Summertime Blues

Summer is now approaching and it's bringing with it a restlessness to be out and about and doing things. However, this is emphasizing, in a way, the isolation I sometimes feel being separated from my friends and family in the U.S. Despite having lived abroad before - Germany, England & Canada for a total of about two years - I really have been unprepared for the homesickness and feeling torn between two worlds that never seems to end. Not to mention the daily challenges of learning and speaking a new language.

I don't know if modern technology like free internet phone, Facebook, Twitter, etc. helps or hurts. On one hand, it's great to have updates and information for my friends back in the States, but on the other hand, I see every day all that I am missing in my life here. A niece I have never met, a good friend that has suddenly died, concerts and groups and life and activities that I won't ever be a part of if I choose to stay in France. Living 90 miles from Paris makes life very "so close, yet so far". It's close enough to spend the day there seeing a movie or eating a yummy Indian meal that I can't get out in the sticks, but just far enough to be hassle to get in ($50 just for the train).

The little things I took for granted living in a big city in the U.S. are just harder here and the longer I am here - as the newness wears off and real life settles in - the bigger the hole I feel is left by my "old life". Simply going out to see a movie in English or browse around an English-language bookstore (Powells, I miss you!) is an event that you have to plan - 90 minutes (and a chunk of change) on the train to Paris or, if I just want to see the movie - an hour by car to the nearest "big" cities (Orleans, Blois or Chartres). While I have made new friends here they, too, are scattered an hour in each direction, making get-togethers less than spontaneous. I just miss going out shopping, for lunch or to a movie with my friends.

I love my husband and I love France but, dang, I just did not expect this 'new life' to be so hard to get used to...

Our Local Hero

Patrice and I attended a very touching ceremony last Sunday to honor 98-year-old Raymonde Piedallu, a local woman who hid two Jewish children during World War II. The two "girls" (now in their late 60's and 70's) were there along with some of their family from Israel and Canada and our little salle des fêtes was packed to capacity. She was given a medal of honor by the president of the National Assembly from Paris and there had mayors and representatives present from other cities in the region.

When I was growing up, hearing about WWII (or "the last war", as it's still sometimes referred to here) everything seemed (and was) so far away. It's "over there" and "somewhere else", but living here in France, seeing roadside memorials to fallen American and British soldiers or ordinary French citizens killed on that spot for their resistance is an unreal feeling. The Nazi headquarters in our village was just a few minutes walk from our house.

The picture above is Patrice with Raymonde - she was the lunch lady at his school and he remembers her giving him spiced cake with cinnamon, which he still doesn't like to this day! It was really a beautiful afternoon and I feel really lucky to have witnessed this little piece of history.

You can click on this link below for the story of the reunion last year between Raymonde and the women she saved.

http://www.jewishtribune.ca/TribuneV2/index.php/200810231013/Jewish-sisters-reunite-with-French-woman-who-was-like-a-mother-to-us-during-World-War-II.html

Knockin' on Heaven's Door

Good lord, who knew that having a birthday party in France could be fraught with so many etiquette rules that Emily Post herself might have a head-spin moment.

With the Big 4-0 approaching in a matter of weeks, I have decided to follow the French tradition of throwing my own birthday bash. Just coming off this big wedding, of course, has taken the excitement of organizing even a trip to the grocery store. But 40 only comes once - so why not celebrate, non?

Now, for any of you familiar with the great "serving beer in the wrong glass" debacle at Patrice's 2007 b-day fête that I threw for him, or the near-riotous absence of food other than cake, you can imagine I was going to be hell-bent on doing it "French Style" this time. (For those not in the know, two months after moving to France, I threw a party for Patrice and due too many guests and not enough glasses, I (gasp!) served beer in whatever glass was available - whisky, cocktail, etc. This, coupled with not having appetizers available because the time of day the party was held, resulted in me not... hearing... the... g*d...-d*mned...end...of....it... from Patrice.)

So, who better than a French husband to ask for French etiquette questions, right?

Me: How does 7:00 on Saturday the 15th sound?
Patrice: Not everyone might be able to make it then.
Me: Ok, well if they can't make it, they can't make it.
Patrice: You might want to call everyone and find out who can come.
Me: Well, no time is going to be perfect for everyone. Do you think a Sunday afternoon would be better? How does 3pm on Sunday sound?
Patrice: That's too late for an aperitif.
Me: Well, I am having cake and champagne, not an aperitif. Would I need additional food?
Patrice: If before lunch or before dinner, you would need food.
Me: So is 3pm considered "before dinner"?
Patrice: (Silence)
Me: So what time WOULD be good for the merde Francais so I don't have to hear the complaining? (clearly things are spiraling out of control at this point...)
Patrice: The same time that would be good for the merde Américaine...

And... SCENE!

Sigh.... so stay tuned.... we shall see....