Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Between the Sea and the Mountains

Here in the region of the Maritime-Alps, between the Sea and the Mountains, there is a town called Menton and they are all about lemons. Every year, in fact there is a festival in the town square dedicated to everything lemon, or I should say, they make it all out of lemons.

On a sunny Monday in February, Dennis and I made our way down to Menton Center between the Casino and the bus station. There is a park that fills the space between the streets coming and going that they have walled off for weeks. We have had sneak peaks of what they are creating as the metal structures emerge above the fences but no clear idea until today when we paid our 9 Euros a piece and walked inside.

The theme this year was the regions of France. As you walked along the garden, you saw on display an exhibit for each region, depicting what they are known for, what they offer, their specialties.

From Brittany to Champagne, even Bordeaux with a huge bottle of wine.


I was looking forward to seeing what our region, the Maritime-Alps, would have on display. We are between the mountains and the sea and sure enough, there was a huge lemon and orange mountain, covered in snow on one side with skiers and on the other, people swimming in the sea.

And, again..everything made with lemons and oranges.




An Orange and Lemon Chateau 

I love this clog!


And of course, the region of  L'lle de France complete with a lemon Eiffel Tower

I want to take the lemon Metro!


We completed the tour with a crepe made with sweet lemon filling and Grand Marnier 




Lemon lighthouse anyone?


A pretty excellent way to spend two hours on a Monday morning






Tuesday, February 21, 2012

I will walk 5 thousand miles

All right, its true, I am bound to exaggerate. Its only been three miles. I have been walking three miles a day. I start from my house and head toward the "staircase" that leads to Le Corbusier. The stairs feel like one million steps, especially if you climb them after the entire walk. I need an oxygen tank to make it to the top. With so many tourists always around, I find myself embarrassed to be heaving and panting and dripping all the way up the stairs. I will look behind me and check in front of me before I attempt the climb. Then I scurry up the stairs like a rat, often having to stop half way up regardless if anyone can see me, because I'm faint and dizzy. I try to act like I meant to stop and survey the view, when really I'm about to black out from my elevated heart rate. But my pride notwithstanding, it is an amazing walk and for most people, my husband included, the stairs are not a big deal. Le Corbusier  actually has a tripadvisor page you can check out:

 (http://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Attraction_Review-g187236-d521060-Reviews-Promenade_Le_Corbusier-Roquebrune_Cap_Martin_French_Riviera_Cote_d_Azur_Provence.html)

This cliff walk takes you around "The Cap" or peninsula of land where I live. Circling toward the beaches that run from Roquebrune to Menton and then into Italy.

The views are breathtaking from every direction, at any time of day.

The narrow path that winds up stairs and down, with the crashing sea at your feet and wild flowers and trees growing where ever they can between you and the water's edge. Throughout the walk, there are staircases (there are always staircases) that lead downward to the sea, allowing you to jump in for a swim in the warm summer months. Just be careful! The rough Med can take you by surprise and dash you against the unforgiving rocks. Even the man who designed the path itself drowned while swimming just off those rocks.

So up and down and over and through, I make this 3 mile hike from my house to the beaches of my town and then I climb home again. My favorite time of day is late afternoon, when the sun is descending, just about to dip behind the mountain where Monaco rests at its feet.

I never tire of the views. Each corner you turn here catches your breath. The sunlight flashing of the water, the rocks jutting out into the sea, the mountains filling the skyline with seagulls laughing in the wind.

Not a bad way to exercise.


Sunday, February 19, 2012

Far from my sight, out of my heart

I learned a new French expression. Loin de mes yeux, loin de mon cœur. It means, far from my sight, out of my heart. I thought, given my situation, it was very interesting. It was used to express how we need to keep up with those we love, otherwise we will lose them in time. If we don't work at our relationships, distance and absence will cause them to fade.

Since I heard it, I've been applying this in all sorts of ways. Good and sad. I can't see my family or close friends regularly, so I need to keep in contact with them in other ways so that I will not lose being close in their hearts or they in mine.

On the flip side, if I hang in there, sugar and sweets will finally leave my heart and I will not long for them anymore, if I can just keep them out of my sight long enough. Maybe alcohol too.

It reminded me of something someone said when we first talked about moving to France. I knew I would miss everything and everyone around me and I was told that in time I wouldn't need them anymore and they wouldn't need me. In time, we would continue to live new lives and the dependency we had on each other would wane. They would forget me and I would forget them. Life would naturally move forward. And eventually there would be no place for me with them, nothing to miss.

The idea was reassuring in one small way because I knew I wouldn't feel lost and lonely forever but a lingering sadness took its place. I don't want them out of my heart.

Can things and people you love be out of your heart with just less time in your sight? Well, I don't think about iced coffee or chocolate smoothies like I once did. And cheese-less pizza strips or thanksgiving sandwiches (with the cranberry sauce and stuffing). But what about people and land? I live by the Sea here and it is beautiful yet I miss the RI beaches. I miss the trees of my home and the places I know. And the people? Forget it. They are far from my sight but not out of my heart, not yet. I want to hold each face close to the eyes of my soul, study each one to remember and then tuck them safely away in my memory until I see them in the flesh again.

So this expression is a warning to me. To not let the distance of my physical sight to cause me to forget those I love and miss. I will see them again soon. And until then I will carry them close, very close to my heart and see them clearly in my mind's eye.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Back outside for a walk

The weather here in Roquebrune was thawed and the sun is beckoning. So with my nifty orthopedic inserts tucked into my sneakers, my Ipod on and Anna along, I head out to walk the Cap.


Its been weeks since I took this walk, down the 1 million steps to the cliff edge of France and then around and up and over and through the rocks that embrace the sea.

I was sweating within minutes, naturally. Anna wanted to stop at every tree, fence, flower and spot of dirt. We had to weave through the Italians grouped around each corner, wearing coats and hats and scarves..and heels, discussing the scenery and where to have dinner. The men mixing concrete and patching holes left from the winter erosion. The smell of flowers hung in the cool afternoon air and the waves splashed merrily against the cliffs. I wanted to jump in and swim.

It felt like spring, although Dennis assured me that true spring is several weeks away. My blood was singing and my feet were spry, so much so that I ran ...yes, ran up every staircase we encountered (and there are many).

But by the time the 45 minute walk was over and we had reached the street, I was very tempted to call for a ride home. After resting on a bench and bathing a little longer in the setting sun over Monaco, Anna and I began the climb uphill toward home. It was an uphill climb all the way, ending in 4 flights of stairs to our apt. It nearly killed me in my present bread and cheese drowned body (see the previous blog entry) but I am still alive and ready to do it all again.


Thursday, February 16, 2012

Cheese and Bread, my friend and my foe

When we first decided to live in France, I knew that staying away from the cheese and bread would be hard. I knew that control would be difficult and that I had an immense struggle on my hands.

So I didn't struggle, stay away or control myself. I ate every piece of bread and sampled every chunk of cheese that was placed in my path. I even sought the cheese and bread out when it wasn't readily available. For example, while in Italy at an open market, I waited in line to sample the Parmesan, even though I had no intention of buying. I sampled several tables, in fact. Every table, to be honest.

I tried to rationalize, another sign of my addiction. "I will walk to the bakery and get the bread and walk back" as if that was enough exercise to justify the consumption of   the    entire    loaf!

Do you know how delightful a slice of goat cheese spread on a piece of warm sesame seed baguette is? What about adding an inch of butter between the cheese and the bread? How about topping it off with fig preserves?  Well, let me just say, I'm drooling as I type.

Well, the gluttony has caught up with me and I sit before you, a woman condemned. My jeans are tight, my coat won't button and a woman I know recently remarked on how much weight I've gained since moving to France.

So now, because of my lack of self-control, I am cut off completely from the cheese and bread. I sit at the dinner table, while the rest family enjoys the warm bread and plate of cheese..and I drink my water. Like a prisoner in my own home, I prepare the bread and cheese, watch others eat it and then clean up after them. Will I start fantasizing about what I can no longer have? No doubt. Maybe I will be able to enjoy the cheese in my dreams.  It is my own fault. I said yes yes yes and now its a world of no. 

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Everything takes longer in France

I have flat feet. Not a very interesting topic. Because of my flat feet, I wear custom made orthopedic inserts in my sneakers and boots. It helps. On a recent journey to RI to visit my family, I forgot my inserts in a pair of boots that I decided at the very last minute not to pack for my return trip to France (since my suitcase was long past the sitting-on-it-to-close-it stage) I also purchase a pair of shoes while in RI but thy didn't arrive before I had to leave.

Being that I am in overseas for long periods of time, my parents kindly mailed these two items to me, here in France.

THREE WEEKS LATER

I receive a letter from the post office in Paris. They want a written statement disclosing the contents of the package and the cost of the items inside.

So we comply, explaining that the orthopedic inserts are used and 4 years old, the shoes where purchased in the US, costing about 30 euros.

We receive a phone call three days later.  "Oh no no, that is not possible. Orthopedic shoes cost much more than that. We need a receipt proving the cost of the shoes before we can release the package to you."

We are talking about SHOES and used, cracked and most likely smelly orthopedic inserts to boost my fallen arches. Not weapons, drugs, merchandise or body parts that we plan to resell, or even seditious printed material.

SHOES!

And the French postal service is holding them hostage. I recommended that they simple open the box and see for themselves.

We submit further information regarding the contents of the package and I receive an email explaining that they are releasing the package but I may be responsible for import taxes upon its delivery.

On a side note, I called the US embassy here in Nice on a question in regards to my passport and was informed by recorded message that the Embassy is closed until January 31 and that I should call back then. What if it was a matter of life and death? I guess it would have to wait until January 31.

Here in France, even the US Embassy works on French time. Nothing moves efficiently, nothing is easy, nothing gets done without ten steps or 14 pages of paperwork, at the very least. In view of the Subaru Saga my sister and her husband are tangled up in, I'm starting to think that Subaru is perhaps really a French company.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Subaru of America passes their verdict

The engine tear down has been completed.  According to Subaru, the engine failure was caused by an issue with the valves and damage to the cylinders. The fault was not due to "a lack of lubrication" although this is what the Wilsons were told at the start. And as far as proper maintenance, the findings of the tear down was that the engine was clean without sign of build up or gunk, meaning that proper service was done (even though it was not serviced at Subaru).

The result? Subaru of America has agreed to pay 75% of the cost to replace the engine. The Wilsons will be responsible for the remainder, which could be a bill of $1,200. The loaner car was no longer available, having exceeded the 5 days that Anchor had agreed to allow the Wilson family to use it.

The repair to the engine could take a week or more.

So that is the final decision of Subaru of America in the saga of the Wilson's Forester.

Thank you all for your comments and you support. Please feel free to let us know what you think about this final development.

UPDATE FROM W. MOORE:


As it turned out, a valve guide failed in one of the cylinders, which caused the valve to fail. It put excessive loads on bearings and damaged the cylinder and head of the engine. As mentioned, the engine was very clean inside, so it had nothing to do with lack of engine maintenance on the Wilson's part. This was mentioned by Anchor Subaru.

That helped in Subaru America's decision to pay for part of the cost to repair the damage. Mr. Benoit negotiated with Subaru America, in the Wilson's behalf, and got it so that Subaru paid 75 % of the cost of repair, which is about $3,500 total. In the deal they are replacing timing belts and some other components while the engine is apart. The Wilson's part in all that is about $900 with additional monies going toward the replacement of non-damaged parts just mentioned, bringing the total, with tax, to around $1200.

Considering that the engine was 5000 miles over warranty, they could have insisted on not doing anything, and while that would have been very undesirable, none the less, they could have taken that stance.

Yes, the engine should not have blown at 65,000. Obviously there was a defect in one of the engine parts, and it took that mileage to manifest itself. In a beautiful, loving, self sacrificing world, Subaru might have given a free loner car for the entire duration of the ordeal, (Which would have spoken volumes for, and put a feather in, Mr. Benoit's hat- I wish he had done that) and Subaru America might have made everything go away for free,(don't hold your breath) but that does not happen very much in the world we currently live in.

And it would also had been better, had Subaru really stepped up to the plate and pay 75% of their cost for the part( manufacturing cost), and their cost for labor (Anchor Subaru's cost), but they did not. Instead they are charging full retail price. Welcome to the real world. Still, all and all, I think the Terrence and Jennifer should be thankful for this outcome, and move on. And I thank Mr. Benoit for his part in it and wish him well.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Anchor Subaru "found the problem"...now what?

In reading comments left on the blog this morning, I noticed an entry from W. Moore in regards to the engine tear down findings done by Anchor Subaru on the Wilson's Forester:

"I heard from Terrence tonight. 01/31/12. Anchor Subaru found the problem . Something failed to cause valve stem and cylinder damage. They commented that it was not an oil lubrication problem, but some sort of failure. They also commented that the engine was very clean inside, no gunk or varnish, implying proper service by the Wilson's. Anchor Subaru will call Subaru America in the morning, as it was 6pm at tear down finish. Stay tuned........"


Now we wait to hear what Subaru of America is willing to do about the stranded Wilson family.