girl at large

dropping in on friends

Mom and Bert update, including a pic, from fantastic Charlotte in Antibes!

Are we what we eat? Or are we where we shop?

I just spent an hour in the grocery store (could you guess?) and I am in the depths of depression. I usually single-girl shop at the local "gourmet" grocery store and the deli across the street. Portions are reasonable (where else can you buy one pork chop?), the fresh produce is respectable and they have some familiar foods from frenchieland that I would otherwise miss. What little cooking I know, I learned there, with those ingredients, so I enjoy having them. And they have cheese. Real cheese.

However, in a recent drive to save pennies (for a car, oh the pun!), I've decided to cut back my somewhat luxurious food budget. Into the Fred Meyer I go.

What a mistake. You know what I really noticed? Not one single human being anywhere near the food. Oh shoppers and cell-chatters sure, but service people? No. No butcher. No deli person. No cheese man. Even the humans at check out have been eliminated: U-Scan.

I looked hard, but didn't see much food either. Only plastic. Everywhere I looked, everything packaged, boxed and wrapped in plastic. Vacuum-sealed, sealed for my protection, economy-packed, you name it.

Call me crazy, but I want an aproned man touching my chops before he wraps them. In paper. The car can wait.

did i really live there?

damn you, Rick Steves, and your PBS special on the Cote d'Azur--I'm soooo very frenchie-homesick!!

Especially for Martine...

all the American euphamisms I can come up with for a certain part of the female anatomy:

Rack
Melons
Hooters
Set or Pair
Hoo-ha's
Peaches
Knockers
Cha-cha's
Tits (though I prefer the more informal "Titties")

Am I forgetting any?

it's all too much

Just when I think I can't take it anymore, American life throws another one at me: strawberries.* A simple fruit treat, right? Wrong. Now they are "GIANT" strawberries. Even the ones not labeled "GIANT" are monstrously-proportioned specimens.

That I can't fit in my mouth. And trust me, I can fit alot of things in my mouth (sorry Grandma). Am I the only one who enjoys popping in a berry and enjoying it in one bite (maybe two)? We're talking four, five bites a piece here people. They're not strawberries, they are miniature melons from the planet Giganto.

I dreamt of a book I wish I could write last night:

'BIG AMERICAN LIFE'
Why we believe bigger is better, and why we might be wrong.

And don't even get me started on cell phones---and I do get that, contrary to everything else in our expansive land, they are actually getting smaller and smaller, to the point of being ridiculous lozenges. Lozenges that rule people's lives. When was the last time you let a shrill, screeching, interrupting annoyance rule your every waking minute? Isn't that why we leave our mothers?

*I know this will all wear off in time, but I hope that a few things stay with me---the calm I feel when I realize that I don't have to answer a ringing phone. The desire for little more than I need. The pleasure of a regular, sit down evening meal, even with just myself. The health of walking, rather than driving, to the corner store. I'm writing these things down, so when I get lazy and re-accustomed to this fastness and hugeness, y'all can find this page and remind me.

bristling

I nearly lost it in the dental care aisle of Target the other night---too many toothbrushes to choose from. Seriously, there must have been nearly 200 different types on display. I didn't know where to begin. Why I should be made to decifer and contemplate MEANINGLESS differences in type, features, benefits?? Either it has bristles or it doesn't. Either it's a toothbrush or a stick.

Other than size and softness/firmness differences; any dentist will tell you that they are all the same. It's HOW you use it that makes the difference--don't you remember those little pink pills in second grade? Oh, I'm ranting...but really...

Does having so much choice TRULY improve our lives?

cheese o'my heart

I had the BEST DAY EVER yesterday. Why? Because of cheese.

The selection at a local gourmet-ish food market down the street has been reliable for chevre, parmesean, and the occasional good gruyere, but yesterday, yesterday, that magical day...Mimolette Vielle!

Four little hunks of it, snuggled in the corner of the cold case. So what if each hunk was ten times the price of what I previously paid for a whole wedge? These little hunks were actually the result of hacking up a decent sized wedge--criminal, but forgiveable, they don't know never to cut cheeses outside of their shape--dumb you-know-who's.

It looks like France, smells like France, tastes like France. And it's not even the best (by a long shot) French cheese out there, it's just my everyday favorite.

Quick, someone send me a baguette sandwich from Rima's!!

america on my nerves

New names for the obvious. A sign on the bus uses the term "mobility device" in reference to a wheelchair. When did 'wheelchair' become offensive? Is it not a chair with wheels? Why is that wrong? I'm going to start calling my purse a 'personal object transport device'.

Large hunks of meat under heat lamps, guy in little mutton chop paper hat serving--ah, the classic buffet dinner. Stuffed mushroom anyone?

Puritan priorities run amok. Why is a naked nipple more offensive than mutilation murder? And don't get me started on video games with features like 'first person shooting'. (and these games are running violent ads in prime kiddie-time---which doesn't technically bother me, but show two chicks holding hands while wearing white and you'll start a riot? I don't get it).

Responsible parking. Ok, so this is a good thing. But not nearly as entertaining as seeing a Mini or Smart or Citroen bump it's way back and forth into a non-spot between two poles. Or better yet, between two other cars.

Why the f*** are strangers smiling at me all the time? Do I know you? Oh, right, people are friendly here. Still working on dropping the suspicious 'street face'.

Cross-merchandising. When I go to a deli, I expect to find cheese, sausage, sliced meat, and the like. I don't want to search for my sandwich goods beyond 1,000 square feet of picture frames, glass-jarred pasta no one will ever eat and stacks of scented candles. Scented candles in a deli?? Cheese-scented ones, that I could take, but jeez...stick with the main goods people.

Expensive coffee that doesn't cut it. Hot and wet is the bare minimum requirement; sometimes it misses even that boat, and---HUGE does not make up for crappy. Yes, I swear to god for the fifth time today, like I do every single day, that I do "really only" want the 8 oz latte. Not 12 oz, not 16oz, and god help me I'll never need 32oz of ANYTHING. I really do mean "small". Trust me.

Signs for the stupid. "Do not sit on sharp spikey things" "Do not use these stairs if you have heart condition, diabetes, or other disability" "Do not insert fingers into electric outlet" "Don't cross in front of moving train" "Contents May Be Hot"--and my favorite on this, the update: "May be hot and cause burns"---now we have to explain what hot liquid can do??

Oversized. The grocery store designs, prints, distributes and displays a MAP of each location. Not a city map listing their locations. No. A map (or 'plan') of the interior of each individual store should you have trouble locating the milk (which you will, because it is hidden behind 8 rows of scented candles). Shit is just so big.

qu'est que passe?

I really miss being in France today---aside from the jetlag (wide awake at 5am), it would be interesting to learn what Europeans think of yesterdays election and the as-yet-unconfirmed 'results'. I miss international news coverage BBC- and ITV- style. And the International Herald Tribune, I really miss it, especially Mom's daily obsession with the Jumble.

Kerry conceded: Now that it's officially a very sad day, I'm a little tempted to use that return ticket to Nice--and not just for the cheese!

howdy!

I'm back! What a journey (!), and it's really just begining...

The huge suitcases (2) met the wieght limit (70 lbs each) by just a hair--after I removed a few things at the counter into an impromptu carry-on. Ruby was boxed and loaded, tagged and transfered, customs checked, off-loaded and re-loaded, lugged and finally, let loose. To pee on our keeper's carpet. Oops.

Flying over the eastern seaboard at night---an unexpected pleasure--the lights of the city grids, harbors and highways were gorgeous ---orange,white and blue designs on black out into the horizon. If only my seat mate had been so attractive.

Everything----everything!----is so LARGE. Cars, sandwiches, roads, buildings, --all of it, the scale--I'm thrown. Don't even ask me about the frightening muffins.

prelude

It's been raining for two days straight---grey skies, continuous rainfall---today's Portland weather is much the same. Am I being told something???

missing

getting free drinking glasses just for buying pickles
baguettes, baguettes, baguettes
air-dried laundry
smoking anywhere, anytime
shutters

bon anniversare!

Today was Grace's birthday party---she's two years old! After Grace realized that I wasn't there because her mom and dad were leaving (I watch her so regularly, she always associates me with mom and dad leaving), she enjoyed her party and all the presents. The sweater Mom made her for her first birthday is still too big (!) but the poncho I made her this year---the perfect wieght for the area's mild winters--was a hit, she found it particularly fun to swing it around and wap things with it. Thatta girl.

give me the biggest you got

Visiting the notions stall at the market this morning, in search of a very large, fat crochet hook:

-Yes, Madame, what are you looking for?
-I need a big hook please.
-Like this?
-No, I like it much bigger. Like this. (hand gesture, you can imagine it)

pause.

-Will this do Madame?

("like"? why, why did I use the verb for 'like" when I meant 'want?', ok, 'want' doesn't sound much better.)

on the rocks

Big local topic of discussion this week: the mega-sailing-yacht Mirabella V broke anchor and grounded herself on the rocks near Cap Ferrat during gale-force winds while in a dangerous spot (everyone else with any sense, or so they say, was moored in harbor or at very least, not sitting on that side of the point), sat stranded and damaged for two days before being shifted free and assisted-in for assesment and repairs. The incident was given a lot of attention--front page of the Nice Matin newspaper, full color picture, above the fold--because Mirabella V is the largest sloop in the world, just completed and launched this year, owned by the American gazillionaire-owner of Avis car rentals. He's never going to live this one down. Wonder what happens if I park my next rental car on a hill without the parking brake on?

visit revisited

Gordon, Mom's gentleman friend, sent these pictures that he snapped during our dinner party when Mike and Matt were visiting last month. Check out that last one---Mom and Mike, all that love! Pity Gordon was too busy taking pictures to be in one!

Oh!Photo!

Voila! Here's Mike and Matt's complete online photo album of their visit to Paris and Antibes---some great shots, those boys are so damn cute. Has it been nearly a week since they left already? Miss 'em so.

history down the street

Today is the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Antibes. We caught the reinactment parade after Bert alerted it to us this rainy morning---"It will bring a tear to your eye." Spirit of history aside, I think he was referring to the vintage motorcycles.

Bon Voyage!

Seeing Mike and Matt off on the train this morning.

two friends, three days, a tower, three trains, one bus, a boat, a dozen cafes and goodness knows how many bottles of wine....

taking a tour of the harbor on Tishie Mae (that counts as 'sailing', right?), doing time in the cattle car, taking in the view, tripping down pictureseque lanes and having a hellava good time!

it's twins!

THAT did NOT just happen....

The sun is shining. I have a fresh baguette in hand. All is well with the world. A woman, graceful and long-limbed, sun shining through her hair, is walking towards me in a gorgeous dress; the kind of dress you used to see in the movies: perfectly cut, white and fresh, a small pleated piece of old-school glamour. She looks stunning. I love the dress, it's just the kind of thing I'd cherish to wear. I'm nearly a bit enamored of this distracted, lovely woman. I stop not more than a foot from her, turn to say "What a lovely dress, Madame", because it's just one of those share the feel-good feeling days. As I open my mouth...

She reaches down and scratches herself. There's no mistaking this: a good, full, obviously satisfying scratch.

I kept walking.

chauffage

The heat is back. Though, it is less oppressive than last year, with fewer plants (or elderly frenchies) suffering the consequences. Or at least that's what we like to think, that it's the heat that kills them, not us. Only had to put one out of its misery this week.

alterior motive?

Tourists are thick on the ground these days, with more to come in the sweltering weeks of August. In search of new digs for Mom, we're escaping, or so we hope, by train to La Spezia and Cinque Terre in the Liguria region of the Italian Riviera. Uncle Natale and I are convinced that Mom is not only looking for cheaper harbors for Tishie Mae, a relaxed atmosphere and friendlier locals but perhaps a little "amore" Italian-style as well....I can hear it now: "Ah, Patreetzia we maka beauteeeful museeca together...."

meteo

After last years endless heat and searing clear sky, it's such a pleasant relief to see clouds, whipped up by cooling winds, like these.

often like what he says, just wish he would bathe

We saw Fahrenheit 9/11 last night. I didn't expect it to be so funny, nor for the soundtrack to be so cheeky. It was the least "I'm Mike Moore" of his films I've seen, and very thought-provoking, though I found it a little dragging, off-topic and unconvincing in the middle. Some of the images were disturbing---not so much for their content nor his commentary, but the fact that I've never seen them before---I had no idea (or have no memory of knowing) that the election results (I use that term loosely) had been officially (almost) objected to by so many house members without a single senators support, for example. Where was that story? The sold-out theater was heavily french (it was subtitled and did, afterall, win Cannes' Palme d'Or), and I was again surprised to see so many elderly ladies in attendence. The applause at the ending wasn't surprising....wish they still did that on international flights.

outing day

St. Paul is where everyone goes, but Vence is where it's at...

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

They were huge. Well over six feet tall, and nearly as wide. Giants of the species: 'Obnoxious-Americanus-Onvacationus'. Draped in matching, yes matching, red floral oversized-print shirts and squeaking about in shocking-new-white sneakers, tree-trunk legs bare, there they were. Right in front of me, emerging from the museum's permanent collection, waddling in our direction. I had heard the tell tale voice first--from the male, booming like he was on stage--"I've been here so long I can understand French!" (he was listening to English--ha, ha, never heard that one before).

To be honest, I don't clearly recall the remainder of his attempts at witty conversation...I was too busy dodging, climbing observatory stairs I never intended to venture up (veritgo)...anywhere, anything to escape...

My classmates and museum going companions had a good chuckle---seems they could read my thoughts all over my face: "This is why I have to say I'm Canadian!"

Yeah!

Savannah, 1999/ New York City, 2002......coming soon to this space, "Antibes, 2004"....

Mike is coming! Mike is coming! I'm so thrilled--- gorgeous, funny, lovely-in-everyway Mike is coming for a visit in mid-August--just in the nick of time while I'm still here! I better catch up on my sleep...Mike likes to have a good time. (and no, not what you're thinking.)

a service between neighbors

The roman shade on the back balcony door blew off a few days ago, during another afternoon of 'grosse vente' (big winds), and landed smack-dab in the groundfloor garden next door where a little old lady tends to her lavish plantings. Looking down three stories, over the railing--Yep, there it is: sad little thing crumpled on the ground. The shade didn't look too good either.

Next day, she greeted us excitedly in the lane---"I have a strange beige piece of fabric! It's so dirty! Is it yours?" (At this point, we're so excited to have it back that I miss the full impact of her little comment.) "Yes, Yes!"

She takes us into her house. IN. HER. HOUSE. Did I mention she's an elderly French lady? Her building is nearly an replica of our own. Only ours is 4 apartments. Hers is still one house. Loaded with original features. Like flocked and flowered wallpaper on every surface, including the ceiling--and I hadn't taken my Dramemine. The glimpse of the stairs down to the cave (basement larder) itself was a wonder: sausages hanging, wood barrels, corked bottles, all manner of things dried and preserved. But her husband was in the kitchen.

Little Old French Lady continues to talk up a storm as we try to take in the hords of antiques, knick-knacks, doilies and general accumulation of more than fifty years. And that was just the hallway. I jump back to attention mid-sentence, translating when I can; but the gist is the gist of a thousand old lady nieghbor conversations world-over: prying. "The downstairs couple are Italian, aren't they? They only come on weekends, right?" and the kicker: "Which floor do you live on?"

"Ah, you're the ones with the unfortunate plants! Tsk, Tsk!"

Oh, yes, that would be us. The Nieghborhood Plant-Killers. Prediction: lugging home newly-purchased plants is in my future.

midnight music

Tonight is the summer soltice, and a national musical festival throughout the whole of France. Nearly every town sponsors bands, djs and open-air music all evening and Antibes is no exception. Matter of fact, our street is no exception– the Corsican center next door has been playing and singing, with full electronic gear, in the street outside our door all night. Only Bert would pick up that one tune was played to the same melody as the theme song to Rawhide!

viva la france!

France wins the big game.

leaving home means taking leave of their senses

despite over six years now, collectively, of living in tourist destinations i cannot fathom what thought process allows overwieght middle-aged men, most often overly-blessed in the body hair department, to depart with their shirts if the temperature rises above 70F degrees. a particularly popular thing to do when walking around town or sitting next to me at an outdoor cafe.

Welcome Back Captaine Pat!

in the Comune Libre du Safranier neighborhood on our walk yesterday

Mom's back! and she got so tan and skinny! nothing like the "Sailboat Diet"...Bert is bringing the boat back from Italy, Mom took the train....and she may take it back again to Italy, she fell in love with both the coast and Tuscany....

in the cards

we went to the Musee de la Carte Postale today, an amusing way to kill two hours, where we were treated to a personal tour that encompassed not only a history of the postcard but a bit of French history as well.

there were 5 or 6 American examples...one of which was from Portland, Oregon. hmm...a sign perhaps?

quoted Ryan: "The goddamn Postcard Museum didn't even sell goddamn postcards!"

wheels

the Smart Car or a version of it is scheduled for introduction in the USA in 2006....it's a super thing here--parking in one turn of the wheel, zipping in and out of little lanes, outstanding gas mileage, just the room a single gal and her dog would need...just the kind of car i would have loved in Savannah....but does it stand a chance against the monster american SUV's?

Ryan's take on the Smart: it's so small, you'd need one of those orange warning flags off the end of your baguette sticking out the back. i love that image.

o' bureaucrat, where art thou?

Ryan had a package sent from the States with some standard allergy medication in it, his father, law-abiding citizen (and um, Police Chief) that he is, noted as such on the documentation. oops.

eight phone calls, two agencies, three faxes, one trip to the outgoing fax office, three translations, one declaration letter and some serious printer ink cartridge depletion later, Ryan was issued an Import License by the Ministry of Medications (Agence des Medicaments) and the package cleared for delivery.

as i turned to find a pen, i was stunned when the pen-less FedEx guy said don't bother...after all that, they don't even get a signature!?!?!

daytripping

Haut de Cagnes, our favorite local get-away spot---only twenty minutes away, quiet and as yet undiscovered by tourists, gorgeous and host to a great bistro and great views....but i just don't think there are enough archways...

shoulda had shades

me and Rydog enjoying the sunshine---by looking directly at it

Ryan Takes A Walk

Stiff and Uncomfortable on the Cote d'Azur

perspective

i sent Gloom and Doom Boy out with an assignment for his digital camera today to get some shots of the town---people out and about on a lovely spring day in the south of france, that sort of happy thing---and he comes back with the homeless crazy guy on the corner and the french fashion firing squad...

served with pizzaz

Ryan's dessert of choice

be a kid again and order up an ice cream or a sorbet here and you'll get one of these...complete with cookie, delicate spoon and sparkler! Ry: "I can't imagine why people think I'm gay."

not meant to be

Ryan in Not-Italy

after hussling out the door to catch the 11am train we arrived at the station to find that the 11am train was a figment of my imagination (and the online train schedule). a cup of coffee and an hour later we're waiting on the platform for the 12pm train...which is delayed for in "indeterminate" amount of time due to an "electrical" problem....hmm..will we ever get to the market in Ventimille? is the goddess of new Italian shoes telling me that today is just not my day?

Bon Fete!

Happy May Day!

no need for the drinks list

Ryan has a thing for Coca Light...it's his usual order at our favorite evening bar. there was some confusion once about whether he wanted the bill or another Coca Light (he wanted another soda) and the patrons had a giggle...and still do everytime they see him....Monsieur Coca Light.

when in doubt, always blame the equipment

Ryan in the kitchen, Ruby waiting for something to drop on the floor.

we picked up some Bisquick with the dvd rentals thinking that pancakes make a good rainy day dinner. and also that it's something Ryan can make. or so i thought.

i noticed that the packaging had been changed, Ryan dismissed it. that oversight came to haunt him later.

after showing him where to find the metric measurement translations and the variety of US and Euro measuring devices, i left him to it. popping my head in later, i find him in a state---a frenzy over how "Crappy that piece of shit pan you gave me is!". um, ok..that's our best pancake pan. wait a minute, isn't that batter a bit too thin? "I followed the damn instructions, I got the measurements right! That's the worst pan ever!!"

quick glance at the back of the box. um, WHICH directions did you follow? "Right there, for pancakes!! I'm not a moron!" "It's that crappy pan!"

ok, ok, deep breath: um, i think you may have to follow the directions for AMERICAN PANCAKES, right down here at the bottom. you've been making crepes.

"oh."

damn crepey pan.

tickets please

Ryan marvels at the size of the tickets--they do resemble airplane tickets. i'd never thought of it before.

we went to Cannes, just to do the 'been there, done that' thing---on the way, Ryan learned the train routine and that indeed it is true that every single time i step on, the ticket inspectors know it and come sniffing for a violation....

bienvenue!

milk in a box, mayo in a tube, Ryan in a sling

Ryan arrives a week from today--yippee! he's bringing an assortment of American goodies per mom's request...tootsie rolls, Bensen&Hedges, a People magazine or two--all the staples of a happy life.

it will be interesting to see American packaging again--i've become so accustomed to mayonnaise that comes in tubes, coffee in thimbles, sugar in sticks, milk in boxes and so on.

i see london, i see france, ...

Bonjour monsieur!.

nobody's safe

this tragic mess in Madrid is so terribly sad and troubling.

another cultural mystery explained

i finally caught up with my hair girl at her new salon location for an appointment today and pointed out my most recent concern---gray hairs, quite alot around my temples---they've sprouted overnight it seems. she said no worries, they aren't spread all over and next visit a little touch of color should do the trick (though not all over, after years of dye-ing a rainbow of hues i'm now prefering au natural). curiously though, i noted that the word she used was 'blonde'....i listened closely to make certain i wasn't mistaken --but no, she referred to gray or white hairs as 'blonde' a number of times.

i had to ask. in my awkward french i inquired---"surely you mean GRAY hair, right?"

in a low tone of voice she replied: "No, no"--meaningful look---"Here it is BLONDE hair."

track-nappers

the news has just hit that there have been serious bomb threats made against the French train system since December. the authorities have already found and MacGyver-ed one real and surprisingly sophisticated bomb on the tracks. i was wondering why the security agents and large, vicious guard dogs were out on force and random delays were more frequent lately.

the bomb-threateners (is that a word?) are demanding 4 million euros, about 5 million dollars.

i can't help thinking---only a lousy 5 million? is that all they want? can't even get a decent villa around here for that, much less staff it.

this is not what the brochure described!!

lightening, rain, gale force winds, African sand storms, high seas, closed roads, broken shutters---this is not what i was promised! yesterday morning the previous night's storm lingered, blowing red Sahara desert dust over the rooftops and cars and sloshing down large terracotta puddles in the street--the sky was glowing orange, yellow-green and gray--no way to describe it here, but it was eerie and beautiful.

and then it was just crappy, wet and cold.

those are some serious lemons baby....

there's alot going on this week--Carnaval in Nice, Menton's Lemon Fest---too bad i'm going to miss seeing all those girls in bikinis on parade floats.