Advent Surprise!

I got home from work today to find a wonderful surprise awaiting me! I saw some packing supplies laid out on the bed, but couldn't remember having ordered anything from an online shopping site.

"Jube? Do you know what this is for? Is it ours?" I asked.

"Yes, it is for us," he answered. "Come see!"

When I went into the kitchen, I saw a box on the counter. When I checked out what was inside, I was very pleasantly surprised: foie gras, champagne, tea, cookies, calissons d'Aix, and (less happily) brandade de morue. The special surprise was the champagne, which was the same kind served at our wedding. I dislike brandade, which is a kind of white fish paste, but Jube loves it, so I suppose I can't grudge him his favorites - especially when his family sent me some green tea, which he doesn't drink.

Un grand merci a ma famille formidable!

The Zoo and the Aquarium

You may remember that on Christmas day, when le Parisien was in town, we tried to go to the new aquarium in Montpellier, "Mare Nostrum." Unfortunately they hadn't published the right holiday schedule and it was closed. Finally we all headed back one day to check it out.

When we got there, the line stretched across the parking lot. Parents yelled at kids who ran away, heading toward the streetcar tracks or the movie theater. Le Pacha wanted to brave it out, but the rest of us decided that it would be too annoying to wait for over an hour to get in. Instead, we went to the Zoo, with its new greenhouse/Amazonian rainforest exhibit.

This was a great choice, since there were about two people ahead of us in line and it was a lot cheaper than the aquarium. It was warm in the greenhouse and there were plenty of interesting animals. Afterwards we watched the lemurs fight over their food before going back to the car.

We decided to check the aquarium one more time before going home. Since we arrived around lunchtime, the line was cut in half. We waited for half an hour or so, our stomachs grumbling, and then explored the aquarium. It was very nice, complete with penguins, sharks, and a little girl who wiped her nose on Belle-Maman's hand.

Afterwards we went to the nearby China buffet, making le Pacha's day complete.

Christmas (the 24th and the 25th)

The next day, after waking up late, we headed to Montpellier for some last-minute Christmas shopping. We had already gotten gifts for everyone, but we wanted to add an iTunes gift card to le Parisien's bounty and pick up some wrapping paper. And of course, I wanted to visit my favorite town, get a crepe from my favorite crepe stand, and take some pictures.

Les Trois Graces, looking as beautiful as ever.
L'Opera.

After we got home, Belle-Maman made us put on nice clothes for Christmas Eve dinner. Although Jube grumbled a bit, we dressed up and waited around for his relatives to arrive. They are always late, and everyone teased Belle-Maman for having told them to arrive between 8:30 and 9:00 - we knew they wouldn't get there before 9:15.

We had a wonderful Christmas feast, which included homemade foie gras (gorgeous and tasty); oysters (ick); little "oriental" (middle-eastern) meaty appetizers with salad; and fish wrapped in crispy ham with an orange cream sauce. Everything was wonderful except for the oysters, but everyone else seemed to enjoy them!

After dinner we opened up our presents. Le Pacha was initially quite disappointed... For some reason, he was convinced that "le Papa Noel americain" was going to bring him an iPod, when in reality the American Santa Claus brought him a polar fleece from Old Navy. He was further disillusioned when he unwrapped the package my mother had sent from the US to find an Xbox 360 - a box that turned out to be filled with food and candles. Happily, le Parisien had given him a brand new cell phone that triples as a camera and an mp3 player, so he ended up with at least a little bit of the electronics of his dreams.

The next day we woke up late again. As I stumbled downstairs, I noticed that the table was set with the nice china and silverware. That was when I remembered that Memee was coming for Christmas lunch, and we would have more gifts to open. I quickly dressed and was presentable in time for the aperitif - Beau-Papa's delectable pate en croute:
(How delicately he cuts it!)

For this meal, we had turkey with chestnuts and the Belle-Famille's favorite mushrooms, cepes.
As our first course, we had more of Belle-Maman's foie gras - you can see the only remains, the yellow fat, on our plates.

We ended the meal with a homemade buche de noel.
After lunch, le Parisien decided to take us to Montpellier's new aquarium, le Mare Nostrum. We checked online to make sure it was open, and then headed out. When we arrived, we discovered that there had been an error on the website, and it was actually closed. Many families stood around the door, complaining about the misinformation. We headed back to Gallargues, a bit disappointed but with the knowledge that leftovers awaited us at the house...

Sniffle!

I'm sick! On Monday I woke up with a scratchy throat, which hurt a lot until Tuesday. Then my throat cleared up and my sinuses clogged. Today I've spent most of the day in bed, trying to prepare myself for work tomorrow. Jube is always great when I'm sick, and I feel guilty every time. When he gets sick, I am short-tempered with his moaning and sniffling. He is much more patient than I am, and much more considerate.

Beau-papa and Belle-maman bought a new car last week, a Renault Scenic. Beau-papa called Jube to complain about getting his carte grise (the car title):

"We got a taste of what Gem went through at the prefecture today!"

Jube indignantly denied it: "No, you have no idea what she's had to do to get her residency card."

Then they argued for a little while about which bureaucratic process was worse, and I think Jube won--as well he should have! I doubt that Beau-papa cried when he was finished.

As it happened, Jube and I went to the Norfolk City Hall ourselves yesterday. You see, when we bought our car, I had to work and couldn't sign the paper requesting a title. Jube's name was the only one on there. Since he has a provisional green card (to be replaced in 2 years), we might be interviewed together to prove that we don't have a fake marriage. We already have a joint bank account and a joint lease, but having a joint car title is important too. So we spent the $12 to get a new title and registration.

We were only at City Hall for about 40 minutes, which made us both very happy. It has been nearly the least hassle of any of our bureaucratic dealings so far--the only thing easier was applying for our marriage license. I figure it's because there are a lot fewer people getting married than buying cars, paying taxes, getting driver's licenses or getting new license plates.

La Chandeleur et ses affinites

This weekend was really crazy and fun for us. It all started on Thursday, when one of my profs cancelled class for "inclement weather" (a few snow flurries that quickly turned to rain). Since I don't work on Fridays it was the weekend already!

We woke up late on Friday and cleaned the apartment a little bit, because we were celebrating our first Chandeleur ever. La Chandeleur takes place on February 2, and the French tradition is to make crepes and eat them. While making the crepes, you should flip them left-handed with a coin in your right hand behind your back. If you succeed in this difficult task, you will be prosperous for the rest of the year.

We invited 7 of our friends--8 showed up. That was fine, since we had made tons of crepes, and we even had enough batter left to let our guests flip some themselves. Everyone should be making lots of money, judging from their successes in crepe-flipping. After our meal, we decided to go do some Karaoke at the Darkside, which was really fun. Lorene fell over during the second solo in "Nothing Else Matters," I sang "Creep" with the wrong lyrics, and everyone had a great time.

On Saturday Jube and I went to the MacArthur Center, the mall in downtown Norfolk. Belle-maman has these really cool plates that she uses for the cheese course in France. They are dessert-size plates with little drawings of different kinds of cheeses and their animal of origin (sheep, goat, and cow are the main donors). Le Pacha has been known to pout until he gets his favorite, Reblochon. ANYWAY, the plates we found are not exactly the same. They have prints of vintage cheese packages on them. The coolest part is that they came in a box that looks like a big camembert:



Pretty cool, huh? The only down side is that when I see it, I get hungry for some tasty ripe camembert...

Something Psychological...

Once, while enjoying an apéritif with Belle-maman, Beau-papa opened up a cabinet to get some more beer glasses. He chose two or three and took them into the kitchen. Belle-maman called after him, “Close the cabinet door!” Grumbling, he came back in to close it. Belle-maman turned to me and said, “He never closes doors. Never! He would leave all of the drawers open and the cabinets, too, if I weren’t there to remind him. It must be something psychological chez lui.”

Beau-papa gave me his patented “long-suffering” look, but agreed. “C’est vrai, I always leave the doors open. Who knows why?”

I had never noticed it before that day, but Jube is very similar in the kitchen. If he puts away the dishes, he leaves the cabinets open, and I have to close them behind him. Maybe it is psychological.

But I do notice that I leave my dresser drawers open, and Jube never nags me to close them—so if it is psychological, I guess there are things we can learn to live with.

Phew

What

A

Week.

Last Friday, I took Jube's family to Washington, DC where I walked all of our legs off. We visited the Mall and all of its monuments as well as three museums. Then we got married on Sunday. It was lots of fun (really, it was!) and on Monday we zipped back to Norfolk so I could go to class. Tuesday and Wednesday I worked, and then I jetted (well, hitched a ride) back to DC to attend a conference. So I'm just writing this really crappy little blog to let everyone know I am totally fine and--now--married. I've received lots of emails from friends I haven't seen for a long time and I haven't been able to answer a single one! Also, since I was in DC at this conference, I haven't been able to talk to any of those who called on the phone! Soon, soon, soon I will write you all emails and call you all. And soon I will write a new, interesting, fun-filled blog.

I promise.

Oh My!

This weekend...

Friday: Jube and I rent a silver minivan and eat an early lunch. He then drives to The Plains, VA, and then to Dulles Airport, where le Parisien and his girlfriend arrive late in the evening.

Saturday: Jube, le Parisien, and la Parisienne go shopping at the Outlet Mall near The Plains. Afterwards they check out a vineyard close by and visit the quaint downtown area of Middleburg, Virginia.

Sunday: The three Frenchies go to the new Air and Space Museum near Dulles Airport in the morning. Le Pacha, Belle-maman and Beau-papa arrive in the afternoon. Afterwards they tour a country inn and meet some friends of my parents. That evening they go to bed early after watching part of a movie.

Monday: The new arrivals wake up at 1:30am, and les Parisiens awake at 4:00am. By the time Jube gets up, they are ready to go! They head out to the Outlet Mall again and then visit some nearby fall festivals.

Meanwhile........

Friday: I have my last outing as a free woman. I go to Thea's house where I drink some beer and watch The Office (American version). I also eat most of Thea's homemade cheeseball.

Saturday: I write three papers. I eat some leftovers and only leave the apartment to go to 7-11 because I run out of milk.

Sunday: I grind out one more paper and manage to do the research for one more. I also paint my finger- and toenails, use an algae mask, and take a long shower.

Monday: I go to work. Afterwards I eat lunch at the Student Center, where I meet Monique. She is a student at ODU's English Language Center and is from Cameroon. We speak for about an hour in English and then an hour in French, when I realize that I'm running late for class. I hop on my bike and speed over where I sit through two presentations.

That's it so far...

Absence

Last Wednesday morning, just after our alarms went off at 7 o'clock, our phone rang. It was Beau-père, calling to tell us that Pépé had died late on Tuesday night. The funeral was scheduled for Friday morning, so Jube took a day off of work and took the train out on Thursday. I cancelled one of my classes so I could be in Montpellier on Friday afternoon. The weekend was rushed, and since I arrived after the funeral mass and burial, everyone was ready to make jokes. Le Parisien and his girlfriend had driven down the night before, and all of Jube's cousins were there, including a Marseillais who called himself "Brice de Nice" because of his new, long, blond haircut.

While in the region, we went to Nîmes (not the city, but the Peugeot and Géant Supermarket on the limits, because le Parisien had had the carpets from his new car stolen). We also visited Mémée, who seemed rather sad, but showed it by being extremely argumentative and easily hurt by Belle-mère's gentle teasing. That night Jube and I went to see The Da Vinci Code. Yes, yes, we gave in to peer pressure. Jube read the book during our trip to Norway, so he was totally prepped for the movie. While I was watching, I kind of wished that I'd been able to see it without reading the book; there were no surprises and no suspense. Of course, I don't know if that's the fault of the movie or because I had already read the book.

Vacation

In less than a week, Jube and I will be going to Norway. It was a Christmas present from my mother, who will be meeting us there with my crazy little mohawked brother.

I've been looking forward to this trip for a long time, and I can't wait to go! Belle-maman's dream has always been to go to a Scandinavian country, so she was going to come too. Unfortunately, Pépé, her father, who has been ill for a long time, was just hospitalized. She called us last week to tell us to cancel her ticket. So now, I'm feeling rather ambivalent about the trip. I can't wait to see my family (not only are my mother and brother coming, we'll be staying with my uncle and aunt who live in Oslo), but I know how much Belle-maman had wanted to be able to go. She had her first passport made and had already changed her Euros into Norwegian Kroner.

I've also been feeling guilty for awhile for wanting to go back to the US and bring Jube with me. I know how much le Pacha and his parents will miss him, and I feel like I haven't given him the choice to say no. He assures me that he wants to come, too, but I still worry. I feel like I've managed to adapt relatively easily to French life, and because of that, I should look for a permanent job here instead of continuing my education in the US--and expecting Jube to leave his secure job as a civil servant to take up something like substitute teaching or data entry in Virginia.

I am still somewhat optimistic about the future, but it worries me a lot.

I'm Comin' Home . . .

For Christmas.

Hooray!

I don't know if I've mentioned it on here before, although I know I've talked about the New Year's Eve wedding I will be attending. It's in Pennsylvania! I'm going to be visiting a town I've never been to before! Besides that, I will be opening lots of little presents at Christmas. The Christmases I've spent in France were really fun. La Belle-Famille is very welcoming, and I have experienced all the French holiday traditions: escargots, oysters, the crèche under the tree, the TV bloopers on New Year's Eve . . . But nothing compares to my childhood memories of stockings, fireplaces, the crèche on top of the TV, and our traditional Christmas Eve dinner of coldcuts and Californias.

I also absolutely love unwrapping surprises, which just can't happen in Jube's family. Everyone knows what they will get, and they only get one thing. That's fine if you want one big present--but I also love unwrapping my mother's practical gifts. We always receive toothbrushes, deoderant, and underwear, although she stopped giving feminine hygiene products after one ended up in my brother's stocking (he was extremely disappointed!). Jube doesn't understand that I want a surprise for Christmas. Every year, I try to give him hints, but he doesn't remember them. By the end of November, he is actually asking me outright what I want, and if I don't tell him, he gets upset. I know that Jube really loves me and cares about me because he can't stomach the idea of giving me a gift I might like only a little bit. But I like the surprise just as much! [Of course, he has also seen the home videos of my 10-year-old self almost breaking down in tears on Christmas morning because my step-father gave me clothes! It was a really good idea, but badly timed--one year later and I would have been overjoyed. And of course it was all caught on camera . . .]

In order to go back to the States, I had to get my papers in order. That means: a trip to the Prefecture. Ugh. In September, I had received a récipissé allowing me to work, and expiring in December. I was told to come back two months later to pick up the permanent resident card. I waited a bit longer to give them more time, and made the decision to venture back today. Yesterday we called them to make sure we knew the opening times. The first time we called, we were told that they were open between one and two pm, but "why are you asking? The times are written on the récipissé." Uhh, no, they weren't. We decided to call back again to clarify this, and were given a totally different response: "You are not to come back unless you have received a convocation in the mail." By this time, I was ready to cry and I hadn't even been to the Prefecture yet. It didn't seem to be shaping up as the best bureaucratic trip ever.

We arrived at around 1:15pm, and waited in the relatively short (!) line. When it was our turn, I opened my mouth to speak, and this came out: "Bonbonjour madadame, je mumble mumble carte de séjour mumble mumble a pas recu une convocation mais mumble mumble." Jube looked at me, horrified. He quickly took over and explained that all we wanted to do was pick up my resident card. No, it wasn't ready yet, but they extended my récipissé, which is just as good (except that it means we have to go back in another 3 months). I couldn't believe myself--even if the Prefecture experience isn't bad, I manage to create my own problems. After that harrowing linguistic experience, Jube got his international driving license with no problems, and we came back home. I just want my family to know what I went through for them. Maybe they can buy me some presents to make up for it!

What a Weekend!

Wow! After the weekend I just had, going back to work (on my long day, too) actually felt like a break!

Last Friday, we were woken up by next-door-neighbor/mother-from-hell's screaming at her children. We attempted to bang loudly on the wall, but it seems very thick and solid. She must really have a thrash-metal voice! Friday afternoon, it rained and rained and rained. It rained all day long; when I headed home at 3:00pm it hailed! Then, back at the apartment, we cleaned, since le Parisien and his girlfriend were due to arrive the next day at 9:00am. Unfortunately for them, the 14 hours of rain had flooded the airport, so they arrived late, around noon. They came back to the apartment and we ate lasagna, and then we headed out to be tourists.

We toured le Site de l'Ancien Château again, and then we visited Vieux Nice and the newer Pedestrian Zone and the main shopping street, Avenue Jean Médecin. Le Parisien loves to shop, so we went in to almost every store we saw. Then, we ate dinner in town at a Japanese Steakhouse, "Zen." It's the kind where they cook everything in front of you, and le Parisien fell in love. The cook catapulted pieces of shrimp into our mouths and cut lobster tails with such amazing dexterity that le Parisien called about five of his friends to describe the action.

Afterwards we went to a bar with live music, the Thor. It was rather smokey, and there was a drunk "dragueur" who would dance to all of the songs and play air drums in between hitting on any woman he saw who wasn't holding on to a man. I had my hand in Jube's all night, and the Lisper was pressed up tight against le Parisien to avoid his advances. We saw Oneika, who told us about her latest news, and le Parisien was very charmed--"You must have fun with a girl like that around!" was his summation.

We woke up relatively late on Sunday and went to Cannes. The weather was wonderful, but since I was still very tired and my feet were killing me from our Saturday afternoon/evening, I was in a bad mood. We had fun walking the Croisette, though, and took some photos of the Carlton Hotel (see above).

After lunch, we went to Monaco. Yes, yes, I know that I said Monaco "wasn't very charming," and I wasn't too thrilled about going, but it was le Parisien's vacation, so we went. And once we got there, we went up to the old part of town, where the palace is, and were very pleasantly surprised! It is, in fact, a cute little village, with a huge (and beautiful!) aquarium/oceanographic museum, a cathedral, and of course the Princely Palace. Le Parisien bought tons of postcards to mail them with Monegasque stamps. Jube and I were standing in the middle of the central place when an extremely short motorcade came by--one police scooter, one expensive black car, and another expensive black car following it. That's right--I saw Prince Albert!* At least, I'm pretty sure it was him . . . I saw a bald man in the back of the second car.

Le Parisien was so busy writing postcards that he didn't see the prince. He took such a long time that Jube and I were reduced to making fools of ourselves right outside of the palace, in the hopes that Albert would come out to watch. Here is a photo of Jube en train de faire le con:



You can see the lower, "uncharming" part of Monaco in the background. Then we went to the grocery store (exceptionally open on Sunday's for Christmas!) to buy shrimp for le Parisien's famous carry crevette. Yum!

*I was listening to the Riviera Radio morning show on the way to work the other day, and they had Prince Albert as a guest. I was amazed to hear that he has a perfect American accent--and then kicked myself! I mean, come on, I'm sure Princess Grace didn't speak with some weirdo European accent with her kids at home . . .

Weekend with the In-laws

This weekend was full of fun! Jube's family arrived on Friday night, and we had the full Thanksgiving dinner. On Saturday morning, we went to Menton in the morning and played tourist. On the way down, we saw the above billboard--it says, "Gini veux tu m'épouser," or, "Gini will you marry me?" [No, it did not say Gem . . . ] I managed to snap this pic during the afternoon on our way to Grasse, where we quickly headed to the Fragonard shop and bought some soap as a gift for Mémée. Then we went to Vence for a gros apéritif at Belle-maman's relatives' house.


We had a good time there, and the apéritif was so gros that we didn't eat dinner, either. Instead, we drove through the streets of Nice to see the Christmas lights. They just lit them on Friday, so Jube and I hadn't seen them. The palm trees on the Promenade des Anglais were covered with small white lights, on the trunks and on the leaves, which made them look like fireworks! Then we came back home and went to sleep.



This morning we hiked to the top of the mini-mountain that borders Vieux Nice, le Site de l'Ancien Château. In fact, we drove the car halfway up and hiked the rest of the way! At the top there is a man-made waterfall that is lit up at night. You can see it from almost everywhere in the city. There is also a big park and a cemetery up there, and when the weather is sunny, there are beautiful views (see above picture for confirmation). Today was chilly but sunny, and the Mediterranean was a beautiful turquoise.

Afterwards we came back to the apartment and ate a tasty raclette. For anyone who doesn't know, raclette is a notorious dish from the Alps, involving potatoes, pork cold cuts, and cheese that you melt yourself. (The word raclette comes from the verb racler, "to scrape;" you scrape the melted cheese off of its little dish onto your food!) When my father, an extremely picky eater, came to France, I specifically asked Belle-mère to prepare a raclette, since I knew he would love the do-it-yourself cheesy (fatty!) goodness. Then they left, and Jube and I have been moping around since then, not wanting to get ready for classes tomorrow, but too tired to go out and do anything else, either.

Thanksgiving Dinner

This is a picture of the turkey before I baked it. I gave it a nice massage with oil and scented herbs and stuffed it full of bread. Then it got to go in the sauna for about 3 hours. And afterwards, it got to undergo surgical weight loss. It was very tasty!

I freaked out about 45 minutes into the roasting because there was no juice to baste it and it didn't looked cooked at all! I called my parents, who reassured me that it would turn out fine. And it certainly did, no small thanks to the thermometer that my mother sent it to me when I couldn't find one in France! All of the guests enjoyed it, and the pumpkin pie was authentically delicious. Yum! I also made green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Miam! On my way home from work, I stopped to buy some cranberry sauce. I had searched everywhere, and finally asked the English video clerk where to find it. There were tons of other products too, like Dr Pepper, Worcestershire Sauce, and salad dressing--even cream of mushroom soup! I had given up on making the green bean casserole without cream of mushroom soup, since I couldn't find it, and I finally decided not to buy it either because it cost about 3 Euros per can! The cranberry sauce cost 2€90, but I ended up buying it anyway. It was worth it.

Now I think the turkey chemicals are kicking in, because we all settled down to watch television (although there is no parade or football game) and are quietly dozing off . . .

The Last Day of Vacation . . .

Last night Jube and I went out with Popo and her man. We met at one of the nicest Irish pubs in Montpellier, Fitzpatrick's, whose sign you can see (if you look closely) in the above picture. We sat and talked for awhile, about vacation, work, visiting, de tout et de rien. We stayed in the pub for about an hour and a half while it rained heavily outside. After the storm had passed, we headed back to the belle-famille's house, where they had been waiting up anxiously for us. Le Pacha called me into his room, and whispered to me, "Je t'adore! I'm glad you got home safely!" Unfortunately, his adoration was not to last long. This morning at 8:30, while Jube and I were trying to enjoy our last opportunity to sleep in, he burst into our room.

"Did you have an accident last night? Your bumper is totally ripped off! What did you do?"

Now, it was bad enough that he woke us up by accusing us of reckless driving. The worst part is that I was sleeping without a shirt on. I swear that this is normal behavior, since the new comforters that Belle-mère bought are extremely hot. I was rather groggy and didn't grasp what was happening, but Jube started screaming at le Pacha about knocking on the door.

Well! That is the way to end family harmony! I got up and got dressed, while Jube checked his car for damage (nothing a serious bricoleur like Beau-père can't fix) and Belle-mère yelled at le Pacha for not knocking. He insisted that he had knocked, which changed the tone of the conversation.

"Well, did they say 'entre'?"

"No, but I knocked!"

"You have to wait until they tell you to come in!"

"BUT I KNOCKED!"

Ater that, le Pacha wouldn't talk to any of us for about two hours, until we started making a lemon meringue pie. "If Gem loved me, she would make another pumpkin pie."

At least he likes my food!

Nîmes: Ville Propre?

This week has been chock-full of vacation moments. On Thursday, the whole family packed into the car and we headed to Nîmes. I'm not sure if I've said this before, but Belle-mère prefers Nîmes to Montpellier. She says that Montpellier is a dirty city. (Jube says that she prefers Nîmes because it is about 10 minutes closer to her house.) The mayor of Nîmes has declared war on sidewalk doggy doo--not by fining dog owners, but by hiring a cleaning crew who comes through every day. Every time we go to Nîmes, Belle-mère mentions how clean the streets are, how you can look at the buildings without worrying about dirtying your shoes, and how you want to look at the buildings because even they are cleaner than Montpellier buildings. This is the usual Nîmes conversation, and Thursday was no exception. We walked around the city, window-shopping and picking up le Pacha's Roi Soleil tickets at the FNAC before heading back to the car. As we rounded the corner of a street, the biggest, wettest, most disgusting doggy diarrhea caught our eyes. It had been stepped in several times, so half of the street was infested at a length of about six feet. We all burst out laughing, and Belle-mère admitted that even in Montpellier she had never seen half of the road covered in caca.

As we were discussing this, walking in single file along the right side of the street, a young man passed us on the left. Obviously the mayor's campaign had worked, because he didn't give the street a second glance. Just as he walked by us, his foot slipped in the mess. By chance we had all been looking in his direction (it was the direction of the poop!), and we all saw his leg fly up. He half fell on the ground, catching himself with one hand. We all burst out laughing, but immediately tried to hide our amusement. He blushed very red, and Belle-mère tried to make him feel more comfortable by telling him to play the lottery (I guess that bad luck in one area means good luck in another). As he hurried away, we let our laughter out. I don't think that any other trip to Nîmes will equal Thursday's!

Ask Mémée . . .

Here in Gallargues le Montueux, a small town outside of Montpellier, everything is going well. Belle-mère is demonstratively happy to see us, while le Pacha and Beau-père are more reserved. I have already introduced le Pacha to the joys of carving a pumpkin--his smile as he pulled out its guts was priceless. Belle-mère laughed as she watched us working on it, telling the others that "The children are amusing themselves." Still, she was the first to go outside and look at the lighted Jack o'Lantern.

We have already visited Jube's grandparents, Pépé and Mémée, who have been experiencing tough times lately. Their beloved cat Clafoutis was run over by a car last week, and Pépé has to have insulin injections every day from a visiting nurse. Mémée is not pleased with these nurses--"They think they sprang from Jupiter's thigh!"--and even less with Pépé's dietary restrictions (no salt, no sugar, low-fat). She feeds him her pie crusts ("it's just the edge!") and "doesn't notice" when he sneaks slices of her salty bread.

Mémée is also the originator of many interesting phrases (like the cuisse de Jupiter I mentioned earlier). She informed us that her priest had told her that the sin of gluttony did not include "the appreciation of good things." It's only when you eat too much and make yourself sick that it is a sin. She then told us that "the fat priests are the best."

Earlier we had been talking about Spanish tortillas. They are traditionally made with potatoes and eggs, have nothing to do with Mexican tortillas and everything to do with French omelettes. Belle-mère wondered aloud why they are called tortillas. Mémée answered matter-of-factly, "Well, they can't call them omeletas, can they?"

Excursions

Two weeks ago Jube and I explored some nearby towns with his family. We had a good time except that the weather was not very agreeable, rainy and gray. We left in the morning and explored Vieux Nice (sorry I don't have any pictures!). I was amazed at how crowded and touristy it was compared to Montpellier. I imagined that the two towns would be similar, since they are in the South, but they are different in many ways. The stores sold gelato, fresh pasta, and lots and lots of pizza, which made us all realize how close we were to Italy. Montpellier has a medieval center, but Nice (although older, having been founded by the Greeks) seems much more recent, with colorful facades, higher buildings, and painted churches. I'm sure I'll have more time to explore, and take pictures!

The next town we visited was Villefranche sur Mer.



Villefranche is only about five minutes away from Nice, and you get there by following a road with a spectacular view. The small village includes a port, where we saw everything from small fishing dinghies to huge cruise ships. There is a long public beach and a charming centre ville set a bit higher on the mountainous terrain.



After Villefranche, we headed up the mountain to Eze, a "perched village" (village perché). Belle-mère was a bit daunted by the climb in the car, and even more so by the hike on foot once we arrived! The donkeys at the top of the post are found at Eze, and apparently if you have a room at the luxury hotel there, they will carry your bags for you. It is a gorgeous village, and there is certainly a beautiful view, but we didn't see it because we didn't want to pay 4€ for access to the "jardin exotique." When we were there, we saw lots of well-dressed American and French women walking through the narrow streets complaining about their high heels on the cobblestones. When we visited the church we discovered that there was a wedding! Belle-mère was not charmed--"If I knew someone who was getting married here, I wouldn't go! Imagine making your guests climb that mountain!" Then she looked at us and said, "If you two get married there, then I will come." I'm very glad that she changed her opinion for us . . .



Finally we ended up in Monaco. We weren't sure that we could go in, since I had forgotten my passport and Le Pacha had left his national ID in Gallargues, but we figured that they couldn't stop everyone. And it seemed like they didn't stop anyone! Since it was raining by this time, we took a self-guided tour from the car, and then drove back to Nice. Monaco was definitely the least charming of all the towns we visited. Isn't that too bad? An entire country dismissed by Gem as "not very charming." Well, it wasn't! Jube took this picture of a luxury yacht that was parked (anchored?) in the harbor. We saw zero fishing dinghies here!

All in all it was a tiring but very enjoyable day of sightseeing. If you come to visit me, maybe you could enjoy it, too!

Bits and Pieces

Last weekend, the belle-famille came to visit. Jube and I had been living in our apartment for less than a week, so I was surprised when he told me we would “show them around.” I had no idea about what to show them in Nice, besides the Mediterranean and the Promenade des Anglais. Luckily, Jube had a plan. We visited Old Nice, Villefranche sur Mer, and Eze Village on the Thursday before his family arrived, so we would know where to take them. When they arrived, belle-mère and Jube went out to the supermarket to buy food, although she had already made a tajine au poulet et aux abricots secs (not a traditional French meal, something like couscous with chicken and dried apricots). When they got back to the apartment, I discovered that she had bought a complete meal for me to cook for them. Any ideas of what it was?

Hamburgers, with mushrooms and onions. I have completed the fast food industry’s second step in its domination of the French market: families that previously had no desire to eat hamburgers as a real meal are now craving them for dinner! (Well, at least one family now does.)

I will be posting about our sightseeing trips as soon as I have the pictures for them. Right now I'll just leave you with the thought that I am becoming a '50s housewife (Jube says 1850s, in fact). I do not say this to imply that I am actually doing any housework besides cooking dinner and occasionally washing dishes. I mean that I am utterly, totally, completely dependent on Jube for my spending money. Recently I have made him pay for:

a prescription
postage for a letter to the US
a card for one of my relatives

What's more, he leaves me bus fare when he goes to work. I hope that soon I will have my own job!!

You mean you didn't know we went to Nice last week?

You mean I forgot to mention that we went to Nice again to look for apartments? Hmmm... I think that is because I was traumatized from our first visit. Whenever I thought about going to Nice, I never visualized the city. I knew it was in the South, that lots of people liked it, that it had a reputation for being one of the most beautiful cities in France. When we arrived the first time in Nice, I was very upset. Personally, I think Montpellier is a much more charming city than Nice. Whenever someone new finds out that I am moving to Nice, they ask the fatal question: "Aren't you happy?" This holds true for Americans and French alike. I answer that I prefer Montpellier, and then comes the follow up: "But come on, it's much better than being sent to the North where it rains all the time." But honestly, if Jube had been sent North I wouldn't have had such high expectations.

But this is not the point of my post. The point is that we finally found an apartment in Nice! Not only that, it is a "villa." It reminds me of a vacation condo on a smaller scale. There is a swimming pool, a small private yard, and a parking space. The parking space was the kicker. Even though the apartment was not the cheapest we looked at, it ended up being cheaper because we wouldn't have to rent a space in a garage. The downside is that we are about 15 minutes away from Nice centre, because we're up in the mountains. Nice is a very congested city, bordered as it is by the sea to the south and the mountains to the north. Our "villa" is located on the mountainous western side of the city, so the reason for the 15 minutes is that we have to ascend to ear-popping levels to reach the apartment.

Tomorrow is the move-in day. I have not yet decided whether I will be going or not. There are several important reasons to go, among them:
a) helping Jube and his father find the apartment again
b) choosing how to arrange the apartment, and
c) helping to unload the moving van.

There are also several reasons not to go, among them:
a) I would be completely stressed out (see This Post to find out why)
b) I would be crammed into the small cab of the moving van with Jube and Beau-père for 3 hours, and
c) I would have to help unload the moving van.

I will be sure to keep you updated as to my decision.