Bonne Année 2016.

A "clean" family photo at Neuschwanstein Castle, Germany.

I had a dream recently that we traveled back to our home in California.  We were squatters in our own house.   The renters came home and were rather puzzled, and reminded us we didn’t live there at the moment.  Then I woke up in our new apartment.

We moved over the holidays.   It was not expected, though has turned out to be a very good thing.   To invoke a new-age term, our first apartment did not have good feng shui, for a lot of reasons.   We had the final walk through of this apartment last week.  The owners bid us adieu after verifying we had left all of the spoons in the kitchen, and hadn’t absconded with any of their bathroom towels.   The owner of our new apartment welcomed us with two bottles of his favorite wine and the use of his car.    Sometimes change is good. 

This little shop is in our new neighborhood.  I walk by it everyday and it just makes me happy.

To avoid thinking about our rental worries, Jim and I engaged in some holiday food festivities, including a cooking class.   Odile is a very nice French woman in our neighborhood, who offers cooking classes in her home.   On the day we attended, we made Chestnut, Pear and Roquefort Veloute, Confit of Lamb and Lemon, and Chocolate Mousse.   At the end, we all sat down to eat and drink.   It was really fun and the food was delicious.   We also met some really interesting people, including a woman named “Sandi.”

As soon as we got settled in Odile’s kitchen, Jim started to open a carton of milk.  He couldn’t see if it was already open, because he didn’t have his glasses on.  So, he handed it to me to check.  Sandi sees this, and says, “you two have been together for a long time, right?”  Gosh, I think, we are so well matched that we just ooze compatibility.  Then she says, “he can’t do anything himself, he’s completely dependent on you.”   My first thought is, “bitch”, and then, “hmm, she’s sort of right.”  

Sandi has opinions on everything it turns out.  How to chop, how to dice, how to stir, etc.    She starts to advise me as I’m chopping a zucchini.   I don’t always appreciate unsolicited advice.  So I stop, and immediately turn over the knife to Sandi.  She looks a little stunned, and protests, “oh, no, you go ahead”, but I insist.   I watch as she re-cuts the zucchini.    She soon discloses to us that she is a little OCD (no shit?).  “I’m also an engineer”, she says.  “It’s probably a good job for me.” 

A little while later, I’m finding Sandi amusing.   She clearly knows she’s quirky and starts sharing some things about her life.  Sandi lives here in Paris with her French Canadian boyfriend.    She tells us they have “theme” nights for dinner.  Monday is “leftovers”, Tuesday is “sandwich night”, Wednesday is “pasta”, etc.   She tells us (all of us here are parents, except her), how awful children are and how she is going to do things when she’s a parent.   The Tiger Mom has nothing on her.   Oh, how amusing it would be to watch this woman with her own kid someday.

Odile and us.  Jim in action.  Odile's Paris "refrigerator".  Me, with Sandi, just before she instructs me on the Zucchini.

We attend French classes twice per week.   My progress is embarrassingly slow, though Jim continues to make great strides.    Our teacher, Isabelle, is equally interested in helping us to appreciate French culture.   Just before the holiday break, she prepared for us a traditional French Christmas lunch.   Isabelle also has confidence in Jim’s language skills.  For the luncheon, she assigned him the task of purchasing the fresh oysters from the poissonnier.   I was assigned something less risky: butter.

Jim's Oysters!

On a foggy December day, in a luxurious Paris apartment, we feasted on: champagne and foie gras with dried figs; fresh oysters with lemon, rye bread and sea salt butter; scallops carpaccio with a mango, passionfruit and lime/soy vinaigrette; roast chicken with a morel cream sauce and a parsnip puree; a cheese course featuring Vacherin MonD’Or;  and Buche du Noel from Pierre Herme.  Each course was paired with a separate wine.  It was all sublime.   I still have time to up my language skills and make Isabelle proud.  And hopefully earn responsibility beyond butter procurement.

Beautiful friends, beautiful food. 

Because I may never in my life get to do this pose again. 

My final culinary adventure was a lunch at Le Comptoir du Relais, to say farewell to our friend Aviva.   Her family was just here for one school semester unfortunately, and they will be sorely missed.   I’m glad the stars aligned and we all ended up here  together for a little while.

After the girls got through final exams, and before we moved, we did some traveling.   We are on a quest to show our daughters as many major European cities as we can.   That’s not completely true.  It’s ME.  I want to see as many European cities as I can.   My husband is a happy participant and the girls are along for the ride. 

We flew to Vienna after Christmas.   While there, we climbed to the top of St. Stephen’s Cathedral, and toured the Catacombs.   We visited Schonbrunn Palace, the Belvedere, and the Hofburg Imperial Apartments.    We had Wiener Schnitzel at Motto am Fluss, Goulash at Café Schwarzenberg, and Apple Strudel at Café Central. 

St. Stephen's Cathedral, Vienna.

Statue of Poet Peter Altenberg, inside Cafe Central.   The "homeless poet".  Purportedly wore sandals in the snow and had a penchant for young girls.  

We learned about Empress Elisabeth of Austria (“Sisi”).   Emperor Franz was supposed to marry her sister, but got a look at 16-year-old Sisi, and changed his game plan.   Sisi was already happy with her charmed teenage life in Bavaria, and didn’t adjust well to her new royal duties.   She was 5’8’’ tall, weighed about 100 pounds, and had hair down to her ankles.  She spent three hours per day on her grooming.  That she exercised was considered scandalous.   Sisi had her own suite of rooms, and Franz had to ring her doorbell for permission to enter.   She was a bit of a narcissist and was eventually assassinated.   I think she was misunderstood, but it was so much fun to learn about her.

Cafe Schwarzenberg.  We were trying to capture the iconic waiter in the background. 

After Vienna, we took the train to Munich, Germany.  I’ve always been intrigued by this country (my maiden name is Blumstein after all, so perhaps its genetic).   I must say that I really like these German speaking countries.  They appeal to the rule oriented side of me.  Paris is all beautiful, disorganized chaos.  But Germany (the little I’ve seen), so clean and orderly, is its own kind of wonderful beauty.  And the people are so nice (except for the train conductor, who was a bit difficult about our tickets, but I’ll let that slide).

Munich, Germany

Polka band singing Lynyrd Skynyrd tunes.

We're not sure what these guys were singing.  Either the national anthem or some German fight song.

The Glockenspiel!

Selfie at Hofbrauhaus.

The Marienplatz.

Dinner at Ratskeller München.

We did an awesome, free, walking tour with this hilarious guy named Austin.  We watched the Glockenspiel chime, drank beer at the Hofbrauhaus, climbed to the top of yet another Cathedral, and survived New Year’s eve fireworks on the Marienplatz.  Seriously, there were bottle rockets flying in front of our faces.   On New Year’s Day, we visited the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial.   Whatever one thinks of Germany, they own their awful history and this memorial site is an appropriate tribute.  No other words are necessary, but I like this picture Jim took.

Dachau Concentration Camp.

On our last day in Germany, we ventured over to Neuschwanstein Castle.  Another palace, another misunderstood monarch.   They say this castle is the one that inspired Walt Disney.   King Ludwig II had it built as his refuge from reality.    Ludwig was a shy guy, passionate about the arts, liked dressing up, and enjoyed being surrounded by beautiful things.   He really wasn’t cut out to rule a country.  Unfortunately, he tended to spend state revenues on his artistic passions, to the dismay of his financial advisors.   He was eventually declared insane and deposed.  He died under questionable circumstances:  found dead in Lake Starnberg, along with the psychiatrist who diagnosed him.    Anyway, his legacy includes some of the most beautiful structures in Europe.  

Getting ready to hike up to the Castle.

View of the village and another one of Ludwig's castles.

These last ones I took after ignoring a no trespassing sign, climbing over a barbed wire fence, and walking through mud.  Bad selfie of me, but totally worth it.

The holidays.   Friends from home ask me what Paris must have been like during Christmas.    All sparkly and magical they guessed, like a Disney movie.   I will concede that it was very pretty, more lit up then usual.   We did visit several of the highly touted Christmas markets.   To me, they were a combination of the Jersey Shore boardwalk and the Sausalito Art Fair.   This is just an observation, not a criticism, as I happen to like both of these destinations very much.  Overall though, my attempts to recreate our family traditions felt forced.   Despite the smiling pictures, we all felt a little “off”.   

I know that we are not really expats.  Our tourist visas don’t warrant that kind of street cred.   However, I do have a new appreciation for families that make this lifestyle choice.  There was a time I would have been disdainful of anyone who dared to voice any sadness about living a life abroad.   Going forward, I may be less quick to judge.

Twinkly Paris.  Post Holidays.

A friend from NYC, who had spent a couple of years in Paris with her teenage kids, counseled me before we moved.  I had assumed they must have done a ton of traveling during their time.   All those school breaks!  Weekends!  “Don’t set your sights too high”, she said.  “Your kids will still have homework and science projects and SAT prep courses and AP English papers and dance rehearsals and sports meets.”  “They will still have all the same social drama.”  I filed all this advice in my brain, under the “my experience will be unique” heading.  I was a little naïve.

We are gaining much from being here.   But, it’s also had an impact on our family relationships that I didn’t expect.   The normal challenges of family life did not magically disappear, and in some cases were exacerbated.    Lets just say there have been some interesting observations and discussions.  It will all be fine.  And, in the meantime, we get to be in Paris.

À bientôt.