Farie Le Pont - Champagne City

This week David like most French people "faire le pont" (to make the bridge ie bridging the gap between the days) because Wednesday and Thursday were a holiday, so he took Friday off and had a nice little five day vacation. He asked me if I wanted to go somewhere new, or perhaps go visit his godfather or uncle in the northern France who both invited us to come up for the weekend last time we were there.

I promised him if we stayed home I would find us fun day trips around Paris. If I have to pack a suitcase or deal with any more relatives on either side of our families I'm going to throw myself off the balcony. Although, we aren't that high up, so I might have to knock on the door of one of the higher up neighbors and ask them to use theirs.

A week after getting back to California/going to his brothers wedding, we had his brother and his new bride at our house for the weekend and two weeks after that his Mom's new husband brought her down for a surprise Paris weekend for her birthday. And we have to go back to Pas de Calais for his Dad's girlfriends birthday soon. So no no no. I just want some peace and quiet and not have my french skills, empty womb or joblessness inspected.

We went to Reims on Thursday.

After a short 45 minute train ride we arrived and it was even a bit sunny. My friend who came in September while I was gone went to Reims, and Mumm also has a winery in Napa I used to frequent with my friends Paulie and Cindi, so it seemed like a nice place to go. If you can't be with the ones you love, drink champagne in their memory.

The inside of a champagne tank

I never used to care about champagne, but now it reminds me of all the weddings, holidays and birthday parties I've gone to over the last three years. It tastes like celebration. Plus it's a lot cheaper in France than it is in the US.


The church is beautiful, almost hard to look at because it almost seems fake. We took a one hour open bus tour and got a better idea of the size of the town. It's not very big and we could have walked to Pommery if we had more time. But we had already toured Mumm, and I would rather take my 27 euros and buy a bottle of champagne instead of looking at a similar champagne cave.

Maza had a good time too.

May in Paris = Manifestations

My husband and I were wondering what to do the other day to take advantage of the nice weather, when I spotted someone from our apartment walking by with a "Mani Pour Tous" pink flag and thought it meant there was going to be a pro-gay marriage manifestation. 

I think the strikes are fun. It's a nice long walk in the middle of the street which is a different perspective than the sidewalks, there's music, there's yummy street food and margaritas from the back of moving trucks.  

Luckily my husband quickly pointed out that despite the pink and the "for all" in their slogan, it was a strike for the anti-marriage folks because of the upcoming vote for gay marriage. Not my cup of tea. Or tea bagging. Or tea party or whatever they are calling themselves these days.

We decided to walk to the movies and ended up having to cross through the procession. It wasn't too crowded but it creeped me out being in the middle of that many people I consider to be hateful. I got an ick don't touch me don't think I'm supporting this get me out of here feeling. It only took a minute to get across the street but I felt so dirty when I got across I wanted to go home and take a bath. I did read a nice story about this strike on Rue Rude. 

These are the people in my neighborhood

There was another strike today for people on the left who feel like the president isn't fulfilling his promises, but I didn't know that when we left. David told me the right was protesting in one part of the city because the law passed allowing gay people to get married and adopt children so the left was having a counter-strike. I don't really care. I went to enjoy the weather, get some exercise and see normally blase Parisians show some enthusiasm for once.

This one was supposed to start at 1:30 and it really dragged. Normally we get there, have a snack, collect some stickers to slap on on our shirts in solidarity (or give away to my friends, this one is my favorite), 

F*** Me Not My Retirement

and on y va, the walk begins. We usually find the truck with drinks then find the truck with the best music and hang out with them for a while. Sometimes if we spot a cafe that has an open table we will stop and rest our legs and people watch. But today we waited and waited and the white balloon floating at the beginning of the parade of in the distance was not budging.

 

This sash means this is a mayor of one of the arrondissments

Eventually it began and we got our walk on from Bastille to Nation and then we took a Velib bike home. It's only the 3rd time I've tried them. It's not as scary as I thought it would be even though the bike lane is also the bus, motorcycle and taxi lane most of the time and Paris traffic is ridiculous and riding in the middle of the roundabouts with cars freaks me out.

From the east of Paris (11th arrondissment) to our house in the south of Paris, it's about five miles, but it's mostly down hill or straight. Now that it's warmer maybe I will get myself a Velib pass. I miss biking. I barely owned a car in Sacramento and rode my bike to work everyday. Of course I had a five foot wide bike lane most of the way, and one time a cop pulled me over with his siren for cruising through a stop sign in a deserted residential neighborhood, so it's a little different here.

Ma Nouvelle Belle-Sœur

The last thing I wanted to do the day after landing in Paris was to get up at 6:30 in the morning to catch a train to Northern France, but Davids brother was getting married so jet lag be damned and sorry purr fur ball who was so happy to see us.

You're leaving again? You have got to be fucking kidding me

I transferred my make-up bag to a smaller suitcase stuffed in a dress and blindly followed David through the metro. I grabbed tightly to the stripper pole and dozed behind my sunglasses. David says they make me look like a tourist but I don't care. They hide a multitude of sins such as not properly grooming like a proper Parisienne, which I was guilty of, having left the house with wet hair in a bun and not even smear of lip gloss to disguise my laziness.

Breakfast of champions

They got married by the mayor, like David and I did. No church wedding for these heathens.

We snuck away for a nap for an hour and a half between the aperitif and when dinner was served, but it didn't help much. But our hotel room was adorable.

My head was swimming with the French flowing around me, and just when I thought I had a hold on what the conversation was about, one of the older guests would switch to speaking in Ch'ti and other people would follow suit and it would take me a while to figure out why I couldn't understand a thing. Luckily by midnight, our jet lag switched to our favor. We were wide awake and chat time was over and dancing was in full swing and we shut that party down.

We got back home by 7 p.m. Sunday night which I hadn't prepared for before we left for the US. All grocery stores are closed on Sunday, as are most restaurants, our refrigerator was empty and our choices were slim.

Dear France, why don't you slice your pies? If I wanted to cut my own food my lazy ass wouldn't be ordering take-out. And eggs on pizza? Gross. I can never tell if things are normal for France or just normal for David.

Going back to Cali

It's pretty difficult to talk to my Mom when I am planning a surprise visit. she asks, "What are you doing?" nothing..... (packing). "What are you doing this weekend?" Maybe going to the movies.... (lounging on your couch and eating triscuits). "I miss you." Me too...."(not for long!). 

The first time I showed up unannounced was for Christmas about a year after we moved to France. We hadn't been home yet to visit, so I thought she might suspect something. She wasn't home when we got there, so we called and made up some story about a UPS package needing to be delivered. I could hear my step-dad in the background totally killing our story and saying UPS didn't deliver that late or call over seas for a package, but she still had no clue.

When they pulled up in the driveway and saw us at the door her face exploded. It was like from the movie Drop Dead Fred when he gets his head stuck in the fridge and pulls it out and it's all flat and huge.



Her enormous smile took up the whole windshield. Her whole body vibrates when she is excited and she buzzed around like a slightly stoned hummingbird for the first few days we were there saying over and over "I cant believe you are really here."

So I  have already done the surprise visit and it was very fun if a tad dramatic but I decided to do it again because if she knew we were coming she would be exhausted when we arrived because she would have spent days cleaning and shopping for food.

David got upgraded to business class when we were boarding and he asked me if I wanted his seat. I felt guilty for a second because he is taller than me, but then I remembered all the "vanity bags" you get when you sit in business class that we had just pawned off on his mom and realized he had been upgraded about a million times and I never will be.

I was stuffing my jacket into the completely empty overhead bin when someone came by with a hanger and asked to take my coat. Fancy pantsy. Champagne before take off? Bien sur! The seats went almost flat so I actually slept and were entirely self-contained, so when you moved them it didn't encroach on the space of the person behind you. Did you know it's considered rude to put your seat back and people actually buy "knee defenders" to block the person in front of them from moving their seat? I'm 5'9 and there is no way I am sitting up ramrod straight for 11 hours.

Needless to say, my Mom was super surprised, and my step-dad sincerely thanked me for coming while I was putting my suitcase in the guest room.

It was a very short week and we spent just two days in Sacramento, but it was great to be in California in the spring. Normally we only come for Thanksgiving and although November is still warmer than Paris, spring in California is still the best of the best weather wise.

It was our last visit where we can use my old  apartment and the bar across the street from it as a meeting spot. I took over when my friend moved to Philly and he left a lot of stuff behind, and my friend took it when I moved to France and I left a bunch of stuff behind, so it's filled with memories and still looks similar to the way it was when I lived there. But she is moving to a house, which is more practical for a new baby than an old Victorian that has been chopped randomly into four railroad style apartments and has ceilings so high that it's impossible to heat or cool. Maza and I used to sleep with ice packs in the summer and shut all the doors in the bedroom in the winter and only heat that room. My electric bills were still ridiculously high.



I got mani-pedis with my 11 year old BFF who is now 15, went to my sisters for dinner, had cocktails at The Shady Lady, managed to see a bunch of people but of course not everyone, and spent a lot of time eating outside. I always forget to take pictures, so most of these I stole from Facebook.

Made in France/Made in California

a little piece of Paris in Modesto

My nephew is 16! God I'm old.

Of course it wouldn't be a normal visit if some crazy person didn't wander onto my moms property. The day before we left I saw someone moseying down the driveway in a totally sketchy way, slowly scanning the porch and the side yard. The house looked empty because there were no cars in the driveway. I grabbed the (useless) dog and followed the weirdo toward the back where there is a guest house that a college kid lives in. I yelled towards his back "Can I help you?!" but then I heard the college kid say "Come in", so I felt silly and rude and went back inside.

Turns out, she thought the crazy guy was my husband, and even though she thought it was odd David would be knocking at her gate, she did the polite thing and said come in. She came into the main house pretty freaked out a few minutes later. She had the two kids she nannies for with her and he was trying to come in her house and saying he knew her, showed her an id that had someone else's picture on it to prove it and told her that she needed to check her bank account. He was calling one of the girls Bella and trying to give her an ipod and wouldn't leave.

I should have just listened to my gut and gone all the way back there to make sure things were ok. I read The Gift of Fear when it came out, and one of the things that women do that get them in trouble is to be polite even when they are feeling uncomfortable. Guess I need to read it again!

As usual all those goodbyes hit me as we pulled away from my moms house and I cried and David laughed at me and said "You cry every time." As if someday it will be easy to leave my friends and family and speaking English and friendly waiters, Target and taco trucks.

Luckily we had a few more days of sunshine in San Jose. We never manage to see our friends in the Bay area because after the flight, driving to Modesto, driving to Sacramento, driving to Grass Valley and then back to Modesto, the last thing we want to do it drive more. So it was great to have time to see them.

  

Normally I never travel with David when he goes somewhere for work, (really, I don't, but this winter is killing me and he keeps going to warm places) so I was interested to see him set up his demo, but his British co-worker who met us at the office in San Jose seemed super nervous that I was there and even though I had a badge implied that I should stay in the lobby.  I completely ignored David when he came in and out and was just chilling but the British guy kept stopping to check on me and ask me if I was ok and told me how to get to the hotel by the tram and asked me if I needed anything.. It was only two hours and I had about a thousand books on my tablet and internet access, so it made me wonder what kind of wife he has that he thought I couldn't entertain myself.

He also said that he was moving home and that he hated the food in the US and  was practically a vegan after living there for two years because it was so terrible and all Americans did was shop and never socialized. This was one of the very first things he said to me, which I thought was weird. I wouldn't have said, "British people boil all their food and don't believe in dentists" if he asked me what I thought of his country. I understood what he meant (I think). It took me a long time to find substitutes and replacements for the healthy food I missed and to figure out the non-spoken social rules, but what an odd puppy.

I always get a little sad taking off and watching California fall away beneath me. But it's not my home anymore and it's a relief to go home to my cat and my own bed, and my routine and the small handful of friends I have there. It isn't the same as the life I left behind, but it's what I do every day and what I am used to and when I'm gone I miss it.