Renovation

When too much sleep has been had on the weekends, it is hard to justify more during the week.  Thus, squeaking in the wee hours at night, a new project is born.

Pictures.

Some other renovations may be planned, mostly minor.  By request, the font size will increase from small to normal.  Any post edited for pictures or whim will have this new feature.

Someday, someone may be coerced into redesigning the site if the appropriate funds appear to match the inevitably outrageous contract terms.

Until then, here is an artsy photo taken in the countryside:

First new and improved post here.

The Process

There has been some breaking of the normal weekend posting schedule.  Basically, between work, want of a social life, and relaxation (or laziness as we call it in the America), blogging time dissipates.

The unfortunate factor – time is a scare resource.

Idea phase

Finding the title you want to write about takes ideas – many, many ideas.  Most ideas land in a purgatorial file folder.  These include gems that are embarrassing, inappropriate, or embarrassingly inappropriate.

Inspiration phase

Once an idea makes the roster the writing begins.  If the idea shines, inspiration flows like Bruce Lee through a kung-fu academy.  If not, it’s more like the poor soul who must tidy the aftermath.

Selection phase

Some items are written and re-written only to remain on hard drive.  Timing is based off of one part what has become before and most parts what sounds good at the moment.

Edit phase

Edit. Re-edit.  Repeat.

A key to great writing is genius.  Good writing simply requires abundant editing.  A thesaurus does not hurt either.  Or a friend.

Posting phase

Finally, something for mom to stick on her refrigerator.  A piece of opinion and experience for sharing around the world.

Hope you like it.

Oui, Oui, le Fromage!

One of my friends here is sharing a similar experience.  Leaving the US and moving to this fine city called Paris.  

Part of this similarity is a blog.  Or, to be more accurate, the blog now comes to Paris.

But while the blog involves Paris, it is (mostly) about food.  So if you would like a much better critique of nourishment in Paris than this author could ever offer, go here.

Cameo found here.

Rice crispy treats found here.

4th of July

As it turns out, quite a few Americans reside in Paris.  Enough, in fact, to take over a small corner of the Bois de Boulogne.

There are certain cultural requirements of America.  Celebrating the 4th is a favorite.  Something about earning a sunburn, grilling, and rice crispy treats hits home – or brings you back.

It’s lucky to have a group of us that organizes and executes such a great outing.  Even better when over a hundred show up and the weather is more than cooperative.  We even played the time-honored sport of kickball. 

Thank you for the effort.  It was well worth it and much appreciated.

Summer Bums

Summer is here.  The warm weather rolls in from the south with welcome.  People start shedding their winter layers.  There is a new smell in the air.  The smell of…

Merde…
 
Normally, there are two bums that live on my street.  However, as the weather warms, the migratory bums arrive.

The first introduction was last year.  While walking towards the apartment, one saw tufts of hair blowing down the street.

Hair?  Is someone shearing their Pomeranian?

No, two bums are in the middle of the road, shearing each other’s scalp.  Shirts off and scissors out, le rue turned into le salon.

But if these harmless hijinks are the worst, so be it.

However, like most species of birds in Paris, the migratory bums care not where they leave their droppings.  Thus, between May and September, my street transforms into the best looking latrine in the world.  Each morning greets you with the opposite of fresh air.  You must now watch out for droppings created by something much larger than a 5 kilogram Parisian pet.


There are workers in a radio truck recording the opera at the moment.  The truck is parked in the worst of it. 

Pity them.

Leaving Town

Rainstorms blow through Paris frequently.  The wind increases, the temperature drops, and you have a prescient need for an umbrella.


Rain arrives, wets the earth, and leaves.


Such is the same with expats.


Many people come and go.  Even if you are French, chances are you live in Paris only temporarily.  While most of us may not have exact dates, we know we will not stay.


This certainty leads to many new faces, and many goodbyes.


There is no expectation of stability, but you will make it.  Humans are not conditioned for the lack of relationships.  There is an instinct to make friends and meet others, even if you know you may not see them again in mere moments.


And such is part of the experience.  Already, a handful of familiar faces have gone to their corners and new ones have entered the arena.


Good bye and welcome.

Bankathon

Sometimes we make mistakes. If you would like to read more about how one may get into the following circumstance, you can find a great book about it here.

So I find myself without a Carte Bleu or access to my online account and in the US. This is troubling. Banking from the US with a French account is only marginally safer than banking with your Nigerian friend who needs help. However, unlike with your Nigerian friend, at least when you return to France you can get your money back.

Sort of.

Not to give names, but I use a rather large, global bank that advertises itself as a rather large, global bank. Thus, one would think resetting your bank information and getting a new Carte Bleu would be straightforward.

Well normally, but…

They closed my bank branch. This makes sense because there are four near me within a five minute walk. Really, no worries. The note even said that the new bank was open on Saturday.

Egad!

I go to where the note directed. I was excited because this new bank opens at 8:45. That’s 15 minutes ahead of most other banks.

Egad!

“This is not the bank you are looking for.”

So I go to the second bank. I get there at 8:58.

“You have to wait five minutes. We are not open yet.”

Did I mention it was cold out?

“We cannot do anything for you. We could not even draw money from your account.”

So the third time is a charm – somewhat. I still had to call a number to get the online portion reset. But all is well now and an actual English speaking banker was found.

Now if I can just get that international wire to go through…