Greetings Again From France:
Life remains good here in Provence. It’s Monday, December 2nd, so we’ve turned the calendar page. People are commenting on the cold. Daytime temperatures in the mid-to-upper 40s. That’s not quite the 50s (and maybe the 60s), which were advertised for the winter. Keaka seems to be at the conclusion of his cold/flu, while Sophia is home from school today with her own version of the cold/flu.
Now in our 4th month of 11 months in France, we are adapting better and getting a better understanding of why things are as they are. I’ve found microwave popcorn. The tap water seemed funny tasting at first, but now it’s cold and delicious, and I’m enjoying my bottled water that is the replacement for Aquafina. There’s a common bottled orange juice that is quite good. Baguettes are actually pretty tasty, especially when you happen to hit the Patisserie (bakery) when they’re coming out of the oven. We don’t quite use the baguette in the all the ways the French do at every meal, but we grab a slice with butter now and then, I’ve gotten use to using it for a fried egg sandwich (don’t tell the French folks such a thing is happening), and we eat a baguette or two with butter at dinner. Since we don’t have bread and butter with dinner at home in the U.S., it’s quite a change. Marlene’s making more dinners at home, which means home made chicken noodle soup (very hard to find soup in the grocery store, though we hear it will appear more now that winter is here), pasta and chicken, and a baguette, then another baguette and another baguette. We’ve found canned corn and peas, which makes a chicken dinner more American. We haven’t figured out apple sauce and cottage cheese, both Wilson dinner mainstays, but maybe we shall before we depart. I made egg salad the other day (Marlene was distressed because she always includes sweet pickles in her egg salad and sweet pickles do not exist in France) and it was good on a baguette and on French crackers. These folks are into crackers, biscuits and the like. The aisle of such things at the grocery store seems to go forever, yet nothing compared to the cheese and wine aisles. The French don’t seem to eat dinner out, at least as much as our family does in the United States. And, restaurants are basically open from 12:30 to 2:30 and 7:30 to 9:30, which is something the “eat anything at anytime” Wilson clan will take a bit longer to adjust to. That’s a main contributor to our McDonalds habit here in France (that American joint is open all-day and filled with French people). A sliced hardboiled egg (the French call it an omelet) and vegetables on a baguette is still not appealing for lunch. A French woman, who has lived in Seattle and Boston, told us her family had hen for Thanksgiving. She says the French turkeys are still growing and that you’ll be able to find turkeys for Christmas (I think we’ll be happy to be in Paris for Christmas). The same woman (who is very skinny) says that French women are obsessed with being thin and able to wear a bathing suit. And, it looks like most men are able to fashion their way along the beach in a stylish Speedo. You get the picture that food isn’t that readily available when you’re on the move and the culture is big-time on not eating much.
Not to change the subject, but, over 80% of the electrical power in France comes from nuclear plants. We have such a plant about ten minutes from the house. The French think nothing of it. I met a man who works for a company that has an aluminum plant about ten minutes from our house (very close to the nuclear plant). The plant is the oldest aluminum plant in the world, but then the aluminum ore Bauxite was discovered near here in 1821, giving the name Les Baux-de-Provence to the village near where the discovery was made. (And you think we’re over here doing nothing – always learning!) Back to contradictions here in France, you’re driving past the aluminum plant, which is black, huge and dirty, while just down the street you pass this sleek, modern nuclear plant. But, then you’re driving on a road that would be an alley in the United States, and then turn onto an AutoRoute, which is nicer than any freeway in the United States.
Oh, we did go and see Olympic Marseilles defeat Montpellier on the Stade Velodrome pitch on Friday evening. Keaka just kept repeating, “I hate soccer, it’s a dumb game, when are we going home?” It was in the low 40s, so Marlene smartly brought two blankets. It wasn’t as cold as the Lions-Packers Thanksgiving Day games I use to go to in the 1950s at old Briggs Stadium, but it was cold enough to bring back memories. We’re actually smarter than to go to a game in the cold, but we got carried away. I’ve always wondered why European football (soccer) is played from the fall through the spring? I’m still wondering. There are no spectator sports in the summer here! You might wonder how we liked the game (match)? Marlene said it was “a little slow”. Sophia said “it was good – better than Major League Soccer in the United States”, and I kept sitting there thinking to myself, “this is awful”. About $50 per ticket to be well up in the grandstand, where you really can’t make out the players’ numbers. It was not an important or a rivalry game for Olympic Marseille, but still........I don’t get it.
Back in September, Marlene and I drove to Avignon, which is about an hour from here. A great place on the Rhone River, with a magnificent old walled city. Avignon (Av-ee-on) was home to the Roman Catholic Pope from 1300s into the 1400s, and the facility that housed Popes and staff is still there (as we say, you can look it up). The city has a terrific park located above the city and overlooking the river (turning to the photos, we managed to pose in the park). We got a shot of the chapel that was part of the Popes’ facility. Marlene took a rest at one of Avignon’s fountains and we caught a photo of a church at the end of a typical old town street.
We’ve been to Nimes with the kids (there are photos coming soon) and we’re planning on getting over to Arles, both famous cities with great Roman history.
Meanwhile, let’s throw in Marlene sitting at one of the dozens of fountains in Aix-en Provence, and we caught a photo of a church at the end of a typical old town Aix-en Provence street.
The Wilsons
