La Rose Anglaise

Her Majesty La Secretaire

2008-09-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

Ok so I realise I have most probably lost any readers who may have stumbled upon this blog since I have been writing like a post a month but I do intend to get back on the blogging saddle once I have internet at home.

In the meantime and whilst I have internet connection via wifi a bit of an explanation about what I have been doing. Well that can be answered in one word... working! Like I said I've joined a company and I'm at D-2 days until the end of my trial period. The concept of trial period may seem weird to those in the UK and the US given that when I said I could be fired for any reason and at any time, that doesn't seem out of the ordinary for most people. In France workers have a lot of security and after Tuesday when my trial period will be over I will have more job security. Basically they won't be able to fire me unless the Company has financial difficulties (which in the current climate is not impossible) or unless I do something really really wrong.

You see the longer you work for a company the more job security you have. This, in my opinion, explains the nemesis of many office workers - the French secretary. She is not someone in a low cut top, tight skirt and pouty lips, she's usually sour faced and on the large side having spent many an hour on her behind doing very little. From my experience French secretaries are damn unhelpful. Why? because they aren't paid to be nice to you, or to help you, or to do their job to the very best of their abilities, in their opinion they are already doing more than enough by actually being at work on time and for the legally required amount of time (35 hours a week) Don't get me wrong I'm not saying the French in general don't make good workers, because they do I have daily proof of it, it's just that more that once in my life I have come accross those who have been in the job so long, in the company so long, that they know exactly the minimum they have to do and have no intention of doing any more than that, including being cheerful!

I've temped as an assistante/secretary myself in France and in the UK so know what I'm talking about. Secretaries have the power in France, just look at those who work in the famous French administration! I'm sure in every company you'll find someone who matches this description, someone you may have been warned about. You may have been told for example "Nathalie will help you but make sure you ask her nicely" and by 'nicely' they mean "Hello Nathalie, I hope I'm not troubling you, I know you've got a lot of work on your hands but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind telling me where I can find an envelope? Thank you very much, that's very kind". And then you retreat out of the room repeating your thank yous until you reach the door and can then turn your back to her. As the French say, its "nine times 'si vous plait' and twelve times 'merci'" for the smallest of things. Not ALL secretaries are like that, some are amazingly kind and helpful, but I have already met quite a few formidable characters who you have to grovel to to get anything from them and who will black list you possibly for the rest of your time in the company if you don't say good morning to them everyday! They work 9-5 on the dot, take 1 full hour or more for lunch and a cigarette break every hour in between. They take their fully 25 days of paid holidays and one RTT day (called 'rest days' in France) per month. They can make even the most senior manager afraid of them and are known for having a "caractère". I've always been amazed that this kind of person exists when really their boss should take them aside and tell them to sort out their attitude, but in France the boss knows quite well that whilst Nathalie (for example) might be a bit of a dragon there is no budging her because if he were to fire her she could complain and probably receive a huge amount of compensation.

So Her Majesty the Secretary can act as diva-ish as she likes safe in the knowledge that no-one will dare cross her. That said, play by the rules and there's no problem. She can be your best ally ...... depending on her mood!

Service will be resumed again shortly….

2008-08-18T03:31:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the blogging absence. This is not due to me being like the rest of France and sunning myself on the south coast somewhere during the whole month of August but is in fact due to my new job. Yes following my resignation I have now started a new job, one where I both have no time to blog and also actually want to do the work put in front of me, yes even in August when the office is effectively empty. Furthermore I am under a “periode d’essai” or “trial period” for three months during which my employer may fire me for any reason or for no reason but equally I may also decide that the job doesn’t suit me and leave without giving the required notice. So you see I have to be on my bestest behaviour for the next few months and cannot (nor would I want to) use work time to blog. Come October when hopefully the trial period will be over I plan to move flats and get internet connection at home. After that I shall come back with freshly renewed blogging enthusiasm and once again recount my anecdotes of my life in France.

In the meantime, merci pour votre patience!

Démission

2008-06-04T03:43:00.000-07:00

Finding a job in France is difficult. European Law states that the qualifications you obtained in your own country should be recognised in another country, in practice it is not always that easy. In France my qualifications were recognised but I decided that just to be sure I should try and get a few qualifications here as well. The easiest job to find for an English person is as an English teacher, either in primary schools or in the university. I did both. My first job I found through the British Council. It was lovely working with the children and I learnt many things. Working at the university was even better because I was paid a salary over the two years of my fixed contract even though I only actually taught from October through to December and February through to end of April and had little else to do in between those periods except to invigilate a few exams. Unlike the hard working "real" teachers, there was only a bit of preparation and no one asked to see my lesson plans. Although, coming from a family of teachers, I had in fact planned and prepared my lessons, no one actually came to check what it was I was teaching. Whilst I loved teaching I did not want to be a teacher all my life as I had obtained qualifications in another field and wanted to pursue a career in that field. My contract in Bordeaux ran out after two years and under French law could not be renewed, nor could I apply to be a language assistant in another university. Having seen a friend spend a year on the dole in Bordeaux, trying to find work, I knew I had no choice but to leave Bordeaux and go to Paris to find work.

I spent an entire summer applying for jobs around France. I had the requisite qualifications (both French and English) but not the experience. In France, most people gain work experience by doing unpaid or low paid internships. Some internships pay 300 euros a month, which given that a tiny bedroom flat in Paris would cost me 500 euros a month, was just not possible. I had a friend who now has a good job in a company and who, after leaving university, spent around 2 years going from one internship to another before finally finding a job. He lived in a tiny "chambre de bonne" (maid's room) but luckily his grandma had a lovely big apartment two floors down so whilst he slept in his own room he could use his grandma's flat to eat, wash, etc. Doing internships was not an option for me. I couldn't possibly survive without a job. The day I arrived in Paris I had some savings, a room in a flat sharing with some American girls which would cost me 600 Euros a month and no job. I then spent three days visiting every recruitment agency in that area and handing out my CV. Back in the UK I had spent summers temping as an administrative assistant in a company and then twice as a legal secretary in two law firms. I had also during my studies worked in bars, restaurants and shops. This boded well for me on my CV. I must be able to find some kind of work in Paris, I thought. Yet, out of all the agencies to which I gave my CV, very few called me back. One, a British recruitment agency got back to me fairly quickly. I went over to see meet with the manager of this agency. After having done a couple of typing tests, in French and English, as well as a proof reading exercise, I was interviewed by the manager. "You're over qualified for anything I may have for you. My clients are looking for bilingual secretaries or bilingual assistants. Given your qualifications, would you be happy working in such a role". "I'm here to find a job, any job. I need to work. If you can find me a job then I'd be happy to do that job" I said. "Ok then, we'll see what we can do" she said. About a week later she had lined up two interviews for me in two law firms. The first one I didn't get but the second I did. For the last year and a half I have been working as an assistant in a law firm.

The time has now come to move on to other things. I have been offered a job in a company and will be starting shortly. Over the last 18 months I have learnt many things, not least about the work environment and culture in France.

I have now handed in my resignation. If finding work was difficult, leaving is just as difficult. Until now I had never resigned before. Jobs had always come to an end or it was understood that I wouldn't be staying long so it was ok when I left but now I have actually had to give notice and deal with my colleagues' reactions.

And so I take another step further into the working world in France in the hope that I'll not only be able to have a fulfilling life in France but a fulfilling career as well!

Lost in transition

2008-05-12T09:58:00.000-07:00

First of all I do have to apologise for the complete lack of blogging over the last few weeks. The aim was a blog a week but it really depends on work load and/or inspiration as to what would be most interesting to blog about. New resolution, made whilst trying to get to sleep on a Sunday night (why is it that on Sunday night your brain comes alive with all the things you could do to improve your life, stops you from going to sleep as you should do for that 8.30 meeting you have on Monday, and you can never remember any of your life changing ideas when you wake up on Monday?) was that I should try and write smaller blogs and keep them light.

So, having just got back from the UK there is something I have noticed. One of the things I find most people complain about in France is that the French are rude. I've lived here for almost five years and I'm finding increasing that when I go back to the UK the Brits aren't exactly very friendly either. The French may not smile but they are at least polite and very strict about greetings and farewells. Take for example the lady who sells me my papers. I arrive in the morning grabbing the papers off the rack and folding them to try and fit into my bag. I greet her with a "Bonjour" which she replies to, then she tells me how much it is, I produce the money, she gives me the change, we exchange "merci"s and I leave saying an "au revoir et bonne journée" which she responds to with "a vous aussi". She doesn't crack a smile and we rarely have any other conversation unless there is a strike on in which case she asks which metro I'm getting and mentions something about her ride to work. The exchange is perfectly polite and friendly.

When back in the UK I find I'm almost expecting something better than this civil exchange and am very disappointed when not only do not get friendliness but all I get is "Yes please!" (i.e. next customer please) and once the monetary transaction is over there's no "bye bye and have a nice day". Not only is it not friendly (the dead beat tone of voice as I'm being served) but it lacks the politeness. Maybe it's me but I get so used to the "Bonjour Madame" when I walk into a shop here and even if they aren't always friendly there is always some kind of "merci, au revoir" and usually a "bonne soirée" or "bonne journée" depending.

On a completely other point, after almost five years of living here I still find the transition between going back to the UK and then returning to France quite difficult. I call it Harry Potter syndrome. Sometimes when I'm back in the UK all the problems of France seem so far away, like for Harry at "Hogwarts" but equally I also feel that I'm detached from all the good things here, like my life in France never existed. When I go back to the UK I slip easily into being a normal Brit. I look very English for one, I sound British and generally act like everyone else. At any moment I could return to the UK and all this time in France would just become a distance memory. What is strange however is that I have in the past felt completely isolated and alone in the UK, more so than being a foreigner in France. The thing is that in France is it clearly obvious that I am foreign and therefore not at all like any one else. When I'm back in the UK I look English but my life is not English, my daily concerns have nothing to do with the UK. I couldn't give a hoot about who is the latest Big Brother candidate to be evicted and what exactly Tony is saying to Gordon. When I get back to the UK it takes a while to settle and get back into English life, it also these days takes time for me to stop talking Franglais and form my sentences properly. But after a few days I'm fine, happy with my family, planning what to stock up on during my next shopping trip into the local town and quite happily accepting my Mum's ten-a-day cups of tea.

Then I return to France with English in my head and feeling totally British again. When I get to the airport and I start speaking French the words sound awkward and misplaced. My voice sounds unfamiliar. I'm totally detached from all my previous worries which had seemed so important to me before leaving for the UK, and it takes time to settle back in. Worryingly it sometimes takes time to settle back into being with Monsieur although more and more over the last year going to the UK without him seems wrong. Whilst I can detach myself from things here in France, being without him in the UK makes me feel like I'm missing a vital body part, but I guess that's love!

Anyway, here I am back in France again looking out the window thinking "Do I really live here?", "Is my life really in Paris?". Of course in a few days I'll be back in the swing of things huffing at the metro being packed or having to queue for food in Monoprix but right now I'm still lost in transition.

La Femme Fatale

2008-04-02T05:56:00.000-07:00

Not that I'm going to make a habit of book reviews or anything but I would recommend the book "Two lipsticks and a lover" by Helena Frith Powell and indeed her blog which is rather entertaining. She has also posted a commentary made on it in a report in the Guardian on this image of French women.

In response to this article and Helena's book I would say that whilst I did very much enjoy Helena's book (and I generally tend to steer clear of books about the French or life in France) I do have to say that I respectfully disagree with the image she creates of French women.

I know a lot of French women. I have seen them at their youngest (when I was a teacher in a primary school), during their late teens/early twenties (when I taught at the university) and now in the work place. Whether they have lovers and indeed what exactly goes on in their bedrooms I couldn't really tell simply because even my close French friends aren't that explicit about their love lives. You can forget a Carrie-and-the-SATC-girls image of French girls all around a table at lunch talking about every detail of their love lives because in my experience, and unless I am yet to be initiated into the inner circles of girls where this in fact does go on, this just doesn't happen.

As for the lipstick part, I think that applies to older women, and even then not all of them. The women I know don't wear that much makeup. I would say that they do tend to enhance their eyes more but as for the rest of their makeup it is really barely visible. Another thing you will rarely see, in stark contrast to my last visit to the UK, is fake tans. A fake tan would stand out a mile in France. I'm not saying you won't find a few leathery looking ladies but this side of August, people aren't that tanned. Most people have olive colored skin which tans naturally and anyone who blatantly doesn't tan (i.e. moi) would look rather suspicious if sometimes they looked tanned and other times they were pale, without having the excuse of the odd weekend in St Tropez.

Not every woman that I know is gorgeously slim. Its true that there are perhaps less overweight people in France but most of them are rather normal shaped although a lot of girls I know lament the fact that they are no longer a size 38 (British 10, US 6) and that they are having trouble shifting the 5 kilos they feel they should lose.

I will say in their favour that most French women I know do dress well and pay attention to the way they look especially in the working world. That said there were a few girls I used to teach at university to whom I wanted strongly suggest the use of a hairbrush and a good conditioner every once in while! On the subject of conditioner I do find it very ironic that in the land of Laboratoire Ganier and L'Oréal, to name but a few, there is an abundance of shampoo but you can rarely find the corresponding conditioner.

French women dress safely. They wear conservative colours and tend to add a splash of colour with a scarf (that old chestnut) or some nice jewellery. A black polo neck is a wardrobe staple as it is easily chick but also because the moment the temperature drops a degree everyone must cover their necks for fear of catching cold. Anyone who has lived in France for a long time will note their tendency to buy black things, the number of black garments in my own wardrobe has certainly increased over the years. Back in the UK I noticed how many bright things there were, and whilst it was nice to see, I knew I couldn't buy such things because back in France it might look out of place.

French women like most women like clothes and take pride in what they wear. They don't all wear Chanel but they do seem to take care that they wear what suits them and it is never apparent whether what they wear is Chanel or H&M. That is another point, displaying wealth is considered vulgar. I know friends who have Yves Saint Laurent suits for example but you whist you can tell it is a good suit, it is not flaunted. One friend who I was convinced wore nothing but the most expensive clothes, told me that she always buys clothes from either H&M or Zara.

In France, it is important for a woman to be seductive. That requires paying attention to how one looks, what one wears, how one acts and what perfume one uses. It is not always about comfort either. Whilst I'm rather partial to the M&S underwear myself, I have to come to learn the value of having nice, sexy underwear to keep things interesting once in a while. Last time I was in a lingerie shop the woman behind me in the queue was holding a red lacy set and she was a slim, beautiful woman who was easily between 50 and 60, so seduction is clearly not just for the young!

It is true that, in my experience, French women are a lot more smartly dressed and you rarely see people popping out to grab a baguette in their tracksuits for example, something which I do quite often. One lazy Sunday, I had put on my tracksuit because I had no intention of doing anything particular and didn't want to have to dress up to go into town. A friend popped by my flat to see me. Seeing what I was wearing, he said "oh, have you been exercising?", and seemed bemused when I said I hadn't. I've also had some strange looks at the bakery when, again at the weekend, I have run out with freshly washed but still wet hair, a tracksuit and trainers, to grab a few morning croissants. The strange looks came from the impeccably dressed old ladies, on their way back from church, who were picking up their cakes for afternoon tea. I could never figure out whether it was because I was dressed in a tracksuit or whether I had wet hair and they were amazed that I was exposing myself to the risk of catching cold.

Comparing my French friends with my English friends would be like saying a good bottle of St Emillion is better than a fine Islay whisky (for example), the two just don't compare. I'll admit it is difficult to make female friends in France; it takes time and the right context. For instance, if you meet a female friend through a male friend don't expect her to warm to you, but if you take a class or some other social activity, you can make female friends. However, once you do make friends with this supposedly illustrious, seductive creature, you will find that French women are fun, warm, intelligent, love to laugh, generous and very loyal friends. Yes they are to be admired because they are beautiful and charming but as every self respecting French woman knows every woman has her own charm and uses it at her will, English women can be just as seductive and charming as well!

Petite Anglaise

2008-03-28T12:08:00.000-07:00

I write as a Petite Anglaise convertee. I shall first explain how I discovered the blog of Petite Anglaise. I was browsing a French newspaper one morning when I came upon an article detailing her court case against her former employer. The article mentioned her blog and being very bored at the time, I immediately looked it up. I have to say the synopsis did not impress me much - English secretary, with partner for eight years, has a child, leaves partner for man she met on blog and (at the time I started reading) had recently been fired and also dumped by "Lover". Bloody great, I thought, what did she go and mess it up for? Admittedly this was more a reflection on myself, my own hopes and dreams about establishing my life in France, rather than a personal attack on Petite. You see, whilst I wasn't always a Francophile, since moving here in 2003 I have fallen in love with the country, and later in love with a Frenchman, and I was at the point in my relationship when I was very much wondering whether it would all work and whether love and a lasting relationship was possible between a French person and an English person or could love not survive the cultural differences. In a way I resented Petite for proving that such a relationship could not work (again, my fault not hers). I then started reading all her blog entries from the beginning to find out what on earth had happened. I have to say that through reading the blog I was converted into being a modest Petite Anglaise fan and I thoroughly enjoyed her accounts of Paris and her writing style. I will even admit that the Petite Anglaise site was one of the main reasons for this blog, although I wanted to blog just to express my opinion and had no intention of revealing so much personal details. Anyway having read the blog I wanted to read the book to find out what exactly was the story behind the blog.

I did enjoy the book on the whole. The first few chapters I felt that Catherine's usual writing style had clearly been jazzed up (somewhat necessarily) by the over use of a thesaurus but as the story got going, her natural narrative style appeared and I did enjoy the rest of the book.

Like other blog readers I was somewhat disappointed that the book did not go on to reveal the inside story as to what happened when she was fired and what has happened since but I appreciate that at the time of writing she wanted to end the book on a positive note and therefore I think it was well done.

There have been those who have judged the book for showing a rather superficial, selfish, immature character. At one point I have to say that I myself did cringe at some points thinking "How can a 34 year old be so naïve?" but I corrected my own judgment by reasoning that in fact age does not equal wisdom and only life experience teaches you what decisions to make later on. Yes it is easy to judge those who have cheated on a partner and/or left them, but the old proverb of "don’t judge a person until you have walked a mile in their shoes" applies in such a situation, and in light of my own experiences it is easier to judge how Catherine should have acted but it is only by living those experiences that you learn the hard lessons.

The truth is in writing the book Catherine has laid bare parts of her real life and therefore laid her life and not just her writing open to judgment from anyone and everyone. As I continue to read the blog it would appear that Catherine/Petite and her fans react very aggressively to the slightest criticism made by commentators or those who have written reviews on Amazon and I think Catherine should be a bit more thick skinned. Easier to say if you haven't written a book I suppose but even so, given the thousands of adoring fans which log onto to Petite's website everyday, it is my opinion that she should be proud of what she has achieved, be pleased with all this support, take the constructive criticism on the nose as it is intended and ignore the other vicious criticisms. But that said, once again, I am judging Catherine's reactions by what I myself have learnt from life - easy to say, not so easy to take on board!

So I would advise anyone who is wondering about life in France to read Catherine's blog and book, they are both enjoyable reads and I look forward to Catherine's next book when, hopefully, she will truly establish herself as a writer.

Joy and praise

2008-03-14T11:34:00.000-07:00

The time is soon approaching for our yearly appraisals at work. I'm not too apprehensive, however as feedback is necessary and generally constructive. Nonetheless, now that I work in an office, I often think back on my first work appraisals - when I taught in the schools.

Anyone who has taught knows how incredibly rewarding it is to be a teacher and see the your students achieve something and know that you have had something to do with it. That said, children can also be very unforgiving and never happy with the work you have given to them, and which you have tried to make it as interesting as possible. There are some who will be glad of the work you have spent hours preparing and others who at the end of the day will say that they weren't happy with one thing or another. Three years of teaching both children and students taught me that you can never please everyone.

One particular incident comes to mind when it comes to talking about being evaluated in ones work. When I was teaching the children, although I knew they had had at least one other English/American teacher before me, they seemed to have forgotten what they had been taught. I found out from the children that their last teacher was called Mary-Ann and that she was American. One day, when I was going through basic greetings, I said to them "oh you must know how to reply to the question "How are you?". Was it not one of the things Mary-Ann taught you last year?". Some of the children looked rather blank and others shook their heads vehemently. One girl piped up "No! Mary-Anne didn't teach us anything, she just re-applied her make-up and made us smell her feet".
"Oh really?" I said, more than mildly skeptical about these accusations.
"Yes" said the girl earnestly, and cupping her hand in front of her face as if she was holding a compact make-up mirror, she continued, "She used to stop in the middle of the teaching and check her eye make-up, and other times she would put her foot up on the table and make us smell her feet and then she would count her toes". Ah this explained it a little. I found it funny how the girl had interpreted the teacher's actions. I made a mental note to myself to check my make-up before entering the school and when teaching them how to count, to stick to using my fingers! I often worried given that after a year of being taught by her, all these children would remember of Mary-Ann was how she used to check her make-up (or most probably had a problem with a contact lens) or once tried to teach them how to count by pointing out that she had ten toes as well as ten fingers. I knew I was far from a perfect teacher and had no doubt that whatever I did these children would tell some wildly exaggerated story about how I taught to the next teacher.

I turned out that I needn't have worried. A year later I was having drinks with some friends when a friend of a friend came to join us and was introduced to me. "Pierre teaches English in the school near La Victoire", Jack said. Pierre was French and had lived in the US for several years, having returned to France to qualify as a teacher he now taught English. "Oh, I know the one, I used to work there, my name is Rose" I said.
"Rose?" said Pierre, "so you're Rose?"
"Yes" I said feeling slightly apprehensive, "why, what have they said about me?"
"Oh no nothing bad, they love you!! I was once teaching them about the magic e – the fact that putting an e at the end of certain words changes the sound – and drew a flower and pointed out that you don't pronounce it 'Roz' you pronounce it 'Rose'. Then upon hearing the word the children said "Rose, like Rose". "Yes" I said, "the flower", to which they replied that it was not only a flower but that they had had a teacher called Rose. When I asked what you were like they said how nice you were and then started chanting some song you had taught them". Pierre then hummed the tune of the song.
"They said I was nice?" I said, still unconvinced, "they didn't say anything about me making them do horrible things, or, any other strange criticisms?"
"Oh no! One girl did mention something about a certain Mary-Ann however".
I rolled my eyes and smiled and told him about what the children had said about Mary-Ann.

Phew! Not only had I escaped being remembered as some ugly witch with strange teaching methods but on top of that they had remembered the song I had taught them on expressing how they were feeling (happy, sad, tired, good etc.). They may have forgotten everything else I had ever taught them and claim total ignorance as regards being able to speak English but at least they had remembered something!

29 February

2008-03-07T09:54:00.000-08:00

Monsieur and I decided to wander up to Sacré Coeur on Montmatre. It is Sunday afternoon and the sun is shining. As we make our way along the cobbled roads, blissfully unaware of the crowds of tourists around us, I suddenly thought about something, "You know" I said, "this year February has one extra day, which means that this year is a leap year. How do you say leap year in French?" I ask. He thinks about this for a minute and replies "année bissextile". "Well" I continue "in England and I think in America as well, in a leap year, traditionally woman ask men to marry them" I say trying to catch his regard. "Oh look, there's a table free" he said, totally ignoring what I just said and steering me towards a small table in front of one of the many cafés surrounding Place du Tertre.

Several hours later, having enjoyed our hot drinks and watched the painters trying to hustle the tourists into having their portrait done we wander round to the Sacré Coeur. As we turn the corner we see a small park from which we have a great view onto the Paris rooftops and notably the Eiffel tower.

The sun is now setting turning the misty sky of Paris into a dusty pink color. We are sat on a bench, my head resting on his shoulder. Behind us a busker is playing the Spanish guitar. The moment is perfectly romantic. I lift my head to plant a kiss on his cheek and gaze at this lovely Frenchman who I love so much. "Mon chéri" I say "I have something important to ask you…". He looks at me quizzically. I pause for a while, for dramatic effect, trying to stop myself from smiling. I breathe in as if taking the plunge, "Well…Do you think we should take the funicular down the hill or walk?" I say, now letting my mouth smile and burst out laughing. He throws me a look, rolls his eyes, flings his arm around my shoulders and pulls me towards him to plant a kiss on my forehead. "You didn't have me worried you know" he said.
This is totally us, the most romantic city in the world, in a romantic place in the city at sunset and we are laughing and joking with each other.
"I know what you were trying to make me think you were going to ask but I know that despite what you said earlier you won't ask me to marry you this year"
"How's that?"
"Well, you do know that if you ask me to marry you then you'll have to buy me a nice ring and you won't get that ring you have your eye on". He has a point, I do have a ring in mind, about which I drop not-so-subtle hints.
"So", he continues "I know I'm safe for at least a year, if this is a year that you have to ask me to marry you. I don't have to ask you to marry me for another year or so".
"But you are thinking that one day you might ask me to marry you?" I say, pouncing on this last comment.
He throws me another side-ways look, smiles and kisses me again. I snuggle into him and continue to gaze at the Eiffel tower.
What's French for "quit whilst you are ahead"?

Dear readers...

2008-02-19T07:20:00.000-08:00

Oh hello! Erm, I'm beginning to realize that there have been quite a few visits to this blog, something which is a little unexpected. I don't know how it is you have come to read this blog, whether it is because I have left comments on petite's page and people have clicked the link to see who I am or people have found it for other reasons but I would be interested in finding out who you are and how you have come across my page and more especially what you think (even if it is harsh – I can take it I'm a big girl and if anyone does have anything particularly nasty to say, they are not at all obliged to read my blog!).

I think given the interest I should perhaps explain a few things.

Firstly as you can see, I'm not very good at the upkeep of my blog (as I am not very good at the upkeep of many things in life!) and don't really know a lot about blogging (why do I feel like Julie Andrews as Maria Von Trapp when I say this?), you may have gathered this from my "why blogger" post and the blogging crisis I had a few months ago. I do have a camera but don't get much of a chance at taking pictures and posting them. I can happily oblige if people think my blog lacks pictures.

Secondly, this is not really a personal diary. I used to keep a diary and used to cringe when rereading it, and this was a diary I used to keep hidden under a cupboard so lord knows I don't want to be going on about my personal life in the public arena. No one in my personal circle aside from Monsieur knows about this blog (and he doesn't seem to read it) and so its not a letter home or a way of communicating to my nearest and dearest about what I do here in France (they get it first hand anyway through e-mails and telephone calls). I'm quite happy to share certain details of my private life given that I'm writing under a pen name but the aim of this blog is to write short (ok then long) comments about my life in France, should this interest anyone who happens upon it. Personal blogs can be very interesting, (I very much enjoying reading some of them and if anyone has any others to recommend I would like to know). I especially like anecdotes of family life but I myself only write things that I think might interest people and I don't kid myself into thinking that other people would really care about my life (not that I'm criticizing anyone for doing so). My other reason is that I personally feel that if you put your personal life in the public arena, people will then decide to judge you on it, something which I absolutely do not want. For me this is a private blog (hence why I have limited the comment option but you are quite free to e-mail me), its use and content may change over time but for now I prefer just to make my own observations on my life in France and the experiences I have had.

Thirdly, I'm not a writer. I have an idea of a book in my head, based on a very strange experience I had during my Erasmus year but if I had wanted to be a writer surely I would have written the book by now. I quite enjoy recounting anecdotes of things I find strange or amusing here in France so I try to make my entries like magazine articles. Like many bloggers I'm testing my writing abilities. Maybe one day I'll write my book but right now I have many other personal and professional projects.

Finally, I have a job (watched me get dooced now!). In my job there are times when I have a huge workload and other times when I have nothing to do so have time to kill until the next mountain of work arrives. I usually write my blogs in word and then copy and paste them into the blog at times when work is quiet. The fact that I work and also that I try to make sure I have something at least half interesting to say before I blog means that I don't blog that often. I try to give as little detail as possible on who I am and absolutely no detail on where I work because I don't want to jeopardize my personal and professional life in any way.

Apart from that I can tell you that I am British, in my twenties, I have lived in France for around 5 years. I came to France firstly for an Erasmus year and then returned to relive what I had experienced during that fabulous Erasmus year. I am here principally because I unexpectedly fell in love with this country and still love France (despite its faults). Monsieur is another reason why I stay here especially in spite of the awful employment market but I met him after I had been living here several years. I have been a language teacher in a school and in the University in Bordeaux and now I work in Paris. I seem to have set myself a challenge to make life work in France, accomplish studies, build a career, fall in love and make that love last, build a family with the man I love … live life in general! I do love England, it is what I have known for twenty years of my life, I don't exclude ever returning to England but for as long as possible, for as much as is possible I want to make my life in France.

As I said above you can't comment on my posts unless you are a fellow blogger, but if you are another expat, blogger, or anyone else (with sincere intentions) who would like to correspond you may of course e-mail me. I comment on French life and the French people as I know them. I have great respect and love for the French and do not wish anything I have written here to be taken as being offensive. Living in France makes me very aware of the faults and peculiarities of the English as well and I'm sure someone in the opposite situation would have things to say about English life.

So there you have it, à vous maintenant!

(P.S. I clearly have a tendency to over-use brackets and digress immensely, but that's me!)

Expat politics

2008-02-05T07:57:00.001-08:00

I was on the train once, happily settled into my seat, magazine on the fold away table in front of me, munching on my sandwich when a fellow passenger came and took his seat beside me. I have to say that he took a while to put his bag and coat on the overhead shelf, take out his computer and the documents he would probably be working on and put a smaller bag under the seat. The whole time this exercise was accompanied by much huffing and puffing and muttering to himself….in English. It was clear that I was next to another Expat.

I would classify expats into four categories:
1) the pensioners – those who are retired and have bought a second home in France and come to live there during their retirement,
2) the working expats – who have been sent here with their families and maybe choose to stay
3) the French lovers – those who have met someone French and have moved with them to France or alternatively those who were here for a temporary period, have met their French partners and now chose to stay,
4) the student – either those on a year abroad or those who having finished a year abroad come here after graduation for a year or two "whilst they decide what to do with their lives" and who can very often fall in love with a French person and then fall into category 3.

Categories 1 and 2 may want to meet other expats because they can't or don't want to learn French and find it easier to have other English speaking friends. Those in categories 3 or 4 may have some expat friends but generally as they want to intergrate into French society, they don't want to meet with other expats. I fall into the 3/4 category, I used to study here, then I came back and started work and now I have met someone. During the years I have spent here I have made other expat friends but don't usually actively seek out other expats.

Often when expats do meet up we can often talk about the French and compare our view of French life. The result of this is that these commentaries can seem rather negative and even insulting. However, we are all here because we love France or the French but as with love, you love but you don't always have to like nor to completely understand. I say this because my blog is exactly that, I love France and I love many things about the French but there are lots of things I find strange and therefore comment on. Consider this as a disclaimer for any harsh comments I might make.

The other problem I sometimes face, when an expats speaks French very well, is discerning when I am in front of an English speaking person and in what language to speak to him or her in. Of course when the conversation starts we speak French but at what point do we give up the act? Some expats have lived her so long that there accent is very light so it is difficult to be sure exactly where they are from. Indeed, if nothing is said, but you think the person next to you/in front of you is English, how do you let the person know?

With the guy on the train I could obviously tell he was English and he was making no attempts to hide it, in fact I would say he wanted those around him to know. I was reading a French magazine and despite my obvious English rose looks, I could have passed for a French person (or at least I like to think so) but I decided I wanted to indicate that I was in fact English. Firstly I rummaged in my bag and took out an English novel (with a WH Smiths sticker) also, whenever he bumped into me as he was settling down or moving during the journey, to his "excuse-moi" I replied "don't worry". Eventually he did click on to the fact that I was British, asked me a question directly in English which then led to us having a conversation for the rest of the journey. We spoke about our respective lives in France. Whenever I do meet an expat I'm fascinated to find out why they are here, for how long and what they do. Naturally, and as mentioned above we did spend a lot of the time talking about the French in the work place and criticizing the system. At the end of the trip I was quite concerned that any French passengers who had overheard and understood our conversation might have thought "well if you don't like the French way of life, why stay here?" and could have been a little insulted.

Finally, there is the situation when you are the secret expat, where you are around English speaking expats who chat in public freely and discussing all sorts of subjects believing that those around them can't understand. Metros and buses are great places for overhearing tourists and other English speakers chat as if they were the only ones there. The issue in such a situation is at what point do you let them know that you are English and can understand or do you stay quiet and listen to what they are saying. On the one hand it is quite interesting, on the other it can be quite embarrassing when it happens to you. I was once on the tram in Bordeaux with a friend discussing in detail the weekends events and a bit of boy trouble when the guy sat next to my friend stood up and said "excuse me, my stop is next" in a very distinct British accent. My friend and I looked at each other shocked realizing what we had been discussing. They guy smiled knowingly and said "don't worry girls, I'm sure it will all work out".

Galette with glee

2008-01-14T06:39:00.000-08:00

You have to love things here in France sometimes. In the UK the 6th January signifies the day on which all your Christmas decorations must have been taken down. After which date, if they are still up, it is supposed to be back luck. So all those brightly lit houses with hundreds of reindeers, santas, snowmen, sparkling lights and Christmas trees outside return to looking grey and drab. I always remembered that time of year during the Christmas school holidays, it was so sad when all the Christmas decorations had to be taken down and all of a sudden the house just looked normal, worse still it looked dull and sad.

In France, the 6th January is the Epiphany, the day they celebrate the visit of the three kings. In bakeries around France they sell a "Galette", a puff pastry almond flavored cake in which is hidden a little token, or "fève" which literally means broad bean. There used to be a bean hidden in the cake now it is more some kind of a plastic figurine or token. If you find this little present in your bit of cake (hoping that you have not choked on it!) then you become "the king". Galettes are indeed sold with a cardboard crown so the person who becomes the king wears the crown. Then, if my understanding of this tradition is correct, the king may then choose his queen and pass on the crown. It is also supposed to be the case that the person who is the king is the one who buys the galette the following year.

I've celebrated the "Fête des rois" three times since I arrived in France. The first time it was a neighbour who invited me and other neighbours around. I didn't understand the tradition back then but I wasn't going to say no to cake!

This year we bought out own little galette and a bottle of cider to go with it. We cut the galette in two and both ate a slice. Neither had found the galette. It then became a race to find who would be the king, whilst ensuring that the other did not cheat by trying to look between the layers of pastry or press to hard on their slice to see if there was something hidden (adults, us?). In the end it was I who found the "fève" but as Monsieur was the only other person there he became my King, obviously! All the more so as I have a deceptively big head and the crown kept falling off (a bad sign perhaps?). Monsieur took the role very seriously and took great pleasure in acting the part, "one wishes to have the remote control" for example. I really think that if he could have done he would have worn it to bed!

Anyway, whilst the lights on the Champs Elysées are still sparkling, the celebrations have finished and its back to work.
Roll on Easter!

3..2..1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! Now put that cigarette out!

2008-01-09T06:50:00.000-08:00

Yes, it is now 2008 and in France the smoking ban has now been enforced. Of course to what extent it will be complied with remains to be seen. For months now it has been illegal to smoke in public places, notably the train stations, but the times I have been at the train station, the French smokers seem to have an extensive interpretation of the phrase "in the train station" and consider that smoking in the enclosed entrance of the station is prohibited but smoking on the platforms is allowed which means that when I get off the train at Montparnasse and have to walk along the narrow platform to get to the metro I often walk in a cloud of smoke from those having a cigarette after a three hour no-smoking train ride until we get to the end of the platform and "in" to the train station!

I was in Bordeaux to celebrate New Years and on the way back from our night out a rather drunk (yes believe it or not the French get drunk too!) girl got on the tram which between the "Grand Théatre" stop and "Victoire" was relatively quiet. Another guy got on at the next stop already smoking a cigarette and continued smoking regardless. The drunk girl followed his example and herself lit up. Then the guy behind me, having noticed this blatant disregard for the rules, also lit up. When the tram got to Victoire lots of other people got on, significantly reducing the space available. The smell of smoke in the air combined with the increased number of people made the tram very suffocating, even more so, as I suspected that the guy behind me wasn't smoking a "normal" cigarette. Among those who had just got one, there was a girl who decided not to put up with the smoking and asked the drunk girl would she mind putting her cigarette out as she, the other girl, was asthmatic. The drunk girl's response was "mais j'ai envie d'une cigarette, merde! Je ne peux meme pas avoir une cigarette?", to which the other girl did not hesitate to argue back saying that no she was not allowed to smoke and more importantly that those around her should be allowed to breath. Finally the drunk girl decided that she would put her cigarette out. Her reply had however astonished me. SHE wanted to smoke so therefore the other 20 or so passengers who were crammed into the carriage around her were therefore deprived of the air they breathe! Not only was it a selfish attitude but unfortunately it is one displayed by many smokers, for example those at the station who force all those walking behind them to breath in the smoke they inhale, the platform being too narrow for us to walk past them.

This morning, whilst waiting for the metro, I caught a whiff of a cigarette and looked around to see who the offending person was. A guy behind me was sat down and had a cigarette in his hand. Of course no one went to point out to him that smoking was in fact illegal. This is the very root of the problem; the French generally won't tell each other off for breaking the law, as they consider it to be the State's responsibility. Whilst non-smokers might not like the fact that a smoker has decided to light up in a non-smoking area, they are will rarely (as above) tell someone to put the cigarette out. I think it is because the French are a lot more argumentative than the Brits (or so I have seen), and people know very well that if they tell someone who is smoking to put it out, that person is very likely to argue back, which is something which I personally, wouldn't want to start.

The ban has been largely complied with in restaurants. The other day I had lunch with a colleague in a brasserie near work which usually places those who say they want "non-smoking" next to a section near the bar where people are smoking (logical!!). Anyway this time it was nice to be able to have lunch and not be surrounded by smoke.

There are places where I seriously doubt that the smoking ban will be upheld, notably in what they call cafés de commerce or cafés de sport, the small brasseries which are more for drinking and betting than for having proper meals. We walked past one the other day and whilst I couldn't see anyone smoking, we both agreed that it would be hardly surprising if there were those who were smoking.

It is however amusing, on the bus ride home to see people stood outside restaurants having a cigarette whilst the others happily eat in a smoke free environment. As a non-smoker, I wonder, how long will it be before they really quit because they are fed up of going outside in the cold or alternatively, how long before the cafés and restaurants build separate sections for their smoker customers?

The Frenchman without his gaullois?? How long can it last?

Christmas in Paris

2007-12-21T08:09:00.001-08:00

OK so I won't actually be having Christmas in Paris as I am going home tomorrow but I can describe the Christmas celebrations we have been having recently.

Firstly there was the Christmas party which like all good Christmas parties included foie gras, a Christmas must in France, but didn't include oysters, which is another Christmas must. There was also quite naturally lots of wine and Champagne and the company had put lots of money behind the bar because the drinks were all free. Compared to British Christmas parties, the free bar did not result in everyone getting absolutely hammered. Admittedly there were a few people looking worse for wear and of course the IT guys were looking lovingly at the HR girls. But again, whereas in England there would have been lots of cheeky snogs under the mistletoe, as far as I know, at our office party there was no scandal. I did miss the cheesy Christmas music. Although the music was good and kept us on the dancefloor way into the early hours there was no Christmas music to get us in the spirit of things.

On top of the Christmas party, there was the team meal, which again was in a lovely French restaurant and was accompanied by lots of wine. The usual 2 hour lunch break, extended into 3 or 3 and a half. Like any respectable French meal, the meal included the standard three course, plus champagne to start, amuse bouches, cheese and digestifs. The remaining two or three hours of the afternoon were spent digesting and trying to find the courage to actually do some work. I spent most of the afternoon wanting to put my head on my desk and have a nap. Even the coffee after dinner did not help to overcome the effects of the champagne and wine over lunch!

All my Christmas shopping is finished luckily and I have only to pack my bags and try to get through the security tomorrow morning at Charles de Gaulle. Christmas shopping in France is easy as pie because most shops will gift wrap it for you. In fact they do that all year round so Birthday presents are easy as well. Some shops wrap gifts very nicely, Sephora for example, although they don't go to the extremes of Rowan Atkins in Love Actually.

I bought my last gifts last night, one of which was some macaroons from La Durée on Champs Elysée. Macaroons are also part of the Christmas tradition in France which might explain why I spent an HOUR queuing to get them and when I left the queue was just as long as when I had arrived. To be fair, I've queued longer for worse. It wasn't the most unpleasant hour of my life, although I was kicking myself for not having brought a camera because the decoration in the boutique is just so beautiful! I was waiting until I got to the point in the queue where I could see the display of all the lovely cakes and other delicious things on sale. The following half an hour passed a lot quickly because I was marveling at the beautiful boxes, gifts and all the rest on display. After an hour of queuing after work and before dinner, I was fairly proud of myself for only ordering the macaroons for my friend and not succumbing to the delicious réligieuses which were on sale!

What I love about France is that people are so susceptible to charm. I find it gets me out of a multiple of difficult situations and can also get advantages. And it's not just the French men that you can bat your eyelids at. When I worked in the university and we had to give our work sheets to the photocopy department, despite our warmest "bonjours" we received the cold treatment and a sigh from the lady behind the desk as if we were very much inconveniencing her life. But my colleague, who was English, bounded in with his cheeky-chappy attitude, and the sour-faced ladies were all smiles!!! (Anyway digression over)

Last night when I was in La Durée, I bought a box of 8 macaroons for my friend. Having spent the last half an hour at the far end of the counter watching the smartly dressed staff taking the gorgeous pale blue, pink or green boxes and wrapping them with silky ribbon I really wanted my friends present to have some ribbon. The young guy who served me was very nice but when I asked if he could wrap the box with ribbon he told me that as I had bought the cheaper box (no I'm not stingy, the box of macaroons is to go with many other gifts!!) he couldn't wrap it for me. I shamelessly took advantage of my female charms and gave him my best "Oh-I-am-so-disappointed-and-it-is-a-Christmas-present" look and did my best to imitate the cat in Shrek. The lovely guy then said he could put a bit of ribbon in the bag and I could wrap it myself. Cue huge smile. A small victory but a victory nonetheless. Off I trotted still grinning with my lovely La Durée bag in my hand and the ribbon to wrap my present up with later.

I am yet to spend a proper Christmas in France. Maybe next year if all goes well. In the meantime I really like going home for Christmas as I am usually home for long enough to have a nice break but not too long that my family will drive me mad (or at least I hope not!).

So to all those who have read or will read this blog over the next few days, Happy Holidays!! See you in 2008!

PS. For want of a better Chrismassy picture, please admire my artwork!! lol

Loving Paris in the winter

2007-12-17T08:26:00.000-08:00

(Just as a side note, I have now added the links to a few blogs I rather like and if there is anyone who has stumbled upon my blog (probably looking for garden roses) and has read all my posts and is now bored and looking for more blogger fodder please check these out)

My sister and her boyfriend are coming to Paris for New Years. My sister, being rather clever, is like many friends or relatives of people who live in Paris, she has figured out that sister in Paris = free accommodation for romantic visit to Paris. She and her boyfriend shall be staying in my apartment, I have graciously agreed to go elsewhere. If anyone, like my sister is thinking that Paris might be a good idea over the Christmas season, just one word of warning, it is freezing here!!! The Eiffel tower might look very pretty all lit up and sparkling (it sparkles on the hour for about ten minutes by the way) but you'll be pretty unimpressed by it if you are freezing your toes off (going up it at this time of year is not advised either unless you are wearing a hat and earmuffs, that cold wind bites!). So if you have already seen the Paris classics (Eiffel tower, Arc du Triomph, Louvre (from the outside) and Sacré Coeur) here are a few not very expensive, alternative things couples or friends can do if they are planning to visit Paris over Christmas and the New Year.

1) Chateau Vincennes (http://www.chateau-vincennes.fr/) if you take the metro line 1 until its destination heading east you will come to Château Vincinnes. Apart from being a rather regal looking castle that you can wander into for free and then wander out the other side to the Bois de Vincennes and the Floral parc, it is also a historically interesting castle and its dungeon is one of the oldest in Europe. A guided tour starts at 7.50 euros.

2) Parc des Buttes-Chaumont (Metro Buttes-Chaumont line 7) – I love this park. It is quite steep in places but there are also lots of winding paths, fountains, a waterfall and a lake which make it quite a romantic setting. I'm sure that even if it is freezing outside, the park will look like a winter wonderland.

3) Christmas markets – Gingerbread, mulled wine, all kinds of delicious food and drinks, and craft goods. Little log cabins have been set up at various locations around Paris to create Christmas villages. Below are a few of the Christmas markets.

6e arrondissement
Le Village du Père Noël"
Place St Sulpice
From 6 to 24 December
Metro: St Sulpice

Boulevard St Germain des Prés
From 5 to 31 December
Metro: St Germain des Prés

11e arrondissement
Place de la Nation
From 1 to 24 December from 10am to 8pm
Metro: Nation

20e arrondissement
10th Ménilmontant Christmas Market
1, Place Maurice Chevallier
From 14 to 16 December
Métro : Ménilmontant

4) Get all dressed up and go and see the ballet, The Nutcracker showing at Opera Garnier places from 5-75 euros (http://www.operadeparis.fr/).

5) Sometimes you have to treat yourself and at the same time have a warm drink and escape the cold. In which case I would go to La Durée and have a coffee and sample some macaroons. It is about €1.50 per macaroon or €6.90 for a choice of four, an espresso coffee with that would be €3.30 or a delicious creamy hot chocolate would be another €6. But even though it is a little pricy for around €12 you get to escape the cold, eat gorgeous macaroons and sit in the famous luxurious La Durée restaurant. (I would advise you go there in the afternoon when there will be less people than around lunchtime for example). They have several restaurants around Paris, one on the Champs Elysée, one Rue Royale in the 6th, and another on Boulevard Haussman in the Printemps department store. For SATC fans, I think it is the one on Rue Royale that Carrie was seen in after being left by herself by the Russian. In fact, for SATC fans, there are all the locations in Paris as shown in the last two episodes of series six to be explored.

6) Le Louvre Shopping centre – Most people go and have their pictures taken at the glass pyramid outside the Louvre because they don't want to queue to go into the Louvre. I used to be one of those people. I have now discovered that the queue outside is only the queue to get into the Louvre shopping centre (through which you can then enter the museum) but for those who don't want to pay to get into the Museum you can have great photo opportunities by just going into the Louvre shopping centre which is free. There, there are lots of lovely shops, Occitane being one of them which sells all kinds of soaps and perfumes etc. Once inside, out of the cold, you can decide if you want to brave the queues and actually go into the museum itself.

7) Velib – You may already have heard about this before, in fact I think I have already mentioned it myself, but there is now this new system of self-service bicycles around Paris. They will accept foreign cards as long as they are chip and pin. The machine will ask if you agree to pay €150 euros but fear not, this is just a guarantee in case you run off with the bike. I have already "velibbed" myself and the only money that was ever taken out of my account was the 1 euro day tariff. You'll warm up quicker biking around Paris and see more things, although I would advise not tackling the busier squares and roundabouts and getting off your bike and pushing it along the pavement. The roundabout at Charles de Gaulle Etoille does not look friendly for motorists, let alone cyclists!

8) Bateaux mouches – yes again this is outside but there are boats where you can sit inside and take a tour along the seine and look at all the monuments, quite comfortably sat down (see http://www.bateauxparisiens.com/, prices start from 11 euros for adults). Anyway it is rather romantic taking a boat ride along the seine.

9) The café at Place St Michel, Le Départ Saint Michel, much cheaper than La Durée, this café is on the corner between Quai St Michel and the Place St Michel. You can get a seat looking out onto the seine and Notre Dame on the other side of the river and watch people go by (a favourite pastime of all French people, especially as staring doesn't seem to be quite so socially unacceptable here!). In France, there is no problem about taking a book, sitting in a café, ordering a €1.50 café and staying there for hours. Out of the cold, warm and comfortable and with views on Notre Dame, what more can you ask for (oh ok, a nice romantic French man to seduce you would be nice as well).

10) Speaking of Notre Dame, you may have already visited it but at Christmas there is a free show with music from the choir and a slide show called Lumière née de la Lumière showing picture of various statues and art works, all depicting the nativity. Even for those who aren't religious or aren't Christian, it is just nice to sit there listening to the choir music and watching the display of pictures. So nice in fact that last year when I visited with friends, one of my friends fell asleep on my shoulder!

11) Ice skating at Hotel de Ville or Montparnasse – For this one you will have to be wrapped up warm but I'm sure with all the skating around you'll warm up anyway (unless like me you tend to fall on your bum quite a lot in which case thermal undies would be useful!). This is a lot of fun. It costs 5 euros to hire the skates and the Hotel de Ville does look very pretty with the ice rink in front of it. There is also a toboggan slide for the kids (oh to be five again!).

12) Lights of Paris – As it gets dark around 5 or 6 pm here it is a great opportunity to go and take pictures of the Christmas decorations. The obvious one is Champs Elysée where the trees are all lit up with lights which look like sparkling icicles. In front of Notre Dame there is a nice big Christmas tree which is all lit up too. Boulevard Haussmann is another place which has to be visited as not only is the shopping centre all lit up but there are also animated window displays (big kid, me?). There are other places which are lit up which you may fall upon when wandering around.

13) "Chestnuts roasting on a…"…barrel – as you wander around Paris you will see people selling hot chestnuts. Whilst they may not look very inviting, once you crack open the shells (careful they are hot!) the white insides are really yummy.

14) Montmartre – Again, you may already have visited Montmatre before but around this time of year it is rather nice as there are often market stalls and warm food and beverages being sold (mulled wine especially). Montmatre is one of the rare places in Paris where you can eat well for not very expensive. At this time of year I would suggest that you have crepes for lunch finishing with a nutella crepe for dessert (surely the reason why nutella was invented) or if you go there in the evening, check out one of the raclette or fondue restaurants. Warm melting cheese, yum!

Of course, if none of the above tempts you, Paris has ample amounts of gardens, museums and art Galleries, there is a Museum of Edith Piaf (5 rue Crespin du Gast, Metro – ménilmontant) or for the fashion fans Christian Lacroix, is presenting an exhibition called history of fashion at the Musée Arts Décoratifs. In any case, do not be fooled (as I have done in the past) into thinking that France is always warmer than the UK (for example) and not dress appropriately. The thing about Paris is that it is an amazing, romantic, fascinating city but unless you are properly wrapped up warm to face the cold, you won't care how beautiful it all is!

L'amour est….

2007-12-05T09:35:00.001-08:00

Paris, the city of love. When people think of incredibly romantic destinations they would like to visit, you can bet that Paris appears somwhere on the list. We have all heard about le French lover, ze French kiss (cannot tell you how many times French guys have tried to sell that one to me!) and just generally the French's reputation for being amazing lovers (yes I can confirm that one). But what is it about France and the French which makes them such experts in love. Over the years I have come to appreciate exactly quite how much love forms part of the French culture. Indeed, the business of love seems to be a national pasttime.

When I first arrived in France (after the Eurasmus year that is) and I started teaching, one of the first things the young 8 year old girls I used to teach would ask me was "Mademoiselle Rose, est-ce que tu as une amoureux?". Translation: "Miss Rose do you have someone you are in love with?". Ok, vocabulary problem here. I was not being asked if I had a boyfriend (although it was necessarily implied) I was being asked, in my mind, whether I was in fact in love with someone. If someone from England had asked me the question, even if at the time I had had a boyfriend, I would have asked "what's love got to do with it? So far he is a nice guy, we get on and as for the rest we'll see what happens!". Of course when you start dating someone there is inevitably the stage when you feel all "loved up" and you say to your friends "oh I am so in love!" but what you mean is that you are "in lust". Being asked whether I am in fact in love with someone requires a greater level of reflection as to what being in love actually means. I think the whole world has spent many years trying to answer that one! Of course, in the minds of these sweet French children having a boyfriend = being in love and therefore my boyfriend (had I had one at the time) would have been my "loved one".
I quite truthfully told the children that no, Miss Rose did not have an "amoureux".
"Oh" said the little girl "parceque moi j'en ai un. Il est en cinqième". I'm sorry, what?? Not only did this girl apparently have a boyfriend, whom she was in love with, but in fact that said boy was in fith year in France (year 8 in England, i.e. that he was around 13 years old).

Yes it is true that when I was little (5 to be precise) I had boyfriends. At one point I even had two (scandalous I know), one who I chased around the playground and another who let me kiss him. The first boyfriend didn't let me kiss him, only chase him around, hence the need for the second boyfriend. I must have used up my boyfriend luck having two boyfriends at once because for the rest of my childhood I never had an actual boyfriend. In fact the next boyfriend I did have was when I was 15 years old.

I'm sure that this young girl was just referring to a boy she quite liked and who quite liked her and that was where it ended but I found it interesting the way she used the term "amoureux". When I speak to my young cousins on the subject of boyfriends they usually say that they fancy someone but he doesn't fancy them, or vice-versa, or that they have a boyfriend, or that they play kiss and chase with the boys they like. I don't think "love" comes into it whatsoever!

Another example, with the same class of girls, was when I was teaching them things they could say in response to the question "What do you do at the weekend?". Again, another of my 8 year olds raised her hand and said "Miss Rose, comment tu dirai "diner en amoureux"?". "Why?" I asked, wondering when and how this child went to romantic restaurants with her lover. "Parce que c'est ça que je fais", she said. Now I'm fairly sure that this question was asked for the benefit of her friends so that she could show off but I still found the idea quite amusing. This little girl's preoccupation was to know how to say "I have a romantic dinner" not "I play with my dolls" or "I play with my skipping rope" or even "I go horseriding" (all of which were subsequently mentioned but ranked lower down!).

The thing that struck me most however was an incident which took place after playtime one day. I just near the classroom door two boys were having a fight, encouraged by their classmates naturally. I managed to break off the fight, send the other children into the classroom and put the two boys on opposite sides of the classroom facing the wall. Once I had got the children to calm down and had set them their work I went over and spoke to the boys individually. "Ok Pierre, what happened".
"Jacombette" Pierre said in a muffled voice.
"What? I didn't understand"
"Jacques m'embête".
"Ok so why does Jacques annoy you?" immediately beginning to think about bullying issues.
Huff.
"Pierre, if you want me to help you then you're going to have to talk to me"
Glare.
"What exactly does Jacques do to annoy you?"
Another huff.
"Pierre!"
"C'est parce que lui il est amoureux de Marion et moi aussi"
Ah, now we have got to the heart of the matter. These two 9 year old boys were fighting over Marion, a blue eyed, blonde haired girl who was very pretty, very aware of the effect her charm had on the boys, and totally not interested in any of them.
Further questioning of Jacques confirmed Pierre's story.

Again, when my young cousin was nine years old, his reply when asked what he thought of the opposite sex would have been "yuck! Girls? Yuk!". He most certainly would not have got into a fight over a girl. Argument over which is the best player in Man U, yes. Argument over a girl, no!
Which is why I was quite astonished that these boys were fighting over a girl. For goodness sake I don't think I've ever seen grown men fighting over a woman nevermind young boys!

In France, love is a part of life. Without love, you don't seem to be living. So for those couples who may be discovering Paris over the holiday season, if in France you feel there is more romance, more poetry, more love in the air in general, that is because it is the case. As I've discovered, the French are such experts in love because, as it would seem, they start'em young!

There's no place like home

2007-11-29T09:47:00.000-08:00

OK so they are not red, they are sparkly, but no matter how much I click my heels together I won't just magically fly home (which to be fair would be a really good thing given how much Easyjet are charging these days plus all those extra charges for hand luggage, what???). This time of the year, i.e. the month of November is particularly difficult.

Living in France is amazing, glamorous, romantic, poetic and filled with amazing experiences however there is no place like home and being away from home is difficult. Sometimes I think if I had stayed in the UK and got a job it would be most likely that I would be working away from home and so would not see my family more often than I do at present but at least I would only be a few hours drive away and could go home whenever I wanted. Also there are times when I am home that I think, "isn't this great!" and think about how easy it would be just to move back and fit right back into British culture and not have to overcome the cultural differences as I do here. In actual fact this is just a fantasy because no sooner would I be home than I would be miserable because I missed France.

When I moved out here four years ago everyone said how brave I was being and what a "tough cookie" I was. It's funny how when everyone says that you are brave you don't feel very brave isn't it? Anyway, yes I was being brave, I didn't know anyone in Bordeaux and I had come out on my own to study. Since then I came to Paris, found an apartment, found a job and did the whole thing over again. I think however brave people are those who overcome situations which are imposed upon them. I chose to go to France and start a new life, brave maybe, obstinately stupid definitely! Of course nothing bad happened and year after year my life has worked out, if it hadn't I wouldn't still be here. I'm also someone who despite the difficulties refuses to go back to the UK and wants to prove that I can make it (I've yet to "make it" but I'll keep you posted!). Whilst the last four years have been challenging they have also been rewarding but these rewards have involved sacrifices.

As it always the case, when you decide to move far away from home you have to accept the fact that friends and family will be further away, that their lives will continue without you and that the distance will make a difference. In some cases this can mean that relationship's are improved because you don't see each other every day and hence really enjoy the times that you do see each other but in other cases, living away means that you miss out on special occasions, relationships developing through sharing moments and you have to accept the fact that your old friends will move on without you and even become closer among themselves leaving you out. When I do see my friends in the UK I have discovered that there are cultural differences, my daily life is so different from theirs. They may be talking about the latest sales in Warehouse whereas I'll be excited about the fact that Camaïeu has its 10 days of offers and as for what goes on in popular culture forget it! They'll be humming the latest Amy Winehouse single where as in France, "Rehab" has only just come out. Of course these things don't matter in good friendships but still, events over the last few years have made me realize that sacrifices have been made.

I'm not at all complaining about my life in France. I consider myself to be VERY blessed and haven't regretted anything that has happened in the last few years. Old friendships may show signs of wear and tear but they are still standing and like any relationship they need nurturing from time to time to keep them strong. Also over the past few years I have made and nurtured many other new friendships which I'm very happy about. Everything that has happened, everyone I have met, all the relationships I have had/have still are all part of who I am today and of course I wouldn't want to change that.

What I am trying to say (in my usual roundabout fashion) is that whilst the sparkling lights of the champs elysée are only a few meters away, whilst I can buy myself freshly baked warm croissants and pain au chocolats at any time I choose, whilst I have access to gallons of great cheap French wine and a wide range of cheeses and then of course there are all those charming handsome French men…. all this sometimes cannot compare to being home with my family and friends who come from the same culture as I do, speak the same language, laugh at the same jokes, and have known and loved me for all my life.

Vive les vacances!

Picasso I am not!

2007-11-22T05:49:00.000-08:00

Just a small note to say that I've been fiddling around with the colours and fonts etc to see if I could make the blog more appealing. I need to get my camera out and take some decent photos to put up so in the meantime apologies for the blog lay out not being very interesting.

Thanksgiving

2007-11-22T05:31:00.001-08:00

Being British I obviously don't celebrate thanksgiving. In fact in Britain we have very few national holidays. There is St George's day which I think is sometime in June and which no-one really cares about, although I think it has become more popular in recent years. There is St Patrick's Day, which is of course Irish, but even if you're not Irish you celebrate it (actually I have more than a couple of Irish relations so I can legitimately celebrate this one). Then there is bonfire/Guy Fawkes night, which is more of a night of fireworks and bonfires and toffee apples and not an actual day. My Canadian cousin, on 1 July (Canada's Independence Day) asked me, "When is England's independence day?" Erm…How can I explain this? So we were the bad guys who colonized everybody and hence everybody else gets to celebrate having defeated us, kicked us out of their country, gained their independence from us etc. Unless you want to count the Romans or the Saxons, England has never really been occupied and hence has never had an independence day. We also don't really have a national costume unless you want to count a man in a bowler hat and a business suit (which is the image the French seem to have of us) sipping tea, holding an umbrella and a bulldog at his side! Anyway enough complaining….

So Thanksgiving, it has only been in recent years that I have in fact begun to celebrate Thanksgiving, or rather I should say I have been privileged to know Americans who have very kindly invited me to their thanksgiving. It all seems like lots of fun and I vaguely understand a bit about the origins of it. The problem lots of Americans living in France find about trying to celebrate this traditional event is finding the ingredients for it. For some reason there is a shortage of turkeys, there is definitely a big problem when it comes to finding a pumpkin especially in Paris! Then of course even if you do find said ingredient it may not be the well-known, tried and tested brand that your mother/grandmother always uses so things don't actually taste the same (again according to a good American friend of mine). I do have to admire my American friends for obstinately insisting on celebrating thanksgiving in spite of the difficulties.

For the last two years I have been kindly invited to an American friend's house in Bordeaux. I remember the first year I was there and around the table were other French friends. Some of the dishes looked rather strange, certainly to the French guests. Of course turkey can be bland at times and even adding herbs is not enough to satisfy the French palate. For me, the turkey, carrots, potatoes and cranberry sauce were like our traditional Christmas dinner or like a traditional Sunday roast and of course I was quite happy to tuck in but to the French, admittedly this dinner was not as flavored as they were used to but they at least gave it ago. The number of times I have French friends making comments about our "bizarre British foods" like lamb and mint jelly and turkey and cranberry as if it was the strangest thing in the world! I would like to point out however that Foie gras is often served with a sweet jelly so we're not that far off the mark! What caused the most eyebrow raising were the sweet potatoes with the marshmallow topping. There were several grimaces from the French guests and I have to admit that even I thought this may be a step too far. Marshmallow sweet gooey stuff next to turkey and potatoes??? Still we all decided to taste it nonetheless. And guess what? Everyone, even the most skeptical among us were asking for seconds.

This year, there is no invite for thanksgiving on the horizon but I would like to wish all my American friends a happy thanksgiving. It’s a lovely time to celebrate with friends and family around a dinner table covered with delicious home made food. I'm not celebrating Thanksgiving today but I can celebrate that fact that we are almost only 4 weeks to Christmas. That said, if I happen to see a pecan pie in a bakers on the way home I shall be using Thanksgiving as an excuse for buying said pie!!

Weekend in Batignolles

2007-11-19T09:13:00.001-08:00

Paris is a big bustling city but outside the main city centre, each arrondissement of Paris has its own vibe and pleasant charm. Batignolles, in the 17th arrondissement, is my quartier. A typical weekend in Batignolles could consist of going out on a Saturday afternoon (after a nice lie in of course!), taking your basket or shopping bag to the organic food market on Boulevard des Batignolles and checking out all the seasonal fruit and vegetables. You have to have a good bit of cash on you because the produce is not cheap and they obviously do not take carte bleu! The fruit may not look as shiny as in the supermarket but you can be guaranteed that it is organic. My favourite is the cheese stall, I've become quite a cheese fan since I came to France and whilst I have developed a taste for camembert and some other smelly cheeses, my favourite is goats cheese all white and crumbly and looking just perfect to spread onto a bit of crusty bread! Do not be fooled by the clientele who have an air of ex-hippy, peace and love etc, if you don't respect the queue (the French aren't usually known for their queuing skills but this seems to be the exception) you will find a little old lady grumbling at you for getting in before her and getting the last of the nice organic apples! There is a lady who sells organic beauty products and a lovely man who sold me some organic honey. If you're budget won't stretch to organic, walk a little bit further until you get to Place Prosper Goubaux, where you can turn into rue de Levis and see another market, not organic but just as good. There are all kinds of food shops, butchers, fromageries (cheese again), specialist olive oil shops, book shops etc. The fruit is not organic I grant you but it is a bit cheaper and tastes just as nice, plus there is plenty on display and less chance of arguing with the Batignolle Bobos (Bourgois-Bohème – French word for yuppies). Once shopping is done it is time to take a rest in one of the small cafés and watch the passers by (favourite past time since living in France) and dream about life, love and all the rest.

Sunday, we braved the cold and went for a walk to Square des Batignolles, supposedly the biggest square in Europe (doesn't everyone say that their park, building, square is the biggest square in Europe?) before it becomes too big and is classified as a park. This is a nice little park/big square with a small waterfall flowing into a small river and lake. It's quite a charming setting and it's lovely to see families walking there on a Sunday afternoon and watch children getting excited about feeding the many ducks, geese and black swans (although apparently you're officially not allowed cos I've already been told off once! Spoil sport!). At Place du Docteur Félix, in front of the Church, Notre Dame Des Batignolles, is a nice little square with some nice cafés and restaurants. Then if you head up Rue Batignolles you'll come across more little boutiques, restaurants and special epiceries until once again coming to the Boulevard. It is so pleasant and feels like a secret little community tucked away far from Paris.

Strike two!

2007-11-14T06:51:00.001-08:00

So here we are again, only a few weeks after the last strike and now there is another transport strike but this time it may go on until next Thursday when everyone else is going to get on the band wagon i.e. the students, the teachers, the public services (quelle surprise!) and lord knows who else!!!
The strike hasn't caused too much hassle for me personally. This morning I had to walk to work which took me around 45 minutes and I could feel quite smug knowing that for once I actually have done some exercise! Of course the novelty may wear off by the end of the week if there are still no metros. To be fair I don't know what the situation is on my usual metro line because I figured I could either wait and find out how many people were crammed into the one out of five metros or just walk and not waste time. I may be feeling adventurous this evening and see if I can get a metro home so as not to walk home in the dark.

Strikes really annoy me. I was born in the 1980s and grew up in the Thatcher years so I wasn't really aware of the economic changes that happened during that time. All I know was that one day we could have milk at break times and then there was no more milk and apples! When I started to work (about the age of 16 in a weekend job) I had very little trouble finding work in England and since my first weekend job at 16 I have never had too much trouble finding work in the UK. France is a different case and I find it really frustrating that the employment market is as difficult as it is. Once in a job we are AMAZINGLY privileged: lunch tickets, 25 days holiday a year plus the 6 or so national holidays, RTTS (Réduction du temps de travail – days you earn (6 a year) for having worked over your 35 hour week!), a committee (comite d'entreprise) which organizes social events for us, gives us reduced price cinema tickets and will even pay our gym membership! Finding that job however is rather difficult unless you have the exact level of qualifications in the exact sector in which you want to work (you would have a hard time for example finding a job in marketing if you had a banking degree unless you had the relevant experience, which would be difficult to obtain for the same reasons). You also usually have to do internships (stages), sometimes spending up to a year or more as a unpaid intern in order to get work experience, before you can get that oh-so-elusive CDI (contrat de durée indeterminée - permanent working contract). In spite of all the benefits French workers have, especially in the public sector where they seem to do very little but have a water tight employment contract, they decide things are not good enough and decide to go on strike further crippling an already poor economy.

What most annoys me about this is that other workers, who want to work are OBLIGED not to work in some circumstances because the others have decided they want to strike, or more generally, are inconvenienced by the strike because they can't get to work. The right to work is not a fundamental right. The right to study is not a fundamental right either but in France the right to strike is one of their fundamental rights. The right to move around freely is also a fundamental right but one which clearly takes second place to the former. I find this totally unfair. Universities are blocked by students protesting against a law not knowing whether in fact this law may be beneficial to them in the long run. These protests prevent other students, who actually want to study, from attending classes. Their universities are archaic, the resources pitiful and the teaching methods centuries out of date. Ok, they are lucky enough not to be up to their eyes in debt after their studies (as is the case in the UK) and that everyone has access to university education (on the condition of obtaining your baccalaureate but irrespective of the result) but maybe by paying a bit more their universities would improve and attract foreign investment.

I don't mind the strike for what it is. Fair enough, if you have a point to make go and protest, go and strike for as long as you want but don't prevent others from freely living their lives. I love this country and I love its people, if my future is to be here in France, I would like to live in a France which retains all its good qualities for which we admire it but also that it be a country where things are possible without all the administrative red tape, where the economy is good and where future generations will be able to find work, create businesses and contribute to this great nation. Est-il possible?

BISOUS!

2007-11-09T10:22:00.000-08:00

One of my favourite words in French is "Bisous", probably for the same reason that "chocolate" is also a good word because it conjures up a nice image or sensation. Bisous means a kiss, whether it be a kiss on the lips or a real kiss on the cheek. It is also seen as a term of endearment or of sending your best wishes to someone. At the end of letters to friends and family, in England we sign of "love and hugs" in France they will say "bises", "bisous", "gross bisous" "je t'embrasse" or "je t'embrasse fort". Note that this is strictly between friends, you would not put it on the end of an email to your boss! In the same way that girls analyse texts from guys to see how many "x" they put at the end, the same attention has been given to texts from French guys to decide whether "bises" may be less sincere than "je t'embrasse".

Now we all know that in France when you greet someone you are required to kiss them on the cheeks, from once, twice up to six times (!!) depending on certain areas of France. This tradition is something I find both enjoyable and at times completely bizarre! In Bordeaux for example, you have to kiss people twice (easy enough!). However in Montpellier it's three times and in Paris its sometimes four times and sometimes twice. The problem is when you meet someone who is say for example from Tours, where it is four times, and you are in Bordeaux, do you kiss twice because you are in Bordeaux or four times because the person comes from Tours?? Also when do you go for "bises" and when do you go for hand shake. Obviously when out with friends, if there is another friend who is introduced to the group then they "fait les bises à tout le monde" and kiss everyone who is present, but in a work situation it kind of depends.

When I studied in Bordeaux, among my group of friends, when we arrived bleary eyed for our morning lectures, we greeted each other with "les bises". Given that we were quite a large group, if you arrived late and the group was still hanging around waiting to go in to the lecture hall, then you had to go and give "les bises" to everyone. This was sometimes not a bad thing as several of the guys in the group were rather good looking and I can't say I minded being given kisses every morning from my handsome friends!! Of course this ritual reoccurred each time we met, whether it be for classes or social events. Sometimes it's a logistical nightmare because the person may be sat at a table in which case they usual stand up so that you can both lean across the table to kiss each other, trying not to send the glasses or other objects on the table flying! Guys have it easy because if it is all guys in the group then all they have to do is shake hands, girls have to kiss everybody, whether male or female. This becomes delicate as sometimes you would meet with a group of people consisting of a mix of your friends, people you don't know or even people you know but don't actually like. In which case there is a different kind of "bises". Sometimes you do a genuine kiss, maybe with a hand lightly touching the arm, other times you do a plain air kiss and if it is someone you don't particularly like, the facial expression changes to being either a sort of disinterested expression. The other kind of kissers, is what my friend used to call "face snoggers" who give you a lovely wet kiss, kind of like what your granny used to do and you have to stand there talking to them just waiting for the moment when you can wipe your cheek! Whilst the French have the whole cheek kissing thing down to a fine art, I have met more than a few "face snoggers"

But what happens when you really care about the person or you are really happy to see them? Well the tendency in the UK (and in the US as an American friends explained to me) is a nice big hug. But many of my French friends are not huggers! In fact, several of them, through years of friendship I have finally trained to hug (and let's not go into the difference between those who hug and those who cuddle!). The French find hugs invasive whilst we find kissing unnecessary and sometimes just as invasive.

After having lived in Bordeaux for several years I knew that many people, through study or work, that a simple Saturday afternoon shopping trip down the rue St Catherine would be frequently interrupted by stopping to say hello to people. Whereas in England, when you see someone you know you just give them a way and keep on going (if you can't stop), in France you feel rude if you don't stop to do some kisses, and as you have stopped you have to say hello and ask how they are so you end up stopping for a good five minutes or so.

Another difficultly I have encountered with the whole "bises" business is when you work with both French people and English people. In a formal working environment you greet your colleagues with a formal handshake. Even if there is no physical contact involved, you MUST go round in the morning and say hello to people, especially if later in the day you are going to need their help. If you don't see them in the morning and you bump into them in the afternoon you have to say "je t'ai dit le bonjour?" before you begin to say anything else or else you could be seen to be rude. With closer colleagues you "fait les bises". The problem I found was when I worked with British or American colleagues, we didn't feel the need to "faire les bises" but then it seemed rude if I was going to kiss my Spanish or French colleagues, to leave the British colleagues out. So it was mutually decided to "when in Rome…". This led to situations where we would end up kissing each other in greeting even when there were no French colleagues around. Eventually, even though to begin with this whole ritual was awkward and seemed unnecessary, we got so used to it that when I went home for Christmas I found myself making a physical movement towards friends to give them a kiss. Luckily they were friends who interpreted the gesture as the beginnings of a hug and therefore reciprocated. Some friends teased me about the way I now kissed as I didn't give "proper" kisses but rather snobbish air kisses!

The most embarrassing situation is when to kiss and when not to kiss. I think I'm used to it now so can interpret the body language and prepare to be kissed but there have been some fairly embarrassing moments, people going in the wrong direction resulting in what looks like a strange kind of dance (generally, except in the south of France, you go left), brushing of lips! I'm quite happy with just two kisses, one on each cheek, it's perfectly acceptable and doesn't take too long. Once I met an acquaintance of a friend when I was in Bordeaux who was himself from Paris. He absolutely insisted that we kiss four times even though I pointed out that we were in Bordeaux and that it was two times.

Anyway, like I said, once you get the hang of it, it's quite nice but even so, sometimes I wish they would put a sign up outside each town saying "here, we kiss three times", because if not, you could easily end up head butting someone!

"One does not die from a trifling cold!"

2007-10-19T08:16:00.000-07:00

This expression, a quote from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (one of my favourite books) ,quite sums up how the British regard falling ill. This is in stark contrast with the way the French treat being ill!

So I'm ill, I have a cold at present. Why do I have a cold? I don't know, probably because it is the season for it. My French friends' theories on why I might have a cold are because yesterday because of the strikes I walked to and from work. Going to work was not too bad because it was a lovely sunny autumn morning. Going back from work was slightly different especially as I had drinks with some friends and ended up walking home around 10pm. French conclusion as to why I am ill? Because I have "trappé froid" (caught cold).

In the UK we talk about "catching cold" too. As my grandma would say when looking at one of the skimpy outfits I used to put on when off out somewhere (note the expression "used to") "ooh you'll catch your death in that!". "Catching cold" to me always meant that there was a cold going round (in school for example) and that eventually you would catch it. I never understood it to mean "you will catch cold because it is cold" but here in France that seems to be the general interpretation. If I go out, (god forbid!) without a scarf and then later complain of a sore throat, my French friends will say "ah tu as trappé froid sur ta gorge" (you caught cold on your throat). The French seem to live in fear of "catching cold" and therefore make sure they are properly wrapped up (that's why you will see them with scarfs even in summer!). The Brits seem to accept that at some point you will fall ill with a cold and will just have to get over it, but this will in no way stop you from wearing your favourite party dress on a night out in the middle of winter!

Many companies in France offer free flu-jabs to their workers, the company where I work is no exception. When speaking to a new-ish British colleague about whether she had booked her appointment for her flu jab she said that she didn't intend to have it done. Why? "Well isn't it for old people and children?" Well generally yes but companies don't want their staff getting ill and taking time off so they would rather we get our jab. My British colleague's attitude was "if I get ill I'll deal with it!". So British but in a sense I completely understand her.

According to my mother I've become French because at the slightest sign of pain or illness I go to the pharmacy for vitamins and painkillers (she exaggerates!). That said, this is coming from the woman who, when I was a child, refused to take me to the hospital because she was fairly sure my sore foot wasn't actually broken. The next day she did take me to the hospital and was proven wrong (emotionally scarred me??!). However unlike my French friends, I generally prefer to battle out a cold with lots of honey and lemon and staying in bed where possible, preferring natural remedies rather than pumping myself full of drugs at the slightest sign of illness.

The first time I fell ill in France I went to my local pharmacy and said "I'm ill" or "je suis balade (sic)" ("malade", you know you can't get your 'm's out properly when you're ill). The kindly pharmacist asked me what my symptoms were. "well I'm bunged up" (isn't it obvious??). "Ah, vous avez le nez bouché? Mal à la tête? Le nez qui coule un peu? Mal à la gorge?"
"uh huh" (this kid was bright!)
So he comes back with about 5 boxes, I only went in for the French equivalent of Lemsip! (if only I had thought in advance and brought some from the UK). He hands me this huge bottle and explains that it is a spray to unblock my nose. Then he gives me some paracetamol with added vitamin C, another spray to unblock the nose. WHAT ON EARTH??? In the UK, I usually need a bit of eucalyptus oil, lemsip, a box of nice soft tissues and straight to bed. Now I had a bottle the size of a spray can to use once a day and a smaller spray for more frequent applications. So I took all of it, not entirely convinced it was all necessary and handed over my money. I did not quite understand why I should spray sea water up my nose just so it could come running out again but I gave it a go. It did of course work, but I obviously didn't need a whole big canister of the stuff!

I think now I'm somewhere between the French attitude and the British attitude. This cold won't kill me but I have somewhat grown out of "I'm tough and I can get over this" British-ness and when it comes to a choice between being brave or getting a proper nights sleep and not having a fuzzy head and blocked nose at work, I would rather help things along with a bit of paracetamol. Now where did I put my scarf??

I love France!

2007-10-11T08:32:00.001-07:00

A few years ago, my mother bought me a lovely suede backed diary so that I could record my experiences in France as I had (more or less) done during my Erasmus year. On the first page I wrote "Dear Diary (I don't know why I said Dear Diary but I felt I had to address it to someone)
I plan to write about my experiences in France in my diary. I don't promise to write everyday but I hope I shall be able to write often".

When I returned to France, to begin with I had a lot of time on my hands and was able to write my daily experiences in my diary. As time went on however and I became more involved in teaching and studying for my course. When I got home in the evening I had less and less time to write anything in my diary and only really reverted to it when I was upset about something.

Having created this blog during the boring months of summer I have found that like my diary I have had less time to write. Also, having examined other blogs, I think I had a "bloggers crisis". Why exactly was I writing this? Who for? What for? Yes I live in Paris and yes Paris is amazing but there are so many blogs which write about living in France. If you want to find out about how workers in Paris trot down to the metro in the morning, picking up a warm croissant or pain au chocolat on the way and then arrive at work to air kiss gorgeous looking French colleagues then you only have to google Paris blogs (I exaggerate only a little) and I'm sure you'll find loads. Just to clear things up, in the same way as the French think we English have bacon, sausages and eggs in the morning, anyone who makes you think that the French pick up hot croissants and pain au chocolats every morning, drink espressos, smoke gaulloises AND remain wonderfully thin, is having you on!

Also many blogs are written by expats who are outside observers of French culture. Whilst I am undoubtedly outside, in the sense that I am not French, I feel that I have integrated the French society and have many lovely and faithful French friends. I loved the line in the recent film I went to see "Two days in Paris" where Julie Delpy says "ça fait deux ans qu'on est ensemble, donc on est un couple qui dure" (we have been together for two years so we are a couple which lasts). I have been living in France for 5 years and France was my new love. Like any great love at the beginning you think that everything is fantastic, soon enough you begin to see the faults and failings in your lover and if you can get past that and learn to accept the faults of the other, your love has a chance of lasting. Sure, France is not always fabulous and god knows the system is a nightmare sometimes, but which system isn’t? Like every expat I think I can say that sometimes I love this country and sometimes I feel isolated and a real stranger but generally after all these years I do still love it and do still want to live here. It is of course difficult for any person anywhere who leaves their home country (even if it is by choice) and goes to another country and tries to integrate into a new society. From the outside the French can seem cold and unwelcoming and the French system frustrating and bureaucratic but once you break the system and get to know the people you find that France is like any other country and the French are just as warm, friendly and fun as any people you could wish to meet. So whilst I can empathize with every expat who is trying to understand this country and its people, I say be patient and you will find exactly how great this country can be. I conclude with "Vive La France!" (of course don't be expecting me to be shouting that too loudly come Saturday! ;-) )

The Good Samaritan

2007-09-12T09:39:00.000-07:00

I'm not much of a church go-er. I was baptized a catholic and for most of my life have followed that faith but for right or for wrong I haven't always seen the need to go to church, especially not any old church just for the sake of it. This changed when I moved to France for the first time. I felt lonely being away from my family and going into the church to pray or listen to the service was a comfort to me. I never understood the words of the service, I could recognize more or less the order of service but I couldn't really follow the words and there were no mass books available. During my first year in France, going to church became part of my Sunday ritual, especially as there was little else to do on a Sunday but more particularly because I found a really nice church near where I used to live. It was quite a modern building but the congregation was quite mature. However, the service was vamped up a bit, for example one day, after the gospel reading and a very short homily, the congregation was told to get into little groups and to discuss what the gospel had meant to them. I was invited into a little group of ladies who started talking enthusiastically about what their interpretation of the gospel was. My French was not very good so the best I could do was nod and smile and say "je suis d'accord". I agree. Despite the fact that I couldn't contribute much to the conversation the ladies were very nice and welcoming. I liked the service in this church even though I didn't understand much of it but I still enjoyed being part of it. My Sunday ritual was therefore: go to church, pick up hot croissant and pain au chocolat, as well as a baguette (which I learnt to pronounce as 'peng' it being the south of France and all); go home eat breakfast, go to launderette to do the week's laundry, make weekly telephone call to parents, then maybe once all that was done go for a wander around town. This helped to make Sunday's pass quickly and ease the solitude somewhat.

One cold Sunday in October I realized that I had no clean socks to go to church in. Also although I'd packed a few winter items, I had arrived in France at the end of August and until then had been able to wear light summery clothes. I didn't think anyone would notice and anyway I was going to do my laundry a bit later so I got dressed, put on a warm winter coat and went off to church wearing no socks. At church I sat down next to a little old lady. During the service the basket for the offerings came round. I put in a couple of francs (it was in 2001, France changed to the euro a few months afterwards) and passed the basket down the pew. The little old lady who had been sat near me threw a few francs and I took the basket back to hand over to the eucharistic minister. Once the basket had been taken off me the old lady grabbed my hand, instinctively I held her hand back because I thought she was looking for support, but instead she pressed a 50 franc note into my hand (the equivalent of 5 pounds sterling at the time). I looked at her in astonishment "C'est pour que vous puissiez vous acheter les chausettes Mademoiselle" she said pointing at my bare feet which were showing above my shoes and below my trousers. I tried to protest and explain to her that I was in no need of money to buy socks and that I would be doing my laundry later that day but despite my protests she refused to take the money back. I felt so touched but didn't quite know what to do with the money. I just smiled at the lady and thanked her for her generosity. I had two choices, either to pass the charitable act along and give the money to charity, or accept the gift as she intended it and go and buy myself some socks. And that was what I did later that week. I bought socks!

Being an English Rose

2007-09-10T09:39:00.001-07:00

Being an English rose, and by that I make no allusion to my beauty (or lack thereof) but simply to the fact that I am pale skinned and have a typical English rose complexion, is not easy regardless of which country you live in. In England we are ashamed of our pale complexions, "pale is interesting" is not something that has ever taken off no matter how much we would like to believe it! When I go back to the UK all I see is tanned beauties, albeit the tan has come from the local highstreet tanning centre or a bottle of St Tropez, but nonetheless the typical pale English skin has been duly covered up. In France, being blond haired and blue eyed is interesting and attractive. Another thing is that most women I see wear very little face makeup and, as they tan naturally, fake tan can be seen a mile off (or a kilometre away if we're going metric!) so I wouldn't dare to try and use fake tan for fear of being ridiculed. Therefore I see no point in hiding the fact that I'm pale, even on the beach. Yes I hear things like "Ah c'est les anglais" when I dare to get into a bikini and show myself on a beach. They seem to think I have just jumped off the ferry whereas I have been living here for near on 5 years and over several summers I have tried desperately to make my skin change colour, alas to no avail (it will go pink or red but never a hint of tan!). In fact, I'm rather impressed at the way French women live with their skin. Whatever their skin problem they do not try to cover it up. Having suffered acne during my teenage years and early twenties, I've always been used to troweling on the make-up, but in France I noticed that people are often very discreetly made up. If there is something you do notice on French women, it is a tendency to emphasise their eyes and their lips with eyeliner and lip-gloss or lipstick respectively. I find myself studying French women on the metro (discreetly of course because my Mother taught me it is rude to stare!) but I fail to see any evidence of foundation and in fact many of them are infuriatingly naturally beautiful. This is probably due to the vast range of skincare they have available to them as well as the fact that one can oh-so-easily go and see a dermatologist simply by calling and making an appointment and not have to be referred by your normal doctor. I went through the NHS system and did see a dermatologist for a while (I was on the god awful Roacutane!) but could only ever get an appointment every six months. During my teenage years I had always believed that I had greasy skin and therefore used every industrially strong anti-bacterial product I could find to disinfect my skin. The result of this was that after the Roaccutane and the acne, my nose and cheeks were still rather red. I usually put this down to sunburn, cold weather, warm weather, a cold, heyfever or any other excuse I could find. This was especially amusing when I taught because children have a charming fashion of lacking totally in tact.

One day when I had just finished class and was waiting until after playtime to take the other class I decided to sit down in the playground and enjoy the warm weather. I was very soon surrounded by some of the girls from my class who came to chat to me and show me how well they could skip. One of the girls sat up on window ledge behind where I was sitting and began playing with my hair. 'Vous êtes belle et vous avez les cheveux doux Miss Rose' (pronounced Miss Roz),
'Why thank you Claudia'
'Pourquoi votre nez est rouge par contre?'
There it was. Straight to the point.
'Well' I began 'probably because it is quite warm today' I said, reaching for the famous excuse.
'Moi mon nez n'est pas rouge' she said matter-of-factly
'Yes, you are lucky. But also we have different coloured skin' I said, rolling up a sleeve to show my pale bare arm.
'You have lovely brown skin because you are French, I have white, pinky skin because I am English'
'Donc votre nez est rouge parce que vous êtes anglaise' said Claudia, pleased with her conclusion.
I decided not to continue the discussion.

This blunt and direct way of talking does not restrict itself to the children. Whenever I decided to venture into places like Galerie Lafayette to check out the skin care range I usually got pounced on by one of the shop assistants. When I tried to explain to them in French what I was after they immediately start contradicting me and headed over to the green cream section saying that I have to put on a green base to counter the redness. The result of this is two things, one I would look like Shrek and two I would have to trowel on even more foundation to cover the green stuff! No thank you!

After having been in France for a while and having finally sorted out my medical insurance, I decided to go and see a Dermatologist to see if she could sort out my skin. She took one look at me and declared that I had sensitive skin, that I should be using only the gentlest of products and that the fact that my nose and cheeks were red was not because I was English but because I had rosacea. She sent me off to the nearest pharmacist with a list of skin friendly lotions that I ought to buy as well as a prescription. From that day on, my skin and I have been friends, and I threw away all the industrial strength anti-bacterial face wash and replaced it with soft cotton and cleansing lotion. My skin routine drastically changed. Thanks to the same dermatologist, I was also able to have access to laser treatment at a fairly reasonable price. Three sessions later and my skin was transformed. My foundation was subsequently thrown out. I could show my real skin in public once again. Yes, I would always be an English rose, yes my face flushes when I'm happy, when I'm angry, when I'm tipsy, when I'm embarrassed, in fact my face is still a barometer for my emotions, but I now take a leaf out of French womens' books and I let my real skin show. Pale and interesting? Pale and proud!

Le Trench

2007-09-06T06:54:00.001-07:00

Sat at the table, eating breakfast this morning, listening to the weather report on the radio. The weather report announced a chance of rain, ah I thought, time to put on my trench-coat. The trench-coat, or le trench as the French call it, is a Parisian must! As soon as there is a slightest hint of rain everyone will be out in their trench-coats. Traditionally trench-coats are supposed to be waterproof but most of the ones I have seen recently are anything but waterproof, yet for some reason when it rains, waterproof or not, a trench-coat must be worn. The trench-coat is a timeless classic, it has been a fashion item for years, which explains why it is so popular with French women. French women like classic clothes and the average French woman tends not to want to stick out from the crowds. More importantly they like to be chic and a trench-coat is chic! Most of the people I see on the metro wear black or beige trench-coats, which also explains its popularity with French women, le beige, a favourite, inconspicuous colour. However, this morning whilst observing my fellow trench-coat wearers, among the beiges and the blacks, I observed a chocolate brown trench-coat and even a red trench-coat, very daring! I have a beige trench-coat. For years I have fought the beige in France, as it washes me out somewhat, although I buckled and severely succumbed to black! But I had to have a beige trench-coat as I have several kinds of black coats and jackets. Whenever I hear that it will rain I'm almost excited to be able to wear my trench-coat and know that I'll be sophisticated and fashionable. So on a rainy morning, before leaving the house, I put on my trench-coat, place my Longchamps bag in the crux of my slightly bent arm, slick a bit of lip-gloss on to emphasise the pout, grab my umbrella and trot off to the metro, VOILA!!

Tu le kiffe ou quoi?*

2007-09-04T07:34:00.000-07:00

When faced with the choice of watching a French film or a British/American film (ie English spoken) I will opt for the second eight times out of ten. When a British or American film is showing on the cinema I obviously refuse to watch it dubbed over in French and will only watch it in VO (Version originale – original version). The reason for my aversion to French films is that generally they are boring, I don't get the plot line, or more precisely I don't see the point in the plotline even if I DO understand it. When it comes to French comedies, the difficulty is that most of the comedy value will be in the use of words or the play on words, which even after all these years learning French, I have problems understanding. There have been a couple of French comedies which I have enjoyed but nonetheless I would still much rather see a British or American comedy. In spite of all this, from time to time I have fallen upon a French film, either by flicking through on television or when a French friend recommends a particular film when we go to the cinema, and I have to say I have been surprised and have found the film to be really enjoyable. The storylines were good, (I like happy films so when I say they were good, I mean they were heartwarming "feel-good" films), the acting was good, music, even a touch of comedy, everything!! Here are a few of my favourites:

1) Monsieur Batignole – a film by Gérard Jugot, he also stars in the film,
2) Comme une image – by Agnès Jaoui, she also stars in the film, along with Marilou Barry who I also like as she starred in another of my favourite French films…
3) La première fois que j'ai eu 20 ans
4) Jeux d'enfants – with Marion Cotillard who has recently starred in "La Vie en Rose" and I think is set to become Hollywood's next French star,
5) Je vais bien, ne t'en fais pas – by Philippe Lioret, starring Mélanie Laurent, - LOVED THIS FILM!! Has a twist at the end à la The Sixth Sense, although it is not at all a scary film!

So last night, when deciding what to watch (note that television in France is decidedly crap! If there is something decent to watch like a film or a television series it will of course be dubbed) I had the choice of Men in Black I (dubbed of course – Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones just don't translate as well!), an American police series, a French film for television, or a documentary on Grace Kelly. I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that Men in Black was the best option and was just flicking through the channels during the adverts before the film started when I fell upon the channel Arte. Arte is part German part French and is generally watched by those with a slightly more artistic taste, it is considered to be for the intellectuals. The film last night was called 'L'esquive" by Abdellatif Kechiche starring young actors Osman Elkharraz, Sabrina Ouazani and Sara Forestier. Firstly when I happened upon it I almost couldn't understand the French at all. The film is set in "les banlieues" ie the suburbs of Paris which are in fact more like a ghetto. It was in les banlieues where the riots began in 2005 making the rest of the world think that France was burning whereas in fact there were just a few riots. These are the areas which are very deprived and where most of France's second generation immigrant families live. Think Toxeth or Brixton in the 1980s and you get the picture! Anyway, this film is about a group of teenagers who decide to act out a play which they are learning in their French class. The play is by an old French playwright (Marivaux) and written in old French. The students' language when they are rehearsing the play contrasts with the way they speak in real life. Generally it is a film about a young boy who falls in love with a girl at school and becomes interested in the play in order to impress her. The story is interesting, touching and well interpreted by the actors. The film is filmed simply, almost like a documentary, as if the cameraman was simply watching these teenagers talking to each other, there is no back ground music, no special effects. At first I decided to watch the film to try and see exactly how much of the street-French I actually understood. Imagine if you will a foreign person trying to understand a think Glaswegian, Scouse, Mancunien or Brummy accent and you'll understand why it is not easy to understand banlieusian French. I was actually quite impressed by exactly how much I did understand which is either proof of how well I'm integrated or simply proof that I've been hanging out with people who speak a lot of slang! I intended to change channels but found myself drawn in by the story and fascinated by this view into life in les banlieues. In the film, the teenagers from the banlieues acted all tough when in the streets but really enjoyed rehearsing for the play and taking on the roles of lords and ladies. It reminded me of the children I used to teach who were from deprived areas of Bordeaux and similarly acted tough when in the playground or in the street but when in the classroom it was clear how much they enjoyed the activities and were really happy when they accomplished something or received a good mark. The story in the film focuses on the preparation of the play but also illustrates themes like love, friendship, poverty, police brutality, hardship. I'm no film critic but personally I rather liked "l'esquive" and would recommend it to others or in the words of one of the actors "Ouais, je le kiffe quoi!"

(kiffe= to like, *"Do you like it?)

La Rentrée

2007-09-03T07:54:00.000-07:00

Children get so excited about "Going back to school". As the end of the summer holidays approaches they are already talking about which year they are moving up to and who their teacher is likely to be. When I was a teacher, this time of year was filled with excitement and expectation. Whether it was in the schools or at university, there was a buzz in the air and you couldn't help but get wrapped up in it. Everyone was excited to be back, to be with their friends, refreshed after the holidays. Whereas twenty years ago I would have been admiring my shiny new patent shoes, my nice new school uniform and my new school pens and pencils, this year, despite being much more "grown up", I find that I still enjoy this time of year even though I now work in an office. France literally shuts down over the month of August. Even in Paris, either people go away for around 3 weeks or, those who do not take their holidays at this time cannot do very much as most people are away over August. This may seem ridiculous to the rest of the world, indeed I confess I found it a bit strange myself, but it is one of the things one must accept when one lives in France and there is no point getting annoyed about it you may as well enjoy it. On the one hand, you can wonder about the missed business opportunities, being able to cash-in during the holidays, especially when you see that businesses, shops and restaurants are real sticklers for having their "congès annuelles" but on the other hand, the French may not necessarily be wrong about taking a proper break over summer, thus preparing them for the workload over winter. There is a nice atmosphere when people come back from holidays, they tour the offices and say hi to people and relate how their holidays went. Everyone looks happier. Everyone, (except me as I have very English un-tanable skin!) has a nice tan and it is clear that the weeks spent in the south of France doing very little has done them the world of good. Yes, not a lot of work will get done whilst people get used to being back, yes the happy holiday atmosphere will fade after around a week and yes in the public sector the days when they will be striking are already being planned, but for the time being I say, VIVE LA RENTREE!!

The candle burnt out long before the legend ever will

2007-08-31T06:29:00.000-07:00

Ten years ago I was awoken by my Dad, his eyes were red and his voice broken when he spoke, "The princess Diana is dead, she was killed in a car crash in Paris". It was hard to come to terms with, difficult to believe that it had really happened. I, like the rest of the British population, was very upset about her death. That day, when I switched on the radio, every song was a slow and melancholy song and this continued over the weekend. Then when we watched the funeral a few days later, we really felt the impact of the sorrow of a whole nation. What we could not have predicted then is the impact this event would have on the royal family. Since her death we have watched her two children grow up into fine, handsome men. They have carried on her work and have followed her example. As a nation, I think we are very fond of William and Harry and are proud of them, as their Mother surely was. Diana was far from being a saint but she was a person who had a big heart and who dedicated herself to charitable works. She reached out to those really in need and showed them that she really cared. Britain may not commemorate her death again in the same way in ten years time but for today we once again remember the people's princess.

Why blogger?

2007-08-30T07:16:00.000-07:00

I have been deliberating over this for a while and I have been inspired by blogs such as lapeiteanglaise.com and pollyvousfrançais as well as laminetteanglaise (all excellent blogs which have entertained me enormously!). Ok I realize laroseanglaise is not the most original name for a blog of an English lady living in France but it felt that it was the most appropriate given the circumstances.

I live in Paris. Many bloggers in Paris write about what a fantastic city it is, that is because it IS a fantastic city!! But for me it's not THE only city in France. I have lived here for a total of 5 years and have experienced three cities in all.

I wanted to create this blog for several reasons:

1) I have a terrible memory or rather I have a rather selective memory and remember things/anecdotes about the last few years from time to time and never bother to write them down.
2) I also often have lots of thoughts and opinions about the French and my life in France and as mentioned above never bother to write them down. I don't flatter myself that others are particularly interested in what I think, but I do think that some people may be bored enough to have a little read!
3) Because I want to see whether I can actually write and this is a warm up exercise for an idea of a book I have and maybe one day will actually right, although I have no delusions of it being a hop, skip and a jump from being blogger to writer.
4) Finally, in contrast, I think, to most other expats I have experienced three very different experiences over the last fives years: studying in French universities (Erasmus and then post grad), being a language assistant and finally the working life. I am 100% British, I came here completely of my own choosing, and before my Erasmus year had no particular connections nor affinities with France, but since my Erasmus year I have completely fallen in love with France and am on a one-woman mission to prove that I can make it work here. I therefore intend this blog to be an account of some of my past experiences and some of my present and future experiences with the hope that it may help anyone to happens to read it to understand better how the system works and the MANY differences between the French and British cultures.

As a disclaimer, I ought to mention that this whole blogging world is all very new to me and I have always been very crap with technology. So whilst I hope to make this blog a little bit more interesting over time with additions of pictures etc, the rest of it I think will be hit and miss and generally possibly not very high tech!

Anyway, you never know until you try!

2007-08-28T06:44:00.001-07:00

Oh gosh, can't believe I have done it, after all this faffing around have finally set up a blog. I'm a blogger! I have lost my blogger virginity, started my blogging adventure, and who knows what will happen!