A Long Way to Drive

Well, France's unofficial official motto may be "French Bureacracy: Not Infamous for Nothing" but that doesn't mean they have the monopoly on annoying, crazy bureacracy. And so, I find myself flying 20 hours door to door, from Paris via O'Hare to San Francisco, in order to renew my California driver's license. Set to expire on my birthday next month, I have recently learned that there is no way I can renew it by mail or online because I've renewed it the last two times remotely. I was living in San Francisco at the times, but was just lazy and never saw the downside of avoiding a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles. Well, I see the downside now. California law says after two remote renewals, a person must renew in person, at the counter of the DMV, in order to re-test and update the photo.

 

 

I can't transfer my license to France because France has a reciprocal agreement only with certain states: Arkansas, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Illinois, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, New Hampshire, Ohio, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Texas, and Virginia, none of them states that most American drivers in France actually come from. That means that in order to get a French license, I would have to take the course, the test, and pay the fee, and believe it or not, that would probably take me at least several months and just the fee for the license alone (not even the course) would be upwards of a thousand dollars. It is notoriously difficult to get a license in France. And, frankly, because France would require me to relinquish my California license, then I'd have to turn around and re-take both written and road tests when I move back to the US.

So, for a bargain $650 airfare, four days of my time, four horrible plane movies* (one of them played three seperate times: for the morbidly curious, see below), and a heap of jet-lag both directions, I commute 20 hours each way to stay two days and go to a 45 minute appointment at the DMV. At least it works, and I walk away with my new driver's license -- only one wrong out of 18 on the test it turns out I have to take (in emergency circumstances, it is OK to use a cell phone in your hands while driving). Not only am I good to go when I move back to San Francisco, it also means that I can drive rental cars while we live and travel in Europe.

On the positive side, I do get to see my new niece (a.k.a. the cutest baby in the world):



And the colors of San Francisco, complete with warm weather and spring plum blossoms starting to bloom. Meanwhile, back in Paris, it's gray, freezing, and snowing/raining.

 

I get fresh-squeezed lemonade -- lemon juice in a cup, simple syrup to sweet, and water to dilute -- and creative California cuisine; here it's French toast made from challah stuffed with mascarpone cheese and topped with lemon curd.

And last but not least, a special field trip to Trader Joe's to buy ridiculous amounts of cereal, seaweed snacks, and other ingredients that are hard to find or too expensive in Paris.


I have come with luggage full of hand-me-downs and gifts to give away, and even a carry-on packed inside my big luggage. All with the expectation that I would bring back groceries. Weirdest suitcase ever. Staying with my friends, the girls help me take the 15 boxes of cereal out of their cartons to make more space. Everything makes it across the world just perfectly. I mean, let's face it, Joe's O's (which are essentially Cheerios) make perfect packing peanuts.

 

*The following are the four films shown on a small screen at the front of the cabin on the four legs of my American Airlines flights, on a schedule determined by the air crew. Anthony did not know planes without private on-demand screens were even still flying. My friend Sarah has dubbed my movie/plane experience "cruel", and I'm inclined to agree, except for the fact that it means I got a lot of needed sleep I might otherwise have skipped.

 

The Lucky One, a Nicolas Sparks romance, starring Zac Efron. Shown three times, twice of those in immediate succession. Mushy and formulaic.

Trouble with the Curve, a movie with Clint Eastwood and Amy Adams, which sounds promising, except that it's about baseball and is horribly predictable.

Sparkle, starring American Idol star Jordan Sparks and Whitney Houston. Before she died, obviously. A Dreamgirls rip-off.

Here Comes the Boom, in which (spoiler alert) Kevin James as a high school science teacher fights in Mixed Martial Arts bouts in order to raise money to save the school's music program, led by Henry Winkler, and in order to get the girl, Salma Hayak. Enough said.

 

850 Years Old

No, not me, though sometimes I do marvel where the years have gone. I mean our neighbor, Notre Dame de Paris, the iconic cathedral that is marking its 850th anniversary in 2013.

For the special anniversary, they have erected a temporary structure and viewing stands that take up much of the square, finished just in time for the Christmas mass I failed to attend. I have to admit I think "Our Lady" looks much better without this structure, but at least it will not endure the centuries (and not even 850 days: planned obsolescence in Nov 2013).

The photos from this angle can only be taken while the stadium seats are up for the anniversary.

It's hard to imagine what an imposing sight this must have been 850 years ago, when everything surrounding it was medieval Paris -- wooden shacks, narrow roads covered in horse (and human) dung, rats scurrying about, town criers ringing out their bells chanting "Bring out your dead!" When it was built, it would have certainly been the tallest structure any of these people had ever seen, with its cathedral towers soaring over the city.

And while Paris may not be the center of the universe, but it is -- officially -- the center of Paris. This bronze star, with the words "Point Zero des Routes de Paris" (Point Zero of routes to Paris), is located just in front of Notre Dame. Ironically, the plaque is just off-center of the cathedral.

The building is decorated with chimeras and the better-known gargoyles, which serve two purposes: as rain gutters and to scare the medieval citizens below into submitting to the church. The best way to see the gargoyles may well be at night, on the side of the cathedral that fronts rue de Cloitre de Notre Dame. Very spooky.

The best way to see the chimeras, however, is from the bell towers, legendary home of Quasimodo. The view from here is decidedly not medieval -- modern building and the Eiffel Tower in the background. We can even see our own apartment from here, though you'd have to know our building very well and have an eagle eye to figure it out. The spire with the verdigris statues -- and the chimeras themselves -- didn't get added to the cathedral till the restoration from 1845-1860. 

 

The side fronting the Seine contains one of the famous rose windows, and since it is the south side, and open to the gardens and Seine, it's the one that best highlights the stained glass. The window stands nearly 13m (42ft) high and is said to be comprised of hundreds of thousands of pieces of glass. I don't know exactly; I haven't counted. I think this is also the side that best shows off the ornate, intricate Gothic architecture, especially when it looked like a frosted confection.

 

 

And from across the Seine...

  

Then there's my favorite side, the back with its flying buttresses. Even before this garden became our front yard (so much so that for the first six months here, Pippa called this place "Ma Dame" -- meaning "My Lady") and the girls' regular little playground, this view has always been my favorite. To me, this is a work of art, a masterpiece, in any lighting, any season.

 

 

 

  

On the inside, the south rose window isn't the only thing glowing. Anyone who's spent time inside Catholic churches will immediately recognize the smell of the burning votive candles. It is, in the truest sense of the word, awesome. Somehow it seems bigger on the inside than the outside.

  

 

In 850 years, I'm sure a lot has happened in the shadows of Notre Dame cathedral. Just in the 15 months we've lived here, for instance, we've seen accordianists, newlyweds, marching bands, military guards, some mighty fine roller blading (our daughters), and some mighty awful fake 'staches (our nephews).  

   

  

Mark your calendars: We'll see you back here to celebrate her next 850th anniversary in the year 2863.

Four Follow Ups and a Correction

Four follow ups...

1) Several of my friends have received e-mails from Bonpoint with the 2013 spring/summer collection for their children and been surprised to know one of the models. So here it is: Pippa's turn on the catwalk. Is it just me, or does she look more American than most of those kids? There's a certain lithe, Vogue cover model look about many of the other children, whereas she just looks more like a ruddy, outdoor, climb-a-tree kind of kid. Is that just because I know her? Am I imagining things? I think they're all adorable, but whereas I see the others as European chic, I genuinely think Pippa looks distinctly like a daughter of the US of A.

If you can't access video, click here.

 

2) Gay marriage is soon to be a reality in France. Most likely. A couple weeks ago, we missed joining in on the Sunday Jan 27 rally around the Bastille with roughly 125,000 marchers supporting gay marriage. I did hear one woman later that night in the area with a bull horn haranguing a disapproving old couple ("We are all here to love one another!").

While the number of marchers was only about 1/3 of the anti-gay marraige marchers, that's certainly in large part because President Hollande and his administration have already said they would be pushing through the marriage equality law. And, sure enough, just a few days ago, the first congressional vote was 249-97 in favor or defining marriage as between two people, rather than a man and woman. There is even a controversy about the controversy, in that during the days-long ensuing debate to push the bill into law, some of the legislators have been caught on film playing Scrabble.

Some of the funniest coverage of this comes from Stephen Colbert who, as you can imagine, has a lot of fun mocking the French, regardless of the politics. Let's face it: Who doesn't?
 

3) We received our first thank-you note, for a birthday present given. It was from my friend Beatrice's daughter, so I just hope she didn't read the blog and then feel obligated. No guilt intended! The French system is fine, just different. But it is a very cute note written as poem, with approximately 25 exclamation points in a row, from one of Pippa's favorite friends in the world.

4) Fur-rance is fur-reezing once again. One of the girls' school teachers wears a full-length fur coat that she tells me she bought at Emmaüs (like a Goodwill or Salvation Army store) for 15€ or about $20. Besides being on a teacher's salary, she prefers to buy a used coat for cheap because a) no new animals were killed for it and b) she wouldn't be as upset if somebody dumped something on her to protest the fur. I find this interesting because I've seen so much fur around the city that I had no idea anybody protested it here at all. But, in fact, she tells me that the times, they are a changin', and even in Paris, there are many people -- especially my generation and younger -- that are opposed to real fur. I do, however, see this couple stepping out of a lime green car (the whole thing screams "pimpmobile!"), awesome down to their boots, and feel the need to add their photo to the fur gallery:

And a correction:

About Chandeleur, a.k.a Crêpe Day, my friend Aurore informs me that "the bugnes are also called merveilles in Bordeaux, and they have them all the way up to Burgundy...And to be really precise, in Marseille (my grandfather's side) itself they don't eat oreillettes for Candlemas, they have les navettes de Saint Victor which they order and queue for at the Four des Navettes." And in case you didn't understand that last phrase any better than I did, the navettes de Saint Victor are a kind of sweet bread in the shape of lips, and the Four des Navettes is the bakery in Marseilles that's famous for making them.

She goes on to say "I feel I should point out we're traditionally preparing for Lent, and I may be mistaken but I always thought we were trying to finish the eggs and the sugar before it starts. So galettes, whose recipe doesn't require either, don't fit the bill." So it turns out that perhaps the original tradition was just crêpes, and eating galettes is yet another example of Parisians (and ex-pats) getting it wrong. But I should tell you that we actually ate crêpes, not galettes, so we're OK for this year.

To answer my friend Judith's question, however: No, we didn't actually make the crêpes ourselves. We cheated and bought pre-made crêpes, thereby negating the entire purpose of the tradition both in terms of using up sugar and eggs and also in terms of prognostication through pancake flipping. I did make eggs as the meal before dessert, and sprinkled sugar on the crêpes, so I guess I used up a little of both.

And finally, to set me straight, my friend Kristin asks, "Is Chandeleur really the start of the season of Lent? I thought that Lent began just after Mardi Gras. But perhaps you're aware of some religious subtlety that I've missed."

Actually Lent itself begins on Ash Wednesday which, this year, is Feb 13. Which explains the origins of Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday) as the last possible day to indulge in everything you might have to give up. It seems Kristin is correct in that Candlemas actually celebrates the 40th day after the birth of Jesus, when according to ancient Jewish law, his parents would have held a special ceremony for him at the temple. And 40 days after Dec 25 is Feb 2. However, since it is always right before Lent, even the authentically French Catholics (such as Aurore, among many) seem to see it as a sort of "kick-off" to the Lent season.

I have to admit here, it's not likely there are religious subtleties -- in any religion -- that I'm likely to catch before others. So feel free to send me your corrections, and any delicious treats to prove the point!

Holy Crêpe!

On Feb 2, all over northern France, people are eating crêpes in order to celebrate Chandeleur or Candlemas, which marks the purification of the Virgin Mary and the final presentation of the baby Jesus. It also marks the start to the Lent season. And while we don't actually do anything for Lent (the only thing we give up ever year for Lent is giving things up for Lent), we are big believers in a holy day whose traditions revolve around eating crêpes. That is really the kind of religious tradition I can get behind, with 100% conviction. I guess that makes me egg-nostic (ugh).

Most of the Parisians will eat what I call "basic" crêpes -- the traditional street crêpe menu that almost never varies. For the meal, you can have what is actually called a galette, if you're being true to the Breton routes, or a crêpe salée (salty/savory), if you just want to distinguish from the sweet ones. A true galette is darker brown in color, with a nutty flavor, because of the buckwheat flour used in the batter. Galettes are usually filled with gruyère cheese, ham, and, if you order the "complète", also an egg. However, tradition dictates actually making the crêpe yourself on this day, flipping it in one hand and holding a coin in the other hand. If you manage to catch the crêpe, you'll get your wish -- and presumably have prosperity -- for the coming year.

For the dessert crêpes, the usual filling choices are simple sugar, sugar and lemon, jam (almost always apricot), caramel (on the menu if you're lucky), and the ubiquitous first choice of seemingly 99% of the population: nutella (the chocolate/hazelnut spread shown below in all its melting, oozy glory, before the folding process).

However, it must be remembered that we are from San Francisco. Therefore, we believe in innovation in our food -- such as pizzas topped with goat cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, barbecued chicken, blue cheese, caramelized onions, jalapeño, and/or feta (according to my cousin Kevin: pizza is either plain or with pepperoni, and everything else is just a San Francisco abomination). And so it follows that even though the classic French crêpes are tasty (they're classic for a reason), we still get sick of them and like our crêpes to have creative fillings. The more complicated, the better. The best crêpes we've had so far have been in Bretagne -- which makes sense, since they are originally a Breton food -- and also a great spot right by Versailles, where we had this lovely peach, salted caramel, peach ice cream, whipped cream crêpe.

 

I often walk past this crêperie, and though the url doesn't actually lead you to the restaurant's page or menu, I love the name and web address nonetheless. 

 

And while this is not specifically crêpe related, I feel like the name creposuk.com leads us directly to this café. Am I the only one juvenile enough to find this funny?

 

 

My friend Aurore, who hails from the Marseills area growls, "Those Bretons have taken over everything! In the south, it's not crêpes for La Chandeleur, it's bugne or oreillette," which are doughnuts. I guess that would have worked, too, and I could have titled this posting "Holy Doughnuts." It would be just as bad a pun, and just as delicious a tradition.