girl at large

i see london, i see france, ...

Bonjour monsieur!.

nobody's safe

this tragic mess in Madrid is so terribly sad and troubling.

another cultural mystery explained

i finally caught up with my hair girl at her new salon location for an appointment today and pointed out my most recent concern---gray hairs, quite alot around my temples---they've sprouted overnight it seems. she said no worries, they aren't spread all over and next visit a little touch of color should do the trick (though not all over, after years of dye-ing a rainbow of hues i'm now prefering au natural). curiously though, i noted that the word she used was 'blonde'....i listened closely to make certain i wasn't mistaken --but no, she referred to gray or white hairs as 'blonde' a number of times. i had to ask. in my awkward french i inquired---"surely you mean GRAY hair, right?" in a low tone of voice she replied: "No, no"--meaningful look---"Here it is BLONDE hair."

track-nappers

the news has just hit that there have been serious bomb threats made against the French train system since December. the authorities have already found and MacGyver-ed one real and surprisingly sophisticated bomb on the tracks. i was wondering why the security agents and large, vicious guard dogs were out on force and random delays were more frequent lately. the bomb-threateners (is that a word?) are demanding 4 million euros, about 5 million dollars. i can't help thinking---only a lousy 5 million? is that all they want? can't even get a decent villa around here for that, much less staff it.

this is not what the brochure described!!

lightening, rain, gale force winds, African sand storms, high seas, closed roads, broken shutters---this is not what i was promised! yesterday morning the previous night's storm lingered, blowing red Sahara desert dust over the rooftops and cars and sloshing down large terracotta puddles in the street--the sky was glowing orange, yellow-green and gray--no way to describe it here, but it was eerie and beautiful. and then it was just crappy, wet and cold.

those are some serious lemons baby....

there's alot going on this week--Carnaval in Nice, Menton's Lemon Fest---too bad i'm going to miss seeing all those girls in bikinis on parade floats.

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, When is my Cupid due???

walking down rue d'Antibes in Cannes the other day, i thought to myself when admiring the new window displays--"oooh goodie, looks like red, my favorite color, is the new color for spring! how nice!"---then i realized that no, the frenchie fashion color scheme will shortly return to the standard black, grey, camel and olive. it's just Valentine's Day. this morning i walked out into a lane with piped in open-air music--french love songs, and garlands of red heart balloons overhead as far as the eye could see. the universe hates me. tell me what nation doesn't do VD these days--i'll go there.

if you don't believe me now, you never will. i'm cursed.

the ONE time i make a mistake with my train ticket. the ONE time out of how many?!?!? of course, i sit there unknowingly holding a ticket for Juan les Pins when i am going one stop further to Antibes. honestly, an honest mistake--i was in a hurry, throwing coins in the machine, turning the silly knob while looking at the time board, and rushing to catch my train that was pulling into the station. i never even glanced at the ticket until it was too late. so, of course, this ONE time, after nearly hundreds of inspector-free trips (always with correct ticket in hand!)---the inspectors are on board. and i'm in trouble. 25 euros. for a one stop (75 cent) mistake!?!? and why, why, why does it take THREE inspectors to complete the transaction? one to hold the credit card machine (how handy), one to write the paperwork, and one to give me a lecture and wag his finger at me. i wonder how many frenchie functionnaires it takes to change a lightbulb?

potting around

i've really been enjoying my little pottery group (both the clay work and the French conversation practice) and now that i have a few hand building techniques under my belt i've been more experimental/expressive --pics of recent work to come, they're being fired later this week. i found a little art society/studio here in Cannes awhile back and now can finally join up later this week. with membership comes the perk of access to both the drawing/painting and ceramics studios during three open sessions each week--AND they have a RAKU kiln! yippee! with my interest in pottery growing, i've been looking for some pot blogs (ha ha) and haven't had much luck--seems i'm not the only one.

i wonder on what occasion one does NOT wear a scarf?

i helped Maria dye her hair this afternoon and noticed that the instruction sheet was undeniably french....the illustrated woman demonstrated the use of the post-color conditioner while wearing a scarf. she wasn't drawn smoking a cigarette however--perhaps the stuff is flamable?

economies of scale

Maxi Bazaar (Woolworth's meets The Dollar Store) has curtains on sale...by the kilo. there's a little handy electronic scale in the display. well, whaddya know.

making friends with the frenchies

it's been a banner inter-cultural exchange weekend here. last night i was stopped by Sweet Hair Girl as i walked up to the market. she was excited and animated--after a proper greeting (kiss kiss, ca va?) i understood that she and her two girlfriends (whom i was introduced to!) were telling me that she's left our usual salon! non! she was worried about finding me and Maman again--she knew we lived just down the road, which she wandered up and down a few times searching for us. imagine. thank goodness we ran into each other--i'd not have anyone else do my hair--she's absolutely charming and i really enjoy speaking in french with someone near my age, someone i would be friends with. well, maybe we are friends now--after she's settled in her new salon, opening in two weeks, we're going to go get a coffee! then this morning, Monsieur Bernard rang the bell at the house with mom's wallet, keys and Carmex (?!) in hand. we had arranged to meet at La Poste because he wasn't familiar with Antibes, but he managed to find it afterall from my inadequate-in-any-language directions. another happy greeting (kiss kiss ca va?) what a charmer! he was expressive and excited to have found Maman. though the cash and cards are gone of course it is a comfort to have the wallet back--and the all important Carmex. and then, a few minutes later i was walking Ruby down Dog Pee Lane when a small Frenchman started talking to me--i wasn't paying attention at first, but then realized he was complimenting me on my 'picking up'. he did a little dog-poo-avoidance dance to demonstrate how he has to walk down his lane until everyone picks up 'les crottes' like i do. and he smiled. i can't describe what a triumph a few interactions like this feels like. the frenchies walk about with grim, dour faces on --a wall between themselves and the strangers they are surrounded by. to crack that, to make a connection--especially in their language--is a feat! and when it happens--their smiles are so genuine and remarkable. it makes me feel good all day.

poor Maman, literally.

Mom's purse was stolen last night while she and Bert were eating at DeCito. money, credit cards, French bank card---gone. (and i'm really bumming--she had our only pot of Carmex in there). that's what she gets for going to our local without me. the staff was just as upset as she was, Cute Waiter said he knew they'd be back to pay another time---they're there like clockwork often more than once a week. the form at the Gendarmerie was in French, German, Italian and English--no trouble really there, they see this kind of thing quite regularly. Bert has a set of housekeys so they were able to get in the house, though he had to add a dark comment before going to bed : "I hope no one comes in and murders us in the night." nice. i got a call this morning on my cell phone--a message from a Monsieur Bernard who found mom's "petite porte-monnaie" in the lane behind the restaurant where he works in Villeneuve-Loubet. he was so excited when i called him back--thrilled to bits that he was able to reach me, especially when he found out the wallet he found belongs to "Maman". he went on and on about how he had to try to figure out who this unfortunate dame was by sorting through the strange bits in her bag. and then he found my "girl at large" card with an obviously french phone number on it. formidable! and he's even kind enough to come to Antibes tomorrow morning to drop it off though it has to be early, as he says, because he has to have Sunday lunch with his Papa at Maman, "C'est tres important" you know. yes, i know. p.s. oh, and we did the whole thing in french! i understood every word! proves my theory--when you HAVE to understand and speak another language, you CAN.

she's so popular

i got scolded again today for not bringing Miss Ruby with me to the Tabac. i scored smiles and laughs (so rare!) when i said, in french, that she's trying to quit! yeah me.

done already?

Haut-de-Cagnes we've been feeling a little house-bound lately, so mom and i decided to spend the afternoon in the medival village of Haut-de-Cagnes (above Cagnes sur Mer), have a little lunch and a wander around in the tiny, charming lanes. lunch was great--the town is dead quiet this time of year, though it wasn't much busier when i was there this past summer (the tourists don't know that much about it and head to nearby and over-run St. Paul instead). i took a few shots for some future work, i'll probably return soon for some sketching--i had done Rue/Haut de Cagnes some time ago from sketches/pics of one of the narrow, moody streets. lunch was great; enough warm sunshine to eat outside with a sliver view of the sea, enjoying a warm slice of apple and pear tart. our wander around was great--though steep--until we inadvertently wandered right out of town! so, we really only killed about three hours and are back in the house again already. oops.

how do they do it?

i'm still amazed. i can still be stopped dead in my tracks in rue d'Antibes, mesmerized. how do they do it? how do these women walk in those heels? i'm not talking cushy platforms or one inch business heels or even accommodating stewardess numbers. i'm talking 4 to 6 inches of spike resting precariously on a rubberized cap the size of a pencil eraser. the angles of these things are sharp, steep and terrifying to me. how the tendons of the ankle can handle the stress, i can't imagine. i don't even think Barbie could manage it. and everyday, everywhere i see ladies of every age wearing them shopping, walking the dog, even running to catch the train--over gaping grates, through cobblestones more closely resembling earthquake rubble---teetering and tottering they go in shoes that can only be described as death-defying. i'm a convert to French fashion sense, i won't deny it. i've been wearing mostly black for a decade (longer if you count the mod years), i've traded in standard cut jeans for boot-leg in a mild-to-moderate camel-toe fit, most of my handbags now come in bags of their own, i've nipped in my dresses, tossed out the baggy sweaters, paid so much for bras and undies that i can list them on my renters insurance, and am no stranger to the endless ways a scarf can be tied. yes, Dawn, it is a law that you have to wear a scarf here. but those heels. there are some things i just can't bring myself to do. i'll blame it on my fear of hieghts.

en greve, quelle surprise

train interior, views from train along the coast the train operators were on strike yesterday, from what i can gather to protest a regulation proposal for restricting their ability to go on strike. hmm.

chien billet

as if it isn't hassle enough to get fearful Miss Ruby on and off the train--today i got stopped for not having a ticket for her! i use the machines to buy my tickets, but of course the machines don't issue dog tickets. so, i missed the earlier train to stand in line to BUY A TICKET FOR THE DOG. "01chien"=1.30 euro. for a ten minute ride, standing up the both of us. i don't mind, it's fair really and i'm happy that i'm allowed to take her on at all--what i don't get is that i've walked by the same ticket inspectors four times a week with the same dog and the same one PERSON ticket for the last four months without a word. a beaurocrat must have recently decided that all this free dog-travel must stop! imagine. after some online research, i see that she needs a ticket (though why randomly Messieurdames Ticket Inspectors?) because she is over 6kilos (13lbs). hmm--diet time!

cycling through France in the winter

we (Dale, Liz, John and i) had dinner last night with a young chap by the name of Tom. Tom is English. Tom is from Elham (the village where Dom's parents have the pub/restaurant). Tom is a young farmboy doing seasonal landscaping work. Young Tom has the winter free. So, Young Adventurous Tom is BICYCLING (from England, from Elham) THROUGH FRANCE IN THE WINTER. contrary to what most would believe, this activity is NOT a) the cost of losing a bet b) a dare c) the result of a break from reality so, here he arrived, bicycle in hand, at Liz's doorstep the other night, happy as she says to "kip on the carpet". and what a lovely boy! so well mannered, must have been well taught by mom. we've all insisted he stay on another night to join us for dinner again and i'm keen to have him meet Bert tomorrow afternoon down at the boat---they seem to have so much in common.

the fast train, ferocious dogs and finger food

Miss Ruby is afraid of the trains, in fact she fears the entire train experience--the train station, getting on and off the train, watching the high-speed train bullet by, riding the slower regional train, even the loudspeaker announcements through her off-balance. going back and forth from Cannes to Antibes by train is still a snap--provided i pick her up and carry her and don't mind de-furring my clothes upon arrival. the other night, she was showing marked improvement--walking into the station herself, though haultingly. as we turned the corner on to the platform, she froze. a few yards away was the most terrifying looking dog we've ever seen. it was a giant pitbull-rotweiler-albino-demon cross, complete with intimidating chain, muzzle and security officers. Ruby understandably hit the pavement, trembling. first the train, now this! one security officer was amused--"Regardez--l'aperitif!" he said to the drooling beast. speaking of aperitives, amuse-bouches, appetizers---i'm amused myself to know the french use so many ways of saying hors d'oeurves, without ever once in my experience using the word hors d'oeurves. (though to be accurate, l'aperitif is usually a starter drink, not a food...wonder why he choose that word? or maybe i misheard..wouldn't be the first time).

will work for food

Margaret has a job interview this week, Maria has four strong leads for her new property management work (with some spillover work for me) and i've had two good responses to my work inquiries...things are looking good this week. could there be a 'career' star in our houses or some such hippydippy thing? i tell you, this poverty diet is working out though...size 12 jeans here i come!

it could be loads worse

winter 1974 and winter 1977 (by which time we'd graduated from cardboard and a bit of string to a proper sled) i have to remind myself of winters like these when i find it too chilly and grey here this winter...it's all a matter of degrees. no complaints here today! at least it's not minus 20 (F) windchill with six inches of snow on the ground like it is in parts of the American Midwest.

Bon Annee!

well, here starts 2004! this past year has been a wonder. and i'm still here, living in the south of France. go figure. i arrived one year ago today with two suitcases, a trembling dog in a crate and twenty bucks to my name. jobless, homeless, scared out of my wits with nothing but dog biscuit crumbs in my pocket. what a way to start an adventure! and here i am a year later, sketching and painting most every week day, speaking passable French and learning more everyday, taking up pottery and sailing, having a blast getting to know my mom as an adult, having enough good friends to have TWO New Year's Eve parties to attend, and having more good friends kind enough to trust me to care for their apt. and cat (and in the process giving me a place to live and a way to extend my stay!), and having just met a very likely candidate for the previously unoccupied position of Boyfriend. a good year!

zapper

in a desperate attempt to find something to watch other than CNN or ITV News, i spent a few annoying minutes clicking through every single satelite channel, noting the ones that actually had reception. (the satelite dish is too low to get a proper signal and some other problem i'm not up on has severely limited the English-language television channels available). i've found the religious stations (3), the Spanish station, the shopping channels (18!), the Motor channel, the Travel station, more news stations (2) and ...(drum roll)..Reality TV. Reality TV has a line-up of shows with names like Inferno!, Rescue 911 (remember that one?), Disaster!, The Tube, Surf Crazy and What Went Wrong?. what was i thinking watching edu-snobby, good-for-you-like-cauliflower-even-though-it-tastes-like-feet PBS all those years? now this is quality programming! gotta run...Cheaters is on. p.s. yes, yes, i know i should be watching French tv for the practice, but sometimes it hurts my brain.

Holiday-rage

it is not necesary to stand THAT close to me in line!!!! (deep breath) i've grown accustomed to the French idea of personal space, mainly, that there is no such thing. but today, at the post office i nearly lost it! and then, this guy starts telling me how to use the damn machine, the machine i've been using for a year! that i'm using just fine without your help buddy! i'm just waiting for it to finish printing the damn stamps. and no, i can't just get a book of stamps because these are going international and take a funny amount, i know this!! back off! danger! you're standing too damn close! and telling me what to do?!?! (another deep breath) so, in these moments, when i just want to be left alone to finish my business and i have a cold and my nerves are shot and sending 48 Christmas cards (of which i'll get a return percentage of close to ZILCH) to my friends and loved ones in three countries seems more than i can bear and the guy is now literally STANDING ON TOP OF ME (excuse me?!? please don't put your package on the scale ON TOP of my letter!?! can you NOT see me?)---i do the naughty thing---pretend i don't understand and go into english. and you know what?! the jerk was ENGLISH! so much for queu-ing up nicely mate.

holiday spirit, French style

i was walking Ruby out along the ramparts the other day in Antibes, though there was a nip in the air the sun was out, when i paused to let Miss Ruby do her sniffing thing. From behind me came a person on a bicycle--you can sense these things--always fond of bicyclists (next painting subject maybe?) i turned to get a better look. this is what i saw: an older lady, probably over 60 with that blonde-white hair all French ladies of a certain age seem to have, wearing a bright red wool coat--the kind with princess puff sleeves, a nipped in waist with brass buttons and a big swirl of a drop to the ankles--this volume of red fabric was caught up in the wind behind her. Her bike was an old-school type with big white wall tires, cruising handlebars and wicker baskets front and rear. and in the back basket? wrapped Christmas presents and a bunch of evergreens. did i just see Madame St. Nick?!? of all times not to have my camera. a few days previous, again in Antibes, i was walking through the square--now complete with Christmas train ride for the kiddies and various vendors selling various kitsch--and noticed a rather tall, thin man selling animal shaped mylar balloons. he'd made an attempt to dress festively, but i must say it was the worst Santa costume i've ever seen--too short for his long arms and legs, he was much in need of padding for that 'jolly fat' look and he'd given up on the cottonball beard by just letting it hang down round his neck on his chest. just when i was thinking this was amusing enough-- a little boy, 3 or 4 years old, spotted "Santa", pointed, smiled and exclaimed "Ho! Ho! Ho!". only this kid was French so it came out "Heau! Heau! Heau!" i had to struggle to keep from laughing out loud, you should have been there, it was so funny.

couper et discuter

Madamoiselle Hair Girl is such a sweetie--she loves doing my hair, mostly i think because i never care what she does with it--i let her do something different every time. of course, short hair is easy that way--no matter how different, it is still pretty much the same. or it grows out to the same thing in a week or two anyway! Monsieur Hair Guy is a serious chatterbox--it's good practice for me to sit and listen to him rave on about politics, religion, etc in french. today's listening was a lecture on the state of capitalism in the 'new' Russia. the poor guy in his chair only came in for a trim!

meteo

only one clear, relatively warm day this entire past week. and we're in for another few days of rain and storms...F9 winds (between a Gale and a Storm according to MeteoMan Bert) expected tomorrow, flooding in the south the next few days. check out this recent satelite image: France is obliterated! according to the locals, so far i've spent my 'year in France' during the one year in memory that contained the coldest winter, the hottest (and deadliest) summer and now the wettest fall. huh.

sorry, i'll never be a snow bunny

out on the boat yesterday, the view of the mountains was crystal clear--the recent stormy weather has cleared the usual cloud (and haze) cover as well as brought a good amount of snow to the peaks. which is just where i like to see snow--far, far away in a place i'll never go.

twister

Mom turned her ankle and fell yesterday. no panic, but her ankle is in sad shape. note: when living in the south of France, where folks (and pharmacies) take their siesta seriously, never injure yourself between noon and 2:30. funny pharmacy anecdote: me, in fairly decent french: "Excusez moi Madame, blah blah....I'm looking for something to help my mother, she fell and turned her ankle." Medicinal Madame: "Is it bad?" "Is it very fat?" Me: "Um, yes." (i'm thinking that 'fat' means 'swollen' in this usage, yes?) Medicinal Madame: "Is your mother very old?" Me: "No, she's just 'so-so' old." (imagine 'so-so' hand gesture included, it just came out that way, i swear!)

Cannes, Croisette and Chairs

along the Croisette there are rows of freestanding cheerful blue chairs for enjoying the view and the sunshine (though not this month!)..i've always been so pleased to see a society so trusting as to have hundreds of moveable chairs about for the citizens to enjoy..and marveled that they didn't disappear by the dozens only to reappear on private terraces..until i tried to pick one up and adjust it's placement..they weigh an absolute ton! that's how they do it, forget trust!

hooker, mauls, rugger, props, pitch, and scrum..sounds like a nasty business!

i was spectator to a strange and beautiful thing today. at 9:30 in the morning, on a Saturday morning no doubtedly foggy for some, a group- nearly a crowd- gathered downstairs outside the doors of Morrison's Irish Pub, waiting for the dog-tired bartenders to arrive (which they finally did with two minutes to spare) so they could watch the match on the big screen tv. 'the match', by the way was no ordinary game. it was the The Rugby World Cup..England vs. Australia. now, most know that the last 'cup' i watched had noodles in it and the last time i used the term 'vs.', i was signing divorce papers. so, it must be said that i went with an open mind (and not a book this time...should have known that starter marriage was doomed at the first SuperBowl party invitation) and a keen hope to glean something out of the experience. (at the very least to understand a few of the strange sounding terms). and i was rewarded..there's this player, (the kicker?), a Johnny Wilkinson--what a creature! i may get into this rugby thing.

desperately seeking blinds

roomie Duncan has discovered that when one glances out the kitchen window, say while having the morning coffee, one can see, quite plainly in the window of the nieghboring apartment building..an Ugly Naked Man. regularly. this has proven to be endlessly amusing; "Come quick, Ugly Naked Man is back!" "What's he doing now?". last night, there was a Skimpily-Clothed Skinny Woman in the room as well. Ugly Naked Man was, as always, fufilling both descriptives, seated on the bed, in an, um, rather 'anticipatory' pose while Skimpily-Clothed Skinny Woman fumbled around in her purse for i-don't-want-to-know-what. i left the kitchen, head in hands ('my eyes! my eyes!'), leaving Duncan to continue gazing and chuckling.

cough syrup anyone?

ok, so the frenchies so adore their wine they are willing to put aside a whole day, perhaps a week, to celebrate the first pressing (perhaps only done a week ago) of Beaujolais Nouveau...a crap bit of grape juice even on it's best day. but what a fine time! any excuse to celebrate. so, i participated in the frenchie experience by having Pot au Feu (stewed meat, assorted, with boiled/steamed veggies, again, assorted) and Beaujolais Nouveau in a charming little restaurant in Cannes tonight with Liz, Jill, Jill's neighbors (the "very nice old gays") and Duncan. at a place by the name of Le Petit Lardon..i love frenchie restaurant names..that translates, loosely, to 'The Little Bit of Bacon'. how good is that? p.s. by the way, Pot au Feu, don't get me wrong, is very cozy and a homey meal, but not by a long shot, in my humble opinion, the best frenchie cuisine has to offer..it strikes me though as a perfect match for the Beaujolias Nouveau..even the most basic of a type are better together and who needs any other reason to enjoy themselves and their company in such a warm ambiance? it's comparable to the fond memories of PBR and corn dogs in the summertime at the county fair..crap alone, nothing you'd ever go out of your way to procure, but at the right time, with the right company--there's nothing better. someone (by the name of Custard) would even say that I once said, "The best sound in the world!" to the cracking open of a can of PBR. now, who would believe that?! ha! be warned: Liz and i are on the prowl tomorrow night, or as she says: "going sharking"! or as Duncan says: "on the pull". don't you love these British sayings? makes slutting it up sound so much more charming!

franglais

i was worried my break to the States would somehow delete from my mind all knowledge of the French language..like hitting the wrong key on the computer..zap! all work, gone! but i need not have feared..i'm just as lousy a French speaker now as i was three weeks ago! one big bonus of living in Cannes..folks here seem to be more used to folks of various native tongues (not just English, but mostly so) and are much more patient. perhaps it's also due to the less demanding off-season as well. or maybe it's the sweater. remember the NYC airport low cut sweater? i have harnessed it's power (for good, not evil) frequently since it's first stellar performance.

international soap opera

it's rainy and gray (the locals say unusually so, but i suspect the glorious weather mom always raved about is somewhat overstated come winter time), i was spoiled by the temps in Savannah last week. i was spoiled by alot of things in Savannah last week. sigh. double sigh. what's a girl to do? Jill had Liz and me round for drinks last night after i'd finally got myself back to Cannes..very nice to have a laughy girly chat. (though, surprisingly enough, roomie Duncan is doing very well at providing the same thing, bless him!). when i arrived, both were inspecting the blog, particularly the pics of me and "the dishy boy". Jill is hooked, "better than East Enders" she says. i had to clarify my Blonde Gay Brother entry ('dum-dum-da-dum', Thursday Nov.13). no, my brother is not 1) Gay or 2) Blonde. it's a long story, but Jamie (wedding attendant and friend) back in the day misheard introductions when Chris and i first met him and thought i was making out with my brother. ok, so that was corrected. then, at this most recent event, Chris was newly bleached blonde and arrived with a gay friend--Jamie didn't recognize him and thought he was our friend's new boyfriend. so, there, according to Jamie's warped mind/humor, i was making it with my Gay Blonde Brother. ha!

this is my France

imagine a place where you can buy a loaf of fresh bread, made each day by a master baker who rises before the sun does, for a mere, guarenteed 65 cents. and there is a bakery like this on nearly every other block. and envision also on nearly every other block, or at least within a few minutes walk, a wine shop stocked to the gills with the finest wines you'll find anywhere. and you can buy a good wine, i mean a GOOD wine (as in it tastes good to you and there is no other criteria for enjoyment) for less than six dollars. for ten to fifteen dollars you can have a bottle of superb wine that back in the States, you would have had to cross state lines to have the privilege of paying fourty dollars to a snooty, malcontent clerk for. imagine a place where you can sit at a warm and inviting coffee shop, order the smallest item, a coffee for a trifling 1.00 and stay at that table the entire day thereafter, never being bothered to move on. and there is a choice of such establishments, including some actually on a beach, yes, you can put your toes in the sand, sit in a comfortable chair under an umbrella and sip coffee THE ENTIRE DAY for one dollar. ok, maybe two dollars, a second cup of coffee never hurt anyone. and think about this one: no one ever, EVER asks what you do for a living. they frequently and enthusiastically ask you, however, and get this: what you do for FUN. that's right, for PLEASURE. they don't ask where you went to college, they assume you know how to find the knowledge you seek. they don't ask you what kind of car you drive, it's not the car but it's contents (YOU!) that interest them. for status conscious Americans, i repeat: in this place, you will NEVER be asked what you do to earn a living. they want to know HOW you DO your LIVING. and imagine even the smallest of towns have shoppers enough (of the sort who care enough about their evening meal to prepare for it in the morning) to support daily open air fresh produce markets. and at this market there is always someone who knows more about cheese than you ever believed humanly possible. and it's actually interesting information. and another fellow down the way has the same vast knowledge of nothing but sausage. and another holds a doctoral degree in mushrooms. again, all of it interesting and useful. this is not your pimply-faced highschool grocery mega-mania supercenter produce department stock boy flunkie. these guys live this stuff. and you gain at the table, ten-fold, for the difference i can tell you. imagine that it is generally agreed amongst the people of this place, that in order to avoid the stress that the inevitable dings, scratches, miffs and clunks that driving and parking in small and winding lanes can create, they've all agreed that the OUTSIDE of all vehicles in fact belongs to NO ONE. an individual only owns the INSIDE of a car. the condition of the paint job is of no concern whatsoever, it's not yours anyway. poof! in one fell swoop, no worries! so what that the delivery truck engraved the side of the car?, he has every right to if he needs to get through that way, it belongs to everyone afterall. it's a free country. and dogs and babies are welcome (and truly welcomed, with coos, cuddles and smiles) everywhere..every shop, every restaurant. even the foo-foo ones, where occassionally, wonders!, a dog may actually be enjoying quite a fine meal in the chair next to you. and FIVE YEAR OLDS regularly order huge bowls of MUSSELS and eat them, unaided, with relish. and someone will bring your dog a bowl of water, or warm your baby's bottle, often without being asked, every time. imagine a people so comfortable with advances and tradition at the same time as to have clothed their street sweepers (individual men, not the vehicles) with insulated, wind and rain resisitant day-glow reflective uniforms of the most advanced variety (picture a HazMat suit) and then equipped them with a wood handled broom made of dried twigs bound together with a bit of string, a style of broom in use since i imagine the Middle Ages. it works. the best of both worlds, in teams of four (for the smoking break rotation), moving cleanly down your street every morning. this is the France, my little piece of France, that i will miss next week. bless her.

only four more days

it's cold and rainy again today, not at all what i signed up for people! and guess what? it's 75 in Savannah! and i'll be there soon, i leave on Sunday. damn, i've got a lot to do before then. like drop another dress size.

a bedroom with a view

the scene outside the front bedroom balcony in Cannes. it's taking some getting used to..Antibes seems to me so much greener and smaller, almost 'quaint', but i'm sure i'll find more to love as i get to know Cannes better. Miss Liz was a great help this past weekend, taking me over to the huge Marche Forville..must be ten times larger than the Marche Provencial in Antibes..everything you could want for produce, cheeses, flowers, etc. i'll be doing my daily shopping there for certain. i seem to have also gained a boyfriend..or so the older, married fellow who runs the pizzeria downstairs would like to believe. i lost something in the translation, but apparently, i'm his. huh.

meow

a few pics of Jack for Ma and Pa so far away. enjoy! fyi: don't ever call me a cat. i hate that. of course, to the French, that's what my name reads like.."Kaaht". ugh.

a French truth: the older the lady, smaller the dog=the better the baguette

since i was up so early, thought i'd go to the market and do some scoping around the neighborhood. i also needed to find a boulangerie/patisserie. which way? ok, follow the old ladies with market baskets and/or trolleys. bingo! ok, buy a baguette. then follow another old lady to another shop. buy another baguette (hoping the first isn't too obvious under coat). continue until have found four boulangeries to choose from. ok, which one has the best baguette ancienne? hmmm. have taste testing. mmm.

happy days!

the boiler man arrived this morning at 8am! unheard of here! so, of course, i was unprepared, ie: asleep in bed. but throwing vanity to the wind in favor of the hot shower vanity requires in the first place, i let him in. and he got it fixed! woo-hoo!

pas l'eau chaud

the boiler repair man is coming on Wednesday morning. um, it's Monday. no hot water for how many days? if i didn't know better i would swear the service rep scheduled me for then because i butchered the french word for boiler. not knowing the french word for boiler and having left my dictionary at mom's i did my best: what part of "water hot making machine" wouldn't you understand? let's hope the repair man has a better sense of humor.

how can it be that i don't own a single pair of socks?

i'm such a wuss. it's chilly here tonight, like in the mid to low 50's (13C)! thank goodness mom brought over (to Cannes) not only my dog, but The Ugly Sweater as well. but i can't find anything to keep my toesies warm and to top it off, somehow the hot water decided to call it quits this afternoon. i don't think i can face a cold shower in the morning. i might have to stay in bed under the covers all day tomorrow instead.

if i had a gallon of chocolate ice cream, i would have eaten it all by now

gorgeous, unique jewelry store. charming sales gal/owner. very helpful, cheery and interested in helping Erin, 'the young' find a ring that suits her and thrilled to help me, "MAMAN" find an appropriatly stylish necklace. that's right: i was mistaken for THE MOTHER of my same-age girlfriend. dear god, what did i do to deserve this?!?!?! she and i both realized right away her error of course (or so i choose to believe!), but she was too embarrased to ask if she was wrong, i was too mortified to correct her. so it continued. "Maman" bought a very sassy necklace--you know; for an old lady. "La Jeune" can go to hell!

Madame Kate

update from master researcher Peg re:my Visa nightmare. so far, it doesn't look good. though the Artist Visa allows me to live here, it does not allow for working. she did discover however, that i can legally work as a prostitute without a visa, as long as i don't have a pimp. or i could aways try (harder) to find that EU husband. hmm, that's the same thing isn't it?

beach babes

ok, this tyke gets more action than i've seen in years! first the little frenchie girl at the cafe, now a frenchie water nymph. he's a trooper..that water was COLD. must be his hearty Minnesota/Wisconsin upbringing. Daddy Doug will be so proud...his little guy gettin' wid da ladies!

gotta see the Regatta

another Regatta today...so many sailboats, so little time.

around la ville with The Giant Jogging Stroller

walking through Safranier (also known as 'the postcard street'), watching the regatta, discovering raisin brioche.

traveling toddler

after nearly a full day of airplanes followed by a bus ride from hell, little 2 year old Sam is a trooper..even enough energy left to make a little French girlfriend. and run around a play park in Italy the next day...what a life!