The upside of rain and rules of a French café

So here is where Benoît is currently working:

So I had prepared Benoît and I lunch at the house, but because it was raining there was nowhere dry to sit and French cafés under no circustances allow to bring your own food and eat it while you sit in THEIR café.  So Benoît had the brillant idea of eating a creperie and here is a typicall example of what we ate instead that afternoon:

Love you!

Never Too Old To Play Dress-up

I have recently discovered that even though I am not so much of a “home-body,” I am what someone would call a “family-body.”  I find that the presence of a loving family (even though it may not be my own) has such a comforting and almost addicting effect to which I am constantly attracted.  For example, usually I would be scared to death to go over to Benoit’s family’s house or even to spend the weekend at my host family’s beach house knowing that the whole entire family would be there.  But for some reason, I crave this unique and loving sense of closeness that seems not to be missing, but possibly temporary displaced in my life here in France.  With my own family being thousands of miles away across the ocean and me no longer being a part of a host family exchange program as I was two years ago, coming home to an empty house or finding my beloved Benoit sitting at our kitchen table eating the American junk food I had brought him is not something I would call disappointing in the least, but just different.   Therefore, at this moment in my life, I refuse to reject any convivial invitation (sorry if these are too big of words Aunt Karen lol).

Anyway, last night Benoit called his mother to see if we could pass by and possibly find a hat for me to wear to the wedding this weekend amongst her thousands that she herself no longer wears.  Now, thousands is a bit of an overstatement; however, I have never seen so many hatboxes nor a whole walk-in closet devoted to such beautiful treasures in my life.  She told me to bring along my dress and shoes with which we would coordinate the hat according to its size, style, and color.  Both of Benoit’s sisters, Marie-Alix and Nelowuen, had returned home from their Girl Scout camp and of course were particularly delighted to dress-up their brother’s American girlfriend in fabulous French dresses, hats, and jewelry.  I mean the works.  His mother even had me try on her dresses that she had worn at my age because, ironically, we were the same size.  By nine o’clock, Benoît and I were leaving with my full outfit for Saturday, including a hat, strings of pearls, earrings, a shawl, and a purse, in addition to a dress that I will wear to the wedding in September. 

Here it is, the infamous French wedding hat!

I’m becoming a real French person ☺ …kind of

“Un grand succès,” are the words that I would use to describe today’s adventures.  And many things learned about the French in general during the process.

I had a “rendez-vous” at the bank this afternoon.  I passed by HSBC, the bank with whom I have chosen to open an account in France, and asked what documents were necessary to open an account.  The secretary told me all I needed was some kind of identification, in this case my passport, and proof of residence in France (thank you Benoît).  Great! Easy as cake, right?  Wrong.  I returned later that day and told them that I had returned with all of the necessary documents to open in account.  What they failed to tell me the first time around was that I needed to schedule a certain “rendez-vous,” where I would discuss with someone what kind of account I was looking to open and where I would present all of my necessary documentation. 

So today was that day.  I scheduled a meeting at one o’clock so that I would have the morning to sleep in—I am still a little jetlagged along with the symptoms of PMS in full flight, HOORAY!—and physically and mentally prepare myself for such a meeting with the French bank.  I walked about a quarter of a mile to the nearest bus stop in the rain, not realizing until 10 minutes later that that particular station was currently not being used due to all of the road construction happening in Nantes this summer.  Already 10 minutes behind schedule.  Finally, I walk another quarter of a mile (still in the rain and still without an umbrella) to the next bus station, hop on the bus, and head towards town.  I arrive soaking wet to the bank and the secretary looks at me as if I was some crazy immigrant who would never fit in to the “their way of life” looking how I did, like a nervous, wet dog.  He told me to have a seat and Monsieur Jerôme Legrand would be with me in a moment.  Receiving the same reaction from M. Legrand as I did from the secretary, I was here about ready to pee my pants.  I step into his office, he closes the door behind me, and I try to “break the ice” by making a comment about the weather.  “Il fait très beau aujourd’hui, n’est pas?” (It’s very nice weather today, isn’t it?), I say politely with a smile.  “Non, il ne fait pas beau aujourd’hui” (No, actually it’s not very nice out today), Monsieur Legrand replies in a cold, professional tone.  “Well I am off to a great start,” I thought to myself.

After a full hour of signing and initialing papers and having official French bank terms being thrown at me, I am proud to say that I have an official personal French checking account.  I will receive what will serve as my ATM card along with my check book in the mail sometime next week; arriving still at Benoît’s parents house due to technically difficulties of the address of Benoît’s new apartment. 

French people 101: 

Lesson #1:  It is not polite to try and make a witty comment in a professional setting, especially if you have never met the person before.

Lesson #2:  The French LOVE paperwork.  Just as we as Americans love doing things online, the French love to have an official hard copy in their hands.  And to be honest, we all know I am not at all technologically savvy, so this fondness of written paperwork is FINE by me.

It was still raining by the time I left the bank so I took advantage of already being “out and about” and bought FIRST a sandwich from a local bakery (salmon with lots and lots of butter for today’s lunch) and then, an umbrella. 

Hats, Hikes, and Heaven on Earth

“Un grand échec” would be the French words I would used to describe my potential hat buying adventures yesterday.  My friend Anne-Laure, who is getting married this September, offered to take me to the hat shop where she recently found and bought her had for the wedding this weekend.  As we approached the bright green colored shop that neatly displayed hats of all colors and sizes in its two windows, I became overwhelmed by the beauty of these creations.  “One hat, two hat, red hat, blue hat,” calling to mind the silly poem in the Dr. Seuss book.  I forgot to bring both my shoes and my dress with me, so I had to try to describe in detail to the hat-lady and Anne-Laure the exact color of both.  We decided that my dress was “midnight blue” and my shoes were a darker shade of beige.  I quickly found a hat that I adored and the hat-lady offered to change the colors in order to match my dress for the currently model that I tried was black and turquoise.  At this point, Benoit was on his way to meet us at the shop and put in his two sense about the hat.  He quickly gave his approval and just as I was ready to say, “Je le prends,” “I will take it,” the hat-lady offered to give me the price.  Grand total: 91 euros.  Dollar equivalent: $132.  Oof!  That is more than double the cost of my dress.  I told the lady I would have to think about it… a lot.

We went to a few other shops that afternoon, however, that’s the problem whenever you a foreigner looking for a hat on a low-cost budget because the euros to dollar exchange rate is so high and it is the middle of wedding season.  “Il n’y a rien,” “There is nothing.”  I now currently have three options to solve my hat dilemma: 1) Suck it up, bite the bullet, and buy a hat that would cost me about 2 and half days working at the Madison Club, 2) Go to a fabric store and see if I can find what is necessary to try and make a “hat-like creation” myself, or 3) Go and visit Benoit’s mother and see if she has a hat that a) she no longer wears, b) would match the color of my shoes and dress, and c) would fit my head. 

Sometimes I feel like I left every comfort that I new in the United States for something completely unknown and different (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing).  For example, it has been cold and rainy since the day that I arrived in France and I am found without an umbrella and nearest store that sells umbrella is about a half of a mile walk…in the rain.  Also, Benoit and I currently have no television connection and as of two days ago, I entered the wrong Internet password (three times), so now there is no Internet access either.  Since most French businesses and enterprises do not open until 10am and close between 5pm and 7pm, Benoit has no time to call before or after work to fix it.  We also find ourselves without a car—Benoit’s car died completely a week before I arrived—and the garage from where he bought a new one called him yesterday and said that it wouldn’t be ready for another two weeks.  Benoit rides his bike to work everyday and since Nantes is currently doing construction on what seems like all of the roads in the center of down, the public transport runs less often.  Yesterday, after our “hat escapades,” Benoit and I road home tandem on his bike, which is normally only meant for one person.  I replaced the basket usually found behind the seat and Benoit did his best to pedal us both home safely.  

I think that some of the things that I had eaten that day, definitely made up for my small disappointment about my hat and the soreness of the my legs from having to keep them propped up and out of the way to prevent them from hitting into the pedals of the bike on the ride home.  Benoit and I had lunch together again that day and I surprised him by stopping by the pâtisserie and buying us a few macarrons for dessert.  I chose a chocolate for me, a caramel and sea salt butter macarron for him, and a peach and a raspberry-violet one for us to try together.  While shopping for a hat, we stopped by the bakery and I bought us each a “pain au chocolat” for a snack and for dinner that night, we had a tomato salad for an appetizers, veal cooked with onions and potatoes for the main dish, cheese, and a chocolate mousse for dessert.  This wonderful 2 and half hour dinner was accompanied by a bottle of 2008 Bordeaux that we had bought for 3 euros and a strong discussion about capitalism.  Trust me, it was more romantic than it sounds lol.

I love you and think of you often J

Wasted Wax, but Weekend of Wonders

So not long after I began to settle into my “temporary new home,” Benoit and I left to spend last weekend at the beach.  We both had been invited to Saint Cast le Guildo, which is located in the northern part of France, by a mutual friend, Eugénie.  When we arrived after spending two and half hours in a full car, we were warmly greeted by friends and many a “bisous” (the normal French greeting of kissing one another on each cheek).  I was absolutely delighted to see friends that I haven’t seen since Christmas, or since last summer for that matter, and we all celebrated my return by an aperitif, a complete sit-down dinner, and a venture to the local “dance club,” where we were the only two to show up all night.  We had the whole dance floor to ourselves, so needless to say, c’était génial! (it was AWESOME!)

Advice #1: When a friend tells you to bring warm clothes because it is going to be a bit chilly that weekend, she really means, bring a hat, gloves, boots, and a parka.  I had a bit of a geography lesson this weekend, realizing that Nantes shares the same latitude line with Seattle, Washington, signifying the fact that where we were that weekend is parallel to Canada.  In short, IT’S DOWNRIGHT FREEZING.  It rained almost the whole weekend, although there were small intermissions of sun, and we spent most of our time in jeans, sweatshirts, jackets, and scarves.  We were able to take a few walks along what is known to Americans as “boardwalks” and “fait quelques magasins” (do a little bit of shopping). 

If you may be wondering, things with Benoit are going great!  I must admit that it was/still is a bit strange to be spending so much time together after spending a whole year apart.  I, myself, find it hard to believe that I am finally in the situation I have dreamed of since I left France last August.  Last night Benoit and I stopped by his parents’ house to pay a visit to his mother who had been asking about me, although it was mostly because Benoit ran out of clean underwear and we do not yet have a washing machine.  Nevertheless, it was wonderful to see her.  She is a very classy, traditional, and what we would call “typical” French woman.  As always, she was dressed in high-heels and pearls.  Benoit’s father works in Paris during the weekend and only comes home on the weekends and while most of Benoit’s brothers and sisters are still living at the house, they were all at scout camp or traveling somewhere; so Mrs. Roblin seems to be happy to have the company.  When we arrived, she was already enjoying the aperitif!

I am going to look for my hat this afternoon for the wedding this weekend with a friend.  Can’t wait to tell you about it!

I love you and miss you, but having the time of my live J

God: The Ultimate Travel Partner

God has a funny way of revealing himself.  After waiting out the one hour delay for my flight to Paris, I was finally aboard and settled on the plane to my "final destination."  Fortunately, the sit directly beside me was left open and I was able to stretch out across two chairs the entire 6 hours and 43 minutes of the trip.  I read about a quarter of the novel I am currently reading, "Eat, Pray, Love" which so far I highly recommend,  watched "Chocolat," a film starring Johnny Depp that tells a story about a woman opening up a chocolate shop in a very close-minded village in France (typical, yes I know), and slept a total of 3 hours after my fabulous dinner of prepackaged chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.  Luckily, I had previewed enough money to by a small bottle of red wine and that a somewhat edible brownie was served for dessert.

Arriving in Paris, it was a current 54°F (which according to Benoît is perfect t-shirt weather in France) and we had arrived an hour behind schedule.  I started to stress ever so slightly when I realized that I had exactly an hour and a half to get myself off the plane, pass through customs, find my other 80 lbs. of luggage, take the airport shuttle to the train station (with 100 lbs. of luggage), and find my platform.  I firmly believe God heard my plea for help with every Hail Mary I prayed silently that morning.  Here are the blessed events that followed:

1) Mexican man (sumbraro and all) helped me load and unload my heavy carry-on bag to and from the overhead compartment
2) With it still being close to 9 in the morning, passing through customs only took a total of 20 minutes (I find that the French are not very strict and do not really care what your reasons are for being there, as long as you are boosting their economy and abusing the benefits of their health and social security system)
3) Now this never happens.  First two bags to neatly fall on the luggage belt...were mine, fully zipped, upright and ready to go!
4) Time check: 10am.  28 minutes to grab the shuttle and arrive at the train station
5) I grab a luggage cart and sprint to the elevator... Hail Mary fully of grace...
6) While boarding the shuttle, a nice Arab couple saw me struggling and helped me to load my bags.
7) Things were going ever too smoothly when the electric shuttle broke down, two stops away from the station.  It is now 10:15 whenever the shuttle starts up and running again.
8)  Arrive at the train station.  I have 8 minutes to drag my tired self and luggage down two flights of escalators and onto the platform.
9) "Veillez-vous un coup de main?" Music to my ears.  A nice, older Frenchman asking if I need help!  They do exist!  They do exist!
10) I make it to my platform the same time the train does and successfully throw my luggage on board with the help of another nice Frenchman who strategically places it in the doorway and behind a chair because there is no place to be had for even another small purse.

The trains were packed and completely full that day due to "La fête de la Bastille" (Bastille Day).  If I would have missed my train.  I would have been stuck in Paris until the following day.  Phew.

The festivities going on for Bastille Day were not the only fireworks I saw that day :) Arriving in Nantes,  Benoit had met me on the platform, dressed in a white dress shirt and jeans with 3 red roses in hand.  "Il fallait que j'ai mise un an, mais enfin, je suis bien arrivée."  (It took me a year, but finally, I'm here).

Well I promised Benoit that I would meet him for lunch (One of the great things about the French lifestyle is that they get at least an hour and half for lunch during their work day).  I am going to stop by a boulangerie (bakery) and pick up some sandwiches.

I love you and much more to come!

One leg down, and still have all my body parts

I am unsure as of why, but it appears that I have terrible luck when it comes to traveling.  Whether it be blocked in the Paris airport for 3 days due to a snow storm in Philadelphia or delayed an hour or two because an "unidentified mysterious box" was found near the boarding gate, all of these infamous travel instances that people dread always seem to happen to me.  For the past few days, flights from Pittsburgh to Paris, with a connection in Philadelphia, has been arriving at least 15 minutes early (according to my caring and persistent mother--Hi Mom!!); however, for one strange reason or another, my flight today arrived 30 minutes late into Philadelphia.  "Luckily," as I was sprinting to gate A23 to my Paris-bound plane, that was supposed to start boarding five minutes ago, with 50 lbs. of luggage around my neck (no joke), the Departure Board caught my eye and I saw that my flight was delayed an hour and a half.  Needless to say, although delays are dreadful (especially whenever you have been waiting the past two years of your life for the return to your scheduled destination), I was thankful for this one.  And now I even have the chance to commence my first blog as an "aspiring, demi French woman!"

For all of you who are worrying as I travel--and I do not blame you in the least, for travel can and often is a stressful and scary experience alone--my flight to Paris is scheduled to leave at 7:45pm.  As I sit typing this blog, looking out the window at the arriving planes, and beginning to be frozen to death by the blasting air-conditioning breathing down my neck, I see my plane arriving!  It won't be long now.  I love you all and thank you so much for such wonderful influences in my my life and making it so utterly wonderful :) And a special thanks to you Mom and Dad for making all of this possible.  I love you.

T-13 hours until the "Royal Meeting" between Benoît and I!

Talk to you soon :)