Well played lotion makers...

I read the list of ingredients. 
What I did not read was the 2nd list of ingredients. 
Well played lotion makers.

Russian Doll

The majority of our couple-friends are mixed.  Franco-Italian, Franco-Irish, Franco-Japanese, Franco-Mexican...
It makes it interesting.  Like a cultural/adaptation study.  You see how couples adapt in their relationship and around home.  And you REALLY see who wears the culottes in the family.  Though you could be wrong...

I met this Russian beauty thanks to a friend of B's.  We had the couple over for dinner and he was chiding her and her French grammar mistakes at the dinner table.  She sweetly accepted. I silently slapped him in my own mind.
So I invited her to my house on a Friday night with some other girlfriend's of mine.  She was quiet and kind - and seemed to have none of the regular complaints

He keeps talking but he isn't actually answering the question....

He dances like it is the 80's


His love of stinky cheese is making our fridge smell like something died in there, even with the tupperware!

He's just so French sometimes. 

No girl is that nice and no significant other is without small annoyances. 
And then we had dinner at their house.  And they were both so excited because they cut themselves off from wine during the week and now it was Saturday night dinner.  We brought chocolates from Chapon and she ate one during apéro, which he didn't like one bit, but she did it anyway.  And then we had foie gras, but with vodka. 
And then all bets were off. 

And just this last Saturday there was a baptism for their little girl (18 months old) at the Russian Orthodox church.  Apologies for quality of the IPhone photos, and the miserable gray sky (but you know how I like to kill people's French dreams).

Saint Alexandre-Nevy Cathedral

The hour of speaking/singing in Russian with candles and annointing oils.

Baby didn't mind the priest and his annointing oils until he plucked her naked from her mother's arms and stuck her in the bath. 

Finished Franco-Russian baby, complete with fur collar and beret!

Don't worry, relationships aren't about winning. 
At least not until your easter candy is brought by a flying bell instead of a bunny, there are no more stockings hung by the chimney, no bacon at brunch and you are eating snails and oysters for Christmas.  We won't even talk about the lack of pumpkin anywhere. 

But you can win this one, France.  And my Russian friend agrees

This is the end of a 2.5 foot pyramid (piéce montée) of cream puffs filled with vanilla pudding and covered in hard caramel.  The petals at the bottom are crushed grilled almonds in the same hard caramel.  And the colored pieces sticking out are candied almonds.  One of the only acceptable foods to eat with your hands.

Otherwise known as a croque-en-bouche or Croquembouche; literally: crunches in the mouth.

The complete inability to be positive

A French compliment:                      C'etait pas mal  It's not bad.

What French person telling you that 'you are right' sounds like:

       Ce n'est pas fausse It's not wrong.

A good restaurant/movie/play/etc.:      C'est correcte It's correct.

I have an Iphone.  I have never, not once seen any French Application rated above a 3.5. 

Where Americans say "That was AMAZING!"
A Parisian will say "It was good."

For survival I have had to learn translation skills and so I imagine them jumping up and down on the inside when they say
"C'était bon."

Île d'Yeu

At first when they told me "eel d'yeuh", 

I thought, île dieu - a paradise Island from God!?  

Yes, please!

And then I remembered,  that's in the North Atlantic.

Which was not unlike when they told me we were going to St Michel

Yay!

but it was actually St Michel Chef Chef

less yay.

Or when they told me we were going to Province and I thought I was going here:

but no.

 Surprise! You are going.....

...anywhere outside of Paris!

Living in contradiction

I met this girl in a fresh & healthy lunch place.  She saw me, or rather HEARD us, in the shop.  It's a funny thing about English speakers. We are LOUD.  In a restaurant full of people chatting away quietly with their dates where the tables are 2 inches apart, you will hear the entirety of the conversation of the English tourists sitting on the opposite side of the room.  The first time I noticed this was in a Belgian tram car.  My dad, stepmom and I entered at the back. I had a question so I walked up to the driver (through the two tram cars).  As I turned to walk back, I could hear my stepmom, as if she were sititng right next to me, talking to my dad about the Belgian frites.
In her defense she comes from a family of 9.

For my girlfriends though, we have no excuse.  We get together and it is the breath of fresh, loud, laughing air that echoes over whatever place we are in. We tend to visit the same places because they know us and keep accepting our money so our loudness doesn't seem to be that big of a problem. 
 
French is not a language to yell in
French is a language to whisper in the ear, or wax poetic in
French negotiation is a dance

English is a language to do business in,
to write clear and concise contracts in
to lay it all out on the table.  

Who doesn't want both?  Mondays for business and Wednesdays for 3 hour lunches on the patio with wine and dessert?


Just maybe less French on administration days. 

  

Speaking of toilets...

We had a Saturday lunch today (flowers + chocolates in hand) with some friends of ours and the subject of kids came up. (They have a 9 month old and a 2 1/2 year old).

Standard Maternity Leave is 16 weeks for a 1st child.  3-6 weeks prenatal and the remaining weeks for postnatal (Leave is longer for each additional child). When women go back to work children generally either  go to a nounou (nanny) or go to the crèche (daycare) until 3 yrs when they can go to maternelle (preschool). They must be potty trained BEFORE they go to preschool which means it is generally done during the child's time at the crèche. But in typical fashion, France has a polite way to say this, which no one told KB about. This was the short and misunderstood conversation I had with his mother:
 
Paris Mom: Il devrait déja être propre à 2 ans ou il ne sera plus accepter à la creche.  He should already be clean by 2 or they won't allow him to come back to daycare.

KB: Il a l'air déja propre. He seems clean to me.  

Pinch Hitter

You remember we went to a wedding up in Oslo, Norway? 

Where I got this little pearl

(bacon in a tube!)  

You can imagine the other treasures I found in Oslo.

 

Well I have been to my fair share of weddings.  Crazy last minute necessities, missing hair pins, unruly family. So I offered my helping hand  to the bride.  I told her I was a pinch hitter and just to let me know.  She thanked me and said she'd keep it in mind. 

The bride (Norwegian) having spent more than half of her life in foreign countries, including 1 year in the U.S.,  had clearly not come across this saying - she was recently talking to b on skype and I overheard the following

b: Dinner was great, but that part of Paris is not nice at night.

Norwegian:  but you had KB with you.  She told me she is a pinch hitter. 


Hm.

No.

 

 Yes!

She thought I offering to take down her weird uncle instead of distract him with conversation and booze. 








 

Things that creep me out...

Baby perfume
From the most chic brand of baby clothing

Baby perfume with a stuffed animal

Super gross!

Apparently we are the clean ones

Seen on a Paris tour bus: 

French:  Thank you for not throwing anything on the floor
German:  Please do not throw anything on the floor
Spanish:  Please do not leave anything on the floor of the bus
English:  Please do not leave anything behind on the bus

Shall we talk service frustration?

Today we received a desk that we ordered 6 months ago.

scratchity scratch scratch

6 months ago, we had a discount and got excited and bought a desk we had been pining over for 3 years. Plus a chair and some other miscellaneous items.  Our chair was delivered 2 weeks later and had large claw scratches on the back side. Punishing myself for not unwrapping the chair while the delivery guys were here before I signed the stupid paper, I immediately called to report the problem and was redirected to the internet where I needed to write a complaint complete with photos, etc.  Which I did.  And low and behold I got an immediate response complete with claim number,Yay!                                          
 
And then nothing.  After a week I called the store. They said they would give us a 200 euro credit and get the chair picked up and replaced within a week.  I got a call on Friday to schedule the delivery and when I asked if it was for the chair or for the desk, she said she would call me back. 
Which she kindly did
and then said she didn't know. 
And then on the day of delivery, no one came. 
I wrote a complaint.  I went into the store where they were very nice and took copies of all my paper work.  I was given a contact she said she would get everything arranged.  And then nothing happened. Again. 
I went into the store again and threatened with "it won't be good if she doesn't contact me" (I really really really wanted the desk.  really really. for 3 years). And I find out my contact has gone on vacation.  (and of course no one else can do it.  And she is on French vacation i.e. 2-4 weeks).  5 weeks later without warning they call to deliver the unclawed chair.  THE CHAIR!  Seriously!?  

During the summer (otherwise known as the dead period when 75% of Paris empties out, and so service is nearly non existent.)  I refuse to visit the store again, feeling like they clearly saw that I wouldn't cancel the order and thus I have nothing to threaten).  3 months after our original order and 1 month after the delivery of our unscratched chair, B sends in a ridiculously long complaint letter (like only the French know how to do) detailing (like 3 pages of detailing): conversations by phone, email and in store, including the promised 200 euro credit.  No response.

5 months from our original shopping trip I go to the store again indignant and ready to yell.  They are abnormally polite.  They say they changed manufacturers and the earliest delivery is at the end of the month. 

And that was it.  Call and delivery right on schedule 2 weeks later. Chair delivered right on schedule at the end of the month.

Facades

Facade:

1 : the front of a building; also : any face of a building given special architectural treatment

2 : a false, superficial, or artificial appearance or effect

Boyfriend absolutely refused to put on more comfortable shoes to go to a 22h (10 o'clock) movie last night after we had walked for 4 hours and his feet hurt.

His reasoning: they wouldn't look good.

Yes, how gauche of me for even thinking of it.   

A taste of Parisienne

Yea, after 3 years and numerous shelackings by French women, my nice gene/education still, stupidly believes. This was the conversation I had yesterday in the gym locker room.

KB (noticing a woman has opened a locker near to mine and I am taking up most of the space): I am sorry. (moving to make space) I am not used to people being here. (It is the corner locker right by the door)

Parisienne about 50 years old, blond hair: Well there is enough room for everyone.

KB (assuming something has gotten lost in translation): No, I mean. Usually there isn't anyone by the door. (stumbling in French looking for what must have gotten lost) I just wanted you to have enough space.

(*crickets*)

KB inner debate - (Do I out slap or continue being nice?)

KB's stupid nice gene that likes the abuse: Bonne soiree! (Have a nice evening)

Parisienne: Au revoir.

SMACK DOWN by the 50-year-old Parisienne!

WHY DIDN'T I JUST SHELACK HER WITH AN AU REVOIR!?



Yea go on and say it. I'm the bigger person. But guess what? No one cares about the bigger person here. It's all Nancy Sinatra, so either you are wearing your boots or you are walking around with boot prints on your face. DAMN THE NICENESS.

Peace Seed/ "manquer"

I don't know about your family but in my family of 4 children (gasp heard from the Parisian 1 boy and 1 girl families)
Yes, I know, shocking.

So again, in my family we had to fight for attention and positive words. Not that Mommy and Daddy didn't love us. They just had a lot of us and were busy being 2 single parents. So sometimes it helped to direct them to their job of positive reinforcement. It was not uncommon at our house find a report card on the fridge with a teenage handwritten remark:

The French, unwittingly, allow me to do the same thing. When you tell someone that you miss them,

Tu me manques.

You are (literally translated) telling them You miss me.

So clever. I don't know where that comes from. I'll just file it under weirdness and other miscellaneus exceptions to EVERYTHING. But I think it means we might be able to be friends. Our little seed of peace. Not unlike Tim Minchin's Anthem for Peace.

teehee. friends.

uh, yur mom!

I miss "your mom" jokes.

I am going to bring them back,

by myself

in France.

So this will be our conversation tonight (I guarantee it):

b: Ca va? (What's up?)

kb: Yur mom!

b (looking at me blankly, like when I baited him into "the GUNSHOW!" joke)

kb: hehehehe (waiting for b to go again)

b: What did you do today?

kb: Yur Mom!

b (stunned and confused that he doesn't understand what I am talking about. Thinking about his mom): I don't understand.

kb (attempting badly to explain the reasoning and why it's funny): You see, it's funny. It's like the white kids from the suburbs making jokes like they are from the inner city about their friend's moms.

At this point it is no longer funny because there is absolutely no translation going on and white suburban kids imitating inner city kids just sounds dumb. Which is maybe why kids are sometimes called "crackers". But I am on a crusade...

b(intentionally leaving the subject): So what do you want for dinner?

kb: Yur mom!

And for shits and giggles

This is an advertisement for glasses.


Can I get a "What?"

Pourquoi pas? or Why not?

Do you want to go to the park?

Do you want to have pie?

Do you want a slap?

"Pourquoi pas?!" They say.

"Sure. I have nothing better to eat pie or to have you slap me. Either will do me just fine."


Seriously.

Smoked tea chicken

I was “offered” a cooking class (franglais translation: given as a gift). So I can be even more of a genius in the kitchen. My class with the “girlfriends” (the girlfriends/wives of boyfriends’ friends- repeat 10 times fast) was Cooking with Tea.

So, I was looking for the recipe and I fell on this little treat. Very clearly a translation.

Check out “Practice 1”

Oolong tea smoked chicken

---

Material:

1 chicken, a little salt, brown sugar bowl, tea bowl.

Practices:

1. Chicken Rinse the chicken with salt all over the body and abdominal wipe, marinate for 1 hour.

2. To pot 40 minutes, and then stew for 15 minutes. Drain the juice out steam.

3. Pot dry, laying into the aluminum foil, place brown sugar, tea, and then into the grill.

4. Chicken on the grill, lid tightly closed, first open the fire, so that the pot is full of smoke, and then smoked over low heat about 10 minutes, turning it over and then smoked 7 minutes, until golden brown chicken body into flame.

Anyone want to chicken rinse me with an abdominal wipe?
btw my smoked tea chicken was awesome

The subjunctive

So boyfriend's dad corrects my french mistakes. And yes it is good for me to be corrected. No one else does anymore (I am apparently snappy when I get corrected).
But he literally cannot stop himself from correcting, and explaining to me what the subjunctive is and that it is a verb from the "3rd group".
It happens at least once every time we see each other. Which is about every 6 weeks.

Note to French people: We do not teach our language with verbs in groups.

I think this is conditioning. Something that has been repeated and drummed in so long that they cannot help themselves, no matter how many times you tell them you don't care about the subjunctive.

I suppose we all have something, right?

"Hate" would be a nice word for how I feel about people talking with their mouths open. (Thanks dad!)

I eat regularly with people who talk with food in their mouth.
Not in-the-side-of-their-mouth-talking, but sounds-almost-resembling-words-coming-out-of-teeth-mashing-meat sort of talking, threatening at any moment to launch spittle and half-chewed meat onto my face.
Yes, really.  Gross. 

So yes, French people, let's make a trade.  I'll start practicing my "3rd group" verbs and if you stop forcing me to wear a rain poncho and face mask every time we eat together. 

A way with words.....

Elle resemble à rien.

"She looks like nothing"

Something really nice to say about a person who is exhausted after a long day of work. Or perhaps just at the beginning of the day if the 40 minute metro ride has not woken them up yet.

Followed swiftly by a comment directly to this person.

"Tu as les petits yeux"

You have small eyes.

MK

We are totally renting a place to stay for next weekend from the French Michael Jackson!