Picqu-niques and Tickets

This past weekend I experienced my first ever French picque-nicque/BBQ. The week preceeding had been one with madness and mayhem. Helen had her exams-a week long process of intense 7 hour testing on civilization, literature and linguistics and why an au-pair has been needed. Its hard to explain but so much expectation had been winding up to this particular week. So it finally arrived and with it arrived Charlie and Alistair getting sick, 2 out of 3 of the cars breaking down and winding up with Marc giving the Special talk on Sunday. I am sure you can imagine the tension. But as all things are with the Dubarry's handled very well. And to triumph Helen and Marc decided to invite some publishers over after the talk for a BBQ.

The Friday before Marc went to the National Bergerie, where one can order meat before animal has been killed and get cheese that was just made that day. The day of the picque-nicque it took four of us to get all the dishes prepared for eight adults and three children. Now I am going to tell you what we ate, but I feel that it may be a bit pointless becuase I know what images my American-bred brain conjures up when hearing of these dishes; let me assure you they are not at all the same as in America. For our aperitif, we started off with champagne and olives. Then had coleslaw-trust me its yummy!; pasta on a bed of spinach; roquette with chickpeas and sundried tomatoes; quiche; shrimp; and sausage. Followed by chevre and brie and finished with a pear and chocolate tart and coffee. I really hope to make this for some of you when I come home, but I know that even then it will not compare with knowing how close we live to where the food and wine originates. As well as the beauty of the day.

Now for the second portion of my post. I have had the unpleasant experience of having to deal with a 10€ parking fine. I got it last month and have to get it taken care of this week before we head to the south of France for a holiday. Unfortunately, this puts me in a situation where I have to deal with French beauracracy which is most unpleasant! To pay the fines one must go to a local tabac (where you can also get a café, cigarettes, magazines and post card as well as any tarif that must be paid to the governement). I went to one last week and stumbled through asking for what I needed and was informed that they didn't have any. I was thinking that perhaps tabacs don't carry this particular "timbre" and that there is some unknown tabac type that does. So today I bicycled my way to Ramboulliet (one of the cars is still broke down) and tried another tabac. Again, I was told that they don't have this "timbre." So I am peddling my way through the narrow, hilly cobblestone streets which months ago I thrilled at driving through, now let me tell you bicycling is an entirely different experience if not bordering on an extreme sport. I look at building fronts and read signs and hope that I will stumble across the magical place where I can spend 10€ and not have any run ins with the law. Finally, I end up at my school hoping I can find a friendly face to help out.

First, I have to explain just how the French are. They make things appear easy and accessible until you must try to accomplish a particular task. Their logic is circular and you must prove your worth of obtaining any knowledge of how the beauracracies work by either asking the right question-they will not divulge information freely, or being tenacious and nagging enough that they just want to get rid of you. Unfortunately, both require a rather adept use of the language, of which I am far from.

Even at my school, where most of the professors are of French nationality, which they proved by their unwillingness to help. But they too were not sure where to get this mysterious timbre. Fortunately, an American professor (from North Dakota) was ready to rally to my cause ("I have nothing better to do and I hate the beauracratic tape they make us deal with). Together we bicycled to yet another tabac where he had if not the right question, enough mastery of French to make himself a pest and found out that the tabacs are out of the timbres, they get delivered tomorrow (Tuesday) and my best chance of getting one is getting to the nearest tabac tomorrow before they run out! So tomorrow I will take another stab at it, and if I fail I will have to tell Marc and Helen that I have a ticket, ask them to send a check and confess my mistake! In the works of the French "byahch!"

P.S. Two days later three tabacs later and an early am bikeride and I was successful! Haha, take that French bueracracy!

Country Living

Spring has come late this year to France, but it is finally here and lives up to all the songs sung about springtime in Paris. The grass is a rich deep mossy green, the newly plowed fields are a warm, earthy brown and against the cheerful blue skies cherry blossoms and tiny new leaves are just sprouting.

I have plenty of time to absorb the scenery and weather on my bi-weekly bikerides with 2 year old Charlie. He cheerfully points out tractors, horses, cows and dogs as he relaxes in the little cart pulled by my bicycle. I am slowly expanding the territory I cover on our morning bike rides and discovering new delightful and beautiful aspects of the area I am living in outside of Paris. I pass by a charming home with a thatched roof and pleasantly surrounded by a small lake by which the horses graze and on the other side a few goats. I am sure they make their own chevre there. Not too far a way is a run down home that is in the process of being rebuilt. Even neglected it has its own beauty. All that remains are the old stone walls which can easily be imagined as ancient, vines creep up and surround the broken windows and grass and weeds have grown where the floor used to be. I am actually sad it is being rebuilt.

Another sight that I love are my fellow bicyclers. All sorts, from the stretch pants wearing to my favorite: cute little old men in cropped pants that tie on the side and jaunty hats. We are greeted by everyone with a "bonjour" or a pleasant smile. It truly is country living at its best and I happy that I get to not only see Paris and all its glory; but also live and experience the charming French country side.