Yes, We're OK

You may have heard the news -- a terrorist shooting in the Marais at the offices of a satire magazine, Charlie Hebdo. While it's true we live in the Marais, we were nowhere near the scene of the crime, so don't worry about us. But not everybody was so lucky. Anthony's boss lives right in that area, and his daughter's school is just buildings away, so he rushed home to be with his family.

 

You may already have read the full posting (and if  not, please visit A Year in Fromage).

 

As for today, here are a few small updates, beyond the signs we see in the windows:

 

 

The city is quieter than usual. And feels a bit weird. The rainy gray morning didn't help matters, but now it's sunny and blue and looks a little cheerier. Still, it's not its normal self.

 

Letters from both of the girls' schools: various security measures put in place. A moment of silence at noon, at which time the Bells of Notre Dame -- and churches around the city (probably the whole country) also ring out. Most flags at half mast.

Last of the 2014 Greetings

I realized I've been remiss about updating this blog. In the last month plus, I was working on completing my Year in Fromage and also getting the surgery to take out the breast cancer and put in the new replacement. Christmas preparations apparently took up the whatever small bit of my brainpower remained, and so I haven't updated here in a while.

Click here for a little glimpse at our year in review, because I still don't have the brainpower to write something at the moment. We're too busy purging old stuff to make room for the new stuff, enjoying the new Christmas toys and books, and meeting up with friends to take a break from our vacation with a cup of tea.

Happy Holidays, and may 2015 bring you health & happiness!
Love,
Kazz

Getting Romantic in the City of Romance

I've been horrible -- horrible! -- about posting here, because it's been, well, quite a month. So I hope you've been keeping up over at A Year in Fromage. If not, here are two recent postings on love and romance (and dead fish) in Paris.

All you've ever wanted to know about the love locks popping up -- Whack-a-Mole-style - everywhere in Paris. And in the world.

And a wedding album like no other, mostly because it's a collection taken over the years from my local perspective. And also, because Anthony, the girls, and I just can't resist taking our own.

 

Letters from Camp

Here are some choice excerpts:

"Dear Kazz and Anthony. [Ed note: our children usually call us "Mom and Dad", not by our first names.] I had to right a letter to you! THEY MADE ME!!!!"

Pippa then proceeds to write about her time at camp and closes with:

"I do not miss you, but just pretend I do."

Fabulous.

Her next letter reiterates that point, verbatim, but closes with this:

"...but I do still love you very much!"

Well, thank goodness for small mercies.

Gigi's letter is not much better, frankly:

"Dear Mom and Dad, We are being forced to write to you, even though I don't have a stamp..."

You're imagining our children in an American summer camp: rustic cabins and lake-swimming. Think again. That may exist in France, but it's not where our girls are. They're at a 1000 year old medieval castle, riding ponies bareback (literally). To find out more, check out A Year in Fromage.

Princess of the Theater

If you haven't yet, you can read all about Gigi's professional theater debut (and about the origins of some French theater traditions) at the gorgeous Théâtre du Châtelet, which is itself something of a star in Paris. In an update since publishing the story at A Year in Fromage, she tells me, "It's surprising how many actors in the cast are gay." I find this very, very funny. And not surprising at all. But then again, she's ten, and it's her first theater experience.

In other entertaining King & I news, here's a hysterical clip from the Matrix of her castmate, star of the show, Lambert Wilson. So f***'in French:

While They Party

This year's Mother's Day poem from Pippa:

 

You love orange.

I like blue.

You love black.

And I like to snack.

This is my mom

that I've known for long.

She took care of me

While I partied.

Besides the obvious issues with the rhyme sequence and how the poem scans (and don't even get me started on the spelling, which I corrected for you), is anybody else concerned that my 8 year old is out there partying?

I will say this, though: This year's French Mother's Day turns out to be the greatest ever. The picture below, taken this afternoon, gives you just a tiny hint why. But I'm saving that story for another day, because it's a doozy...

 

The Eurovision Factor

Drumroll please...It's time for the 59th annual Eurovision contest: the Europe-wide hunt for the best, newest, freshest, and undoubtedly cheesiest new song and performer from each country. We have Eurovision to thank (or blame) for ABBA (1974, Sweden, "Waterloo") and Céline Dion (1988, for the song "Ne Partez Pas Sans Moi", representing Switzerland despite being Canadian. I call shenanigans). It's like the Oscars, the X Factor, the Olympics, and the Miss America pageant all rolled together, with more fog machines and floor lighting and almost no commercial breaks (God, I love Europe sometimes!).

 

 

If you're feeling at all fabulous, festive, morbidly curious, or feel the need to see identical twins, dairy maidens, teeter totters, ice skating, Matlese country singers, and/or transvestites. you really need to see the videos and read the scoop at A Year in Fromage.

 

No-Names

There's a French comedy movie called Le Prénom that takes place entirely in a living room, after one of the brothers says that he's naming his new baby "Adolf". There are some names you won't hear in France -- read about it at A Year in Fromage.

Four Bulletins & A Snafu

Bulletin #1 -- a language one:

I know we've been living in France for a while now because the girls are speaking strange franglais.  Their latest: Pippa talks about all the science experiences she's doing in school. At which point Gigi yells, "experiments! Experiments!" At which point I point out that Gigi recently says that if she doesn't get a good grade for something she'd worked really hard on, it will be "a big deception." At which point I correct "disappointment! Disappointment!"

Also, Gigi talks about the book Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Uzbekistan. Perhaps she's not hearing quite enough English.

Bulletin #2 --  a gym one:

I realize it looks like I'm being one of those bragging parents who keeps pointing out my children's accomplishments, but I swear it's because I myself am amazed. They're doing stuff in gymnastics that I was never able to do, and learning and progressing so quickly it's crazy. So just know that this honestly is not coming from a place of vanity. It's coming from a place of pure jealousy, frankly. I so wish I could have done this when I was their age! And I harbor no illusions about them being Olympians or even serious competitors in the States. The level here is lower, and mostly recreational, and they're not fanatical about pointing toes and straightening legs. But still, I'm impressed.

Bulletin #3 -- a yummy one:

Near the Bourse, on and around rue Saint-Anne, I have finally found the Japantown part of Paris. I feel like the food here is better and more authentic-tasting, relatively speaking, than Parisian Chinese food. Having lived in both Japan (for many years) and Taiwan, I feel like I can say this with some authority. It fills a craving in a huge way for ramen and gyoza, and it's delicious, but it's still not as good as actually eating Japanese food in Tokyo. Naturally.

 

 

Bulletin #4 -- a bureaucratic one:

It turns out my latest carte de séjour had the wrong expiration date on it -- months earlier than it should be. Luckily, I look at my card a week or so before that date, and I manage to get my paperwork in just in the nick of time. Of course, that means I don't have a valid card for several months until the bureaucratic wheels (powered by Flintstone woodpeckers) have approved my legal status and manufactured and delivered my new card. That's OK: I don't carry it with me, ever since the multiple pickpocketing incidents, and I've never been asked to provide it, anyway.

And the snafu -- or is it?:

We still don't know where we'll be next school year, but we do know the girls will not be back at their school in San Francisco: The school didn't have any vacancies for them! By staying away more than two years, we lost our automatic, guaranteed spots, and the school had record-low attrition. With no available spots to give, we can't be insulted at all, got a really nice personalized note, and still love the school. We are not devastated. Those of you who know me know that a) I have been gunning to stay longer in Paris anyway and b) I generally find that life works out wonderfully -- and often in the most unusual ways. In fact, the more unusual, the better, in my mind. In case you're wondering, they do still have their spots guaranteed here at their Paris schools (which they love), and the girls are both excited about the idea of staying longer, too. So we're gearing up for the very real possibility (though as Anthony will tell you -- not the inevitability) that we might stay yet another year....Stay tuned.

 

My Little Cabbage

If you ever need some terms of endearment with a French twist to call your honey, lovebug, or sweetie-pie....

I don't want to give you the same old list, including many I don't hear in use. So, click here to see the ones I actually hear on a day-to-day basis, especially from parents talking to their children. Let's face it, I'm at school drop-off/pick-up where people greet their kids far more than I'm at some seductively-lit hip restaurant/bar overhearing lovers murmuring sweet nothings.

 

Bubble Trouble

In case you were wondering, Bubble Tea -- those sweet Chinese tapioca drinks -- are taking over Paris, too. Well, anyplace there's Chinese food nearby and in many tourist spots where there's likely to be Chinese tourists. The girls love their Bubble Tea, as you can tell at the New Year's Parade in Paris' Chinatown. It was their favorite part of the event. In fact, they look like an ad for Bubble Tea. "Bubble Tea! It's Bubblicious!"

 

It's a packed crowd, but the girls are small enough to squeeze in at the front. I give Gigi the camera, and see whether she's inherited the Kodak gene. Turns out, she has! Here are some parts of the Chinese New Year's Parade that are colorful, and interesting. But not as great as Bubble Tea:

 

 

 

 

 

Gong Hey Fat Choy! Happy New Year! And may it be filled with bubbles.

 

 

 

Sweetest Job Ever

My most recent article for the Wall Street Journal is about the best artisanal, hand-made candy makers in Europe. And while I can't repeat any information or photos that you'll find in the article, I can send you over there to read it.

As you can imagine, Anthony and the girls had a lot of fun helping me research it:

 

Meanwhile, I am allowed to share with you some things that didn't make the article; I could write a whole book on just this store and its contents!

 

The store in Paris, Bonbon au Palais (which means Candy at the Palace), is the prettiest candy store I have ever seen in my life, bar none.

There's even more about the store at A Year in Fromage, but what I didn't include there was all the non-French candy the girls also got to enjoy.

Here are loads of delicious Irish candies in our house for the tasting and photo shoot:

 

 

 

And here with a gorgeous Spanish lollipop. They're not complaining!

 

Game Theory

I've talked about Ticket to Ride, a board game about trains around Europe. But that's just the tip of it. We're big into family game time, especially on cold, rainy winter weekends, and we especially love games that tie in thematically with our lives here.

Memoire de France is a memory-match game with special places around France, including many Paris spots we know and love -- one of which we can see from our window, and exactly half of which we can walk to in five minutes or less:

 

To read about more great French- and European-themed games, check out the post at A Year in Fromage.

Boom As We Speak

When I was in grade school, we went on field trips to the local historical reenactment village, one day each year. Once, we went to a pizza place owned by a classmate's father and were allowed to make our own pizzas. That is the extent of the field trips I remember. Gigi, meanwhile, is away for a week with her classmates in Valloire, France for the ultimate field trip -- a week of skiing in the Alps. As I write this, she's at her end-of-week "Boom" (that's a co-ed dance to you and me).

 

 

 

 above photos taken by chaperones on the ski trip

To continue reading, click here...

Cheesing It Up/ Hamming It Up

In case you haven't signed up yet for A Year in Fromage or haven't remembered to check it out lately, I just thought I'd give you some of the latest cheese highlights of my life. My life has become very, very cheesy indeed:

Where can you buy French cheese outside of France? I've researched some of the best spots in some of the big cities, but you all need to help each other out by adding on your own favorite cheese-store sources in the comments.

How can you be polite about your cheese course? Well, first of all, don't chew with your mouth open. But for more cheese-specific advice, check out the posting.

And what are the most beautiful cheeses in my opinion?

As for these "letters home" from my Family by the Seine, I just wanted to let you know that I've recently crossed over 30,000 views, which actually feels quite satisfying as I sit here typing and overlooking the gray river on a dreary, rainy day.

We are back, safely and happily, from a wonderful trip in Senegal. When we arrived home, my brother and sister-in-law were already installed in our apartment, and we're enjoying their visit quite a lot -- the only downside being that with my brother here, I find myself with very few leftovers to use for my lunch the next day. Except for cheese. Even my brother couldn't finish the massive cheese platter.

It may be a few weeks till I get to filter through the 2000 or so pictures I took in Africa and write up our adventure, but in the meantime, you can sign up at Family in Senegal so that you'll automatically receive the stories once they're posted. But here's a little teaser: Anthony and I were fully jealous of our own daughters, even as we were having the experience with them. We just kept saying to each other, "This is nothing like any New Year's Eve party I ever got to go to as a kid..."

 

 

Transitions

Pippa hits two new milestones in 24 hours:

She transitions from this:

to this (video taken from far away, I know, but it's a back handspring/ back tuck combo):

And then, she transitions from this:

 

to this:

 

She donates over eight inches to Children With Hair Loss, which provides free wigs and hair care products for kids who've lost hair due to illness and medical treatments. Pippa has only had three or four haircuts in her whole life, and those were simply trims, so this is pretty life-changing for her, too.

 

 

 

We've known it was too long for a while, but she had two distinct goals in mind before we could cut it: one, she wanted to have it reach down to her butt (a noble goal, I know), and two, she wanted to have enough to donate to charity but still have longish hair when finished.