Papers, Please

When you move to France, you learn pretty quickly what a justicatif de domicile is. You need copies of those pesky quittances de loyer and EDF bills to do everything from getting a library card to getting married. The French seem to love asking for an unseemly pile of photocopies--what they call a "dossier." With a RIB par ici and a bulletin de salaire par là, they're simply in paperwork heaven and will let you do just about anything. Just don't try pulling anything creative (like changing jobs), or you'll find yourself blacklisted from the whole system. And if there's anything the French like better than asking for a five-year paper trail, it's a chance to say, "Non."

Humphrey Bogart and Claude Rains as Rick and Captain Renault. [Online image] 1942.

February At Last

Once February approaches, Paris becomes a little lighter. You can feel the woolly layers of winter lifting as afternoons stretch their arms a little wider to let you in.
Who needs a groundhog when the sun is there to tell you that spring is just around the corner?

Andie MacDowell and Bill Murray as Rita and Phil. [Online image] 1993.

Winter, Winter, Go Away. . .

It's been another cold winter here in France. But despite some compulsory mumble-grumbles, the natives haven't let a little snow and ice get to them. While the rest of us cower behind bulky turtlenecks and scarves and hide our wind-beaten hair and hands under woolen hats and gloves, Parisian women seem to say, "Pooh-pooh!" in their fur-lined doudounes and sleek leather boots. The fact that it's still dark out at 8am doesn't seem to faze their morning beauty routines either. As tempting as it may be for us weaker souls to mimic winter’s lazy sun and stay hidden under the eiderdown, les Parisiennes manage to look perky (well, everything’s relative) and rosy-faced throughout the dreary winter months. As for me, I think I’d rather wait till spring creeps over the windowsill.

Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle. [Online image] 1964.

Salad "à la Française"

The French have quite a vague notion of salad. It can be something as summery and well-balanced as a salade niçoise or as satisfying and gourmande as a salade au chèvre chaud.
Yet, when served as a side dish--just salade in its naked form, no adjectives or fuss--you realize that to the French, salad actually means one thing: lettuce. We're not even talking mâche (lamb's ear lettuce) or baby spinach. A few limp leaves of iceberg, and that's it. If you're very lucky, you might get a couple slices of tomato, too. But don't count on it. It's not like you ordered the salade de tomates.
But what about everyday meals in the comfort of their homes? The French must be doing something with all their cucumbers and carrots and cherry tomatoes. Well, that's what apéro's for. They put all their raw veggies in little bowls on the coffee table and nibble away as they nurse a glass of wine. No wonder there's nothing left but lettuce to put in the salad. But somehow there always seems to be plenty of wine to go around.

Jack Nicholson as Bobby Eroica Dupea. [Online image] 1970.

Apartment Hunting in Paris

There comes a time when "home" starts feeling a little tight around the seams. That dream apartment whose endless rooms of empty space you walked through a few years has somehow grown enough sticks of furniture, coffee table books, and electrical appliances to fill a house. And when you start bruising yourself on dresser corners on your way to open a window and bend down to get something out of a kitchen cabinet only to find yourself sitting on the hot oven door your husband just opened, a little voice inside tells you that it's that time again.
So you scour seloger.com and pap.fr in search of your next appartement de rêve.
What will it take this time? An extra chambre, so your desk and dining room table don't have to share a room anymore? Or a separate salle de bains and salle d'eau, so taking a shower no longer means taking a number? A balcony would be nice, too--no more repotting flowers in the bathtub. . . and maybe a view of something other than the apartment building across the courtyard, though people-watching can be pretty fun. . .

Chris Noth and Sarah Jessica Parker as Mr. Big and Carrie Bradshaw. [Online image] 2008.

Snowflakes and Slush

Growing up in Southern California, I thought that snowflakes were only in storybooks. (Like indoor school cafeterias were only on TV.) Nothing in real life could be that perfect and white. Rain was enough cause for excitement. We got to take umbrellas to school and have PE in the auditorium. Playing dodgeball to the beat of the rain outside: that was magical. A schoolyard blanketed in soft whiteness would have been too much.
And to Parisians, it seems like too much as well. The city holds it breath when the first flakes fall. All is quiet. Then when the snow sticks to the ground, everyone exhales at once. Policemen appear on street corners in sturdy boots. Children are bundled up like sausages, and women hurry around in fur hats. Soon the crisp whiteness turns to muddy slush. And then the rain returns.

Julie Christie and Omar Sharif as Lara and Dr. Yuri Zhivago. [Online image] 1965.

No Champagne for Me, Please. Or Smoked Salmon. Or Cheese. . .

Being pregnant around the holidays in France really makes you appreciate how vegans must feel during the rest of the year. Not only do certain sights and smells (fresh fish and pungent wheels of cheese at the morning market) make you go green around the gills, but whatever tempts your palate turns out to be hiding a blacklisted ingredient (a French dessert without eggs or butter is about as likely as rum-free punch at a Christmas party). So you get used to passing on pink platters of smoked salmon on tiny toasts and doilied trays of canopés slathered with foie gras mousse. Of course, while vegans can quell their growling stomachs with raw veggies (déconseillés for femmes enceintes due to toxoplasmosis risk) and sparkling trays of teetering champagne flutes, pregnant women's safest bet at Christmastime seems to be baguette and filtered water.
No wonder why Mary's a saint.

Production drawing of Sebastian. [Online image] 1989.