Wine at the Prom, the "F" word, Fromage de tete, and machine guns.

Sacré-Cœur

I am taking a break from French bureaucracy for a few days.    Our box shipment has finally been liberated from Customs.    My next challenge is obtaining our temporary residence permits through the OFII (l’office francais de l’immigration et de l’integration).   I looked at the checklist of requirements and immediately felt overwhelmed.   I have no doubt it will provide for some entertaining blog material.  

(I will note here that my husband believes I am too verbose in my posts.   His former colleagues will find this ironic coming from him.  I will also acknowledge that I like to curse and I really enjoy wine.  So, if wordiness, swearing, or wine consumption remotely offends you, then this is not the blog for you).   

Anyway . . . last weekend was somewhat thrilling as we actually had plans – with other people.   We had dinner at a wonderful restaurant, Le Dôme du Marais, with another family whose daughter will be in class with Katie.   The mom, Kristin, has been a huge source of information for me in the past year and it was fun to get the families together.   When the wine was being poured, our serveur naturally offered both of the 16-year-olds a glass.   Jim and I just looked at each other and said, “when in Rome (or in Paris)”.    Kristin tells me that it is not unusual for wine and champagne to be served at the prom. 

The drinking age in France is, well, I’m not sure that there really is one.  At every restaurant we go to, a wine glass is always placed in front of Katie.   It’s just not a big deal here.    I would bet that France’s binge drinking among teens is lower then in the United States, despite our country having a higher drinking age.   What’s interesting to me is I’m not convinced that Katie even liked the wine that much, as she only sipped on it.  Maybe it’s just the thrill of being able to have it?   Maybe.

Our goal, until school starts, is to find unique, somewhat less touristy activities.  We are hoping to shift the girls' focus away from their temporary refugee status.  So this week, we visited the Musée des Arts Forains.  Yes, a museum, but it’s actually a collection of early 20^th century carnival rides.   It’s also interactive, so you can actually pedal on the bicycle-powered carousel.   What I didn’t know was that a few scenes from one of my favorite movies, Midnight in Paris, were filmed there (whatever you think of Woody Allen, the man makes a damn good movie).

A little pretend Moulin Rouge

Allie and le cochon

We were in a small tour group led by a charming French woman and we were only her third English speaking tour.   She was remarkably kind and patient with our eclectic group – which included:  an unpleasant, older American man, his young Russian wife and their ill-behaved toddler; a delightful British couple and their three well behaved children; and a gorgeous young European guy with his model-esque looking girlfriend.   The guy was wearing a t-shirt that said “I want to fuck you” (at least he was clear about his intentions).  I thought this was so funny and obnoxious at the same time that I tried to capture it on film.  However, in the picture, the t-shirt said “I want to love you.”    Bien sûr!

Yesterday, we took the metro to Montmartre and did a food tour with another charming young French person – a guy this time, named Stefan.  Our group was less eclectic: just our family, and two 20-something Norwegian women, in Paris for the weekend.   They were lovely and smart and really fun to be with.  The best part was watching my daughter converse with them about American politics.

Katie in discussion with the Norwegians.

Stefan took us to the Chocolatier, the Macaron shop, the Pâtisserie, Boulangerie, Fromagerie, Charcuterie & Boucherie, and the Cave & Bar à vin.   We slowly wound our way up through all the super cool streets of Montmartre, passing  by the “love wall”, lots of great street art, and the home where Picasso once lived and worked.   We also visited a couple sites from another wonderful Parisian movie:  Amélie.   We ended up at a garden behind Sacré-Cœur for a picnic, sampling all of the goodies Stefan had acquired for us.  We loved it all – though the fromage de tete (head cheese) may be an exception.  Of note, this is NOT cheese.   We finished the day with a stop at the Creperie.

The "Love Wall"

Street Art

There wasn't much here for Allie the Vegetarian.

So, that’s been our week.   The last thing worth noting is the military, with their machine guns, casually strolling around the Arc de Triumph and other monuments.  The reason they are there is horrible and sad, and I feel equally disturbed and comforted by their presence.  I like their uniforms though.

à bientôt.

View from our apartment.  Bonne nuit!