Lunch has been cooked and consumed.  The dishes are done, the clothes are folded.  Dennis' shirts need ironing but I am avoiding them.  I feel like they are staring at me over on the dresser.  Sitting in my room, the window is open but the awning is pulled down to block the heat of the sun.  I can hear the jackhammer sounds from the house across the way.  For two solid weeks men have been tearing down the front walls of that house.  Every day the holes where the windows were are getting bigger and bigger.  We daily try to guess what the end goal will be.

What have we been up to?  Yesterday, after breakfast, Dennis and I spent 2 solid hours emptying, cleaning, organizing and restocking just one cupboard in my mother-in-law's tiny kitchen.  We came across glass jars filled with rubber bands and pieces of string.  Containers of leaven dated 2007.  Tons of jello packets (not the friendly fruit flavored and wiggly variety but the non-flavored kind made from boiling some poor animal's bones, no doubt)  I discovered a huge bag of ancient cookie cutters, ranging from the obvious Santa Claus to the not so usual bat and owl.  The pig, naturally, is my favorite.  I have the overwhelming desire to make sugar cookies now.  And speaking of baking, I had a little run in with the celsius oven when I tried to make banana bread yesterday afternoon.  I popped my bread out to cool...yet found that parts of it were cooked and parts were quite raw.  The sad part of this story is that I was so preoccupied yesterday that I didn't make this discovery until an hour after removing the bread from the oven.  MMMmmmmm.. not to be outsmarted and have my bread worthless, I simply turned the oven back on and placed the pan back in and 20 minutes later the bread was cooked.  Interesting looking but tasting just fine. No one ever need know.

The highlight for me yesterday was Dennis drilling a hole in the ceiling above our bed in order to hang my mosquito net.  The ladder, which he dug up from the magical storage unit I have begun to hall Mary Poppin's bag, looked like it was home made...by elves or gnomes.  It has a weight limit for sure.  So we pushed our tiny bed out of the way and Dennis begins to drill through what must be the oldest plaster ever.  His mother is in the hallway, propped up on her walker, shouting to Dennis while the drill is buzzing and dust is covering him  "But what if the upstairs neighbors don't like it?"  Dennis tried to explain that the ceiling must be a foot thick and there is no way a half inch screw will bother anyone.  I can only imagine what my World War II survivor mother-in-law must think of me and my need for netting around the bed.  Needless to say, the net is up and Dennis hates it.  He calls it "The Tent".  I think its lovely but what do I know?  I can't even get banana bread right.

Well, that was a little bit of yesterday.  This past Sunday we enjoyed the company of some Italian friends Dennis has known for years.  In order to reach their home we drove up a seemingly endless road that climbed drastically uphill and around and around blind corner after blind corner.  You actually have to beep the car horn in order to warn oncoming traffic of your presence.  Very entertaining as a passenger.  Once we arrived, Dennis and a few fellows had to push Denise in her chair up the remaining hill to the house.  What I love about it is that nobody thinks its unusual to do so.  She is in a wheelchair and we live on the side of a mountain..no problem, we just push her up the mountain.  Easy. No fuss.

We enjoyed a lovely meal of pizza cooked in an outdoor oven along the outside of Tatiana and Tony's home while drinking in the view and the sunset.  It was comical to have a group of people together, enjoying each other's company, without one fluent language between us.  I speak only English.  Several of the guests spoke only Italian.  Tatiana speaks Italian, some French and very little English.  Dennis speaks only a little Italian.  Denise goes back and forth between French and English without realizing it.  And everyone was speaking at once. I felt right at home. The smile and nod hasn't failed me yet.

We ate until we burst and then we had gelato and then we went inside their cozy stone house to have coffee.  Everything was handmade by Tony himself. Every stone, every timber of that house was planned and built a little at a time, as the money presented itself.

Serous pizza oven

 We enjoyed every moment with our Italian friends and, as is often the case, the hour became late long before we were ready to say farewell.

Lapo....Lapo

In the summer months of June, July and August, the principality of Monaco hosts an international  pyrotechnic competition. Last night was Poland.  It is an adventure just getting there.  First, we picked up cousin Bernard at his apartment in Menton.....

He hates to get his picture taken but I manage to force him every once in a while.  We found a parking spot, finally, in one of the underground parking facilities and then surfaced at the port of Monaco.  It was a cloudy night but still busy. We arrived at 8 P.M. and although the fireworks weren't expected until 10, the boardwalk around the harbor was already crowded.

Just a few facts:
 Monaco is three miles long by one-half miles wide (about the size of New York's Central park)! The population is 32, 020 (6,089 Monegasque citizens) 19% Monegasque, 32% French and 20% Italian. And what is the difference between Monaco and Monte-Carlo? Monaco is the country while Monte-Carlo is a district within Monaco.  Where we are currently living is about a 15 minute drive away.

The next thing you do after you solve the parking dilemma is to solve the where-do-we-sit-to-eat-and-watch-the-show dilemma.  This night we forgot to make reservations and so, sadly, we found a spot with a good view but not good food. :(  Yes, it is possible though rare to eat not good food in France or in the this case Monaco.  However, the show Poland gave us more than made up for it. Just spectacular!!  30 minutes of incredible fireworks timed perfectly with music.  A real treat. And an added treat is when crazy Italians lose their dog in the dark during the fireworks and walk back and forth and under your table calling "Lapo...Lapo" in a low whisper over and over in an effort to find their baby.  Needless to say, long after the city lights came back up, Lapo was still MIA and his mother was wandering the streets calling to him.  "Lapo...Lapo......"

Also cool is that once the grande finale is over, all the boats in the harbor blow their horns in appreciation for the pyrotechnic efforts.  Its a fabulously loud noise they make.  Poor Lapo

 Next time, in August, we will plan better and reserve a fabulous restaurant along the water front where you can people and boat and car watch easily while sipping your wine and eating crepes!

I wish I owned a waterproof camera.  Kathryn tried to sell me her's but NOOOOOO!  The rain stopped and the sun was glorious and warm, shining all along our walk this morning so finally I went for a swim.  It took some time to find just the perfect spot.  My personal favorite was already occupied by sun bathers when we walked by so after going further and climbing more stairs..we came to a swim spot that is very far out on the rocks. It seemed all right.  But once I got out there I remembered that the last time I tried this entrance into the sea, the undertow swept me off my feet so fast that I smacked my head on the outcrop of rocks.  The heaving sea and splashing waves in addition to Dennis giving me stink eye convinced me that we should venture further in our search for the right swim spot.

Up and farther we went until we came to the last set of stairs along the path.  You have to climb down these tiny stone steps that are overgrown with trees and plants and covered in pine needles until you reach the churning water.  The steps widen out a bit and the plants cease, enough to sit down in the sun and take off your shoes and socks.  Dennis found me swim shoes and gloves so that I don't slice my skin off on the coral-like rocks that I have to climb over.  Soon I was ready to dive straight into the waves and I swam out far enough to be free of the shoreline.  Because of the tumult above me, the view wasn't too clear once I began to snorkel.. But I am always struck by what you can see by just floating along, just below the waves.  Where I was floating, in about 30 feet or more of water, the rocks below me are mostly pieces of the pathway above that we walk on.  Concrete and rebar that have tumbled into the water and after years and years, have grown enough sea life on them to completely disguise who they once were.  There were schools of fish eating off these "rocks" and if I stayed still enough, the fish would come and investigate me.  Beams of sunlight filtered down through from the surface, playing across my skin and anything else that came by.  It was peaceful and cool in the Mediterranean this morning.

Dennis was digging and exploring a small cave not far from the area where I jumped in.  He is always on the lookout for "artifacts".  He did find some old, rusted pieces of metal and a pretty shard of glass etched with flowers.  Hundreds of years old, no doubt (wink wink)

I wasn't cold exactly but after I spent enough time to fill my ears with water and make my head feel funny, I climbed back out, dried off in the sunlight and we made our climb back up and home.  Its about 15 minutes walk from that spot to our apartment.  All uphill and upstairs.  And from every vantage point, the view gets better and better.

The clouds have since rolled in and blanketed the area, blocking out Mother Sun.  But I had my swim already, so I'm happy. Tomorrow we are off to the open market in Italy

No Opstakels

I have been listening to my French lessons on my Ipod.  It is funny for many reasons but to name just a few.....

A) It strikes me as hilarious that my "Instructor" seems to get impatient with the students on the recording and I feel happy to be invisible. As they halt and stumble I feel impatient myself..as if I'm not as bad as them...when actually I'm getting nowhere fast.  I feel like the instructor wants to shout, "No, you idiot!!!" and that makes me crazy-chipmunk-laugh, as if I'm any better.  At least the voice in my head is doing pretty good.

B) As I listen it seems easy to remember....but sadly I am lost at each complete sentence and this makes me laugh. I'm a block head...I'm never going to learn anything.

C) I think the voice in my head is getting more and more French. Meaning that my inner voice has serious BO and refuses to bathe more than once a week, it has begun to smoke and eats only the freshest cheese. I can't reason with my inner voice, I have lost all control!

I have only been listening to this "class" for an hour or two today while I cooked lunch and dinner (no elevenses here) and yet, shock of shockers, tonight when my husband told my mother-in-law that tomorrow he and I are going into Menton to watch the firework competition, she said "not for me" in French and ....gasp...I understood her.  Three little words...but she wasn't speaking slowly to me directly, and I totally got what she said, without even thinking.  Tres excellent!!  I was so proud of myself I was driven to write a second blog in one day.  Forgive me for overwhelming my audience.

This reminds me of a list I have started to compose of funny pronunciations of English words by our French friends.  Having endured mockery for my accent for my entire life and no doubt about to face even more ridicule as I stumble through French...I take this moment to poke good natured fun at these botched words.  I will attempt to write them as I heard them....

First there was OBSTACLES which sounded like  OPSTACKELS

Also we heard PURPOSE came out more like PORPOOSE

The Bible book of Exodus was called XUDIS
The nation of ISREAL is actually IZRAEEL 

and my all time favorite was STIFLE which when used in one sentence came out like this>

"Husbands, do not STIFFEL your wife. When your wife is STIFFELED, she will become unhappy"

I love love love this country!! I don't feel stiffeled one bit!

Rainy Days in France

Two days of rain in July.  From what I have been told, this is very unusual.  It is a cold steady rain, wetting down everything.  We have to keep the windows mostly closed because it comes down at a slant determined to soak your floor and your socks.  The clouds are heavy over the mountains outside my window, both towards Italy and towards Monaco.  Dark blanketing clouds.  The beaches are empty today, and the cafes are crowded with vacationing families looking up at the sky while they drink coffee and talk about when the sun will come out again.

Dennis and I walked this morning before it really started to pour.  We went a different route, through back stairways toward the local hardware store.  It was a place locked away from time.  By at least 50 years.  Nothing has changed inside, no sign of technology.  Without computers or even an electric register, everything is written down in a ledger and the owner makes all calculations in his head.  We went looking for Boric Acid to help keep the nightly visitors to our kitchen and bathroom at bay.  However, we quickly learned that Acid Boric (as it is said here) is FORBIDDEN!  Instead we were shown sticky traps and fly paper along with some more familiar plastic poison traps.  For only two little bug poison hotels we shelled out 5 Euro, ($7).  NOT VERY REASSURING.  But I will not be deterred.  This battle will be won.  We plan on patching up every access point in the house, from pipe holes in the walls to ventilation ports.  This isn't over Monsieur cockroach!

I know I am being TERRIBLY American about this, since we only see maybe three a night.  I just have to fight them.  I cannot accept it.  It feels too wrong.

Once we left the french "Home Depot" with our weapons and the parting advice that our insect invaders are "very very difficult" to get rid of...the rain had stepped up ten fold.  We dashed down to the deserted waterfront.  Even in the pouring rain, everywhere you look it is surreal.  From a movie or a painting.  We found several apartments for rent along the way, one overlooking the beach and within our price range. Very exciting!  Up and Up the secret stairs we climbed back to our street (Ave General-Leclerc) to make fresh salmon and green beans for lunch.

Here, France in the rain is quieter.  The splash of the traffic below our apartment moves slowly.  There are no voices drifting up through my open window, just cool air and raindrops.  No seagulls or pigeons calling to each other.  Everyone has found shelter to wait for the rain to end.

  

Is this writer's block?

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.....

Time in New England

It took me away.  I was spoiled and I loved every minute of it.  Unfortunately, there was simply not enough time for me to see all the people I love and wanted to visit with and I hope that they will forgive me.  It wasn't because they were less loved or less important then the people we did see.  The opportunity just never presented itself and our departure day kept shifting.  I here offer my humblest and deepest apologies and with all sincerity I assure you all that hopefully still love me, we will be together soon, un-rushed and laughing, I promise.

That being said, here is a little recap of my days in New England.  Happily, with much help from my family and much sweat as well, the dreaded elephant of a storage unit was finally emptied.  Thrown away, given away and packed away, the pieces of my life before Dennis have been dismantled and that chapter is over.  For good or ill.  

We enjoyed a family dinner at my sister's house and we were able to include Denise and David.  It makes me sad that everyone in the family can't be together.  But we had a crazy fun time, eating and laughing.  It was a belated anniversary celebration complete with a strawberry shortcake with a whipped cream frosting ending.  Perfect.  It capped off my splurging on pasta salad and bologna, kielbasa and sausage. YUM!

The next day we enjoyed Dennis' side of the family at a gathering in Newport.  Beautiful weather and food made for a memorable time.  Too fast moving though. Every moment we try to spend with people, family and friends.  But no matter how hard we tried, the days grew shorter and quicker. 

Before it seemed possible, we were packing our plastic trunks and weighing them, planning and checking and planning and then saying goodbyes.  Leaving Anna with my parents and sisters.  My heart is heavy still.  I'm sure she is over the loss of us and enjoying the extra treats and constant attention of my family.  But Dennis and I miss her every day.


Once in Boston Logan, we spent some time in line at the airport, naturally.  And once we made our way to the Delta agent with our heavily laden carts, she informed us that we were too late for our flight and then....wait for it....the next flight was canceled due to thunderstorms.  So off we went to the Hilton and after we checked in we made our way via the T to explore Boston Common and find some dinner.  We really enjoyed the cool breezy weather and the sites of one of my favorite cities.


By the next morning we flew into JFK early, around 11 AM and then waited the six hours until the flight to Nice. Now let me preface this next part since I know my sister Jen will be mocking me something fierce.  We have flown first class most of the times we have visited France.  I know very few get to do that and I am exceedingly spoiled.  Yes Yes, I know.  So it would seem that Karma had had enough of us being spoiled with champagne and ice cream sundays, with seats that fully recline into beds and being waited on hand and foot in the front of the plane.


Because


We flew steerage with the rest of the normal, average and regular 300 passengers.  And I sat in the middle, in the middle row, between Dennis and an unknown young woman who fell asleep on me.  Actually I became the meat in an airplane sandwich when both of the ends fell asleep on me.  Right now you may be thinking that there is nothing extraordinary about my tale of woe, who hasn't been stuck in the middle seat for 8 hours with people on both sides of you leaning on you, breathing on you in their sleep while you try to figure out exactly what it was you just ate in that tiny plastic container dubbed "chicken" and you listen to children cry. 


True you may be...however...have you also had a crazy woman walking through the plane and randomly sitting in whatever empty seat she comes to, when the original occupant is in the lavatory?  And when the flight attendants cannot convince her to move and the pilot and first officer must come out and try to talk her back to her seat...and she doesn't know where she is sitting, or even her name... and then, finally she walks back to the area she came from...only to resurface after an hour or two...go into the first class cabin's lavatory and emerge a few moments later without her pants on or her panites...calmly dropping her clothing on an empty seat and walking back and forth down each aisle, for all to see... When the flight attendants try to wrap her in a blanket and herd her back toward the lavatory and back into her clothes she demands to be allowed outside, for some fresh air. 


I    kid    you    not


Dennis of course slept through the entire theatrical presentation, but I enjoyed every moment, including the view as she strolled back and forth past our row.  I'm so glad she was tall and wearing a very short shirt.  And I'm glad "dinner" service had long been over.


But I must admit, after having sat in that horrible seat for 8 hours, I was ready to strip my clothes off and demand to be allowed outside.  We all have our limits of tolerance. 


So the adventure continues....