Back in the States

Just a few quick comments on being back in the States for a few weeks.

1.  I love Costco.  I asked Scott to get two bags of chocolate chips, and I got two Costco size bags of chocolate chips.  So if anyone in Nice has a hankerin' for chocolate chip cookies, you know who to talk to.

2.  Anna loves the walk-in pantry.  Sometimes she goes in and shuts the door behind her and just stands there for a while.

3.  Jet lag is good for getting lots accomplished in the morning.  By eight o'clock in the morning, I've run, read, gotten some work done and am ready for my mid-morning snack.

4.  I like chatty cashiers and friendly customs people.

I'm sure by the time it's time to get back to France, I'll be ready.  It is home.  And that I'll be appreciating all the things that make Nice a really lovely place to be.  But for now I'm appreciating all the things that I like about America--and staying inside as the weather is absolutely unbearable.

Release

If you know Scott, my husband, you may know that he analyzes each new episode of Lost.  I'm along for the ride, but I don't maintain his level of devotion.   I have to admit to being moved by the Losties' rescue from the island this year, and Desmond and Penelope's reunion brought tears to my eyes.  But...

While we were turning in paperwork for an adoption, on February 23, 2002, Ingrid Betancourt was taken hostage in Colombia.  

Anna was born on May 14, 2002.  Ingrid Betancourt had been in captivity for almost three months.

When we traveled to Bogota and held Anna for the first time on August 28, Ingrid Betancourt had been in the jungle for over six months.

It has been a milestone year for Anna.  She learned to rollerblade and ride her bike without training wheels.  She turned six in May.  Monday she lost her first tooth.  And Wednesday Ingrid Betancourt and fourteen other hostages were rescued.  

Anna makes me think about joy.  She is an intense kid who feels deeply.  When she learned to ride her bike without training wheels, she laughed, almost hysterically, as she pedaled furiously down the sidewalk.  When her tooth fell out Monday, I held her as she laughed and laughed as tears streamed down her face. 

Watching Ingrid Betancourt recount her rescue was amazing.  And despite my emotional response to the Lost rescue, this was way more moving.  As it should be.  This is real life.

And it makes me think of C.S. Lewis's description of heaven at the end of the Last Battle.  He paints heaven as a place where things are more deep, more real, and more solid.  Where colors are more vivid.  And the difference between my tiny television-inspired happiness and my real joy at liberation of hostages makes me wonder about heaven. And of course Anna's deep joy in her milestones.  How our joys here are a lovely taste of the immeasurable joy we will have when we are in perfect relationship with God and one another.  

An Encouragin' Word from France

Friends in the U.S. ask sometimes about the price of gas here, and I am always blissfully ignorant.  We live our city life without a car.  The exchange rate is always in flux.  And, to my shame, I am never quite sure how many liters are in a gallon.  I just always reply that I'm pretty sure it's pricey.

In a few weeks, we are renting a car to get to our debriefing conference in Spain, and I thought I would check on gas prices.  Looked up the exchange rate, liter to gallon rate, and the price of gas, and....

drumroll...

Gas is $8.30 a gallon here.  Gulp.

Let that be a little encouragement the next time you fill up your tank.

Crafting

Anna had a lovely little six year old girlie birthday party Wednesday.  The girls dressed up, wore flower leis, played with balloons, and skipped around the house.

This crafting kit shown above was one of her presents.  We started on it today.  Let me just say a few things here.  

#1.  I am not a crafty person.   I took the requisite home economics class in seventh grade, butchered a wrap around skirt, and haven't touched a sewing machine since.   I did three teeny tiny cross stitch Christmas ornaments twenty years ago, had to redo countless stitches,  and will never cross stitch again.  I struggled with handwriting and coloring through elementary school--gasp! Basically, my strong points do not include precision and repetition of small movements. 

#2.  The contents of this craft kit for my six year old:  one wooden basket, three small tubs of paint, one paint brush, one bundle of rafia, three styrofoam eggs, hundreds of dark green, light green, red, purple, and silver sequins, and thousands upon thousands of tiny pins.  

Here's a fun challenge:  Take a look at the picture above and guess which egg is Anna's, Justin's and mine.  Justin tried to encourage me when I took a break with, "That's pretty good for a half an hour's work, Mom."  He wasn't even trying to be sarcastic, and  yes, that is close to a half an hour's work.  

Oh, and the head of the pin is smaller than the sequin holes, so they fall off if you move the egg. And you move the egg pretty often.  

The kids did enjoy painting the basket.  And I need to think of something else (quickly) that would look cute nestled in the rafia that doesn't involve me sticking pins in styrofoam eggs for the next few days.

Sky

I keep snapping pics of branches against the sky this year.  I love the way the trees in this first picture are both reaching upwards and towards each other.  The kids and I were drawing a few weeks ago, and I drew these.  Anna wasn't impressed by my drawing.  In fact, she thought it was ugly.  She wasn't trying to be mean, and my feeling weren't hurt.  But hey, it's not pink or smiley, so I get it.  I'll try to paint them Saturday, but my drawing skills are way better than my painting skills, so in all likelihood, I'll mess it up.  And then draw it again.

This one reminds my of Van Gogh's almond branch painting that I have on my Facebook page. Won't be trying to paint it anytime soon.  Way too hard.
These are trees in Renoir's garden in Cagnes sur Mer.  He lived here very happily with his family for the last years of his life.  This makes me happy.  One does not have to die penniless and alone for the sake of art.
Oh, and back to drawing.  I remember drawing years ago, when I would totally lose track of time as I worked.  It's different when you draw with my kids.  Justin is a little extravert and chats while he draws.  Constantly.  And wants responses.    The interesting thing is that I was still able to draw and have a conversation.  I would not have thought this possible.  

Nice Quote

"A written word is the choicest of relics.  It is something at once more intimate with us and more universal than any other work of art.  It is the work of art nearest to life itself.  It may be translated into every language, and not only be read but actually breathed from all human lips;--not be represented on canvas or in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself."

From Walden; Or, Life in the Woods

Henry David Thoreau

Too Much French

My sweet American husband just returned from a five day cinema camp with French students. We were sitting at the table catching up, and the conversation turned to his plans for the day.  He said this, "I am going to proceed to reserve my voyage."  

I just about choked on my tea.  Asked him to repeat this several times throughout the day because it made me giggle every time.   

Poor guy's brain has been Frenchified by Too Much French.  

Pas Mal

I'm currently taking French classes.  I know this begs the question, "Why in the world would a person need language courses after over a dozen years speaking the language?"

Well, this is a perfectly valid question.  I'm not offended, really.  The answer is that I am at heart a lazy person.  Without a class to motivate me, I don't do much reading and writing in French.  Because it is not effortless for me, for the most part, I avoid it.  I try to buy the newspaper as a discipline, but at times I spend more time on the sudoku than on reading the ins and outs of French politics and neighborhood news.

So, I'm a student again.  I go twice a week and work on my own through advanced French grammar exercises.  When I finish my assignments, I check in with a teacher who then evaluates where I am and what I need to work on next.  

Friday I spent most of the afternoon working through exercises on the subjunctive case.  Woo hoo hoo.  Nothing too complicated, but as always, there were helpful reminders and things that were new to me.  After checking my work, which was gloriously error-free, my teacher gave me a short literary passage to work through with a long list of questions and an essay to write.

I worked through the questions and the essay last night and this morning before class.  The essay took hours as I am way too much of a perfectionist and composing something decent in French is just plain hard.

My teacher was extremely thorough in her correcting.  She spent a solid twenty minutes going over mistakes in my answers, covering my pages with red ink.  At earlier times in my life I would have been bothered or embarrassed, but at this point, I'm just happy to be learning something.

Finally, we got to my essay.  I was pretty proud of my little literary effort, so was bursting with pride when she giggled as she read my first paragraph (it was supposed to be funny).  There were a fair amount of red marks throughout the two pages, but when she got to the end, she paused and said, "Pas mal."

In case you don't know, pas mal means not bad.  At least, that's the literal translation.  But, actually, a French teacher saying, "pas mal" is the equivalent of an American teacher saying, "Michelle, that was an excellent essay.  You are a gifted and hardworking student.  Keep up the good work!"  Really.  That's what it means.

She also nailed me.  Said my problem is that when I get stuck in French, I start to think in English and then translate it back to French.  This is true.  And it makes for awkward and long sentences.  So, I tried really hard to keep my brain in French while I worked through the afternoon.  This is easy to do when I'm doing grammar exercises but darn hard when I'm trying to compose.  And so tiring.  It worked though.  If I keep at it, something does come to me eventually in French.  Not necessarily great French, but there's a copious supply of red ink ready to fix everything when I go back Friday.  

Flexibility

We are in the middle of a two week school vacation, and there was a prayer meeting at our place this morning. So, I brought the kids with me to return my overdue library books. On our walk over to the tram, we usually have to jostle our way through the market, but it's closed on Mondays. We made it to the library only to discover that it is closed on Mondays. Hmph. Of course it is closed on Mondays.

Fortunately, the contemporary art museum was just across the street. I've never been and knew that it was free for kids. We hunted for the entrance and finally found it...closed on Mondays. Of course. We did go up to the roof top and enjoyed these sculptures...


We loved the cow in the tree. And will go back later in the week.

So, as we still had time to fill, we hiked over to the large supermarket, Carrefour, to aquire silly string and confetti. Carnival is in full swing, and we'll join in the fun as soon as the sun comes out later this week. Silly string is a must.

It was almost lunchtime, so we succombed to McDonalds. The kids got Happy Meals (pronounced Appy meeel) with cheeseburgers, cherry tomatoes, applesauce, and orange juice. It's almost healthy, huh? The toys were Frenchy--characters from the new Asterix and Obelix movie.

Fortunately, Carrefour was open. And, I came across something that made me very happy...


This is Lebanese style pita bread like we would buy in Gabon. When we first arrived in Nice, I found pita bread at the Jewish store on our street and later at the main grocery stores, but it wasn't the same--small and thick and difficult to split in half. Fine, but not what I was accustomed to after 11 years in Gabon. So, this pita bread made my day. I whipped up some hummus, and it was super yummy with pickles and tomatoes.

Days like this remind me that I am a foreigner here. I usually know what is going on and when and where to find things, but every once in a while something trips me up. I am reminded that I am foreigner in this city and still have plenty to learn. I'm sure every French person knows that libraries are closed on Mondays. Now I do.

Castérino

We took a train into the mountains Saturday and spent the day in Castérino.  It had snowed a lot in the days before we went, and Saturday was warm and sunny.  So, it was perfect.   We had a blast sledding.  We'll come with two sleds next time though.  I got to take a few turns with Justin, but apparently I slow him down.   Ah well, someone needs to video the run...

 

Did I mention that it was a gorgeous day?

Anna and I made two little snow people since everything Anna makes must be little and cute.

Justin and his snow cat.  

Boules

Had a restless night last night. Justin usually listens to a story on his cd player as he goes to sleep, and the story replayed over and over throughout the night. It didn't wake me up enough to walk down the hallway and turn it off, but enough for me to know it was on. Must have woken him up too as he was up before 7, which is unheard of around here.

Finally hauled myself out of bed at 8. The kids were both in my bed playing with the cat, and it started to be more irritating than cute--a sure sign that I needed my morning tea. So, before I stumbled to the kitchen to heat my water, I raised the shades in the living room and had the jarring experience of being greeted by the sight of 30 men playing boules beside a roaring fire. It was just plain disconcerting. They weren't even gathering. The games were in full swing. On a Sunday morning in January. Silly little boules club men.

I usually like having a boules club just across the way. And I do mean just across the way. We have a fenced in smallish patio, then a driveway, then the boules club. When we have birthday parties for the kids, the boules players usually join in for singing happy birthday. So it feels like they are playing in our backyard, which is usually charming.

This morning though, well...just disconcerting.

Rollerblading on the Promenade

We've had lots more rain lately than usual, so Sunday afternoon's clear blue sky was a welcome sight.  We headed down to the Promenade for an hour of rollerblading before sunset.  It was gorgeous, and it seemed like the entire population of Nice was out there with us (especially when it was time to cram into a bus to get home).

I took this pic of the  Negresco Hotel, one of Nice's most famous landmarks.  Gustave Eiffel designed the groovy pink dome.  The hotel opened its doors in 1913, but was converted into a hospital during World War 1 and has had its ups and downs since then.   In the late 50s the beds had mink bedspreads, which actually sounds kind of gross to me.  Imagine if you had allergies...

Cat + Cold = Laziness

I am writing this propped on our couch, with our Christmas throw, Arwen, and the computer perched on my lap. Arwen does little but sleep on laps these days. And if I'm up and around while the kids are at school, she will meow accusingly at me--not constantly, but the meaning is clear, "Please sit down until another lap comes home."

Unfortunately, with this posting, I will have run out of any possibly useful things to do on this computer, so it's time to abandon the cat and the Christmas throw and get on with life.

Got a Kitty

Here's our new cat, dubbed Arwen. Anna was voting for Maria, but Lord of the Rings literariness won out. Maria was a better choice pronunciationwise as Anna keeps calling her Marvin.



The kids are thrilled, of course. And Arwin is very sweet and sociable. The only complication has been that we are catsitting. There was a fair amount of growling and hissing directed at our kitty for a few days, but Arwin was too little to care. We kept them separated until the growling let up, and now they are best friends, chasing one another through the house in between naps.

Notice Justin's gloves, to protect from potential scratching (nothing to do with not turning the heat on yet). He's one cautious kid.

Annaboo

Thought I'd put some Anna pics up today.

Our kids have school on Wednesday mornings, but then are off for the afternoon. Most schools don't have school on Wednesdays at all, so for the kids in nursery school (three, four, and five year olds), Wednesdays are optional.

Since my schedule is more flexible this year, I decided that Anna and I would hang out together on Wednesday mornings and do school in English. It's pretty low-key. We are still working on the alphabet, we count to 100, read, and do a crafty thing or draw. I'm using the book Drawing with Children by Mona Brookes.
Here is a lion Anna did a few weeks ago. She cut it out, taped it up on her bedroom door, and took the picture. She named it too, but I can't remember. She did a parrot this week who she named Pixie.

Here she is drawing a picture of me. She was working on coloring in my black shawl. I was trying to paint fruit and getting nowhere.

And here are some pictures I discovered on my camera.... Anna's bottle of seaglass nestled here on the top of her much loved pet hospital and...

...a picture of what is probaby my least favorite book to read. Fortunately, it only makes the rotation a couple times a month.

We read some of Tomie dePaola's Mother Goose at lunchtime today and have just restarted the first Boxcar Children book. Anna desperately wants to be able to read, so after reading a few chapters, we went back to the beginning and she tried to memorize it (this was not my idea). She has me read a sentence, then she repeats. The funiest/weirdest part is "now the baker's wife did not like children." Anna loves saying it. Makes Disney Princesses not seem so bad...

Pattern Block Mania

While in England for our orientation conference, the kids were reunited with a suitcase full of toys that they hadn't seen since before we left Gabon. A few months before we left Gabon, an English friend offered to take the suitcase to save on shipping costs. Since we have yearly conferences in England, we figured it would be easy enough to get it later. Well, not so easy, but our friend has been kind and patient through this process and in the end the suitcase met up with us near Bath.

The reunion of kids and toys was sweet. The suitcase was filled with an assortment of stuffed animals (including Jean the bear from our trip to Yosemite when Justin was one and a half), wooden railroad tracks, a talking baby Elmo, baby dolls (including Anna's first soft doll from Aunt Lisa), a few books, and pattern blocks. I'm not sure where I got the pattern blocks, but they have provided hours upon hours of entertainment.

After every creation, we take a picture. This prevents tears in case the creation is bumped, stepped on, or otherwise messed with before the creator dismantles it himself. So, here's a sampling for your viewing pleasure. Note that virtually every flat surface in the house is represented.

Sunday Afternoon at the Beach

We picnicked at the beach with our team yesterday. The air was cool in the morning, so the blazing afternoon sun took me by surprise. I hadn't even packed bathing suits, but no matter. The kids had a great time, and I collected sea glass while the waves kept my feet cool.

Warnings

You know the warnings at the bottom of cigarette and liquor ads. They state what we should know already, and I usually ignore them or roll my eyes as they state the obvious--Don't drink and drive and the like.

Well, this morning as I waited for the bus, I saw a warning that startled me into doing a double take, then a triple take as my brain struggled to take in what new information. A definite moment of cognitive dissonence, culture shock, or something.

The poster is of a healthy woman and advertises Danon yogurt. Yes, yogurt. And the warning for this dangerous product? Snacking between meals is bad for your health. Note that this is not an ad for Twinkies, Duncan Hines brownies, or a Nestle Crunch. It's yogurt. Good for you.

I definitely felt a bit like Dorothy (as in, we're not in Kansas anymore). I have been taught my whole life that healthy snacks are good. That's when you are supposed to eat fruit, right? As a family, we don't go on a 45 minute train trip without stocking enough snacks to last us three days. A three hour trip to to beach calls for a backpack crammed with enough for a week. Heaven forbid that we feel hunger.

Now that I've thought it through, I do get it. The ideal for French people is to eat very complete meals which include salad, vegetables, main dish, cheese, and a dessert fruit and yogurt at the end. It's why they have to stay at the table for such a long time.

My American kids can't sit still for enough time to consume all this in one sitting. In fact, I get ansy as I wait for them to finish their meals, so we'll continue in the grand American tradition of snacking in spite of the serious danger to our health.

Visit

Our friend Dinah visited us last week, and the kids and I took her to our favorite park Wednesday afternoon. Since moving into our new place, we have had guests staying with us every week. They have had to put up with boxes here and there, and I've had to relax and let things not be perfect; but it's been a lovely way to start out patterns of hospitality.

Last week was spent doing lots of laundry and hair treatments to get rid of LICE! Anna, Justin, and I had it. We also welcomed our new teammate from Germany by giving it to her. She was pretty laid back about it, and starting our friendship by me picking nits out of her hair was certainly a first for me.

We Move Today!!!

On December 28th, our anniversary, we bought our new place. It's just a five minute walk up the road, so our arduous seven minute walk to school will be cut down to two. The kids will have each have their own room, and we have patches of yard and patios. It's amazing for a Nice apartment, and we are feeling blessed and grateful.

But first, a few goodbyes: Goodbye to this building's cockroaches. You put up a valiant fight, but I win!
Goodbye to my little kitchen with no counter space. You served me well.
Goodbye to our charming high ceilings.
Goodbye to having our computer five feet from the dining room table and being tempted to respond during meals when someone skypes.

Sniff, sniff.

The nice thing about moving just up the street is that we don't have to say goodbye to our neighbors. We'll still go to the same park and bump into each other.

Time to wake up the family!