September 2022

BRADERIE. Starting the first Friday of the first September weekend, there is nothing like it. Three million visitors. Every street with tables of vendors selling absolutely everything one can imagine. From car doors to carousel horses, clocks to taxidermy. Setting out on Friday, we were in need of a coffee table so that was our goal. And there were a good number of tables which did not fit anything near what we wanted. Some things we thought would work if we cut the legs down but even they weren’t enough to tempt us. Stopped to see Flo and his mother, Sophie was there. We invited her and Fredrick to have cocktails later but she explained that they were going out to celebrate their 46th wedding anniversary. We walked around, then found a florist shop that was open and bought a bouquet of flowers – one batch for Sophie and one for Balkis, the Italian shop owner because we knew she had come to help her son, Loai, for Braderie and was working her patootie off. She and her husband live in Italy but she spends a lot of time running the shop here with Loai, as co-owner.

First we dropped off the flowers for Balkis, who ran out and gave us big hugs, with tears in her eyes for the flowers. We certainly didn’t expect it to make that big of an effect. Then stopped at Flo’s on the way home and dropped off the second bouquet to Sophie with a happy anniversary card. She also burst into tears. Wow. All this time I thought food was the way to people’s hearts. Never got that kind of reaction to my baking, that’s for sure.

In addition to all of the visitors and vendors, there’s lots of entertainment going on as well – Music, acrobatics, artists.

Saturday, then Sunday which was last Braderie day, we hunted again in earnest for a coffee table but could find nothing to fit the bill. A LOT of really garish and highly entertaining tables but not a one that would work. We are back to looking on the internet. There are tons but finding one that speaks to us, that’s something else. Without a doubt, it’ll be the last coffee table we buy, if we do it right.

We were out again on Sunday and, of course, came across more curious items. An old radiator from a La Licorne automobile from the 1920’s. and an amusement ride car that said Thunderbird 2, although we think it resembles more, the 4. We looked up the 1928 La Licorne touring car and we think that matches the radiator we spotted. Corre La Licorne produced about 30,000 vehicles from 1907-1949, when it closed its doors.

At the end of the day on Sunday, thoroughly worn out, we put together a charcuterie platter of ham, cheeses, celery, deviled eggs and shared a bottle of Chardonnay out on the balcony, people watching the streams as the evening wound down.

As the month continued forward, we did the little errands everyone does. One item I’d had in the back of my mind, I finally bought. It was a rubber door stop. When we go out to the cafe’s, the tables are always rocky because of the cobblestones. We’ve had a couple of accidents (good bye drink AND the cup/glass it came in) and many near misses as the table lurches. We’ve gotten tired of hanging on to the edges or keeping our feet on the bottom panel to steady it. With the door stop, which I will carry from now, we can slide it under one of the legs to stabilize. Just an annoyance that’s finally been solved. Now, I just have to remember to grab it when we leave.

We signed up to start the French language class again, with a determination that matches that of a stubborn toddler. But like a toddler, everything we’re managing to say sounds like gibberish to the French. They’re still nice about our attempts, though.

Wednesday, we took the first train to Paris, got a service ride to the Orly airport and caught a two hour flight to Porto, arriving at noon. We took the trip to congratulate our friends, J & M, on their 30th wedding anniversary and it was our first get-together in twenty years. They moved to Porto (Matosinhos, just outside of Porto) on the tail end of the pandemic quarantine and are working on becoming citizens of Portugal.

On the drive into Matosinhos, just north of Porto, it looked depressed and reminded us of small towns in Mexico. There were some buildings that were in decay, abandoned and missing roofs. Getting out of the car, the smell of fish was incredibly strong, so our first impressions weren’t up there – however, that changed as our time went on.. J & M met us for lunch at an outdoor restaurant across the street from the hotel – for grilled fish of course. The building the restaurant is located in was an example of a building missing a portion of its roof. Matosinhos is a port city and has plentiful fish and the largest and best beach in the Porto area – and they live a couple of blocks from the beach. Fish really is the best there.  After lunch, we walked to their apartment and picked up their dog, then headed for a walk on the large expanse of beach. Great waves, so it’s a natural that there are a couple of surfing schools located there.

Passing the ‘Tragedy at Sea’, a beautiful sculpture by Jośe Joáo Brito, that remembers the greatest Portuguese nautical tragedy of 1947 that resulted in the deaths of 152 crew members from several fishing boats. The sculpture portrays the pain and despair of the remaining 72 widows and 152 orphans. We stopped for a coffee along the beach and they explained to us that the buildings we were seeing reflected a major problem that many towns and cities, including Porto and Lisbon, have with abandoned properties. Tracking down the rightful owner(s) and/ or the remaining children & relatives is not always easy and receiving all signatures for a sale is not guaranteed. The global financial downturn in the 2000’s forced Portugal into bankruptcy in 2011 and the EU provided loans to bail them out. Many people, including younger people and professionals, moved to other EU countries since unemployment was so high. Cities were abandoned and further disrepair set in. Nature soon took over many of the buildings as you can see below. Tenant laws, historic building ordinances and lack of foreign investment exacerbated the problem. In the meantime the buildings have gone deeper and deeper into disrepair.

While we were in Matosinhos and Porto, there were a lot of construction cranes throughout pointing to the upturn in building and renovation that’s going on. With tourism, new residents (including lots of expats), and increased government and foreign investment, Porto and its surrounding suburbs are experiencing a rebirth in economy, housing, retail and business/tech services that’s readily evident. It’s unimaginable how bad the abandoned property issue must have been if our first impression was that it’s bad, but in reality, it’s in recovery mode.

We went back to the hotel for a nap (as we’d gotten up at 5:00am for the Paris train). Then we went to a Mexican restaurant they’d been wanting to try. The chef was from Mexico and the food was absolutely fabulous. Sorry, we were so busy talking and eating we only remembered to take a couple of photos. Another gabfest before turning in.

We find the Portuguese language fascinating. The romance languages which are rooted in Latin, stress the vowels in speech. The Portuguese language stresses the consonants. It gives it a rather clipped sound so that at first it actually sounds Russian. It really does. And when they do speak English, they even sound like they are speaking English with a Russian accent. Very disconcerting. And when they are talking in Portuguese, the cadence and hand gestures are very Italian. It’s mesmerizing. 

It’s no small statement to say that Porto is Fish. It’s their main artery of food. You can get an amazing selection of things – many you may have not ever heard of. They mostly grill it. You pass outdoor restaurant after restaurant – all with large open grills and big bowls of salt on the side, to use as they cook.

Porto has been inhabited by different groups throughout the ages: first inhabited by Celtic people, then Roman when it became a commercial port. They renamed the city “Portus Cale”, meaning “Port of Cale” (Cale is the original name for Celtic), the origin of the name Portugal. Then followed the Visigoths, the Moors, Christian forces, Moors (who won it back), then back into Christian rule. There was an 1832 rebellion against the monarchy and the Portuguese Republic was created in 1910. So it’s truly a melting pot.

On Thursday we all met at the bus stop and took the scenic route along the Douro river into the Porto downtown. The buildings we saw along the way, had a Mediterranean style and most were adorned on the outside with tiles – which they’re famous for. There are over 200 acres of vineyards and the Port of Douro valley is a must to try – unfortunately we were not there long enough for that, but you could see the different major producers along the Douro river across from the city area.

The downtown turned out to be so hilly, it made SF streets look tame in comparison. Incredibly steep streets, great buildings, bridges and churches. These two walked our pattooties off. We got a walking tour, seeing Clérigos tower (built on a baroque church), the Livraria Lello (oldest bookstore of the country and no, JK Rowlings never visited or wrote Harry Potter there), the Palácio de Bolsathe, the beautiful Sāo Bento train station, the majestic bridges and so much wonderful architecture. We were intrigued with the sidewalks that were not of stone, like France’s cobblestone streets but were of squares of tiles – which makes perfect sense. We went into the Church of Anthony (Igreja de Santo António dos Congregados) which has the mummified body of the pope St. Clement, the only one resting away from the Vatican. Although we didn’t see that, there appeared to be a series of clothed mummified bodies, encased behind lucite panels on either side of the church. The church was in mass with a sign requesting no touring, so we were unable photograph or identify what we were actually seeing and a quick online search has netted me nothing.

We came across a wonderful chocolate shop, Meia Dúzia, created by two siblings. All of the packaging looks convincingly like tubes of oil paints and there are an assortment of other items like jams, creams, pestos, liqueurs and more. But the oddest sight on our walk was actually a McDonalds and only because of the building it was in. The Imperial Cafe, an icon in the 1930’s, was built with Art Deco ornate ceilings, chandeliers and a large stained glass wall (although it isn’t certain that the impressive staircases are original as it was restored somewhere along the way). On the exterior facade, above the entrance, is a massive eagle which was the symbol of the old Imperial. When McDonalds moved into the space in 1995, it became what is referred to as the “most beautiful McDonald’s in the world.” Quite odd, but refreshing that they did keep the original building intact.

Got back to the hotel for a quick nap before going to dinner. We were exhausted. As we were getting ready to leave the room, a young couple opened the door and walked into our room. They had been given keys to our room!! We got that straightened out with management before leaving to meet J & M for drinks at a wine bar they frequent. It has an outside courtyard so they bring their dog, which makes them very happy (as well as Dingo, the dog).

They had Oakland expat’s who really wanted to meet us former bay area guys, who walked over from their place nearby. Nice folks. It turned into a five wine bottle night with many appetizers – instead of a dinner out at the planned restaurant. Another late night of stories and laughing like maniacs. I hadn’t laughed that hard since leaving the states. I’m serious when I say that I had tears streaming down my face with the laughing I was doing.

Then the next morning we met again for coffee before we checked out of the hotel, flew to Paris, rode to the train station and trained into Lille. The train was delayed so we got to the apartment at around 9pm. We still don’t enjoy airplanes that much and if we go again, we’ll be taking the train there, despite the length of travel.

Back to our regular routine, we did chores, filled the pantry, got ready for our French language classes. In the news, Queen Elizabeth passed away (she visited Vielle Bourse de Lille, its Stock Exchange, in 1957), Ukraine continued to fight for its life and US politics were the same as always. Weather global news became less about wild fires and more about heavy storms with devastating flooding.

In regards to French language, we lost a lot in our summer break. Since we both struggle so much, we’re taking the last course over again. The class is very large – it has 11 students, although one left at break because he felt he was too advanced for this class. And the students are as diverse as they were in the past. A Russian/Israeli, an Australian, a Vietnamese, a Sud-African, a Taiwanese, a Bolivian, a Japanese, a Brit, another Russian, and a North American. Two of the bunch do not speak English. There are two Au Pairs, two professors, two people who have transferred to France for corporate jobs, one who is a student, one who escaped Russia, and someone on an extended vacation.  Then there is us – the oldest of the group and retired. We have the same teacher as the last time, which is nice as we really like her and are already at ease.

In our first class, I felt as lost as I did the last time, which has me worried. But I have hopes that it will kick in and stick better in my head this time around. So, as I say, the class was still very challenging. My only complaint is that it’s in the afternoon. We had a nice routine the first two classes we took last winter/spring, in that they were in the mornings. So, after coming home, we had lunch and then studied in the afternoon. It was a good rhythm for me. This time, I have to study before we leave for class. I studied as soon as I got up – after showering. I miss reading the news, discussing that with G over coffee. I’ll adjust. I just liked it the other way. 

The other adjustment is regarding the weekly tutor session. We had met with our tutor on a day separate from the days we had classes. This time, once a week, we meet with her, take an hour lunch break and then attend our afternoon class. It makes for a very long day and my poor little brain feels it. I know, whine, whine, whine. I’ll adjust. I really do want to learn this.

Around the 17th in France, there is an event called ‘La Foire Aux Vins’.  It’s the time of year, long practiced, that the stores need to clear shelf space for the new incoming wine production. Which means you can buy wines that cost more ordinarily, for much less. People stock up their wine racks with the things they would normally pass because of cost. OF COURSE we checked it out and came home with an assorted case of wine. Our expectation is that this will last a couple of months, but then it’s quite possible that it will last a much short time than that. We do like wine.

The following Sunday was a mess. My back was bothering me on Saturday and G pulled out the heating pad, which I was on for the day. But by the time we were going into bed, my rib muscles started spasming. I slept on the heating pad but kept getting shots of extreme pain throughout the night. 

By Sunday morning I knew I couldn’t continue this so we took an Uber to the ER since it was Sunday and my doctor wasn’t available. This was our first major medical issue. At the clinic, they took me into my own little room on a gurney and put me on a paracetamol drip. Then they examined my back, the rib cage, took blood, gave me an EKG, X-ray of spine, and chest and put me through many other physical tests (following eye movements, muscle reflex test and such). It was 5 hours of thorough examination. At the end, they determined that it was muscle based and muscles had knotted around nerves, which gave me the electrical shock-type of spasms. That time spent on my back, on the drip, took care of the issue and we took the metro home, with prescriptions in hand for any possible reoccurrence. And with us on the health system, the entire episode cost was covered. Color me amazed, and relieved at the outcome, especially because they ruled out any big, bad things..

 Walking back to the apartment from the metro, cooking was not appealing to us so we went to our favorite Italian restaurant. Shared a truffle pizza and a dish of sardine over spaghetti. Oh, and a couple of glasses of a very lovely red. It was a very nice ending to a not very nice day.

Another impressive medical encounter I had here – yes, it’s all about me – has to do with a long time ear issue that I decided to look into. I had gotten the flu maybe 7 years ago – woke up to eardrums that had burst and bled. Then in a short period of time, my hearing sounded like being underwater. The ear doctor said the eardrums had healed with fluid behind them. Got treated for that but one ear never quite recovered. It still felt woogy – but he said it was fine since I passed a hearing test. Since then whenever we flew, that ear reacted badly to elevation changes and on occasion, was quite painful. So, on my list of things to take care of, I got in to a French specialist. Are you stiff with boredom yet?

Well, he turned out to be the best doctor I’ve seen here, so far, and in this case was actually better than the one who treated me in the US. He spoke excellent English, which I sorely need and explained after examination, an entire complicated mechanism that isn’t working. The upshot is I’ve some breathing exercises I need to do to make a particular, internal valve relearn to open and close. It’s the one behind the expression ‘Popping you ears’ after you’ve ascended in elevation. Anyway, fascinating. Well, at least to me. Sorry if you’re asleep at this point.

Besides attending our lessons (we’d lost three people and gained one along the first two weeks), we had a delightful opportunity to try our hand at a real life, lengthy exchange in French. I had been hard at studying on the last Saturday when G grabbed me about 3:00pm to go out for a glass of wine because he said that the day was so pretty. In walking across the square, we came across a guy we use to see at another favorite place. The café had changed so much over the spring that he (Bobo) couldn’t go back, afterwards. He speaks no English (French, Arabic and a bit of Italian) but we do manage to communicate. He’s a painter, which we’ve discussed a little in the past and he showed us that he’d just gone shopping for supplies. His bag had canvasses and acrylic paints and he was excited to start a new piece. He was sitting at a table with another fellow (Frédéric) who did speak a little English, but more Spanish and native French. They invited us to share a table and Bobo insisted on treating us to our wine, which was a delightful surprise. He also invited us to come sometime to see his work and his apartment. A very cheerful person and Frédéric turned out to be very interesting. A native of Lille, he lived with a woman for 15 years in Spain before returning to live near his parents (in Lille). For us it’s hard to know what is polite to ask in conversations to take it further, so we didn’t ask about the woman or his parents’ health – he is easily 60. I’m sure we’ll get better at that determination in conversations as we go along – we are just very cautious about stepping in the wrong direction. He mentioned that his parents had an art gallery for many years and that he had his own for 20 years until the pandemic. He had carried some famous painters’ work in his gallery, whose names I could unfortunately not quite understand because of his accent. It was a nice time stumbling about with our very limited French and they were pleased to help us out in conjugation and pronunciation as we went along. The entire meeting underlined why we were dedicated to taking language classes. There are days I forget that.

The weather towards the end of the month had dropped a good 15 to 20 degrees average, so we pulled out a heavier comforter and then our fall/ winter clothes. No more running around in tank tops or shorts and the A/C was put away in storage. Time for stews, pumpkins and horror movies on Netflix. We absolutely do love the fall.