The first Meetup

Today at 10.30 the Sociable Senior Ex-Pats in Paris had their first meeting in the Chambre aux Oiseaux, a little café a metro ride away.  

I had no idea who would turn up as I've heard that people are quite unreliable, not letting you know they aren't coming or turning up without warning.  As it happens I met one person outside the café and we went in together and then gradually people rolled up.  There were five of us, all women.  A French woman who has only recently come back to live in France after growing up abroad, a German married to a Frenchman, a single Canadian who worked for the Canadian Foreign Service all over the world, an American formerly married to a Frenchman.   We talked non-stop for 1.5 hours and it seemed to be very sociable. It was certainly enjoyable.  

At 12.00 we broke up (the café were probably glad to see us go as we had only had one drink each) and I went with the Brigitte (G) and Dolores (C) to find a German deli that Dolores thought Brigitte might like. Then we split up and I went with Brigitte to find the German shop she did want to go to and she made some purchases.  Actually, I was rather surprised that she bought a lot of packaged dessert type stuff.  I thought people had grown out of Angel Delight years ago.  But then I'm a food snob!  Brigitte and I walked for a long way south to the Seine and had lunch in a café on the busy Place du Châtelet.  Just a sandwich and a panaché and chatting about families.  And then I walked over the road and caught the bus back.  

A quick check of the emails and then off with my trusty poussette to do the shopping for the weekend.  And tonight it's dinner at La Maison Courtine which has a dreadful website but a good write up in the Michelin Guide.  Fingers crossed.

The past week

Ah, no blog since Monday and now it's Friday.  Reason?  Ill health!  The cold turned into a terrible cold which turned into blocked sinuses which turned into a hacking cough.  Three trips to the pharmacy later, there is some improvement.  Although this afternoon I had to get off the bus a stop early as my coughing was really unpleasant for everyone else.  I'm all heart!

So, I had a day off on Monday and struggled into the language class on Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday afternoon to find Jeremy had disappeared from the class without even saying goodbye.  I didn't do much during the day except take medicaments.  On Thursday I felt a bit better and in the morning ventured by bus to BHV which turns out to be a sort of French Harrods.  I did some ogling at the luxury goods and the prices and bought 6 basic wine glasses.  We have been managing with two and Peter broke one of them. 

On Thursday afternoon I went to the language school for the last day of course for the month.  This time is was Bradley who had sloped off the day before without saying goodbye.  What is the matter with those two men?!  After the lesson, to which Lorena, the Spanish girl had brought some torrone to share from her home town of Cuenca, there were hugs and kisses all round.  Maybe that's what Jeremy and Bradley were afraid of.   I looked up Cuenca when I got home and realised it's a world heritage site and wished I had known and talked to Lorena about it.    I now wait to see what my new classmate Alix will be like.   I think there will just be the two of us.

And then it was Friday....

An off day - with a ray of sunshine.

Last night a nasty cold developed, passed on to me by my nearest and dearest who has been sneezing for the last three days.  Now it's my turn and, as usual, it's gone straight to my sinuses.  I cancelled my language class this afternoon and have been wandering listlessly round the apartment, filling the bin with sodden tissues and popping paracetamol and feeling very sorry for myself.  That is until emails came in from three friends telling me their news and cheering me up, followed by a phone call from someone called Elspeth who I've never met.

Elspeth is a member of the British and Commonwealth Women's Association and she organises Monday walks in the forest at St. Germain en Laye.  I was very interested in the prospect of a group to walk with and contacted her by email.  She sent me a long response explaining that they walk for an hour and that if I could get to the railway station at St. Germain en Laye she would pick me up.  I thought this was very kind of her but then I looked at the journey and had second thoughts.  It would take me at least an hour to get there, probably an hour and a half leaving time for delays and then they only walk for an hour.  So that would be over two hours travel at a busy time on the metro for an hour's walk.   So in the end I decided against it and thought I'd find places and people to walk with nearer to hand. 

At lunch time today Elspeth phoned me up to tell me she thought it was a pity but probably the right decision.  The other walkers all live in the suburbs to the west of Paris.  We chatted for about half an hour.  She's been in France for 25 years and she echoed what other British women have been telling me about the difficulty of making friends.  She thought I was doing all the right things and wished me luck!  It cheered me up no end and I thought how kind it was of her to bother to ring me. 

Sunday and more art...

We took a bus into the centre and joined the crowds in the Tuileries gardens before joining another crowd in the queue for the Musée de L'Orangerie.  We didn't wait too long and concentrated on the special exhibition of work by Emile Bernard.  It was interesting to see who he had been influenced by and influenced in his turn.  An indifferent lunch grabbed in the only place we found open off the tourist run and then onto a bus home.

Emile Bernard

Self portrait

All tucked up

Unwrapped...

Dorade Royale tonight...en papillote.

Exploring and more eating

La Chambre aux Oiseaux

On Saturday afternoon we went to the Canal St. Martin area and checked out the café that someone had recommended for the first Meetup.  It turned out to be miniscule and full of students and not the sort of place where 8 people who don't know each other could relax and chat.  So we went further on and found another café,  La Chambre aux Oiseaux, much for suitable for the occasion and enjoyed a hot drink outside.  It's still warm enough to be eating on the pavement.

Girolles and cauliflower quenelles

In the evening we continued our painstaking research of restaurants, this time pushing the boat out further as it's Peter's birthday on Monday.  We went to Les Fils de La Ferme where the restaurant decor was not exceptional but the service was excellent, the wine good too and the food delicious.   I had girolles and cauliflower quenelles to start and Peter also had a mushroom dish of ceps.    Then I had veal and Peter had beef.   We both had dessert, a fig puree tart with red currants which we dug into so fast I didn't have time for a photo!   I think I must explore my phone in case there's a 'food photography' setting that would produce better pictures.

Beef

2005 - a good year!

Veal

I give up! And find another solution!

Last week I went for lunch to a little café up the road called l'Oisive Thé.  It's a wool shop.  Very colourful with all the yarns hanging on the walls, piles of knitting books and tables covered in patterned cloths.   I thought it might be a good place to get into conversation with people.  I'm desperate for practise in speaking French in a social situation - the language class providing limited opportunity since the teacher does a lot of the talking and several of the students are real beginners.

I arrived at l'Oisive Thé at lunch time and ordered tea (they have over 50 varieties) and a salad.  I was the only person in the café at that point and the owner (American) was on her laptop ordering stock and having a go at her partner (French speaking).   She was quite nasty and he was long suffering.  At last other people came in and he was too busy to submit to her nagging.  A woman of about my age sat down nearby, clearly not French from the way she pointed at the menu without speaking.  I started up a conversation with her.  Turned out she's from Louisiana and after answering two or three of my polite questions she sank into her tea cup and made eye contact no more.   She smiled weakly when she left.  I turned to the woman (French) on the other side who was knitting over her cup of tea and commented on the yarn she was using.  "Yes" she said and smiled politely and showed me her profile.    After I had eaten my rather flimsy salad and a compensatory piece of chocolate cake which turned out the be rather dry, I left disappointed on several fronts! 

So, I thought to myself...I'm OK with my own company during the day, most of the time.  But really I need some interaction with people.  So after we had finished with the bank and Peter had bought yesterday's Guardian and gone off to work, I hopped on a bus to the rue du Faubourg St. Honoré and presented myself at the British and Commonwealth Women's Association!  They were very welcoming and invited me to have lunch (€12) and then I stayed for a talk by a French plastic surgeon about the history of plastic surgery and reconstructive surgery and then borrowed a book from the library and got a membership card.   They were a mixed group of women, mainly retired.  Some are French married to British men or the other way round.  And some are British married to British men who are working in Paris.   I spoke to two women who have been here for 40 years.  They all love living in Paris but find it very difficult to make French friends.  One woman told me that her mother in law is still calling her 'vous' after 45 years of marriage to her son.  She had a theory that apartment living, which is the norm in Paris, causes people to withdraw into themselves to preserve their privacy.  She said, "I know when my neighbours get up, when they have a shower, when they scrape a chair, when they vacuum the carpet and when they have a row!"  She is still on "Bonjour Madame" terms with people she has lived besides for many years.  Another woman explained that they bought a house outside Paris but she plans to move in to the city because it is so lonely for her in the suburbs where none of her neighbours talk to her.   So, I thought, what was I expecting!

The Association has a floor in an old building with a library, a small reading room, a dining room, an activities room and a kitchen.  It's low key and homely and people were very friendly, introducing themselves and chatting.  They've all known each other a long time.  There's a walking group that goes out every Monday morning, there are visits, talks, lunches and a French conversation group and all sorts of other activities but the walks and the visits and somewhere to drop in for lunch  and the French conversation will suit me fine.  I've sent out emails asking the organisers for more details. 

At last! A bank account!

Yesterday, after our 7th visit to a bank, we finally opened an account!  The key to success was that we finally went to the bank (some distance from the flat) where our landlady has her account and she was our 'parrain' or sponsor.  I hope that won't be arduous for her.   Once we had all the planets lined up (our UK bank statements for the last three months, our passports, our tax returns, Peter's contract, the landlady's passport, her elecricity bill and a statement from her that she is lodging us) it only took about an hour for all the details to be entered and paperwork to be churned out.  We have internet access already and are now waiting for a PIN number to arrive by post sometime before the end of next week.  Armed with the PIN I can go all the way back to the bank to collect our debit cards and cheque book.  Phew!  Vive la France!

A fish called Colin

I bought some fish yesterday.  The fishmonger is almost opposite the flat and has a stunning array of fish and shellfish as well as some hors d'oeuvres type dishes made on the premises - such as octopus salad and pickled herring.    I have my eye on the herring for a starter at the weekend.

The fishmongers have an interesting way of doing business.  There are usually two of them on duty, three or four on a Friday and Saturday and they are very friendly but pressing.  They are putting fish on the scales before you have even made up your mind - and they don't pick the smallest ones!  So far we have had clams and turbot and yesterday I decided to get colin.   If you google colin, which you won't because you don't have the time for such nonsense, you will see that there is complete confusion about what colin is or isn't on either side of the channel.  Colin is hake...but sometimes translated as coley or pollock.   I came across the interesting, but old, news that Sainsbury's were trying to push pollock in order to wean people off cod.  They renamed it colin and put it in designer packaging.  Nobody was fooled.

The fishmonger cut me off two steaks from across the body of the fish and threw in a free lemon as an afterthought.  Perhaps I am becoming a cherished customer!   I fried the fish in butter with a light dusting of flour.  It was accompanied by a watercress sauce.  Peter bought a bunch of watercress at the market last Saturday and unlike Sainsbury's where you get a paltry amount in a bag, this was an enormous packed bunch and it needed finishing up.   I also bought some dried haricot beans and cooked them with garlic and tomato and they made a good accompaniment.

The fish was very good.  Sweet and firm.   I did take a picture of my plate before I started eating but I hadn't planned the presentation in advance and I'd slopped the sauce all over the fish, so it isn't very appealing.  I know - get a life!!

Meetup bulletin

31 members so far and 8 coming to the first meeting for coffee in a cafe in an area I've never been to before.  This is going to be interesting!   Apart from meeting people, I shall be getting to know Paris. 

Sunday

Stuffed cabbage

Sunday was another lovely day.  Not quite as hot as Saturday, but still shirtsleeve weather.  We had a late start and then went to the Musée d'Art Moderne to see a Sonia Delaunay exhibition.   On the way we stopped for lunch in a Russian restaurant with an attractive courtyard.  Peter enjoyed his mussels and I had stuffed cabbage rolls which were not as good as mine!   The museum was a new one to us.  I don't know how we've missed it before.  It has a very good permanent exhibition and the Sonia Delauney exhibition was very interesting.  We had tea outside afterwards and then came home to cook the turbot that I had purchased at great expense the day before.  After a bit of internet research I decided to cook it in the oven with caramelised lemon and a dash of white wine.  It was fantastic! 

M. and his mussels

Bonnard - one of my favourites

Art deco furniture

vase

Robert Delaunay

Some of Sonia Delaunay's fabrics

Turbot with caramelised lemons

Meet up progress

Well, my meetup group has gone 'live':  http://www.meetup.com/Paris-Seniors-Social-Meetup/
13 people have signed up as members of the group and one has actually sent an RSVP indicating she plans to come to the first meeting.  Gulp!  Now I'm feeling nervous.

A hot day in Paris

Jardin de Plantes

It must have been 24C yesterday.  The sun shone out of a blue sky and all of Paris was out picnicing and sauntering about!   We went out for some shopping and bought (at great expense) two wild turbot which I'm cooking on Sunday.  Lunch was scraps from the fridge whipped up into a healthy salad and then we walked to the Jardin des Plantes where the sauntering and picnicing was taking place.  We ambled about and sat in the shade and then found a kiosk where Peter optimistically ordered two lemon teas. Paper cup, tepid water and a tea bag already lemonified.  Well, as we say, it was warm and wet!  It wasn't really the season to admire the plants, most had finished.  But the dhalias were putting on a good show.

Mad!

From there we hopped on a bus and went to Place Madeleine and then along the length of the Rue du Faubour St. Honoré admiring the shops and gasping at the prices.    There were long queues outside the shop of Christian Louboutin.  Peter couldn't believe you had to queue for a shoe shop, and it looked empty.  There's mystique for you.  I of course did not get in line to buy a pair of these.  Just not me somehow, and at €995.50.  Well you could buy a lot of turbot for that money.

The view from our perch

By the time we got to the end of the road it was a respectable time to eat before our concert at the Sal Playel.  We were spoiled for choice on the brasserie front and settle on one and ordered steak frites.  Steak tasty but a bit tough - as usual.  Peter shared my coffee ice-cream and we both had coffee afterwards to keep us awake.  Not entirely successful in my case as I nodded off during the Emperor Concerto, to my annoyance as the painist was excellent and the Paris Ile de France Symphony were also wonderful.   I perked up for the pianist's encore though and the rest of the programme was also very lively.  Hary Janos suite by Zoltan Kodaly and Tchaikovski's 1812.   Interesting cultural differences.  In the States we noticed the tendency to give standing ovations to everyone at the drop of a hat.  Here nobody stood despite the enthusiasm and obvious appreciation, but the clapping went on and on and then everyone clapped in unison and there were cries of 'bravo'.   In the end the conductor had to wave us away.   Our seats, by the way, were in the 2nd balcony which was perched up very high.  There was a small lift, clogged with the very elderly, so we walked up all 115 steps!    On the way back to the metro we had a good view of the Arc de Triomphe with the Eiffel Tower in the background.  Another tourist attraction ticked off the list!

I get off my backside and do something!

Palais Galliera

The New Look

Well, today was the day I decided that I really needed to get out of this comfortable little quartier and start exploring.    After the hair cut and the salad lunch I took the metro and visited the Palais Galliera which houses a fashion collection.  Unless a special exhibition is on, the Palais is closed because the fabrics can't be exposed too much.  But at the moment there is an exhibition of 50s fashion.  Dior and the New Look, all the great names. Flared skirts, nipped in waists and flattering necklines.  The exhibition was incredibly crowded.  Slim young things making notes and doing drawings and large women sighing.  The dresses were wonderful! 

The poster outside

After the exhibition I wandered in the direction of the Seine and walked along the bank until I found a bus stop.  I hopped on two different buses to get home and managed to get a glimpse on the way of that wonderful old shop La Samaritaine which is closed for renovation and the subject of a huge architectural row.  The traditionalist don't like the proposed long, wavy glass frontage for the building.  Bradley, my fellow student, was working on the project which is now held up for consultation.  Consequently he is out of work and needs to learn French.

The fastest haircut I've ever had

My usual hairdresser is just getting warmed up after 45 minutes and I rarely leave the salon before an hour and a half is up.
Here, I entered at 11.00 and
was back in the flat (opposite the salon) at 11.30.  Half an hour! However, they were very friendly, the shampoo with head massage was relaxing and the cost was £26 including a tip which is less than I pay in Norwich and a lot less than my friends pay!  Here's the new Parisian me!  Well, from the ears up anyway.  The rest is pretty much the same if not worse!!!!!!!

What's been happening?

I hear you cry!

Well, perhaps not.  But I realise I've been silent for a few days.  Probably because not much out of the ordinary has happened.   The French course continues.  Everyone is getting slightly better bit by bit.  Yesterday was mostly talking instead of taking in a lot of new material so that provided a bit of a breathing space.  Poor old Jeremy from New York took a bashing.  Everyone complaining about the Americanisation of food and culture!   I learned a new word - MacDo - pronounced Mac-dough, though I probably won't be using it often.

Aquagym on Tuesday was crowded again.  It's amazing that people keep coming.  A very scruffy, surly man takes your money at the desk, another grumpy man who looks as though he's dressed for cleaning drains snatches your receipt from you about 5 steps away from the desk and once you get into the pool, the arrogant instructor leaning back in his chair, legs akimbo, demands another ticket.   I have yet to give the right ticket to the right person which ellicits much huffing and puffing.   What is it all about?  Rudeness as an art form?

I was all set to go again today and found a moody crowd at the door of the pool.  Closed for technical reasons.  Perhaps they were having a customer relations seminar?  While I was in the area I walked across the road to take a look at the fountain in the middle.  I've noticed people there with bottles and containers.  It's a well - a very deep well, which provides fresh, clean spring water delivered from several metres below ground, delivered through stainless steel spigots. 

Place Verlaine

I came back to the flat via the baker's (une petite tarte aux champignons pour déjourner) and the butcher's (500g de saucisse paysanne et une bonne tranche de paté de compagne pour le diner çe soir).  By contrast both the lady in the boulangerie and the butcher were smiley and polite.  I do like to be fair.

I wasn't too sorry about aquagym as we had a late night last night.  I took the metro to Peter's office.  He has the biggest and nicest office he has ever had!!  

The buck stops here! Notice the world map, for the domination thereof!

We had been invited to go out to dinner with a little dining club - a group of people from the office.  An Australian girl, a Finish girl, a girl from Japan and a girl from Lancaster and a man from the Netherlands who has a flat in the Barbican as well as his little pied à terre in Paris.   They go out once a month with whoever is in the office at the time (they all travel a huge amount).  We went to a restaurant called Juveniles. 

Juveniles

Juveniles

This is what one review says about it: 

Fabulously unpretentious wine bar run by a Scot, Tim Johnston. Extremely welcoming and is often filled with locals and Anglophones alike. No one at Juveniles is there to look chic and be spotted, the interest is far more focused on the delicious wine and simple, meaty menu.

Well, I was there to look chic....  The group from the office couldn't have been more friendly.  I don't think we would have chosen a restaurant with such an anglo slant (they had haggis on the menu and Lincolnshire poacher cheese) but the food was good and it was an excellent evening.

Sitting in the flat this morning, after my usual leisurely start, I began to wonder how I was going to meet anybody to create a little more variety in the week.  So I looked again at 'Meetup'.   I haven't yet found a meetup group that is active during the day.  There are a lot of groups for young people or evening activities.  So, I decided to have a go at starting one myself.  I know!  Incorrigible!   We shall see how many takers I get.  I'll keep you posted.

For sale.  One careful owner.

One last thing before I get my lunch ready...

Seen on the street this morning outside a restaurant that is being done up.  Clearly they have no further use for it.  Can you imagine! 

Le bon pot au feu

Sunday supper

Stage one:

Plat de côtes avec un os a moelle

Stage two:

Dans le pot

Stage three:

4 heures plus tard, bon appetit! 

My food photography could be improved!  The potatoes were cooked in the stew and the whole thing was delicious.  Served with steamed cauliflower.

In addition to taking photographs of beef, we went to a free concert in a large church in the Pitié-Salpetriere Hospital.  A choir and an organist and a programme of 15th and 16th C music.  It was excellent.  We walked there and back and got rained on on the way home, but were fortified by the stew and the red wine that went with it.

Discovering more about the neighbourhood

This morning we demolished a baguette between us for breakfast and washed it down with coffee.  While Peter was clearing up I nipped down to the butcher's on the corner and waited in line.  I was in twelth position at the start.  I had spotted some short ribs of beef the other day which GF had recommended for a stew and they still had some.  I managed to ask for them, get the butcher to saw them in half for me and accepted a free marrow bone into the bargain without tripping over in French.  It took the butcher some time to decide how best to arrange the pieces of meat and the marrow bone in the parcel and in the end decided on two parcels which he then wrapped in a third piece of paper.

Champignons des bois

Meat in the fridge, we set off to walk along the Rue Tolbiac in a new direction and came to the street market.  It was much less busy than the market we went to last Sunday which was really hectic.  There were still queues but they were good natured and people actually spoke to us.  We bought some wild mushrooms for a risotto (ceps, chanterelles and champignons des bois)  and a few other bits of fruit and veg and a piece of cheese and a couple of bottles of wine.  We came back to the flat, unloaded the goodies and set off to find lunch. 

Chanterelles

Ceps

 We ate at a nearby cafe, strangely decorated with English 'graffiti' but the salads were very good. 

lunch

Then we made a sweeping tour of the neighbourhood south of the flat and found a little park where we soaked up the sunshine for a while before wandering home for a cup of tea.

Risotto aux champignons sauvages

Even though I say so myself, the risotto was delicious!

Le weekend arrive

No 'school' today and I didn't feel like aquagym again as I got very little sleep last night.  I woke up at 2.30 am and was rehearsing French phrases for what seemed like hours!  So a very late start to the day and then a little light housework.  Nothing too strenuous!  And a load of washing and then a coffee and then short trip to the supermarket for basics and then my weekend homework.

We are on to the future and the conditional tenses having done quite a lot on the past (passé composé) and the imperfect.  Of course, we're supposed to understand all about the conjugation of verbs in our own language, but do we?  I know we did something called parsing at school, which was about breaking sentences up into their grammatical units but it was so boring I used to switch off!   That happened quite a lot at school - well, in your teens there are other things on your mind!  I remember a revision session just before an important Latin exam when I protested to the teacher that it was a bit late in the day to start teaching us  new material.  I was known to speak my mind!   She gave me one of the withering looks at which she excelled and told me that we had spent the previous term on this topic.  I glanced round at my class mates in astonishment and they shrugged their shoulders and wearily shook their heads!  I must have had a bad reputation. Anyway...I do remember some of the stuff about nouns and verbs and clauses but I don't remember much about tenses.   The French verb tables go on an on!  And then there are all the exceptions!  Aye, aye, aye!

Never mind out for dinner tonight!

Very nice antipasto (Italian restaurant)
Very nice pasta
Excellent wine
Delicious Tiramisu

And I've just ordered the turkey for Christmas!  OMG! 

Fewer moans today!

The aquagym class was much more civilised today.  For a start I arrived over half an hour early which gave me enough time to pick out my spot in the pool towards the front of the class in a sensible depth.  Others did the same and we bobbed up and down until the lithe young man deigned to get out of his chair and start the class!   I have to say that being stared down on by a fit young man is far less comfortable than aerobics at Bryan/College Station where the (female) class leader was about the same shape as the rest of us and was in the water with us.    Anyway, it's a very small moan.  There was more space, though there was some bumping, and then we got out the 'noodles' and spread across the pool for floating exercises and then it was really good.   It's very noticeable that although there are one or two women who have clearly come with a friend, the rest of the ladies keep themselves to themselves, barely exchanging smiles let alone comments, unlike Bryan/College Station where there was non-stop cameraderie!  I must stop making comparisons.

In the afternoon the language class was much improved by more opportunities to speak.  In fact we went round the class answering questions and making comments for most of the time.  Bradley looked almost cheerful and Jeremy smiled...once.  Bradly and I wondered if Jean had overheard us the day before!!!!  Sometimes it pays to be indiscreet. 

Then off to the fishmonger's again.  This time for some 'veritable' smoked haddock which I had spotted yesterday.  I bought what I thought would be enough for two and it cost £16.  Gulp!  It had better be good!  Although now I've unwrapped it at home, it does look rather lurid!
Next time I'll go for something cheaper.  I noticed that they had skate with the skin on.  We like skate but I'm not sure about the skin!   A bit of Googling in order I think to find out whether to take the skin off before cooking or not.

Bradley speaks!

No water aerobics this morning so I had time to do a lot of homework and tackle the pile of ironing.  Life must go on.  It isn't all beer and skittles!

Outside the language school as we were waiting to go in (it's a small operation - an office, a classroom and a store room/loo and they don't open up until the class starts) I plucked up the courage to speak to Bradley and asked him what he thought of the lessons.  His feeling echoed mine that Jean goes on for too long, elaborating on a single topic and there isn't enough talking by us.  This was also confirmed by Lorena later as we walked down to the corner together.  She did a lot of talking today in an effort to get conversation going, but it didn't quite do the trick and turned into a monologue as Jean didn't take the hint and encourage others to talk.   Well he does, but he tends to ask us for cultural comparisons (English people don't kiss each other do they...) which are a bit tedious because no one wants to make generalisations.  Apart from this moan, I'm  learning a lot although I may get indigestion if I can't regurgitate some of the stuff I'm taking in...so to speak! 

Anyway, speaking to Bradley before the class started seemed to have loosened him up and he asked quite a lot of questions and spoke with much more confidence today.  And he admired my earings!!!  So he's my favourite fellow student at the moment.

After 'school' I got my trolley out and went shopping.  Tonight we are having spaghetti with clams preceded by an octopus salad!  Very fishy!

Octopus salad starter

Here's the octopus and here's the pile of shells from the spaghetti.  I forgot to take a photograph before we started eating!

The remains!

I shall sleep well tonight!

Well, today was another first.  My first Aquagym session at the swimming pool up the road.  I turned up as advised 15 minutes before the lesson and found a long queue waiting to pay and go in.  The numbers for Aquagym are apparently limited, but not limited enough!  More later.  Anyway I paid my 9 euros - 6 for the lesson and 3 to get into the pool.  Rather expensive I thought but I shall go at a quieter time and work out the tariffs and take my passport to prove I am a personne agé and qualify for a reduction.  

First of all there is a place for taking off shoes.  I noticed that many people had flip flops with them and I shall take mine tomorrow.   Then into the changing area with cubicles and lockers.  Into my costume and under the shower and then through the footbath and into my horrible rubber hat (absolutely obligatory) and then into the pool.  A third of the length of the pool is roped off for Aquagym and half of that section is too deep to stand in so over 30 people (all women) for crammed into an area that is barely large enough for us all to move about.  I got in at the shallow end and didn't fancy doing the session barely covered by the water, so I squeezed my way through the crowd and then realised I was in too deep so had to wriggle back again.   It was like doing exercises in a crowded train!  A man stood at the front and mimed the exercises, occasionally shouting above the music.  There was a lot of bumping into people, and sometimes kicking!   However, it was a solid 45 minutes of movement, so I'm sure it did me some good.   It was also amusing to see more than one older gentleman, in close fitting, skimpy trunks, take their time as they stood at the side of the pool in front of the class gently towelling themselves, first facing us and then in profile.   Doing us a favour I suppose!

Then home for a bite of lunch and off to my second French class.  Bradley is still silent, the American, Jeremy,  is still shy, the Spanish hairdresser is tongue tied and the two young women are smiley and getting friendly. Bradly and Jeremy leave without even saying goodbye.  Perhaps they are depressed.   I learnt something important today.  I was taught that baiser means to kiss (and Peter confirmed his from his schoolboy French.  Jean fell about and told me that it means to f**k.  Oh well.  I must have had some interesting conversations over the years.

It turns out that Lorena, the Spanish girl, has a friend working in Norwich as an au pair.  She was very excited at the coincidence.  The friend is coming to visit her soon.  That's two people with a connection to Norwich, a Vietnamese and a Spaniard. Que le monde est petit!

After the class I went to the butcher's for something for supper and the baker's for a baguette, and the grocers for some fruit and the wine shop for....well,  guess!   And all a few hundred yards away.

First day of school

I started my language course this afternoon.  Two hours and 15 minutes of concentration and scribbling and talking of course!  The teacher, Jean, is a man of about 60 with mad grey hair sticking out at all angles.  He punctuates his conversation and advice with whistles, noises and grimaces and wild hand gestures.  It has the weird effect of making me feel quite relaxed.  It wasn't possible to tell how the others found him, though at some point when everyone loosens up we may discuss this strange teaching technique.    The others are a Brazilian PhD student (female), a Spanish PhD student (female), an American male who works as a journalist on a business website, an Australian male (the most shy and taciturn Australian I have ever met) who works for a Japanese company of architects and doesn't make eye contact and a Spanish lad looking for work as a hairdresser .   So an interesting mix.  Also a mix of abilities.  The two young women are good at expressing themselves and stringing sentences together but their accents are terrible.  They mangle all the sounds they make.  The three men are stumbling and shy and have great difficulty in building up a head of steam.  Maybe they will gather momentum as the weeks go on.   I made plenty of mistakes, but apparently my accent is very, very good and Jean couldn't believe I hadn't done any French since school.  Sorry, but I have to boast about that!  I think I owe a lot to my French teacher at school, the lovely Miss Thompson, with her delicate moustache and tweed suits.

I have accumlated at the end of the first session, 5 pages of notes of my own and 4 handouts and 2 sheets of homework!  We covered a lot of ground and Jean is very good at correcting people in the nicest possible way and making extended teaching points from our mistakes.

Of course I should mention that I am old enough to be the mother of everyone in the class and probably the grandmother of one! 

Peter had a good first day also, lots of meetings and struggling with the IT, always a chore in a new office.

While he was on his way home I made supper. The pieces of turkey did indeed make a good casserole with some shallots, garlic, tomatoes, harissa and paprika.  I'm beginning to learn what is possible in the tiny kitchen with limited cooking utensils and pots and pans.  We have abandoned the dishwasher under the oven which doesn't work very well and are washing and drying up after each meal.  Just like the old days!

And tomorrow I start Aquagym at the local swimming pool!  Ah, la vie Parisienne!

Sunday newsflash!

All is not lost.  I took a tour round the immediate neighbourhood straight after breakfast and found a supermarket open.  Not the best, but it had all the essentials.  I also found 'osso bucco de dinde' a pack of turkey leg pieces cut across through the bone which should make a very nice, healthy casserole. The cheese shop on the corner is also open and although I understood only 1 word in 5, I bought a piece of conté cheese and a chaource.  Baguette, cheese and tomato.  Lunch is sorted! 

When I got back to the flat I found a note from Peter.  "Meet you at the market at 12.00".  Absolutely hopeless!  How does he think we are going to find each other in a teeming street market!  More later...

Later...

Well, the market is fantastic.  Fruit, vegetables, fish, meat, game, paté, cheese, you name it.  Crowded of course and the best stalls have queues.   Lesson 1.  Wait in the queue where there is one.  There's a reason why some stalls have no queues!   I went out, optimistically without a coat, but the weather has turned and I came home, cold, without waiting to meet Peter.  Fortunately he phoned from the metro.  I had visions of him scouring the market for hours.

Inside

More discoveries this afternoon.  I have located the language school where I start tomorrow and also the swimming pool and I have the times for Aquagym in my diary!  We also found a little 'car boot' without the cars opposite the swimming pool.

Outside

Foolish foreigners

We have woken up on our first Sunday living in France to the appalling discovery that the shops are closed on Sundays!!  Having got it into our heads that we were going to circumvent the lack of storage in the kitchen and the fridge by shopping almost daily for food, we had failed to take a account of Sunday closing.   No basics in the larder at all, something that will be dealt with on Monday.  In the meantime Peter is heading off to collect the keys to his new office from the outgoing Director and I shall take my trusty trolley and head for one of the nearby street markets in the hope that they are actually food markets as well.    I was hoping to avoid markets until my French had warmed up a little, but needs must!   If I am not successful we will have to eat out again!  Sigh!

PS We tried one of the many local restaurants last night.  It was run by elderly mother and son and got quite busy.  We had a table in the window so could observe the street get more and more animated as the evening went on.  Peter had: Assiette de saussice Alsatienne, brochette de boeuf avec pomme sauté and a side salad.  I had: soup de tomate, filet de bar (bass) and crumble de mangue et figues. 
Good honest food.  Nothing fancy, but Peter's beef was excellent.  Oh, and a modest small glass of wine each.

Monet and sugar free jam

Monet: Impression: Rising Sun

Today I discovered how to reach our nearest metro station and how to buy a carnet of tickets from the machine.  We took the metro to Musée Marmatton which has a collection of Monet paintings and a few other impressionists, including Berthe Morrisot who I like.   The special exhibition was of other artists and locations that contributed to the development of the style seen in this painting of the harbour at Le Havre. 

Afterwards we walked back in an easterly direction until we found a cafe and had lunch.   Then on for some way in search of a shop we had found on line that sells sugar free jam that Peter can enjoy with his morning baguette.   We bought cherry and strawberry jam at some exhorbitant price!   We came back by metro, dusty and footsore and fell on a cup of tea.

On our walk today we saw an interesting array of street art, including some fancy work with drain covers.

Some wall paintings:

And a wedding!

The butterfly emerges

Smothing and patting

The priest comes to assist with the veil

Just to prove...

...we are really in Paris