Papa Lily

I must say that I really love our life here in France.  All of us have acclimatized far better than I ever could have hoped.  One thing that I always say to my friends here is that it is so very hard to compare our life here to the life that we have left back in Canada for the year.  The big difference is of course that we don't work here.  All the stresses that accompany the daily routines that revolve around standing in front of 30 adolescents each and every work day don't apply here.  When my instructor panics over a non-functioning computer lab, I just sit back, relax, and take comfort in the knowledge that I am not in charge.

One of the main motivations for coming to France for the year was to have a family adventure at a juncture in our lives when our kids are old enough to enjoy galavanting around Europe and young enough to not question the crazy adventure that mom and dad dreamed up.  As I have discussed before, being able to accompany Lily on her numerous field trips has been one of the highlights of our stay.   It has allowed me to hang out with Lily on numerous occasions and of course the field trips supply ample opportunities for me to laugh at myself.  The feedback regarding the Lècher, Lacher story leads me to believe that many of you have been enjoying Lily and my outings as well.  The other day I was chatting to Lily's teacher and told her that my friends were enjoying hearing of my little error in pronunciation.  She smiled, turned away, then broke out in a laugh and said that her friends had enjoyed the story as well.

Besides giving me material for the blog, the outings have also provided me with a moniker that I quite enjoy.  Papa Lily!  It warms me when I arrive at school and Lily's classmates acknowledge me with a quick "Bonjour Papa Lily".  I feel like I am part of the class.  I volunteered for another couple of sorties in the past week that were great fun.  On Friday, Lily's cultural education continued with a trip to the Avignon Opera to see the Avignon Ballet Company perform.  It was spectacular!  The Opera house is an amazing building right off of the main square in downtown Avignon.  Lily was in the second row and  sat with her hands on the seat in front of her for the entire show enthralled by the dancing and the music. 

On Monday we returned to the scene of the crime.  I got to practice my new found vocabulary and the students were fantastic at letting go of the rope this time.  I was quite proud of myself.  I think I have the most fun at gymnastics as I get to bring out my teacher voice from storage.  Here is a photo of Lily in action:

Another indication of how comfortable Lily is with her school life is she is now very happy holding hands with her partner.  Here is Lily with her teacher and one of her friends.

The Neighborhood! by Barry

Life continues to roll on here.  Just a quick post today to let everyone know we are well and still having fun.  We are excited for the upcoming visit of my parents in two weeks.

I thought today I would do a little update on daily activities and the continuation of our integration into the community.  Above is a picture of the local vegetable and fruit market that Grace, Lily and I visit 3-4 times a week.  The owner is a wonderful man that always has a smile for the girls.  He has had his store here since 1973 so has seen many changes in the community.  I asked him if the opening of the large supermarket on the other side of the remparts 8 months ago has affected his business.  I was surprised at his response.  "Pas de tout."  In Canada the influx of large stores / supermarkets has spelled the end of many mom and pop stores.  Obviously the clientele of this store appreciate the quality produce and the service provided by the proprietor.  He did say that when the hospital was converted to a the University, there was a definite downswing in his business.  His reasoning was that sick people are more likely to purchase fruits and vegetables for their health than university students.  When I see the mad rush to the sandwich bar at lunch I would have to agree.  I have begun to feel like a regular at his store as witnessed by my last visit when I asked him if he had any mangoes.  He replied "I do but they taste horrible and are very expensive."  Needless to say I didn't purchase a mango that day.

Here are Lily and Grace in front of the Café de la Bibliothèque.  Once again the owner (Antoine) is super friendly to the girls always asking Lily if he can borrow her trottinette.  I still haven't been able to transition to a café (a small strong expresso ) from a café au lait.  Ordering my daily creme (café au lait) is a sure fire way to identify myself as a tourist.  Antoine's daily "bonjour" and wave make me feel like part of the neighborhood in a Cheers sort of way.  Friday morning I was quite panicked as we needed to make a cake for the weekly bake sale.  Having only one egg in the fridge I rushed down to the corner store only to find it closed.  Seeing Antoine, I sheepishly asked him if he had an egg that he could spare.  "Bien sûr" he replied and disappeared into the neighboring restaurant, reappearing a couple minutes later with the required egg.

Here are the girls in front of our local boulangerie. Unfortunately our daily loaf of bread from here has definitely contributed to the 2 kilograms that I have put on since arrival.
Love to all and more later.

Bordélique

For me,  learning new vocabulary is usually tough slogging that involves looking up the definition, writing it down and actively trying to memorize it. Take the word “malgré” for instance. “In spite of” the fact that I looked up its definition numerous times and wrote it down and tried to commit it to memory, the correct meaning would continue to elude me everytime I heard it over the course of a couple of weeks.  Part of the problem was that my brain was trying to make its own connections: everytime I heard “malgré”, the English word “migraine” would pop into my head and would send my brain on some wild tangent trying to link it to something meaning “painful” or “unpleasant”.  I do finally have that one pinned down, but there’s always a handful of new vocabulary ready to tumble out of my longterm memory at the first lack of focus.

Then every once and awhile, my brain passes out a “go directly to long term memory card” to a new word I’ve just learnt, and there it sets up shop with nary an effort on my part.  “Avoir une mémoire de poisson rouge” is a french saying to which I can totally relate, so unfortunately the quick learn approach doesn't happen as often as I would hope, but it’s a real bonus when it does. An example follows.

Our whole family was invited to our first children’s birthday party in France last Saturday.  We were all excited and a bit nervous and didn’t want to arrive too late, especially since it was to an address we didn’t know.  I felt relieved when we turned down the street only 5 minutes past the invite time and saw the birthday girl’s mom on the street waving at us.  As we got closer she greeted us in French with a  “Hey, you are the first ones to arrive. So Canadian! You’ve even beat the birthday girl here!”.  

After entering the rented out space that was so lovely decorated with cushions to sit on, and pretty lights looped up along the walls, Barry and I  spoke to both girls about not being too wild or loud when the other children arrived.  We laugh at this now, because even Grace at her wildest couldn’t have competed with the chaos that ensued when the other 15 children started to arrive.  I should explain here that from what we’ve observed, French children play more roughly and even at the maternelle playground there’s a whole lot of “hands on/hang off/wrestle around on the ground” play.  But even having witnessed that didn't prepare us for the back room behaviour at this party.  The kids were yelling, boys physically fighting and body slamming, food flying, cushions falling and parents yelling:  15 years plus of recess duty under my belt and even I was seeing some firsts.  My “teacher’s hat” has been well put to rest for the year, so beyond body-guarding Lily, I merely observed feeling thankful I was in no way in charge.

Then the party moved out onto the street where it was time for me to also learn some new birthday party games, including the “15 plus children running up to the tourist train to yell at and dance around the tourists” game, and the “banging on the side of a small bus as it drives by and then holding onto its bumper and running down the road behind it” activity. *(Grandparents please note: I did not permit your grand-daughters to participate in the latter.)  Some games I did recognize were also played on the street: “1,2,3 Soleil” (a french version of “Red Light, Green Light”) and “Jack a dit” (a french “Simon Says”).

It was at this point of the party that the birthay girl’s mother approached me to ask, “Ca va?  Ce n’est pas trop bordélique pour toi?”.  Now, I had never heard the word “bordélique” before, but I needed no translation, no french-english dictionary; I knew exactly what that word meant because I had been observing and living its very definition for the past few hours.  “Bordélique”, as you can probably guess, means “chaotic”, and I needed no further review or study.  Instantly, I owned a new french word.

I could honestly answer her that we were all having a good time, because we were.  And, I should add that we were told that this mother doesn’t usually put on the typical french birthday party, so we are thinking that our initiation may have been far from routine.  But, interesting?  Memorable? Bordélique? Définitivement!

Typewriters

     Back in September I remember telling a couple of young Americans, quickly in English, that I felt as though I had no personality when speaking French.  This made them both laugh, but I said it in all seriousness.  Now, in no way am I inferring that I am the life of the party in English, but expressing your opinions, thoughts, feelings during everyday conversations is the primary way of sharing a little bit of yourself with others and helping them know you better. It is also something that’s easy to take for granted when using our maternal language, but becomes the biggest challenge when conversing in a language in which we are not yet fluent.  And as for trying to have fun with a clever insight, or a tongue-in-cheek comment, well, as far as I’m concerned, best not attempted.  Barry came home from class quite early on in the term and gravely remarked that he decided that he wouldn’t even try to be funny in French.  As for me, the only laugh I got for weeks while speaking French in class was unintentional when I said that I thought mace was only legal in Canada when used in bear attacks.
     The first hurdle when entering any conversation is understanding what the other person is saying to you, not always an easy feat when listening in a second language. As with the kisses, Barry and I have developed different strategies when being spoken to in French and not having the foggiest clue the meaning.  Barry puts on a huge smile and nods repeatedly; I tend to stare intently and after a few blinks, look away.  Not such a pleasant visual, is it?  Luckily for all involved, this doesn’t happen to us as often as we are understanding more and are more likely to be able to pick out an expression or word used and ask what the meaning is.
     But hurdle two involves the dreaded reply, and this is when it gets really tricky. It can be a laborious undertaking as I am still at the level where I have to often take the time to mentally translate from English if more than a quick and straightforward reply is needed.  I've come to compare the process to having a typewriter in my brain on which I am pounding away at keys to formulate my response.  I have been picturing it as one of those real old models that requires a serious finger thrust for each letter and whose typebars get all tangled if you get carried away with your typing. This is how slow it sometimes feels to get a response out: formulating a sentence slowly, word per word.  And then, more often than not, I will get hung up on translating one word or phrase and have to resort to the equivalent of ripping out that figurative piece of paper I’m typing away on and starting again using more simple vocabulary or grammar in my reply.  You can imagine how this hampers the flow of a conversation! Of course, people are usually patient, but I do find it stifling to not have that ease of expression or to not communicate fluently in exactly the way I would like.
     Everyday continues to involve little misunderstandings and stunted conversations for both Barry and me. But on the positive side, we both feel that, although slow, progress is being made.  In fact, I think it’s time to upgrade that 1920’s model typewriter that I’ve imagined in my head for a fancy, electric model such as the one that I brought with me to university in the late 1980’s with the built in correction tape.  Hey, now there’s inspiration to keep at it!

Tuesday Thoughts from Barry

Life continues to roll along here. We enjoyed fabulous weather last week and as of yet the dreaded and much discussed Mistral Winds have for the most part left us alone. As we get more and more comfortable with our life here, it makes it easier to venture out into the surrounding locales to get a more global perspective of Provence.

Sunday we took the bus to the nearby market town of Isle sur la Sorgue. It was a very enjoyable day for the entire family. Fall has arrived here and the colour of the Plane trees along the canals was beautiful.  Isle sur la Sorgue has a bustling antique and produce market on Thursdays and Sundays. The entire downtown becomes a pedestrian zone with merchants hawking their wares on either side of the street. As we meandered past the various stalls it was easy to dream of outfitting a provencial house with the various antiques. One particular object that caught my eye was a refinished solid wood workbench that would jump out of the pages of a Home and Garden kitchen. The market will certainly be a great place to take visitors. The entire portrait of Isle sur la Sorgue very much fit the view I had of a provencial town prior to our trip to France.

Yesterday I accompanied Lily's class on another outing. This time we headed to a local gymnasium for an hour of gymnastics.  I had a super time feeling quite useful as I manned a station where the children swung on a rope and jumped onto a mat.  My ability to communicate in French was important in this situation as there were safety instructions that I needed to pass onto the children.  One such precaution that I gave out to the children was that they needed to ensure that they let go of the rope completely when they jumped so as to not get rope burns.  Each time a new group came to my station I lined them up and went over the precautions.  Each time I came to the instruction about letting go of the cord all of the students (except for Lily) had quite a puzzled look on their faces.  After the third group I checked with Lily's teacher with regards to my pronounciation of a particular word and suddenly the reason for the puzzled looks became apparent.  I had been instructing them to "lècher" (to lick) the rope as opposed to "lacher" (to let go of) the rope.  Pretty simple mistake but made for a confusing time for the children.  Imagine being 4 years old, a little nervous as you jump from a block, swing through the air and a crazy anglophone yells at you to lick the cord you are holding onto.  I didn't just say it once, sometimes when they hung onto the rope I would yell "lèche! lèche! pas comme ça! lèche!"  As tends to be the case with me, sometimes knowing a little french is worse than knowing none at all.  But on the positive side, Lily's teacher did tell me that my french was improving as the students had had no idea what I was saying on the first field trip to Arles.  At least now they can understand that I am speaking French even if it doesn't make sense!

Bisou

Bisou.

It’s one of my favourite new little French word. It’s a familiar word meaning “kiss”, and I hear other Moms and Dads using it when they kiss their children good-bye for the day. I now use it too. To me it sounds light, cheery, and sweet; a word perfectly suited for a few quick pecks on your daughter’s cheek before she runs off into the school courtyard.

But, as we all know, all kisses are not created equal! Barry and I are both experiencing some slight kissing culture anxiety. As you probably know, the French greet each other with kisses on the cheeks; three, in fact, in this area. Although I’ve always considered myself pretty relaxed with the touchy-feely stuff, it does feel a little different to greet people in this way when you still don’t know them really well. Yet, at the same time it is warm and friendly.

To be honest, I wasn’t expecting any “bisous” until much later in our stay, if at all. And although not yet frequent, they have begun, and to my surprise, for us it is easier observed than done! The French make it look natural and graceful, but getting it just right is taking these two Canadians some practice. So, let me share with you what I’ve learned to date.

1) When I received my very first cultural “bisous”, I was sitting down and the lady bent down slightly to reach my cheeks. For some strange reason I automatically wrapped my arms around her. As soon as I felt my arms go up I knew it was oh so wrong. But, it was over quick and I learnt my lesson. Let me be clear: the cultural kiss in France does not involve a big ol’ bear hug.

2) Bisou Take 2. A week later I ran into someone who had been most helpful with us the first day of school. As I realized we were going to greet with kisses, I had to conscientiously concentrate to keep my arms down, but succeeded. Hurdle number 1 cleared. However, stifling the hug allowed me to focus on the actual kissing and I over did it, planting real, full-on kisses on her cheeks. This is also how it shouldn’t be done. I believe there should not actually be any contact with the lips. Now, Barry has the opposite problem, he keeps his face far enough away so there is no contact at all and compensates by just making a louder than normal smacking sound in the vicinity of the other’s ear. Upon trying his technique out on me, I ended up with an instant headache. I suggest the right technique is somewhere in the middle; light cheek to cheek contact and a delicate kissing sound.

3) Also, one must remember to start on the proper side and to stick it out for all 3 kisses. Yesterday morning we ran into a lovely mother of one of Grace’s classmates who had us over to her house several weeks ago. Voila! Time for “des bisous”. Perhaps because we were just in Alsace where they were only kissing twice, I left her high and dry on the third kiss - not so graceful.

Then it was Barry’s turn. Barry, in his words, “panicked” and committed to the wrong side - not so natural. Of course this lady, being a practised professional, compensated with “a head fake” (again, Barry’s own words) and avoided full on lip connection. One of Barry’s profs said that as a beginner you’ve got to keep on your toes and be prepared for the first kiss on either side. Evidently, easier said than done!

Of course, everyone here well knows that we come from the land of the handshake and that we’re “bisou” rookies, so our fumbles have been graciously overlooked. And, we do so much appreciate them making us feel welcomed and just a wee bit French.

Conclusion for these canucks: more practice needed.

Cheese Fondue and Sauerkraut

Thankfully, we had no more major transportation issues for the rest of the trip. We were unexpectedly herded out of our compartment and off the train in Basel, Switzerland due to strike action in France. We were directed towards the information office to find out how we could continue our journey to Colmar in France, and to our relief it didn't involve being squished into the sides of busses, just catching a train one hour later. No problem!

We enjoyed our visit with friends in the hills east of Zurich; what a beautiful view they have to the valley below. In our two and a half days there, we experienced warm and sunny, wet and cool, and cold and snowy. We even got a few toboggan runs in. Thanks to Donna for all the yummy food, including a cheese fondue with 3 different swiss cheeses; the girls ate so well there.

Colmar was also very picturesque, with its fall colours and alsation architecture in the old town. We took a little boat trip down the canal, aptly nicknamed "little venice". Barry dived right into the culinary culture upon arriving, ordering the biggest plate of sauerkraut (la choucroute) any of us has ever seen, with large, fatty chunks of sausage, bacon and ham balancing on top. My first alsatian lunch was a little less heart-stopping; smoked salmon wrapped around lentils cooked in a light mustard sauce.

We visited a toy museum, and a natural history museum where the girls saw their first Egyptian mummies, and despite expecting a room of Egyptian mommies and their kids, both girls were fascinated with the 3000 year old mummies. I snuck off to the Unterlinden Museum late one afternoon and, apart from the room housing the renowned Isenheimer Altar, had much of the rest of the museum to myself; so peaceful. One of my favourite artifacts I saw was an early 16th century mandolin, with beautiful inlays, tucked into a corner of the "English Maiden's room".

Lastly, picture this. On the train home, I suddenly heard some hard hitting french rap music that was getting louder. I looked up in confusion, and then amusement, as I made the connection between an eighty plus aged woman, with a stooped back, glasses on the end of her nose, wearing a front buttoned, pale flowered dress, heavy knit brown cardigan, thick brown tights and the kindliest smile walking towards me and the rap that was coming from the brown straw bag she was carrying. That'll teach me to make assumptions about who the fans of rap music are in this country!