A First NIght In Paris

I have heard so much about this city over the years, and although obviously very eager to visit, I couldn't help wondering whether or not it would fully live up to my expectations. Well, it did. And more.

On the taxi ride from the train station, I kept getting little glimpses of various parts that make Paris so famous; the Seine, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower just peaking over the other buildings we passed in the distance, and a quick glance down St. Germain Boulevard. And, even while distracted trying to keep the girls' debate about the taxi driver and his dangerous decision not to wear his seatbelt and what would happen to him if he crashed, from reaching the front seat, my excitement about being here grew.

After getting 2 over-tired girls down for a late afternoon nap, we headed out for an evening boat cruise on the Seine. It was a quick Metro ride, and a short walk, before the girls and I saw the Eiffel Tour for the first time in its entirety. Grace was thrilled; skipping and laughing as we walked along the Seine as the sun began to set (even Lily remarked how "hyper" Grace was!)

The boat cruise was the perfect way for us to start our stay; the girls didn't have to walk and loved being on the "ferry", as Lily called it, and it was such a beautiful way to see Paris at night with children. The bridges and buildings were lit up; the most impressive being Notre Dame. By the time we returned to the Eiffel Tower, where the tour had started, it too was all lit up, and to our great surprise, just as we came up the steps from the river at 10:00 pm, white lights flashed on the tower like a huge Christmas tree for a full 5 minutes.

Then, feeling very French, we stopped for an 11:00 pm crepe and coffee on our return to the Metro station. A sleepy, but very content, Grace summed up the experience well with 2 words. I asked her what she thought about Paris and she answered "fancy and distinguished". At that moment, I couldn't have agreed with her more.

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Tartare de Boeuf

On Thursday we wandered down to a different part of historic Avignon to the picturesque Rue de Teinturiers. We arrived just in time for lunch and spotted an appealing looking cafe with its outdoor seating completely in the shade. The patio was filled with locals (another draw) and we decided to fill the last remaining table with 6 hungry Canadians. The notice board on the road advertised the “plat du jour” as “Tartare de Boeuf avec frites” for 9 Euros. I was up for a little mid-day beef until I saw most of the above-mentioned locals chowing down on a neatly arranged brick of shiny raw hamburger. And as if this dish didn’t surprise enough with its rawness, on more non-conspicuous peeking I learnt that the shininess was due to an uncooked egg plopped on top and slithering down the sides. Faster than you can say “I like my hamburg well-done”, I changed my lunch order to “la grosse salade”, with cooked chicken, feta cheese and plenty of raw lettuce.

But, I admired my Dad for doing like the locals and ordering the featured lunch plate. His meal was the first to arrive (Grace later remarked that of course Papa’s food came first as they didn’t even have to cook it). Upon seeing what their Papa was eating, both girls were flabbergasted and genuinely concerned for Papa’s health which wasn't surprising as “raw meat” has always been referred to in our household as if it were toxic material; (“Grace, that plate had RAW MEAT on it. Don’t put your fingers anywhere near your mouth and go scrub your hands”, or “Lily, don’t touch that counter, there was RAW MEAT near it and I haven’t disinfected it yet”).

The brave one at our table thoroughly enjoyed his lunch and polished it off as though he had grown up eating "tartare de boeuf" every Thursday for lunch. The girls and I did keep a close eye on him for the rest of the afternoon for any signs of severe E-coli poisoning, but he plowed through the afternoon and quipped that he had never felt stronger. I am still not tempted!

We are off to Paris on Saturday for the last 4 days of my parents stay here; we are all so excited.

Palaces, Speedos and Roman Ruins

On Tuesday, Mom, Dad and I headed up to the Palais des Papes (Palace of the Popes) for a guided tour. The palace dates back to the early 1300's when a French Pope was elected and wanted out of the dangerous Italy of his time. So, with the French King's blessing, the Catholic Church bought the town of Avignon and funded the building of what is now the largest surviving Gothic palace in all of Europe. Unfortunately, much damage was caused when it was a barracks for hundreds of soldiers in the 1800's (they whitewashed the frescos on the walls!). Fortunately, in what was the study of the Pope, many of the original frescoes survive along with the original roof with it's painted decorations; if ceilings could talk!

Meanwhile, with his artificial swimming leg swung over his shoulder and 2 eager girls in hand, Barry jumped on bus #3 to go to the outdoor swimming pool he had toured the other day. We had read that surfer-short-style men's bathing suits are a big no-no in France, so Barry had invested in a more modest version of the speedo that provided a little more coverage up the waist and down the legs. However, the whole outing was almost a wash as a worker at the pool directed Barry to the sign that clearly had a huge not permitted slash through any male bathing suit that was longer than a boxer. (Our Canadian brains are still finding this restriction puzzling. Any ideas?) Luckily Barry was permitted to enter after he rolled up his bathing suit to a higher level and fun was had by all. In any case, I am thinking that a speedo in a European cut would be a great gift for me to get Barry this festive season.

Yesterday was another great tourist day boating down the Rhone River to the town of Arles, a vital port city in Roman times. We only had time for a quick walk around the impressive, wow-we-definitely-aren't-in-B.C. Roman Arena. This is also the city where Van Gogh lived and painted, and also where he sliced off his earlobe after a crazy fight with his friend Gauguin. There is so much more to explore and learn here and we are already planning to return for a week-end this Fall. It's merely a 20 minute train ride away!

Tuesday Thoughts from a Guest Blogger

I thought that it was time for me to make an appearance on this adventure. It is hard to believe that we have now been in France for a week! We have really settled in and I feel great about where we are at so far. Here are a few musings and observations from me from our first week.

Food: I remember well searching for 45 minutes in a Chinese grocery store for oatmeal when we were in China 4 years ago. Each minute brought further angst and frustration. Attempts at communication involved gestures and my entire ten word mandarin vocabulary. I left empty handed and wishing for home. We have had no such difficulty here. Our grasp of french combined with the familiar brands have made it easy to stock our kitchen. There are some tastes that the kids need to get used to. For Grace it is extremes such as "This is the best cheese I have ever had" to " French milk is the absolute worst! I wish they had black and white cows in France". My romantic visions of eating fresh fruit and vegetables that are in season have come to fruition somewhat as a visit to a provencial market reaped rewards with extremely tasty melons, tomatoes and lovely olive tapenades. In addition the local grocery store has the same Pink Lady apples from Chile that I can buy at Safeway in Mission. The globalization of our food supply is well at hand here.

Space: Needless to say there is a lot less of it here. Our 400 square foot apartment is a far cry from our house back home. No grass to run on or outside area to let off steam. There is a comforting feel though to the close quarters as there is a sense of security having my family so close to me. It is a little difficult for the girls without their comforts of home but they are doing well. Watching Grace skip rope down the little lane by our house gave me a sense of being at peace to see her adapting so well.

The French: The numerous books that we read to research for our trip talked extensively of the rudeness of the french and their impatience with foreigners. So far we have found that people are very accommodating and helpful. From the staff at the School Registration Office (who decided that the fact that the girls had the same last name as me was good enough proof of adoption) to the security guard at the local municipal pool that gave me my very own tour of the pool (including an introduction to the director) as well as Joe at the local telecom shop that walked us through buying our mobile phone (not a technology that I am familiar with).

So one week down and we are in a better spot than I ever could have imagined.

Giddy-Up, Hair

Yesterday we decided to take a break from settling in, and just enjoy being tourists in our new town. We walked up to the Place de Palais, past the Palais des Papes up to Rocher des Doms. From the top of this hill we got an amazing view of the town of Avignon, the Rhone River and the surrounding area. The first photo above is looking back at the Bridge of Benezet (more famously known as the Pont d'Avignon), and the second photo is looking down on the historic centre of Avignon. Even now looking at my photo of this European medieval city, it still seems hard for me to believe that this is our home for the months ahead.

On the top of this outlook both girls insisted on renting pedal powered horses, despite the heat climbing to the high thirties. The lady renting the horses promptly handed Barry a hoola hoop to pull Lily, as she was unable to use the pedals. Barry chuckled and said "Ahh, je suis le cheveux" (Ahh, I am the hair). She looked at him blankly, and I quickly whispered "cheval" (horse). He had a good chuckle at his use of the wrong word and repeatedly pointed at his hair saying "cheveux" and then back to the horse "cheval". This woman's blank stare didn't alter, but we both got a kick out of it.

After a rest and rehydrating, we headed down towards the Pont d'Avignon for our first walk on the half bridge (flooding destroyed the other half. The town re-built it numerous times only to have it destroyed by floods each time and they finally decided to leave it as a demi bridge.) It was just way too hot to dance on it this visit....that will have to wait until a cooler visit in the fall.

Jimmy Arrives

Jimmy Comes Tomorrow

Jimmy is our new favourite man about town.

On Friday, on the quest for a better sleep, we all headed out on the city bus to a commercial part of Avignon that we were told had furniture stores. We trotted around in the 35 degree weather checking out the mattresses in the first couple of stores that we came to, with disheartening results as the mattresses in these stores were priced well above what the budget of 2 teachers on an educational leave could afford.

Feeling discouraged and very hot, we serendipitously stumbled upon Jimmy and the "Literie Discount" store. What a find - mattresses that were of the modern era that we could afford to splurge on! We tried out a few, and even asked Jimmy to drag one off of the wall storage unit to try it "par terre". He set it up just by the front door and, after trying it out, I asked my Mom to lie on it and give me her opinion. Just at this moment, a French couple entered, and the lady was obviously quite taken aback to have to walk around a lady lying on a mattress right at the entrance. I later heard her tell her husband "Ils parlent Anglais", perhaps to try to explain away the strange behaviour.

After we had enthusiastically chosen a mattress, Jimmy offered Barry his delivery truck to drive it home ourselves. Barry actually considered taking him up on his kind offer, but after what we'd observed of the streets in the downtown area, he was convinced by his family to let Jimmy deliver it for us. Then, as if we couldn't be more thrilled, Jimmy threw in free delivery! When Barry went back the next day to also purchase an inexpensive bed frame, he and Jimmy had a good laugh about the expression on the other customers' faces when they saw his mother-in-law lying by the door. Jimmy said "Pourquoi ils ont ete surpris? C'est un magasin discount!".

Later, feeling buoyed by our mattress success, we wandered a little further, having sent the girls home by bus with the grandparents for ice-cream. We stumbled across the very large "Castorama" (think a French Home Depot). We were quick to find out that instead of the Home Depot's slogan "You can do it. We can help", at Castorama "You can do it. We'd prefer not to help", would be more fitting. We purchased some cheap plastic drawers and other household items that we needed to make storage and homelife a little more convenient and taxied our purchases back home.

Yesterday we visited "Casino", a large grocery store less than a 10 minute walk from our apartment; so convenient and AIR-CONDITIONED. We stocked up on some groceries and bought a few more items for the house; including a toaster oven (we have no oven in the apartment) and a kettle.

So, within 2 days we have come far in making our new place feel a little more like home.

And, only one more sleep until Jimmy delivers.

We've Arrived!

Here is the proof. We have arrived! The weather of Avignon has more than made up for the gray, wet and cool weather that we first experienced upon our arrival. We stepped onto the train platform to bright sunshine and intense heat. Again my parents help was invaluable. Even with the extra 2 helpers unloading our luggage, the train whistle blew very quickly at this station and a third of our luggage very nearly continued on without us to Nice, along with Papa!

A beautiful taxi ride took us to our apartment; along the wide, tree lined street with the Rhone river on the left and the medieval wall surrounding the city on the right. We passed the Pont d'Avignon and the Palais des Papes, sights we have dreamed about for months.

Many people have been friendly and helpful. The husband of our landlady drove us to the Education Office to pre-register the children in school. We hope very much to visit the girls' school next week.

As expected, there is lots of adjustment and settling in that needs to take place. It has felt like hard work getting life started here while so jet-lagged and tired. Grace woke up the first morning after a restless night and asked "How long is a year?" Lily, a little girl who has yearned to go to school since her big sister started kindergarten two years ago,is now asking why her parents are "forcing" her to go to school because she doesn't want to go at all. (Yikes). She has asked how to say "Can you be my friend?" in French. So, my biggest concern remains the girls adjustment in school.

Also, our apartment requires a few additions to make it feel more like home. Thankfully, it is very clean, but the mattresses on our beds feel as though they could rival the medieval wall outside of our windows in age.

We are off this afternoon to a shopping area by bus. Perhaps a sponge mattress for the floor may be a good investment?

Terminal

International arrivals seem to make a vivid mark in my memory. Some are now popping to mind; coming down an escalator and being greeted by long unseen loved ones, stepping onto the tarmac to the smell of a hot, tropical breeze, or having an unpleasant encounter with a surly customs agent.

Our arrival at the Charles de Gaulle airport will be remembered by me for the colour of grey; grey tarmac meeting a grey sky with heavy grey clouds. Not the most romantic initial image of France,I agree. And unfortunately, the three hours we spent desperately trying to get away from the airport and to our hotel did not help brighten my first impressions!

Barry had read that we could catch a hotel shuttle from the airport. However, the hotel pick up location was not marked, and after asking 3 separate airport workers where we should wait, we received 3 very different answers. We averaged out the directions and waited, very unconfidently, in one area of the terminal for 40 minutes before we decided to look into taking a taxi. As we were heading down to try to find larger taxis that could possibly accommodate our 16 bags, two car seats and one pair of crutches, we stumbled across the airport information kiosk.

Here, the information lady told us that it was impossible to be picked up by a hotel shuttle at the terminal (?!), but that we had to walk about 7 minutes, (convert to 20 with 2 tired, but plucky, young travellers) to the TGV train station. So, off we headed with our considerable baggage to the train station. We then had to head up to a different floor to catch this increasingly elusive hotel shuttle, where we waited and waited for our hotel shuttle to arrive. As my parents have come with us to share the first 2 weeks of our adventure and to help us out (the extra help much needed we are finding out!) there were four very sleep deprived adults, becoming more and more incredulous, trying to figure out how we were to solve getting to the hotel. No taxis would agree to take us, claiming they had no idea where this hotel was that we wanted to go. (Inferenced taxi-man translation: "Going to a hotel so close to here is not worth starting my engine up for. Additionally, I can see your cracker-jack load of luggage and this makes me tell you no")

Every bus driver or station worker we continued to ask seemed to just make up any answers that came to them; "Take a black bus", "Take the white bus", Take the bus behind me". Barry tried phoning the hotel, the phone ate his Euros.

Just when we were considering losing out on our paid reservations and jumping on ANY shuttle to ANY hotel as our only escape, our shuttle FINALLY arrived.

Throughout this wait, although tired, chilled and hungry, Grace and Lily were amazing troopers.

They are fast asleep beside me while I write, after a lovely walk around the little town of Roissy, dinner and a bath.

Tomorrow we tackle the train. Avignon tomorrow.

One More Sleep

A big hug and kiss to Robin and Mandi, Grace and Lily's beautiful cousins for making their last night in Canada so special and fun.

We'll miss you!

One Month, Two Towers

Our Toronto stop-over, filled with big cousin fun, is quickly passing and our thoughts are more and more on our flight Monday and life beyond. During a quiet lull last night, Lily crawled into my lap and asked if we had already paid for her to go to French school. So, the reality of it is setting in, along with some butterflies.

We made like tourists yesterday and headed downtown on the subway to experience the CN tower. With the Eiffel tower just around the corner, we thought it would be interesting to compare the two towers. Lily was in awe that she could see "almost the whole world" and insisted on taking a picture. Grace worked hard to take the perfect picture of the tower with the Canadian flag.

Thanks for joining us, Lois! It sure was more fun having an Auntie along.

Bye, Bye, B.C.

Our raspberry, hosta eating neighbours dropped by for a final snack before we left.
Very thoughtful!

4 Lives and 12 Bags

Here are the girls with all we have managed to pack for one year in 6 suitcases, 2 backpacks and 4 carry-ons. I think we have done remarkably well considering within these bags are 3 of Barry's prosthetic legs. But when I remarked to Barry that we were travelling light he didn't respond. He may have a point.

Why?

After years of dreaming, months of preparing, and weeks of packing, my four year old, Lily, with 98% of her young life's treasured belongings disappeared into boxes and bags, asked:
"Mama, why are we moving to Fuh-wance?"
Well, Lily-pie, there's a longer answer and a much shorter one.
The longer answer takes us back to 1981 when as a 12 year-old, I too had to pack up most of my belongings, and say good-bye to friends (to a pre-teen, there was no greater perceived hardship!) to move with my family to East London for one year. It was such a formative year for me; such a bonding experience for our family and so much excitement and learning about another culture and history. Even the memories of being a shy, strange-talking newcomer, walking through the gates of Hainault High that September and daily being surrounded by gobs of English kids and bombarded with questions and demands in strong cockney accents, such as: "Wha-eye yo' legs soo brown?" (Canadian teens in the early 80's wore brown pantyhose with skirts - not so in Essex I quickly learned), or "Wha-eye you sah-ay "pardon me", it's too posh, just sah-ay "WOT'?", make for entertaining stories decades later.
Barry, also had a formative year growing up. As an 8 year old he and his family moved to Kenya, which apart from his one term stint in a strict boarding school, was the highlight from his childhood. He too was instilled with an interest in travelling and learning about other cultures because of his time in Africa.
So, we both knew we wanted to experience another year abroad, this time as the parent figures.
Also, although attending late French immersion, I was never fully bilingual and this has always been a dream of mine; to become fluent in French. So, learning French, along with the history and culture, is also part of the long answer to why "Fuh-wance".

But, the short answer and the one I gave to Lily the other day is "For the adventure".