March 2022

The weather has dipped again mostly because of cold winds – Spring is having a tough time getting a footing here. It bounces from low 50’s to mid 60’s but it’s the winds that make the difference. We still aren’t really traveling so this month is more blah, blah, blah than it is pictures. We’ve started with a couple that we took this month while we were out-and-about that have nothing to do with what I’m talking about. I apologize in advance. Well, not really.

This whole month and next month as well, we are daily steeped in French language class. It certainly isn’t anything that I can share with you at length without you falling on your face of boredom. The class is never easy. Although some sessions are less intense, I leave each meeting, exhausted. Sometimes disgusted and exhausted. My retention skills seem to be at an all time low. Still, I will prevail – the whole idea was to keep my brain from decaying. G is doing better than me but is also exhausted. Maybe we should just bow to decay and order a couple of beers.

G and I talked about our difficulties in tackling this. He is amazed at the amount of time I put into studying, which is far more than he and how many problems I am still having. It’s covering things – as both our Oakland tutor and he say – things I have gone over (and over) before and should know. It’s disheartening, yet I continue to whack at it. I haven’t yet found the key that will make things flow easier for me. G says that when we are out, he is so impressed that I jump right in and string together sentences, where he is hesitant. Yet in class, he feels for me when I’m struggling to put things on the board or to speak in exercises. It’s as though things fall into a black hole and I can’t retrieve them. No matter your age, you can still be embarrassed standing in front of a class, failing at an exercise writing on the board.

The classes I enjoy are the ones that are most about reviewing. I think I personally need a lot of review before digesting more. If I could freeze classes at my will, I’d be going over and over the parts I find difficult – to get them solidified – before moving on. Doesn’t mean it’s easy – just means it is more enjoyable to have the time to practice and drill. Still making mistakes, but less of them – with more understanding or comfortability with the concept.

I’ve told the other three students that I decided (since it’s so obvious that I’m on the low end of the learning curve) that my job in class was to make them all feel good about how well they were doing. They laughed. We’ve reached the stage where we are teasing each other and it’s become fun. Class has gotten less tense – I can pinpoint the day but I can not recall what the catalyst was. It was a Tuesday and we left as a group out of the building, shouting Au Revoir to each other like buddies. That has continued. We started to laugh more in class after that with lots of teasing. The work isn’t easier but the class somehow is.

We study hard, we do have times we ignore our homework, we have days we can string sentences together and then many times we fail on that. We caught ourselves having wine every night as a salve and had to jettison that habit rather quickly to save our livers. We do make a point of going out for a cocktail at least once a week as a reward. Oh yeah, not going to drop that or become a saint anytime soon.

On our way home after classes, we enjoy strolling through sections of Lille. We like to stop at a favorite Italian market partially because G is addicted to their Truffle chips and they have great wines. The Italian owner has taken our progress in the French language as a mission. She speaks French with us slowly and time spent with her is like a mini tutor session. We always come home laden with goods (we can’t pass them up) – and most often a pasta dish for dinner. I told G that I was going to bow out of the pasta/truffle chip love affair he was having with her shop. He’s been at it for a couple of weeks and I’ve gained weight.  Enough is enough.

With the regular 60 degree weather, we have been walking in parts we generally don’t see. We came across a whiskey and gin shop that had just opened and talked to the owner – a delightful, young, wiry and very passionate fellow. He had rare bottles of rum and a very old bottle of whiskey. It looked like a bottle from a sea buried treasure box, with crust and mushroom growth on it, which he said was from the cave it was stored in. We didn’t ask the prices of these items as we would never purchase them. He was so intent on the content, that to ask the price seemed it would cheapen the discussion. We did purchase a less dear bottle of whiskey to try and he gave us a small tasting of a rare cognac he kept behind his counter, which was very nice. We would like to go back because he also opened a little restaurant next to his tiny narrow shop, called Bridget’s. We asked about it and he softly said he was sorry to tell us that it was booked for the night’s dinner hour – like it would break our hearts or disappoint us terribly. We nodded solemnly, as if it were indeed a terrible blow and said that we would definitely try another night and we shall.

What really encapsulated this entire picture was a discussion regarding three bottles of rum, high up on a top shelf. They were 1960 vintage and when I asked if they were actually for sale, he smiled and said yes…but. And the ‘but’ that followed was the most telling statement of his passion. He would want to know the person first before selling them. They are the last three of that vintage and he would loathe to let them go. He would want to know the persons interest – so much more than a casual purchase. He had originally purchased 7 bottles and had drunk one himself. I told him I understood that with artists, it was hard to let go of a painting – they are personal, some describe it as almost like having children. He nodded enthusiastically – it was like that for him. 

This is the kind of encounter that makes me love living here. Small shops run by individual, passionate owners. Only the laws here protect this kind of life. Big box had been mindfully removed from the equation – which is why you rarely experience this in the US. Maybe in a small town that supports its business owners more than the internet. Anyway, here – it is not really rare and so delightful to experience regularly. People who love what they do and love to share it. You get to experience their joy and understand their passion and it’s a real treat, be it book binding, hand made pastels, custom leather shoes cut on the site or whiskeys that are high quality and in some cases, rare.

We are looking forward to a couple of visits between now and summer, from folks who have never been to France. We are doing research to tailor outings to their interests. We’ve started researching different things to do in Paris. I had a great link I had bookmarked in the past but it was on the laptop computer I fried last fall and I’ve been unable to find it again. I did come across a speakeasy that uses a laundromat as a front. Once you find the door to the back bar, the cocktails are named following the laundromat theme. Another friend took a night tour on a motorcycle sidecar that she enjoyed and we thought that might be a good adventure. But we are at the beginning and are sure to find more gems before anyone arrives.

I once told a friend, I’ve always maintained that it is my duty wherever I lived, that on anyone’s first visit, to show them the best experience I can muster – from Denver to SF. It takes careful thought to provide a smooth enjoyable vacation. Admittedly, with multiple first time visitors like we had in San Francisco, G and I began to split the excursions and take turns. Occasionally, we would get folks tickets to something, accompany them there and wait outside at a cafe, having a coffee. Frankly there were just so many times I could take the Alcatraz tour. So far we haven’t been over run with visitors here because it’s quite a journey. But I can see us coming to the point of splitting the excursions, after multiple runs especially regarding tours in Paris or trekking through the top ten landmarks.

It is honest to say that a second visit to us is a far cry from the hand holding, well-guided, first experience. For sight seeing, if they’re back for a second time, we believe that it’s time for them to fly on their own. We may join them for a few outings but basically they get a set of keys, a map and a planned menu posted on the refrigerator (so they don’t eat the same thing when out for lunch). The only request is to let us know if they will be having dinner with us, so we know how much to make. Helps avoid burnout all the way around. Guests get tired of us just as much as we might get tired of them. Be you – a host or a guest – having to be at your sparkliest 24/7 for a week or two, is just not natural regardless of how laid back you are. We’ve got a couple of months to prepare and I’m sure we’ll find some unique things to do that aren’t covered in Lonely Planet.

G had to get a colonoscopy this month and of course that really stressed him out, since he’d not had this procedure outside of the US. We had to study the diet (in French) he needed to start on a Tuesday, for a Friday colonoscopy. No veggies, fruits, oils or dairy. He had to drink something in preparation but not the same stuff or even the huge amount the US doctors prescribe. Although it was not as awful, it was terribly sweet and nauseous. The last requirement was that he had to give himself an enema two hours ahead of the procedure. Neither of us had ever done that and that added another stress factor. As always, anticipation is worse than the actual event.

That morning we were up early, we walked to the hospital and checked in. They wheeled him out at 9:15 and wheeled him back in at 10:15. He felt fine – was out the entire time he said. They served him breakfast; a baguette roll, a croissant, butter, honey, apricot jam, a bowl of coffee and orange juice. They got me a coffee, too. Then the doctor came in with photos and a clean bill of health – no polyps. They told him to come back in 5 years. It was a great relief. He got dressed, we paid the bill and walked home. The total bill – doctor, anesthesiologist and hospital room – came to €550.00. The FR Carte Vitale insurance paid €206.00 – and we don’t know yet how much our French Mutuelle insurance will be reimbursing us but a much smaller bill than from the US procedures we’ve had in the past. Soon it’ll be my turn as it’s time for a mammogram. We researched the Radiology centers near us but were unable to determine who spoke English on the staff. I will have to go physically to a site to make an appointment and ensure I get a doctor who does speak English.

I know this next subject doesn’t have anything to do with our adventures here but it was part of our month. For anyone else who likes to peruse cookbooks, I have always been fascinated with, and pay attention to, the cookbooks I see in restaurants and other peoples homes. At one point I had collected at least 200 before I began to dismantle the collection. I still pay particular attention to well-thumbed, stained books – in homes, in restaurants, in used bookstores, in estate sales. At the cooking retreat last year, which was held in someone’s second-home vacation estate, I looked through their cookbook section. I was delighted to find my favorite – The French Farmhouse cookbook, well used – and I saw another also well used, The Paris Cookbook. So I got it later and we’ve tried a couple of recipes, which were good. Anyway, I spied, in our favorite Italian market, a large cookbook on their kitchen shelf and at home I searched for it on the internet. It had a different title in English: it is called The Silver Spoon with over 2000 recipes . I ordered it and when it arrived, it was simply enormous. The section on the subject of fish is 20 pages alone. The best fish section that I’ve experienced, outside of a cookbook of solely seafood recipes. No matter the subject, vegetables to offals, it describes the texture and flavor before giving the recipes. It has gone through several editions and language translations – rather reminds me of the Larousse Gastronomique – the end all to cookbooks. One of my most treasured, it was magnificent to behold. So this Silver Spoon book will certainly take us the rest of our lives to explore.

Lille had its annual light show event one evening – projected against many buildings about town, which we’d planned to get out to and see. Unfortunately it was raining and not warm, so we watched pieces of two shows, from our balcony. We could see the light show on the Opera House front and the one on the train station front, down the street. Mesmerizing and well put together.

We are enjoying the warmer weather (arriving oh so slowly) and bike rides are definitely on our radar. On our walk to class, we go through some rough construction parts and I would hesitate bike riding in those areas, with my lack of riding finesse.

Online, G discovered a large second hand shop in Wasquehal (Troc.com) we went to go see. A 30 min trip by metro and its instagram site so deliciously intriguing. It was very interesting and great fun looking although we didn’t buy anything while there. Still, the inventory changes so we will probably return.

Weeellll…St. Patrick’s day rolled around and we joined it up with Cinco De Mayo. It was such a pretty day that we walked to Los 3 Compadres and had their food of delicious enchiladas and beef taco’s with a margarita for lunch. Then to top it off, on the way home stopped at Tír na nÓg, an Irish pub, for a whiskey and beer. Despite the fact that southern France raises most of the brisket which is exported to the US and the UK for corned beef, we’ve not found corned beef sold in France. Makes me very sad. So, I drowned my sorrows in some very fine chicken enchiladas.

Coming into town from class one day, we stopped at the hardware store for a plunger – our shower room sink was draining slowly. G worked on it when we got home and was able to get the obstruction, that was somewhere down the piping, to move on and clear. We’ve also started to put on the window mosquito netting, since it is time. It was perfect that when I finished putting on the living room window covering, a big mosquito flew in my face, which I promptly killed. Yes, clearly it is spring and they have hatched.

With the warmer weather, we’ve been spending more time outside and enjoying relaxing at the outdoor cafes. Despite the fact that I double mask and still sanitize my hands, at the end of the month, I managed to wake up with a cold. I had to miss a Friday class and then the next Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, which was really annoying. I didn’t want to infect anyone else or push myself. G ran around like my personal assistant, sticking me on the couch, pouring chicken broth and water down my throat. He is as determined as I am, to make this thing move on quickly. It will, if MY will has anything to do with it. Really hate missing my class. Who’d have thought.

But to finish, the best part of the month for me, happened in class. The director came in and told our instructor that it was no longer required to wear masks in the classroom and that we five students were to vote among ourselves if we wanted to still wear them or not. When the instructor asked around – G and I said that we would continue to wear the masks (for my puny compromised lungs) but not to mind us. We made it clear that it was not a problem for us if no one else did and not to take offense that we would be doing so. We also explained to alleviate any anxiety, that we wore masks around town where is it also not required. To our complete surprise, the youngest and most hilarious student in the group – said, “I will continue to wear my mask for” – and pointed to me. The other two said the same. It was incredible and still makes me teary to think of it. We reiterated that it was not a problem AT ALL if they didn’t wear masks in class – but they were adamant. The next morning I went to the local chocolatier shop, Au Chat Bleu, for heart shaped chocolate bars. I tied each with a ribbon and attached a mask, to make my thank you clear. I knew from listening to them all discussing their love of good chocolatiers that they would love these and they did. We continue to meet, all of us in masks.

On a last note, I asked our FR tutor at what point do people generally stop translating from English to FR in their head before speaking – she said when they finish an A2 class status. We are still working on A1, which was two parts – a 6 week and an 8 week stretch and would have to go through the A2 classes before reaching that stage. In other words, a few years.  But I will not talk about the class in future blogs. Even I get bored. It’s exhausting, I get it.