Au revoir, Paris!

As I sit on the airplane to Houston, I confess that I’m a little numb emotionally. My toddler is thoroughly enjoying Baby Einstein on the ipad (thank you David, Tracie, and Elisa!!), and I am finally finding a moment to answer emails and process our move. Sad? Definitely. Excited? I will be when I have a little more energy. Feeling abundantly blessed beyond all I could imagine or deserve? Undoubtedly.

I have quite a few posts to catch up on, but I am going to break my usual m.o. and post my thoughts today. Now. At this moment. Or I guess they won’t actually post until I connect to the internet this evening, but still… almost real-time coverage. Though I could share a million sentimental or profound thoughts (or so I’d like to imagine), I think a more fun closure to our two years in Paris would be some top 10 lists… So here I go in my sleep-deprived, nausea-laden, toddler-distracted, hormone-imbalanced state.

10 things I will NOT miss about Paris (in no particular order):

1. Required swim caps at the public pools. Need I say more?
2. Being bombarded by but not being able to consume salads, or French wine, or coffee, or cheese, or most of the spectacular French delicacies because I’m pregnant.
3. Having to carry home anything we buy.Note: In order to do this, I had to transfer the contents of the stroller (i.e. my son) to my hip, tie him there using a sheet which happened to be under the stroller, and walk home in a zig-zag line as I pushed the two-handled stroller with only one hand.
4. Having to process and translate mentally (and often research manually) EVERYTHING before I can do it: what are peanuts called? How do you pronounce them? What do I plan to use them for? And any other imaginable question someone might ask me when I’m trying to find them at the store.
5. Going into a situation feeling confident that I am ready for any and all said questions concerning the topic at hand, only to have my morale crushed by a mumbler whom I can’t undestand to save my life or a nosy busybody who insists on asking questions outside my scope of preparation and comprehension, forcing me to be the stupid American who has lived in Paris for two years and still can’t buy a package of peanuts for a summer salad.
6. The lack of decent Mexican food.
7. The way they look at me like I’m crazy when I ask for ice in my drink.
8. The difficult task of finding clean, accessible restrooms with space to change a baby’s diaper.
9. The Frenchies’ incessant need for paper work. Despite incredible advances in some areas, the French want multiple hard copies of everything. Twice. And then they want it translated into French. Twice. And you still have to appear in person.
10. Metro stairs. While pregnant. While nauseated. While carrying a 30-pound (yes, I said it, 30-pound) 17-month-old. And my purse. And the diaper bag. And sometimes the stroller, too.

10 things I can’t wait to do in Houston (also in no particular order):

1. Hug my family.
2. Eat Mexican food. Lots of it. Daily.
3. Sit on a comfy couch.
4. Let Oliver play in the backyard.
5. Wear flip flops outside the house and not have someone look at me like I walked out in my underwear.
6. Throw all my necessary junk (PLUS a whole bunch I don’t even need) into the back of my SUV and drive around with it just in case we might need it later that day.
7. Eat LOTS and LOTS of Sonic ice.
8. Grill out on our screened porch in December while wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt.
9. Visit the big HEB and listen to the hosts of angels that sings each time I enter.
10. Take Oliver with me to the gym where a bunch of nice ladies and cool toys are waiting to play with him.

10 things I will miss terribly about living in Paris (again, no particular order… though I’m sorry to be breaking my previous promise not to get sentimental. Sue me.):

1. Trinity International Church: the incredible mixture of age, ethnicity, background, interest, occupation… a little taste of “every tribe, tongue, and nation.”
2. Being a mere 10 minute walk from the Eiffel tower, with a fabulous playground, lots of dogs to entertain Oliver, running paths, and (of course) the view.
3. Tartes citrons (lemon tarts).
4. Tartes framboises (raspberry tarts).
5. The fresh produce at the outdoor market.
6. Being a mere 2 minute walk from said outdoor market.
7. Our friends (i.e. my regular vendors who adore Oliver) at the outdoor market.
8. Fresh, cheap bread available on every corner. And the pain au chocolat at the same place. And the pastries. And did I mention I like boulangeries?
9. The beauty of the city, the ease of the public transportation (when you aren’t toting a toddler), the numerous public parks, the eclectic mix of people and languages, the museums, the obsession with good food. In a word, the culture.
10. The gorgeous, precious, fascinating, loving people I met. My friends from the US, France, Brazil, Australia, Singapore, Thailand, Tonga, China, Hong Kong, the Philippines, Egypt, UK, Ireland, Belgium, Nepal, Cambodia, Uganda, Kenya, Bolivia, the Netherlands, Germany, Poland, South Africa, Columbia, and whatever country I’m sure I’m forgetting at this moment. Thank you for enriching my life over these past 2 years.

A bientot, Paris!

Oliver's First Day of School

Yep, after years of saying I never wanted to put my kids in daycare, here I am... In France, though, there is an incredible supplementation program based on your income which makes daycare SO affordable! Plus, since we live in a two-bedroom, 800-square-foot apartment on the 4th floor, Oliver is in desperate need of some new and different space for playtime. Yes, there are fabulous parks near here, but Paris fall is notoriously cold and wet, leaving us stuck inside often. Plus, this oh-so-sickie pregnant mom has to walk everywhere that we go. In addition, most of our friends live more than 30 minutes away via metro or bus (again with the walking places and carrying the stroller up and down stairs and such)... Let's just say that Oliver was getting VERY bored with just me. And yes, I am justifying my decision, but I cannot tell you what a good one it was. Really.

Oliver has started at the creche three mornings per week: MWF, from 8-12 (though we usually don't go until about 9, since he often doesn't wake up until about 8:15 - I love the flexibility!). First of all, I love the ladies there; they have all been so kind, not only to Oliver but also to his pregnant and pathetically-poor-French-speaking mother. They always ask how I'm feeling and have no problem repeating themselves multiple times when I don't understand. SO kind! I love the games they play and the playground they have and the way they make the kids clean up their own toys. Plus, since the age group is 15-36 months, Oliver (at 16 months) is the youngest of the group, but the older kids are so kind to him! They have "adopted" him, as the workers tell me, all wanting to hold his hand and help him do things.

Thankfully, my mother was still visiting to help me with the first week. They have an "adaptation" process, where I stay and play with him at the creche the first day, then we slowly shorten the time that I am there. It's a really cool system, and they let my mom stay, too, and we had fun talking to the workers (my mom's French is way better than mine!). By Friday, he was ready for his half day on his own. And, sadly, my mom flew out that day. So, Dad and I took Oliver to his first normal day of school.

First of all, he was a very happy boy that morning. Although our elevator is terribly dark, I couldn't resist taking a few pics of his adorable, giggling face:

We then walked to school (which is just about a 10 minute walk - so convenient!), and Oliver decided he wanted to wear his backpack. He was telling his dad something very important (and completely unintelligible, of course) when I took this picture:

He posed with Daddy for a few cute photos:

And eventually was ready to go:

The creche is at the end of this really cool alleyway, lined with two-story, timbered homes (they look to be 16th century, I'm guessing? But alas, I didn't get them in the photos... I'll take more later, I promise), with gorgeous greenery. So I couldn't resist as they walked down the alley towards school:

I can't believe how fast my little one is growing up!!

Good memories...

I realized today that many of my memories related to living in France are NOT capture-able with my lens... And since I am not a journal-keeper (*gasp* the English teacher?!?!), this blog is probably my best (well, really, my only) medium for documenting my time here. So, I'm going to attempt to post more frequent, short, just-so-I-don't-forget stories like this one:

Although my sweet boy woke up at 6:30 this morning (rather than his usual 8:30), we had an EXCELLENT morning. The sun is shining (finally!) and I think that puts everyone in a better mood. Plus, due to our early rising, we made it to the market around 9, rather than our usual 10:30ish. I had THREE (count them: 1-2-3) fun conversations in French with my vendors this morning... All of which not only increased the smile already on my face (due to the gorgeous day) because they were simply pleasant conversations, but they also left me feeling so proud and satisfied because I can communicate and make friends in French. Who cares if I probably sound like a 6-year-old who has terrible grammar skills? ;)

1. My friend at the charcuterie (who sells pork and prepared meats and yells, "Bonjour Oliver!" each time we walk by) asked me if I wanted any ham today. I told him not today but possibly Saturday because we had company arriving on Monday. He asked if it was my family from the US, and I responded that it was actually my husband's family, but they were also from the US... At which point he began to tell me that he really liked American cars. I'm not sure how this was related, except that I guess he associates me with anything American. Anyway, we discussed that there aren't many importers of American cars into Paris (which is not too surprising as many American cars won't fit down the streets there), but that he really wanted an American car because he has a huge dog and the dog needs more space in the back seat. I didn't recognize the breed of dog he mentioned, but from his description the dog is about the size of a small horse (twice the size of a labrador, to be specific), making it easy to see why he coveted a large American car... From there the conversation turned to how many trucks and suburbans my family owns and the fact that my Jeep Grand Cherokee (which is a HUGE car for Paris standards) is the smallest one. Pretty entertaining, I must say.

2. My vegetable vendor asked me last week (when I was sporting Chris' North Face fleece over my workout clothes at the market - clearly I am NOT Parisian, for a true Parisian wouldn't be caught dead as such... ah, well) where I bought the jacket. Unfortunately, I had to tell him that we purchased it from a US website... Since then, he and I have been searching for a site in French that sells the jackets and will ship to Paris. So we compared notes for a while...

3. My other vegetable vendor (who has higher prices than the first so is not my regular one except for sweet potatoes which my normal vendor doesn't carry) teased me the "Americaine" buying "patace douce Americaine" (American sweet potatoes). And then we discussed what green onions are called here and he told me about how they're used in many Chinese dishes.

Oliver just woke up... so this missive must end. Suffice it to say that I felt really good as we walked back through the 45-degree sunshine to our little apartment. So good, in fact, that I might be brave enough to make some phone calls (in French) that I've been putting off... maybe.

Into the Wild, Blue Yonder...

I'm curious, have any of you (all 3 of my readers) done any significant traveling with a 7-month old? It's probably not ideal conditions, but we decided that we needed to go for it while we were only 1.5 hours from Italy by plane, rather than 10+.

We began with an early morning flight to Venice. In order to avoid bringing a car seat, we determined that the metro and then the Orlybus should get us there in time (unfortunately, the train to Orly requires several changes from our house, and since the metro starts running at 5:30 and our plane was a 7:30, we opted for the bus which we thought would be quicker). So at 5:30, we were standing on the metro platform, freezing our tooshes off. Unfortunately, the train did not reach our stop until 5:40. Then there was some problem on the track (we were only trying to go 5 stops!), and we sat at a stop for about 15 minutes. Then we sat at the next stop for another 5-10. Finally, we reach the stop that meets the Orlybus, only to find that the next bus would not be leaving for another 20 minutes (they're supposed to go every 12 minutes). By this point, it's 6:30. We could not wait. So (don't tell the Paris police... or the grandparents, for that matter), we asked the cabby nearby if he would take us without a car seat. He said no problem.

We arrived in time and had smooth sailing from there on... And we won the bad parents badge of the year. (But, in our defense, at least there is NO ONE on the roads in Paris before 7 am.) I feared that it was a sign of what was to come for this trip, but thankfully, I was wrong. The rest of the trip was FABULOUS, and I promise more posts coming soon to describe it all.

For now, suffice it to say that the food, the people, the sights, and even the baby were all incredible. And, because I enjoyed these, I leave you with two pictures of the Alps in the early morning, taken on our flight from Paris to Venice:

Ciao~

Journee Europeenne du Patrimoine

September 18-19 (yes, I am a full month behind) were the Journees Europeennes du Patrimoine, which, as I understand it, is a celebration of the great men of Europe... And, more importantly for us, a couple of days when all the normally-closed-to-the-public buildings are open and free for tours. Unfortunately, as we were jet-lagged and busy that weekend, we only had a couple of hours before church to drop by some of the less crowded sights, but we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. Fortunately, it was a GORGEOUS day:

First, we visited the Eglise (church) and Ecole (school) du val de grace:

With lovely gardens:

And a baroque chapel interior:

Next, the Bibliotheque (library) Sainte-Genevieve:

With its iron work reminiscent of the Eiffel Tower:

And its tables upon tables of reading space:

In order to avoid taking the stroller up the stairs, Oliver hung out on the ground floor...

Our final stop was the Senate building, located in Luxembourg Gardens.

We had to wait in line there for some time:

But Oliver was a champ:

Inside the complex was beautiful:

Oli cooperated fully as we wandered the sumptuous rooms of the "palace:"

Read a plaque from Napoleon to the Senators and saw yet another of his thrones (why that's in the Senate building, I have NO idea...):

Walked up the "staircase of Honor:"

And visited the actual Senate room:

While waiting in line, the women behind us cooed over Oliver and told us he was "tres mignon" (very cute... not some sort of reference to steak). They also asked us if he was going to be a politician. Little did they know he already had a Senate seat:

The day ended with a beautiful blue sky and the observation that there are few places like Paris to appreciate such grandeur and beauty:

Bastille Day

Bastille Day: France's celebration of the forming of the Republic. A celebration of liberty, fraternity, and equality. And, like Independence Day in the US, an excuse for food and fireworks. As mentioned in my previous post, the weather let us down tremendously... But it had cleared by late evening, so we made our way (with half of Paris) towards the Eiffel Tower to see the fireworks.

We chose a spot two bridges away because we were concerned the noise might be too much for Oliver (who was asleep in the Moby wrap).

There were TONS of people, even that far away from the tower.

The river boats floating by on the Seine entertained us while we waited for the show (it doesn't get dark until after 10:30 pm...).

As the night sky darkened...

The show began!

The best part to me came when we began walking home (before the show was over... we didn't want to face the crowds). We crossed several streets and realized that all the traffic around the tower was stopped; people had simply gotten out to watch the show.

Not exactly a 4th of July picnic, but a great way to celebrate independence nonetheless.