Sitting cross legged on my bed, looking out through the window toward Monaco and the Alps, I can smell someone smoking and at the same time the warm sent of fresh bread. Scooters jet by on the street below and everything is bathed in the late afternoon summer sunlight.
I can't think of anything to write.
Dennis says I feel blocked because I'm sitting in here locked away from anything inspirational, with Mary and baby Jesus looking over my shoulder. He is probably right. But it seems too distracting to go outside.
So I open my iTunes and fire up the last mix CD Kathryn made me. I don't know any of the artists but whenever I listen to one her mixes I feel cooler. As if I suddenly become hip and current and artistic just by listening. Its funny how we see ourselves. Walking along the beach this afternoon, I was struck by how no one I saw seemed self conscience at all. The topless mixed in with the children, the Italians mixed with the French, big and small body types, firm and loose, sitting on the rocks and swimming in the blue waters. Heavy men in tiny Speedos, the old and the beautiful young sitting along the boardwalk eating gelato or walking three dogs at a time, skipping out between the parked cars, heedless of the traffic. Everyone seemed carefree to me. On the outside. No worries, no fears. No one looking over their shoulders. Free.
I hope I can learn some of that while I'm here. Along with some communication skills. Several people we know have already given me their long discarded French for Dummies and other tools. I hope that the background noise I find so charming now will filter into words and sentences soon.
We have been eating mostly at home since we arrived 6 days ago. Dinner parties hosted in my mother-in-law's house. My brother-in-law Louie did the cooking but I had the honor of cleaning dish after dish after fork after knife and each and every wine glass. The table settings confused me but Dennis helped. Just remember to put the napkin in the right spot and the fork face down. I needed a flow chart or a map to keep it all straight once he was done explaining. We start the dance in another room with aperitif (a before dinner drink of Porto or some such liquor along with nuts and crackers. Thirty minutes later we are seated in the dinning room, white wine is carefully poured and then arrives the first course of shredded carrot salad and celery roots and zucchini all seasoned and dressed. Served cold. Next comes hard salami sliced thin and placed on toasted baguette rounds. More wine. Plates are removed...second course of seasoned and roasted potatoes in olive oil with onions, steamed broccoli with melted cheese, roasted chicken. More wine is passed. This course also heralds the arrival of the bread basket and a change in plates. Then the glasses are rinsed and more plates are removed....my head is spinning when I think of washing them all while bent over the tiny Barbie sink in the kitchen....so I am grateful for more wine when it comes...this time red. The Cheese Course begins with four different kinds..passed around with more bread...and more wine...and then comes the salad course. We finish the wine. Plates are exchanged for new dessert plates and here comes a platter filled with cream puff pastry and multi-layer chocolate and coffee mousse cake with dark chocolate and candied fruit...and coffee.
And then...dessert wines, in tiny glasses, are passed. Done! And this was the noon meal that day. After several hours of eating and drinking, I was still able to pull myself from the table and clean all the those plates. All those months spent at the gym building my endurance have paid off!
But we don't do that every night. Just when we have guests. It is an event, to eat here. No matter what the time of day or who you are with. There doesn't seem to be any survival eating that I have seen here in France.
So as I sit in my quiet little room, thinking about when and what we are eating next (now that Louie is back in CA the cooking is all on me) I still can't think of anything interesting to right. Maybe I need to get some wine.....
I can't think of anything to write.
Dennis says I feel blocked because I'm sitting in here locked away from anything inspirational, with Mary and baby Jesus looking over my shoulder. He is probably right. But it seems too distracting to go outside.
So I open my iTunes and fire up the last mix CD Kathryn made me. I don't know any of the artists but whenever I listen to one her mixes I feel cooler. As if I suddenly become hip and current and artistic just by listening. Its funny how we see ourselves. Walking along the beach this afternoon, I was struck by how no one I saw seemed self conscience at all. The topless mixed in with the children, the Italians mixed with the French, big and small body types, firm and loose, sitting on the rocks and swimming in the blue waters. Heavy men in tiny Speedos, the old and the beautiful young sitting along the boardwalk eating gelato or walking three dogs at a time, skipping out between the parked cars, heedless of the traffic. Everyone seemed carefree to me. On the outside. No worries, no fears. No one looking over their shoulders. Free.
I hope I can learn some of that while I'm here. Along with some communication skills. Several people we know have already given me their long discarded French for Dummies and other tools. I hope that the background noise I find so charming now will filter into words and sentences soon.
We have been eating mostly at home since we arrived 6 days ago. Dinner parties hosted in my mother-in-law's house. My brother-in-law Louie did the cooking but I had the honor of cleaning dish after dish after fork after knife and each and every wine glass. The table settings confused me but Dennis helped. Just remember to put the napkin in the right spot and the fork face down. I needed a flow chart or a map to keep it all straight once he was done explaining. We start the dance in another room with aperitif (a before dinner drink of Porto or some such liquor along with nuts and crackers. Thirty minutes later we are seated in the dinning room, white wine is carefully poured and then arrives the first course of shredded carrot salad and celery roots and zucchini all seasoned and dressed. Served cold. Next comes hard salami sliced thin and placed on toasted baguette rounds. More wine. Plates are removed...second course of seasoned and roasted potatoes in olive oil with onions, steamed broccoli with melted cheese, roasted chicken. More wine is passed. This course also heralds the arrival of the bread basket and a change in plates. Then the glasses are rinsed and more plates are removed....my head is spinning when I think of washing them all while bent over the tiny Barbie sink in the kitchen....so I am grateful for more wine when it comes...this time red. The Cheese Course begins with four different kinds..passed around with more bread...and more wine...and then comes the salad course. We finish the wine. Plates are exchanged for new dessert plates and here comes a platter filled with cream puff pastry and multi-layer chocolate and coffee mousse cake with dark chocolate and candied fruit...and coffee.
And then...dessert wines, in tiny glasses, are passed. Done! And this was the noon meal that day. After several hours of eating and drinking, I was still able to pull myself from the table and clean all the those plates. All those months spent at the gym building my endurance have paid off!
But we don't do that every night. Just when we have guests. It is an event, to eat here. No matter what the time of day or who you are with. There doesn't seem to be any survival eating that I have seen here in France.
So as I sit in my quiet little room, thinking about when and what we are eating next (now that Louie is back in CA the cooking is all on me) I still can't think of anything interesting to right. Maybe I need to get some wine.....
