Politically Incorrect Paris

The pressure of choosing which pictures of Versailles to post has gotten to me, so instead, I'm going to tell you about some other interesting things we saw in Paris. There is a cereal sold in France called Banania. It is very well known, although sales are not quite what they used to be. It has a long and distinguished history. The guy on the tray is the original one. The link to history shows the amazing evolution of the character. Recently the company gave up the copyright to the slogan under pressure from groups in France's former colonies. Apparently we aren't the only ones who think the Banania guy is fun. We were all set to buy one for GM's sister, that is until we turned it over and saw the price tag. We didn't the joke was worth 13 euros. Oh well.

Later in the week we found these jars of Confiture of Guava and Banana. Even before I read that IHT article about Banania, I remembered that Aunt Jemima had to have a makeover. Don't you think that head scarf is cute?
Now these puppies were more in our price range, so we were able to bring them home, yeah! Apparently they are made with cane sugar and cooked in a caldron. Can you see the sarcasm dripping off the page?

So are you thinking the progressive French aren't so progressive anymore? You aren't? Well click the link for this dessert and you might change you mind. Go on, you really should click the link.

Now the French don't have a monopoly on non-politically correct characters. You may have heard from us about the Dutch Christmas traditions and Santa's helper Zwarte Piet (Black Pete). The lawyer in me just has to say, "Res Ipsa Loquitur (the thing speaks for itself)." Sometimes, you can't even look for a meal in peace.

This last thing isn't technically politically incorrect (except on our part for posting it), but it just seemed to fit here. On the drive in, we saw this lady walking down the road. We didn't get a good picture because I had to drag the camera out of the backpack. What is that yellow thing on her head, you ask?

That, my friends, is a yellow plastic sack filled with quite a few pounds of bananas. And yes, she was walking along with it balanced on her head, no hands! It was impressive.

Paris Musings

Take the nice parts of NYC and Boston, make it cleaner, change 80% of the red brick to a white stone, take away the yellow cabs, make the people friendlier, get rid of the exceptionally tall buildings and 90% of the post WWII cheesy architecture, - mix in some Savannah GA and Charleston SC - and then you have Paris.

First thing I noticed, and made me think of NYC, is the ethnic makeup of Paris. Forget your image of "French folk," no, Paris has the look of the US (without the weight problem). Just an observation, not a commentary. A few changes: exchange Hispanics for people of Arab extraction, mix in fewer Jews (touchy subject over here), and all the cabbies here are "indigenous French." Oh, and they smoke. A lot.

Paris has Rome beat by a long shot. Paris is just a more comfortable, cleaner, safer, nicer city. Rome could be Paris, but for now the Italians are not quite up to it. Additionally, you are less likely to get bothered by street-folks - though you have to make it through the Sub-Saharan gauntlet of trinket sellers to get to Versailles, and the North African gauntlet to get to the Eiffel tower, but that is about it - only about 10% of the beggars compared to Rome as well. Even the homeless here are doing fairly well. On our last full day we took a boat ride on the Seine in 60F weather; under a lot of the bridges are semi-permanent camps where the "homeless" live. As we went by, about six were sitting around a table at the end of their shelter playing cards, laughing, enjoying the weather, and drinking wine.

MJ's French helped a lot, but as you may have heard, the French speak more English than you think. The only folks that really couldn't speak English were the waiter we had at the Creperie Chez Imogene (the quote on the wall was "Ne vous fauchez paz, Imogene!" of "Don't get angry, Imogene!" .. I guess someone had issues...Not being French, we don't know what it is all about.) where we had dinner at on Wed, and one person at Picard (an amazing frozen food store, more on that later...) We had all our breakfasts in our appt. and had our lunches on the go. A few of our dinners we had at the appt, but we ate out a few times as well.....though sometimes the girls would rather have been in bed.

We all had high expectations for Paris, and she met them. Very nice visit the way we did it, and we will go again. One thing I wouldn't do though, is EVER go in the summertime. Going when we went in April, it wasn't too crowded or hot. Sure, the trees and flowers were just starting to show, but still.....Paris in summer must just be a nightmare. No wonder the locals leave.

Tooling around Paris, just a couple of observations.

The Paris "riots."
- Give me a break. The French government caved in to their spoiled children a few days prior to showing up, so the closest we came to a no-kidding riot was close to Musee Rodin where we saw one protest started by some 20-somethings in their 100 Euro shoes, good teeth, and 300 Euro coats with something like "The Oppressed Generation" on paper safety-pinned to them. Give me a break. They don't know what oppression is. Anyway, about when they started getting their act together, about 1.5x their number of police showed up in vans ready for business. No worry there....or anywhere in Paris.

As for the French police, we saw a lot more of them than we did in Rome (perhaps why we felt safer). No pictures of them because that is not allowed - for the police's protection; but looking at these multi-ethnic group of young men and women with a professional eye, they are an impressive group. If asked, there is little question Paris would be quite clean of riots. All they need is the right leadership.

France hates America?
- Notsomuch. One of the best Metro stops is Lafayette. Even at restaurants outside the Univ. of Paris, the "olive drab shirts and hats" '68 wannabes drink Diet Coke. There is a little bit of it here and there though. At one store, they had a pillow with an American flag on it, the flag was upside down, and yes, I righted it. Outside The Sorbonne, The Gap didn't make it through the last week's riots in one piece. Funny thing is, I think I say less anti-Americanism in Paris than I did in NYC or in California when I lived there. From the miniature Statue of Liberty to the statue of Lafayette given to France by, as the placard says, American school children, to books for sale with French taking credit for the existence of the USA (fair statement, in fact), to the friendliness of the locals, to immeasurable small things - I think the gap between the French and American people is quite small. The politicians and opinion elite on both sides; that is perhaps another thing.

Speaking of culture clashes - irony of ironies. Some of the actual or 1st generation French of sub-Saharan extraction have adopted the whole American ghetto culture fashion. On the Metro ride home on Tuesday we had the whole bandana-under-NY Yankees hat-baggy hooded sweatshirt-baggy jeans-not enough fiber in the diet look. The whole thing. He didn't quite get it though. Kind of like seeing an American male walking around with a black beret, red neckerchief around the neck and black-and-white striped shirt; the physical look is there, but the pose, movement and personality are just a bit off phase to carry it off. Oh, then again, in Paris I don't think I have seen anyone in a black beret - but you get the concept.

Enough of my poor writing; the question is - what did we do and where did we go? Stay tuned.... (Don't you hate cliff hangers.)

Perplexing Paris

We spotted this outside the entrance to a church on the drive into Paris. Since we were in the car we couldn't read the sign. So we have no idea what it was about. It kinda looks like someone shouting. But why the red hands?

Paris, The Drive In

Ok…We have less than a week before MJ and the girls leave for Athens, so we figure we better tell you about Paris. Otherwise we will get hopelessly behind.

Saturday:
We left in the morning for the approximately 4 hour drive. We stopped for lunch at a McDonalds conveniently located half way there. I am proud to tell you, that with the exception of grabbing a restroom break and a coffee at the McDonald's on the Champs-Elysee (which is quite a McDo's, as they call it in France) that was only time we went there during the trip. Even though there was one right at the entrance to the Metro near the apartment. My motto for the trip, "I didn't come to Paris to eat at McDonald's." Including the stop for lunch it took us 4.5 hours to get into Paris, but a little bit longer to actually reach our destination.

One thing that puzzled us on the ring road on the way into town was the no burning/exploding cars sign. My photography skills are not up to snuff, so I wasn't able to get a picture of it as we cruised down the road at 90 km/hr. (Where's the traffic when you need it?) But I did find a picture of it on wikipedia. In Europe they use signs like ours, except without the red slash across it, to show that something is prohibited. The sign with the red slash means it is not prohibited any longer. Amazingly, I also found the exploding car sign on a blog about China, although China uses the red slash like we do. In Europe that would mean an end to the prohibition on expoding cars, or in the alternative, exploding cars are now allowed.

Paris driving isn't as bad as you hear if you are used to city driving. As it was a Saturday afternoon when we arrived, traffic wasn't too bad. We just had to wait once or twice at a few traffic lights. And we were able to drive around one of the old gates in the former city walls. We actually managed to pack light so that everything fit into the Alfa. A small car is key to driving in a large European city with narrow roads and plentiful double parkers. We spent our seven nights in Paris like we did in Rome, in a rented apartment. I guess the phrase is "becoming a temporary local..." Works for us.

The first thing we had to do on arrival was to pick up the key from the rental agency. Even though the agency is located in alley that doesn't have any parking, we were told to pull in and leave someone in the car. So Sounds good, until you get there and a large delivery truck is blocking access to it. We had to drive around the block which is easier said than done in a major pedestrian area. We finally got through the crowds and found an underground parking garage near the Pigeon-Doo (AKA Pompidou) Center and walked the 3 or so blocks to the agency. (Btw, the picture on the Pompidou website looks so much better than it does in person. The place has a major pigeon problem, seriously. Not to mention a permanet homeless encampment complete with chained down modern camping tents.) We had no problems there or getting to the apartment where we were able to park in a garage 100 yards away. Very nice deal... The apartment was a 3rd floor walk-up with 66 steps to the door, as counted by SJ. The building had two secured doors that required a code to enter. The first on the street and the second after you had walked through the courtyard. This apartment was better than the one we had in Rome as we didn't have to go through the girl's room to get to ours and the layout was just nicer. Because people actually live in this city, it was very easy for us to get what we wanted from the, must be half a dozen, grocery stores in the area. Not to mention, the bakery that was literally on each street corner.

After getting settled in, the first thing we did was head out for some provisions. OA was "starving" so we stopped for the first of many Croque Monsieurs and omelettes. Then we headed to the MonoPrix, the more upscale of the many local supermarkets. There we bought some yummy cheese, bread, yogurt and of course, chocolate. The gal that writes a blog that I like to frequent, Chocolate and Zucchini, posted a tour of her local grocery store in Paris not too long ago. I'll let her pictures do the talking. Her store looks pretty much like the one we went to too. And yes, there are two whole aisles of yogurt to choose from. Here are pictures of the cheese aisle, the chocolate aisle, yogurt aisle 1, and yogurt aisle 2. By this time, we were all pretty pooped and ready to get a good night's sleep. We needed to be ready to tackle Versailles the next day.

Disclaimer

Hello everyone. Up until now, I have been stealthily posting under GM's moniker. He graciously created a username for me last night, so now I can post under my own auspices. First, thank you for stopping by to check in on us. As you can see, we having quite a nice time here in the Netherlands. Now for the disclaimer. My former English teachers are in now way responsible for my current mangling of English grammar. I have only myself and my faulty memory to blame on that one. So, if you have better language skills than I, please forgive me. Now, let me tell you... It really stinks to wake up with the beginnings of a migraine on the first really gorgeous day in a week. I think my lovely triptan based medication is finally working and I can go out and enjoy the sunshine instead of wincing from it.

‘Klompen’ around

It may be a cliché but hey, this is the Netherlands, and they ARE known for their wooden shoes. We would call them a pair of clogs, in Dutch, it is klompen. Even so, while visiting the Keukenhof gardens, I wasn’t expecting to see quite so many. The Keukenhof Gardens were our first venture further north in the Netherlands. I'm sure we will find many more wooden shoes to show you in our future travels.
First up, a pair you could try on. “Honey I shrunk the girls!” (You can see SJ and OA by clicking the initials.) Then we saw a fellow demonstrating the making of a klomp (that would a clog, singular) to a tourist. You can see a bit of a traditional thatched roof at the top of the picture. More on that later. Close up of the big shoe in front here. The pair of regular size klompen behind the big one will give you some perspective. Next up was a klomp the size of a small boat. See the full photo here. Just when you think you’ve seen it all… There he was, a man clomping around in those things. You can read more about these amazing shoes at http://www.woodenshoes.com/.

Tulips from the market

A couple of Friday's ago, while the girls were still on their looonnng spring break, they went to a friend's house so I could go to French class. While they were there, she took them to the local market in their little town. While my friend was picking out tulips to buy, the girls were deciding which ones they liked. Since it was almost time for the market to close and the flowers were all the way open, the seller gave the girls the flowers that they had been admiring. We enjoyed them in my new vase. You can see the flowers larger here.

Rhubarb Sunday

Hello! MJ here! I couldn’t let GM have all the fun! So here goes…

Spring has finally sprung here in the Netherlands, even if the weather hasn’t gotten the memo. (It is supposed to – finally – get into the 70’s at the end of this week.) There are flowers popping up everywhere, including between the rocks around the fountain in our backyard.

Of course, for me, one of the joys of springtime is thinking of all the canning opportunities. I noticed with glee that the quince bushes we walk past on the way to the bus stop were blooming. Of course the quince won’t be ripe until fall. So what’s a girl to do, you ask? Make rhubarb jam, of course!

The rhubarb and asparagus wake up and stretch their limbs about the same time, and have started turning up in the market. Now, up until this Saturday, I had never even tasted rhubarb, so it was a small leap of faith to buy a giant bunch of it. (The price helped, it was only 80 cents per pound, so my giant bunch cost me less than $4). Saturday afternoon I got the rhubarb prepped and sugared for Sunday’s adventures. Then to reward myself, made a crumble with what was left. GM is always prepared to take on any dessert, but SJ was a little more skeptical. Until she tucked into a small bowl of crumble topped with vanilla ice cream. At which time she said, “Why didn’t you tell me it was this good?!” It is always nice to have an appreciative audience. (It goes without saying that OA wouldn’t get anywhere near it. She kept to her ice cream sandwich routine.) In fact, we liked it so much that we bought a small rhubarb plant (since it was less than 2 euros) when we walked up to the store with our new wagon – more on that later. We probably won’t get much from it since you aren’t supposed to harvest much in the first few years, but it is an attractive plant, don’t you think?

Sunday yielded 5 jars of Rhubarb Ginger Jam, 6 jars of Rhubarb Raspberry Jam and one seriously messy kitchen. Next up… pickled asparagus.

The two jars in the picture are scheduled to be a hostess gift when my French class travels to Paris late this month. We will be staying at the apartment of the teacher’s in-laws. I can’t wait!

Polish Pottery Shopping

The peer pressure around here to buy polish pottery is great. Some other ladies and I took a road-trip last Friday. Not to Poland – although I know folks who have – but to a warehouse in Utrecht. I don’t usually get all that worked up about the pottery, but with a warehouse to choose from, I had to exercise control. I bought the things that I was looking for and only a few extras. It helped that I had an order from my next-door neighbor and a friend in the states, so I was able to get the full shopping experience. This big platter is my main score. Most of the patterns are predominantly dark blue, so this one spoke to me. High resolution here.