Our First Year....

It is definitely Fall in the South of France. The leaves are changing, the days are cooler and most important, the stands that sell ice cream in the summer are now selling crepes and chichis (deep fried donut-like pieces). Yum! Fall also means we have been in France for 1 year. So, in honor of this momentous occasion, I have compiled a list of things we have learned, things we will never get used to, and things we will really miss when we leave in 2 years.

Top things I have learned in France:

General:

1-Sidewalks are for dog poop and car parking, so watch out. As David Liebovitz writes in his book, The Sweet Life in Paris, when a French person says "I am a socialist", they mean "I do not pick up my own dog poop." So true.

2-Having your one good french phrase be "I do not speak French" saves you from many a telemarketer. However, a surprising number speak English. How is it that even the telemarketers are bilingual??

3-Even a mediocre baguette tastes amazing with butter and salami.

4-Favorite breakfast for French children...a glass of chocolate milk with a baguette for dipping. They don't eat again until lunch.

5-Favorite after school snack for the French (but don't call it a snack...the French don't snack) a third of a baguette with a large chunk of chocolate. Not all that surprisingly, my girls like it too. Nutella will do in a pinch.

6-If your child does not want to wear a coat and it is under 75 degrees, you will hear about it from every little old lady. If the temperature drops below 75, all babies will be bundled and with a knit cap. All French children will be wearing a warm coat with a scarf. My children will be wearing a cardigan. Please don't tell me they are cold. We lived in Canada for a year. That is cold.

Safety:
1-Bike helmets are not mandatory. However, if you want to ride at night, you must have a reflective vest and several lights. Seems as though the helmet should be required too. Very few children wear helmets, and the French seem a little puzzled that ours do.

2-It is perfectly acceptable to ride a bike or scooter with your child clutching you from the front or rear. If it is a bike, no one will be wearing a helmet. If it is a scooter, only the driver will be wearing one. Surprisingly, helmets are required for scooters or motorcycles, but I think that has to do with socialized medicine. I have heard that if you are injured while riding without a helmet, you will not be covered by the medical system.

3-Car Seats: Although there is a law mandating car seats they seem to be somewhat optional. I have seen many an acquaintance with their smallest children crawling on the floor of the minivan in traffic. Also, the tiny cars here do not fit a car seat so many baby seats are turned sideways. Maybe it doesn't say that the car seat actually has to be safe.

Fashion:
Yes, the French have style. They don't wear sweats or tennis shoes in public and even if they don't look what we might consider great, if they wear it with confidence, then they are fashionable. The French woman is supremely confident.

1-Wearing jeans that stop at your knees and boots that go to your knees is very chic. It must be paired with a wool, leather or fur coat that goes to mid-thigh.

2-What has happened to me? I now own 2, no 3 pairs, of black boots (dressy, casual, over the knee), 2 pairs of brown boots, and 1 pair of red boots. I also now have purses to match each set of boots and about 12 scarves. For a 4 day trip to Barcelona, I took 2 pairs of boots and 5 scarves. I also now have wool coats in blue, black and grey as well as 2 dress coast and a poncho style dress coat. I figure that I am pegged as an American everywhere I go, so I should at least be a classy one.

Things we will never get used to:

1-Everything is closed on Sunday afternoons. Most stuff never even opens. Luckily, the mini-mart down the street (where I do most of my shopping) and the market are both open Sundays, but forget about running errands at say, Ikea.

2-Carrefour, the giant Wal-Mart style grocery store, is always packed. I have been there at 8:30 on a Friday evening, and all 30 open check out lines were 6 deep. It is the same at 9am on a Wednesday or 2pm on a Thursday. It still amazes me.

3-Carrefour is self-bagging and the cashiers sit. They must have a great union. Everyone knows it is self bagging, and yet they are never ready to bag. To top it off no one (except me) ever has their Carte Bleu (the most popular debit card ever) ready for payment, nor do they have their Carte Fidelity (frequent shopper card ready).

4-How can everyone wait so patiently in all of these grocery lines, but when they get out on the street, watch out? It is like the Indy 500, motorcycles and scooters weaving in and out, horns honking. In a word, crazy.

5-How many people speak English, but are unwilling to admit it until you have completely butchered the French language. Really it is just easier to say that I don't speak much French, ask if they speak any English and go from there. They almost always fess up to speaking "a little English". It is almost always better then my "little" French.

6-Could the tequila and in turn, the margaritas be any worse? The rum is not that great either. We make do, but I sure miss a good margarita.

Things I will miss:
Sadly, most of the things I will really miss are food related, and the food hasn't changed my life or anything, although it has all been good.

1-Lardons: Small chopped up pieces of bacon that you can fry up. Perfect for eggs, salads or quiche. On the other hand, no regular bacon or turkey bacon either.

2-Wine at lunch and dinner and midmorning if you want.

3-"Junk" Food: It seems to be much less junky here. There are fewer preservatives and things just taste good. The ducklings faves? Chocolate crepes, Special K with Chocolate chunks, chocolate pretzels and well, I see a theme here. Chocolate is a big part of our lives.

4-Chocolate: Even the crappy generic stuff from Carrefour is better then most anything in the US.

5-Wednesdays off school: I thought it would be silly to have a day off in mid week, but I and the girls love it. Morning is ballet for 1 hour, and afternoon is whatever.

6-No rushing: I drive, tops, twice a week. School ends at 4:30, and that is really too late for after school activities. Snack at 5, playtime, homework, dinner at 7ish. Bed at 8. All in all pretty awesome.

7-Inexpensive wine: Anyone want the Gold Medal Bordeaux from the Paris wine show?? I can get you some for about $10 a bottle.

8-Good Rose wine: An awesome wine. Totally cheap and very much a southern French thing.

Now that I look at my list I realize we will really miss it here. And we will be leaving just when I can finally speak the language. All this work for nothing. Oh well, I am looking forward to the next 2 years and hope that we enjoy them as much as we have enjoyed the first.

Au Marche

There are few things I love more about France then the Market. Here in Toulon, we have two daily markets and both are amazing in their own way.

The big market, in downtown Toulon, is the biggest in Var, the "state" in which Toulon is located. It runs for several blocks, has every conceivable item from produce to clothing to jewelry to toys and then even more produce. The smell of all the produce mingling with the scent of olives and spices is exotic. The crowd of people pushing toward the tables is crazy, so many cultures melting together in what is a normal daily chore. The market is also a social event with groups of people gathered together, blocking traffic and chatting. It is quite nearly impossible to push a stroller through the crowd. I love it.

The small market is also pretty amazing. It is located in Mourillon, an area located a mere 10-15 minute walk from the big market. We fondly call this area the "village" for its small neighborhood feel. If you walk through every day for only a week, faces begin to look familiar. Visit the same stand at the market everyday for a week, and you become a regular. Everyday is different at this market. While the produce vendors remain the same day after day, the other vendors change. Some days shoes are popular, some days bedding and some days clothes. I still haven't figured out who is there when. However, every market day brings a visit to the olive vendor. Although, he sells not just olives, but tapenades (fig and black olive is a favorite), capers, pickled veggies and anchoide, a surprisingly delicious concoction of anchovies, garlic and olive oil which I can no longer have in the house as I spread it on bread and eat it for a snack. I shudder to think of the calorie count. The ducklings like the olive guy because they get a free bag of pitted green olives. Of course, free is relative, as we spend much money with the olive man.

However, what truly amazes me about the market, is that it is everyday. Well, every day except Monday. That means that every day from 9 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. the market is packed. And then miraculously, by 2 p.m., there is no trace that the market was ever there. Until the next morning, the space becomes a road, a parking lot, a walkway or a play area depending on location. The city workers literally swoop in with their trash trucks and their hoses and their street sweepers and clean it up leaving nary a trace. It is a pretty stunning transformation. Photos are below. And, I apologize for them as I am still figuring out how to post photos. The order is a little confusing....think clockwise. Until next time....eat, shop and be merry.

The French Paradox

Much has been written about the French diet. They spend hours eating only cheese and cream, they drink a bottle of wine each day, every meal is 5 courses, etc. etc. Many call this the French Paradox. How can someone eat so much and not gain weight? How can someone eat so much and not have heart disease? After living here almost a year, I am not thin, but I have gained some insight as to the French diet.

First, just as all French women are not well dressed, all French women are not thin. However, many are and I, at the risk of great personal embarrassment, have taken an informal, "so what does your family eat every day" poll just to find out how the French do stay, mostly, thin. I cannot imagine what people must think when I ask this question at a party, but I figure I can coast a few more months on the "oh she is an American, what do you expect" line. Truly, most people probably think I am slightly crazy as this is a question I ask almost every French person I can, but I can't help myself, I find the answers fascinating. Maybe though this is why we don't get invited out much. In reality though, the eating habits of France are at the same time amazingly different then that of the U.S. and amazingly similar.

To start, the French do not eat breakfast as we know it. They would be appalled, or at least throw up, if they had to eat eggs, bacon and pancakes all in the same sitting with coffee and in the morning. Not that they don't love a good pork product, they do. Sausages are practically a national past time. It is just that the average French person is eating a very small meal that literally breaks the fast. Think a chunk of baguette (not the whole or half baguette, a small chunk) that is dipped in coffee or for children chocolate milk or coffee with a LOT of milk. Also, contrary to popular belief, croissants are a weekend breakfast treat. I have to say, that I am a bit surprised that the children can survive on such a small breakfast that to me, seems void of nutrients. However, I do chalk up the, in general, short stature of the population to the lack of breakfast nutrients. Most people do have another coffee at midmorning sometimes with a bit of sausage or cheese (again a small bit), and the children at school do have a cookie or small snack from home at midmorning. A note here, when I say coffee, I do not mean a Grande Mocha Latte from Starbucks (which sadly does not exist in this part of France), but a tiny, little cup of coffee similar in size if not strength to an espresso. If you want a normal size cup of coffee you have to order and pay for a cafe au lait. Someday, I will try and figure out how the thimble size cup of coffee can last for the hours some people spend at the cafe. No refills here.

Lunch is generally a bit more exciting. This is, usually, the biggest meal of the day. Lunch is the meal that consists of a piece of meat or fish, rice or potatoes and a vegetable all with wine and then dessert and coffee. If you are at a restaurant and order one of the "fixed price" meals, you also may get a salad or appetizer. The afternoon snack for adults is pretty nonexistent, unless one sneaks a piece of baguette on the way home from the patisserie or has a bit of chocolate or coffee but, if you are a child, you luck out. Nearly every child at school pick up receives some combo of the following, baguette with nutella, baguette with a large chunk of chocolate candy bar inside, a chocolate filled crepe, or well, I am sure you see the theme here. They also usually get a fruit product of some kind. The snack is large, by French standards as school is out at 4:30 and dinner is not until 7:00 or 7:30. Our girls love chocolate, so this is a tradition they have readily adopted.

Dinner in France, unless you are going out or are a guest in someone’s home, is quite a modest affair, soup or a sandwich a little fruit or maybe a little cheese and bread with a small glass of wine, nothing fancy and nothing large.

That is it, the French "diet". There is nothing unusual and no deprivation, if they want a few bites of chocolate they have it. Most of the food is fresh with most fruit and veggies from the daily marche. Everything is in moderation and everyone seems happy and for the most part thin. Now, if only I could follow this plan maybe I would be thin too.

OMG...it has been too long since I have posted anything...

I haven't posted anything as it feels as if nothing exciting has been going on here. Of course, it has, so now I will post.

First and foremost, the Marathon du Medoc was a success....mostly. I finished, I received my medal, I received my decanter and my wine. I was very slow but I finished. My running partner finished as well, albeit looking like a staypuff marshmallow. She had a weird reaction to something and swelled up. The swelling included her feet, so I am pretty sure that a week later, she has fewer toenails then when she started. The onsite doctor pronounced it "tres bizarre" and said to go to a hospital if she didn't improve. Tres bizarre indeed.

It was a great weekend, and we stayed at this fabulous Chateau near Bordeaux. It is named "Chateau Grattequina" and it is beautiful. The staff was gracious and helpful, the rooms were beautiful, and we loved it. A fun girly weekend was had by all with the exception of swollen feet, hands etc.

Since race weekend, it has been pretty uneventful. It rained all week, giving us a taste of winter. We celebrated the twin ducklings birthday with a very un-French "Barbie Cake". The girls were sick....as I said, a normal week.

Well, mostly normal. The "Biggest Duckling" has us laughing again. Yesterday at school, her class was discussing Indians. That would be Native Americans to us politically correct Americans, but the French, having no need to worry about such titles, stick with Indian. Anyway, it is commonly assumed here that as an American, you have direct knowledge of the Far West as they call it, as well as direct access to cowboy hats, chaps, tepees and the like. For this reason, the "Biggest Duckling" was called up to the front of the class to answer questions about Indians. One of the questions, "what tribes are you familiar with". When I asked the Duckling what she said, she said that she couldn't think of anything so she made a name up. Oh my, I am thinking as I asked her what name she came up with. She said I just called them "Gateau Blanc". "Gateau Blanc" I repeat. Yes, she says, "Gateau Blanc". I am unsure at this point whether to laugh or lecture. For those unfamiliar with French, Gateau Blanc roughly translates to "White Cake". I laughed, lectured (for making it up) and then spent some time wondering how many parents googled this strange new Indian tribe. If nothing else, 26 other students, plus a teacher have been told about a"new" tribe of Indians. May the education of France continue.

Until next time.......

Rentree (and yes there should be a ' over the 1st e)

Yeah! It is back to school time. The school supply list has been deciphered, several stores have been visited in the quest for said school supplies ("No, we don't have a 24 cm X 30 cm document protector. They don't make that size.") and it is time to relax. In fact, I think I heard a simultaneous sigh of relief go up from around the entire neighborhood as the children went off to school. This leaves the FMB (French Mommy Brigade) with time on their hands. To do what, I am still not sure and have not figured out, but whatever it is, it keeps them quite trim and relaxed looking.

I know what I am doing, and that is enjoying the quiet, that and preparing for lunch pick up. Yes, another thing that is different here. Unless you work, you must pick your children up for lunch from 11:30-1:30, breaking your day into roughly, 2.5 hour chunks before a pick up. This is actually not entirely true, as they do allow the children of the non-working parents to stay one day per week for lunch, an event known as Cantine. My girls love their Cantine day, but probably not as much as I love an entire day to do whatever I want with only the youngest duckling to hold my hand. This week, I took the baby duck to the beach, shopped for clothes, bought shoes and went to my favorite place, Carrefour (I hope by now, everyone knows my true feelings about my "favorite" place). It was amazing to have an uninterrupted block of time for me, or mostly me. I think that is the first time I have been on my own, or as on my own as I ever get, since June. It was pretty wonderful.

The best part of going back to school turns out to be the Swine Flu, or H1N1/grippe as they call it here. No, I am not looking forward to getting it, and am even quite a bit worried. What I am thrilled about is that it has lead to the demise of the "red cups of death". Last year at the twins school, they had communal drinking cups....disgusting, red, hard plastic drinking cups. These cups sat in a basket in the bathroom and as the children washed their hands, they could get a drink and then return the cup to the basket for the next child. I was appalled, this would never happen in the U.S., but as the newcomer, I was not going to be able to do anything about it. I begged the girls not to use the "cups of death", and began sending bottles of water for them. Well, the teacher would not let them drink from their own bottles and half the time the girls forgot not to use the "cups of death". It was a long year. Now, however, among the hysteria over the "grippe", the cups of death are gone. The "red cups of death" are gone and they can bring their own water bottles from home. I noticed right away, and danced a jig of happiness. Throw a little Purell their way and it might be an ok year.

Seen and Not Heard

In France, children should be seen and not heard. And they should be seen perfectly dressed, brushed and presented. My children apparently do not meet this standard. Although their hair is (usually) brushed, it is a rare occasion that they will allow hair accessories. And, as for dressing, I am afraid it is no better. Target casual does not fly in France. As a matter of fact, one of our neighbors brought us a catalog of children's clothing shortly after we moved here. The message I got, "your children do not look French enough." Another member of the French Mommy Brigade said last May, "it is finally warm enough for summer clothes." I said yes, but my girls were ready in February. "Yes," she replied, "I noticed." Yikes.


And, although dogs, also to be seen and not heard, are adored, allowed and welcomed everywhere, children are not. You will often see a dog at a restaurant, but rarely a child. And, it is even less likely that the restaurant will have any type of high chair. If you dare to bring a child to a restaurant, they had better behave. Recently, we went to our favorite "family" restaurant. One that actually has high chairs. We like it because one, it is a buffet, and two, kids eat free, a great deal for us. Unfortunately, on this particular day, the little blond duckling had the dropsies. Not 10 seconds into the buffet line she dropped her plate, 30 seconds later, she spilled ALL her food on the floor. Two minutes after that we were informed of a change in the kids eat free policy. It only applies if there is an equivalent adult. So, we would have to pay for two of the kids. Perfectly fair under the circumstances, but I think if a dog had dropped the food, all would have been forgiven.

Self Cleaning/Pay Toilets 1, The Ducklings 0

On one of the recent beautiful days in Toulon (ok, who am I kidding? It has been hot, really hot), the Ducklings and I headed to our favorite beach. Although a mere 5 minute walk from our villa, all the Ducklings needed to visit the self-cleaning/pay toilet immediately upon arrival. If you have visited San Francsico or Paris, you may be familiar with this creation, a nice public potty, that flushes and cleans itself after each use. A brilliant idea really, but it seems the reality is somewhat different. If you have ever visited one with a toddler, you know what I mean. The floor is always wet, but at least it is cleanish. Anyway, being the organized mommy that I am, I only had 20 centimes with me, the cost of one visit to the potty. I therefore insisted that all the girls go in together, all use the potty, and then all come out. I put in the money and the girls entered. I walked away to set up camp, a distance of about 20 feet, when I heard them call to me with the door open. They could not find the lights. They found them, shut the door and then about 20 seconds later chaos, and screams of terror. Apparently opening and shutting the door set off the self-clean cycle on the potty...with all the Ducklings inside. I dashed over and yanked open the door just in time to see the biggest Duckling sliding to the floor as the toilet retracted into the wall for cleaning. Water was spraying from the walls, and the girls were pretty much terrified, the big Duckling with her swimsuit around her ankles. I did my best to put on the "good mommy face" and not laugh, but it was tough. The dark-haired, twin Duckling just kept repeating over and over, "Mommacita, that was so scary. I was terrified." After a quick rinse in the beach shower, they were off into the water. The "terrifying" trip to the self-cleaning potty quickly forgotten. I really must learn the French trick for never having to use the potty.

Summer is coming to an end....

Today is a very exciting day in the Canard household. The cleaning lady is returning from her extended summer vacation. She has been visiting her mother since the beginning of July. I am quite jealous of the extended French vacation. Everyone we know has been gone all summer. Most people have gone to visit family, staying a couple weeks and then either returning sans kids or vacationing on their own. Did I mention, sans kids? As the Big Duck technically works for the U.S. we do not enjoy the same benefit. Did I mention, jealous?

Not only does Madame P come once a week to vacuum and scrub, she watches the littlest duckling, giving me one afternoon a week to myself. Granted, I usually do my big grocery trip of the week, but it is blissful to be alone. And, that is saying something as I go to Carrefour, the French equivalent of the Wal-Mart Super Store only with more people crowding every conceivable space. In Madame P's absence, I did manage to vacuum several times a week and even cleaned a few toilets, but let's face it, unless the kids knocked over the dogs water, the floors were just not getting cleaned. Having four ducklings at home and under foot every day, all day for the past 7 weeks is not conducive to accomplishing anything at the house. I consider it a miracle that the laundry got done, although come to think of it, they did wear swimsuits a lot cutting down on laundry volume.

So, although I will remember this summer, our first here in France, with fondness, what I am really looking forward to having is a clean house and more then 30 seconds to myself. Did I mention, Blissful?

Once again, Mother of the Year

The littlest duckling recently broke her arm. She fell from the top of our plastic play structure head first. Several years ago, the play set was a gift to the biggest duckling from Nonna. Nonna feels very guilty it caused a trip to the emergency room. I am just glad it happened here and not in the US. The Big Duck and his duckling were home from the ER within an hour and a half, Xrays, cast and all. After the plaster ER cast they put on the cast shown in the photo. It is made of a plastic mesh that they heat and then mold to the arm. Hers actually goes to the shoulder, but I did not get a good photo. Worst of all, in an attempt to make up for not immortalizing the event in photos, I washed the little cast (after removal of course) in the dishwasher....ooops. It melted. It melted to all the parts of the dishwasher. I had to use the hairdryer to heat it and pry it off. Now, in her keepsake box, my littlest duckling will have a blob of beige plastic. Someday, I am sure, she will ask what it is. Hopefully, I will remember.

Notes from a summer weekend

It was an exciting and important weekend in the South of France. Sixty-five years ago, on August 15, 1944, the Allies began Operation Dragoon. The parallel to the assult on the Normandie beaches, Operation Dragoon, with the help of the French Resistance, lead to the eventual liberation of southern France. In celebration, most of the towns, big and small, between Toulon and Cannes hold some kind of ceremony each year around August 15. What this really means, is that the Big Duck is really busy, and attends lots of functions. He says it is like simultaneously planning 7 weddings that are all happening at the same time. The highlight for him so far, was the ceremony in Le Muy, where 8 US, WWII vets were presented the French Legion of Honor. These men, now mostly in their 90's, parachuted into Le Muy and liberated the area from the Germans. Also in attendance were many of the family members of the men who liberated this town. Quite an experience.

What August 15 meant for me and the Ducklings, was another long day at the beach. We spent the day holding places for us and another family to view the fireworks in Toulon. We arrived at noon for 10 p.m. fireworks. It was hot....really hot. However, with sunscreen and SPF protective clothing we survived. After a quick trip home in the evening we returned just in time to view one of the most amazing fireworks displays I have ever seen. It was set to music, all in English (which I always find an interesting choice) .....and was spectacular. Some of the fireworks burst in pastels, some at angles, and some danced. There was also a light show....awesome. The French sure know how to do fireworks. Sunday was the airshow and it was also impressive. Quite amazing, when you think of all the towns south of Toulon, that are doing the same thing simultaneously.

And, just a couple notes. I have been reading a few other blogs as I set out on this blogging thing, mostly in hopes of figuring it all out. Anyway, one of the more interesting ones I have found, is http://www.lemomparis.blogspot.com/. This woman is leading a life that is slightly more, how shall I say? Socially advanced then mine? She covers topics from her hairdresser to her vein Dr (I wish), to nannies (I really wish) etc. But a recent post caught my eye. She talked about an article in the newspapaer Le Journal du Dimanche, that discussed how the French are sun illiterate. They don't believe in sunscreen, they can't imagine wearing a hat and SPF protective clothing is unheard of. A tan is actually considered a social plus as it shows you vacationed and could afford to vacation somewhere sunny. In turn, skin cancer rates are steadily increasing. Le Mom said she is showing the article to anyone who criticizes her for sunscreening and covering her kids (the French Fries as she calls them...I love this). It made me think, while I know that we are pegged as Americans everywhere we go, (loud dog, louder children, even louder Mom, hats and rash guards at the beach etc.) I have never heard a comment about us. Then, I realized, I wouldn't understand any of the comments I hear. So I figure, for now, until my French improves a bit, we will be "the Americans" and when I make a mistake or do something that is not normal to the French, they can roll their eyes and say, "oh those Americans, they do not know anything." And, they will just expect me and my children to be imperfect. C'est la vie! I just hope tomorrow is another great day in France.

So Many Things..

Today, I could share so many adventures, but I will stick with only one, my morning run. Yes, I am running. Why you ask??? Because, in a fit of, I don't know, let's call it stupidity, I decided to run a marathon to celebrate 40 years on this earth. In my defense, I did pick what has been described as "the most fun marathon anywhere" and, there is drinking involved. In September I am running the Marathon du Medoc, in Bordeaux. My friend, Melanie, is coming to run with me, and we are a pretty even match at between 12 and 15 minutes per mile. Throw in the wine tasting every 2 km, and we may finish in the required 6.5 hours.

Anyway, this brings me to my morning run. I love running at the beach in the morning. The beach here in Toulon is beautiful. It is a series of jetty's and coves ringed by about 20-30 feet of sand (well, actually gravel, as that is what passes for sand here). Just past the sand there is a seawall and perched on top are restaurants, grouped in twos, an asphalt walkway, then grass and trees, a playground, a carousel, various food stands, a putt putt golf course etc., etc. This stretches on for almost a mile, and in the summer, it is packed. However, at 6:30 a.m. the only people you see are the workers, cleaning, watering and preparing for another day. You also see my favorite Toulonaise. There is the twenty-something swimming every morning, the sixty-something methodically preparing his sun spot...a raised platform of sand/gravel about 6 by 4 feet, painstakingly raked to perfection each day at 7 a.m. Then he lays out his blankets, his towels and his umbrella. I assume he then spends the day there. I know he leaves his umbrellas and blankets there, as I see them before his arrival. There is also the lady that feeds the cats each day and the restaurant owners setting up their beach chairs. Today, the special guest stars were the couple that seemed to have spent the night at the beach after partying at one of the nearby "discos". On one pass they were making out under their blanket, apparently wearing their clothes from last night. Hers was a lovely shimmery, silver dress. On the next pass, they were asleep...that was fast. How I would have liked to see that walk of shame. My very favorite person is the man who walks his dog every morning from his car. He drives in a very slow circle while holding the dogs leash out the window. Yes, the dog is attached. Is this lazy or what?? The dog stops to pee, he stops, the dog stops to sniff, he stops. I love it.

Today, I almost got run over by a waiter who I am sure was late for work. He yelled at me for crossing in front of him. Whatever. The walking man was up. Of course, as I turned to yell back, my french being what it is, I yelled, "c'est walking man verte". If he spoke no English he would be confused.....it should be "homme verte" and he had passed by the time I got out the rest of what I wanted...a naughty word that rhymes with "bass pole". Good thing I live in a country that knows the meaning of gun control. No need to worry about the crazy waiter jumping out with a gun. May every day I run be just as much fun.

And, before I go, I just finished a good book...."The Sweet Life in Paris" by David Lebovitz. Funny anecdotes about living in Paris...many of which I can relate to...and AMAZING
recipes...can't wait to cook. Check out his blog at www.davidlebovitz.com.

Another Great Day in France

What a great day we had at the beach. Six kids arrived, and six kids left. For me, this makes for a successful day, but then I have pretty low standards. Encouraged by our new friendship with the French/Austalian family visiting Grandmere in the house behind us, we ventured beyond the local beach and headed to Hyeres. There is some concern by the Aussie mom that not only will her children return home not speaking French, they will have picked up American English, but, they keep inviting us to join them on outings. This has worked out well for everyone although her son, being the only boy is pretty over all the girls. He was heard to utter several times today, "that is it. I am not playing with girls anymore."

The beach....L'Almanarre is beautiful. It is long, very long and wide. There is free lot parking at the beginning and end as well as pull in parking all along the beach. Also at the beginning of the beach, there are several restaurants and a small market. This end of the beach holds one of the few lifeguard stations and regular toilets. After that it is pretty much the ocean or the port-a-potty. The French are not known for their public toilet facitities, and frankly, I am not sure the French ever do go to the bathroom. The family we were with did not drink anything all day, so that might explain it. Of course, my children had a juice box or a water with lunch, and then, were port-a-potty bound. They all refused to go in the ocean.....making them possibly the only children ever to make this choice.

The beach is made up of small, smooth stones close to the water and regular coarse grain sand further from the water. When the wind is down, like it was today, there are no waves. However, by the looks of some of the folks on the beach, it has possibilities as a windsurfing and kite-surfing beach. There was a lot of gear laying around. The highlight for me, was that across the road from the beach there are flocks of wild flamingoes living in the marshes. I have been dying to see them for some time, so this was a bonus to the day. There are viewing platforms spaced along the roadway, but you can see just as well from the rise of the beach albeit from 30 feet further away. The flamingoes also bring out the birders, so on one side of the road you have the topless sunbathers, and the other the usually older, binocular clad bird folks. I am sure I will be joining the bird group someday.

It is always interesting to go to the beach in France. There is a nice mix of families and groups of younger people, locals and tourists. I love how comfortable French women are with their bodies. It doesn't matter to them if they are the thinest or the prettiest, they wear what they want. Usually that is a bikini. Often, it is a bikini with no top. Often it is grandma with no top....not a pretty sight...think two dried prunes hanging from your chest. Often it is Mom, playing catch with her kids with no top. Unfathomable to most Americans. You won't see me without a top, but I have started wearing a bikini. I figure I look just as good as most of the people out there, better then some, and I should be happy with my body. Americans have a hard time with the concept of being comfortable with themselves. Americans judge each other much more harshly then the French judge one another. To them a body is a body and from a very young age they learn to accept this. Girls generally wear just bikini bottoms until age 10 or so...of course, not my girls who are covered in UV protective clothing as much as possible. We stick out as Americans, but I will not sacrifice my childrens future skin for the French. Thankfully, my girls don't seem to mind....so far.

So here is to another day......may tomorrow be just as much fun.

This was just the beginning

It is hard to believe that it has been a year since we were denied visas for our move to France. Let's just say I learned that traveling with a husband on military orders does not speed the process up, and sometimes it takes the intervention of a higher (ranking) power to fix the problem. In our case, it took 8 weeks to fix the problem, but fixed it was, so on 25 October 2008, we set off for a "new" life in Toulon France. When I say new, I mean that really my life was pretty much the same. I had the same husband...who beat me to France by a week, and the same four adorable daughters...all under 6. What was new was pretty much everything else....the house, the language, the friends, the city, the bus, the French etc. etc. I am sure that there is no way I can do this past year or the coming year justice, but I will try. Oh, and I hope to really do the coming year justice, as I am sure that there will be many, many more exciting and laughable (well, eventually laughable) adventures. Allez!