Soon there will be a crop of two year olds who insist on wearing two mismatched socks. It’s all the rage.
We’re headed to my aunt and uncle’s place, and somehow I’ve managed to pack an extremely small bag. I’m sure T will up-end my plans tomorrow by stuffing in various creatures and related cozy-making accessories, but I will not let my plan be thwarted. So I’ve spent the night packing, drying out her new sneakers that she expertly moistened at the park this afternoon, and then, um, just sitting around.
I’m still recovering from yesterday afternoon’s incident, the one in which I locked myself, T and our visiting friend E out of the apartment. Naturally the only other key was with C, and not in France. After I determined that there was no way to break in, I called our landlord, then called E back from the Rodin Museum. She watched T for the hour or so it took me to haul out on the metro to the eastern edge of Paris. I made it back around 6:45 and we all celebrated at the creperie down the street. Happy ending, no doubt, and really no different from the time(s) we locked ourselves out in San Francisco, but sweaty situations like this always remind me of the foreign factor. We are not from here, and if you didn’t guess that from my accent, it is now completely obvious because we have no friends or neighbors to hold a spare key.
So, some sitting around time was in order–certainly a key aspect of the preparations as I doubt the train ride will be very mellow. Fortunately T loves trains, and I’m sure the people sitting next to us will be glad to hear how much. Please let us know if you need a report regarding the color of our seats or the color of the bathroom. These are always topics of great interest.
Back to making things next week.
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Tuesday, March 31st, 2009
I had my first velib (the free-ish bicycle rental service in Paris) ride today.
I bought unexpectedly pastel-themed fabrics as that’s what was on offer at the budget fabric store.
as was this.
and Iz. resumed her garde in the backyard, but now next to a little plant that came home with me from the market.
april in paris. i get it now.
Posted in Uncategorized, paris | 1 Comment »
Wednesday, March 4th, 2009
Almost everyday I encounter a situation that disconcerts, something that is not better or worse in France, just different. Take today. When I arrived to pick up T, the kids were rocking out to Pink Martini’s Sympathique (and here). It was on the heavy rotation about 10 years ago, no? They were dancing and screeching, and as the song came to a close, a good many two year olds, my daughter included, belted out the final chorus:
Je ne veux pas travailler
Non, je ne veux pas déjeuner
Je veux seulement t’oublier
Et puis je fume…*
This is what you sing when you’re procrastinating on a term paper, but what worries do these squeaks have? Sometimes even toddlers need a smoke, hm? It may sound like the blades of my helicopter are a-whirl, but in fact I’m not too stressed about it–it’s just different, possibly a strange choice, but hardly a catastrophe, another word T learned today. All the way home, again and again, she belted, “c’est une catastrophe.”
Me: Do you know what a catastrophe is?
T: C’est une catastrophe! catastrophe! cah-tah-strof!
Me: Do you know what it means?
T: What is means?
Me: (Searching for example that illustrates but isn’t actually too catastrophic). It might be a catastrophe if we arrived at the airport late and the plane left without us.
T: (Looking up at me, eyes wide open). Yes. Catastrophe.
I tried…
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* Forgive the translation: I don’t want to work; I don’t want to eat, I only want to forget and then I smoke.
Posted in Uncategorized, child, france | 1 Comment »
Wednesday, February 25th, 2009
Almost ten years ago I left the East Coast for Santa Barbara. I sublet a sweet little cottage for the summer and cared for the resident cats. I can’t remember if it really happened this way, but I have a vague memory of paying for my stay in advance–$800 total for July and August. The cottage didn’t have a kitchen, so as summer ended and I started looking for a permanent place, I factored an extra $50-100 per month for a kitchen. I did not understand how things worked and I found nothing.
At some point in my search that summer, I found my way to the gross apartment. I can still summon the shudder that passed through me, but the only detail I remember is the one room with turf in place of carpet. I felt that same shudder again yesterday afternoon when I visited a sixth floor walk-up with shoddy brown carpeting, peeling wallpaper and a bits of grime here and there. The owner didn’t seem to sense how undesirable the place was, so I backed away from the deal tactfully, mentioning C’s long commute. He was cordial, suggested a few towns south of Paris that might suit us and we parted ways agreeing that interactions like these (minus the agent in the middle) were the way to go. He asked that I pass the details along to others who might need a place to stay. I probably won’t, but I will recommend the beautiful square around the corner from the apartment, with the standard issue Paris playground and the not totally standard gazebo:
After several rejections in Santa Barbara, I asked around for advice. Acquaintances told me to bring a cash (yes, cash) deposit, my parents told me to dress up, and so I did both. I showed up for the group appointment, waited for everyone else to leave and chatted up the landlord. There was an extremely awkward moment when I offered her the cash and she declined–very awkward. I assumed I blew it again, but she later called and offered the apartment because a) they only rented to women and the other applicants were men (somehow this was legal because some of the apartments shared a hall bathroom and it was easier to only have women?) and b) she liked my college (the landlord worked for a small museum that had a relationship with my school’s small museum). This is the only time the promises of my alma mater came to fruition. I should be due for another shout-out soon, no?
It’s clear now that I’m way too emotional about real estate, ruled solely by a limited understanding of feng shui and a fondness for hardwood floors. When these things combine with a gas stove, a bathtub, and a space that catches the afternoon light just so, I WANT it, and when it does not want me, I cry. I did not cry yesterday; I breathed a sigh of relief instead. This afternoon could go either way–the location is great, the garden across the street is beautiful, but if you had been present to hear the phone conversation that led to this appointment, you would have been really embarrassed for me (yet impressed by C’s ability to recover the conversation). We’ve already been warned that beaucoup de monde will be there. Perhaps it’s time to don a dress and pack some euros…
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