Best of...

This past week and weekend have been a bit rough, so I've decided to focus on the better aspects. The best of things, actually.

Best Monday morning Facebook post:


Best Saturday discovery:
You can make good Southern-style gravy using chipolata sausages



Best weekend read:
The Outcast, by Sadie Jones



Best pre-dinner dialogue:

J: You should probably taste the chili before I serve it.
K: Why? Did you put in what I told you to?
J: Yeah... but also some other stuff I thought it needed. You really should probably taste it...

Best Spring tweet:


Best sound:
The clicking of the boules on the court outside our living room



Best banana bread:
Britt's recipe, made by Jonathan



What were your weekend bests?

Let them eat baguette!

Every year in France there is a Grand Prix you may not have heard of in the US. It's the grand prize for the best artisanal baguette in Paris (or as the locals say, le Grand Prix de la meilleure baguette de Paris.) The winner's bread will be served at the table of President Sarkozy at the Palais de l'Elysées for the next 12 months.

This is a big deal. After all, the baguette is one of the symbols of France. It's like winning the blue ribbon for apple pie in a national contest, and the winning bakery provides the pie at every White House meal for a year.



Back to France. The winner of the 2010 Carbohydrate Grand Prix was just announced: Djibril Bodian.

I know what you're thinking... "Why Kari, that sounds like a Senegalese name." And right you are! The best baker in France is 33-year-old Senegalese man who moved to France at age six. In 2010, he proudly and emphatically declares himself '100% French'.

Who knows? Maybe if I lived here another 19 years - and eat a lot of baguettes - I too would feel 100% French. (Only 72% to go!)

La la la, ha ha ha...

On my way into the office the other day I was walking behind this guy carry a bag that was designed to look like a big 1980s boom box. - complete with speakers, tape deck and all the buttons. (Remember rewinding and fast-forwarding? How quaint.)

The bag was pretty cool, and certainly unique, so I decided to snap a quick picture with my phone - something I never do for fear of getting caught. But this bag was cool and worth the risk. Can you see it?



I continued on my way, Boom Box Boy going left and me going right, down into the métro. I was patting myself on the back for my quick photo reflexes when I looked up and saw these two guys...



But these are actually real accordions slung over their shoulders, not just cool bags. I, of course, thought this was hee-larious and decided to take my second secret phone photo.

Tips for French grocery shopping solo...

During the week I often stop off at the local Monoprix (think small Target) to pick up a few food items. However, grocery shopping in France is a very different experience than the in the US. Example numéro un: they don't give you bags for your purchases, so you provide your own and bag it all yourself.

I've learned through five years of trial (overbuying then struggling to carry it all home) and error (forgetting to bring my reusable bags) how to navigate this little excursion.


The deluxe bag: sturdy construction and plastic handles (as blogged here)

1) Bring bags.
This sounds so simple and easy to remember, but you'd be amazed how many times I've been mid-shop and realized I had forgotten bags for my groceries. You can buy reusable bags at the checkout, but who needs 25 bags at home when all you need is one on you right now? My solution is to buy one simple, foldable reusable bag that you keep in your purse - all the time. You never know when the need to shop will strike, but at least you'll be prepared to carry home the essentials.


The convenience bag: folds flat and slips into your purse... or man-purse.

2) I forgot bags. Now what?
Resist the urge to buy one at the checkout... especially if you already have 25 at home. Instead, head over to the produce section. I'm not suggesting you snag bags from the rolling dispenser - that's just tacky. I'm suggesting you buy a tomato (one bag), a cucumber (one bag), and an onion (one bag). Voilà! Three little bags you can fill with other items at checkout, plus you've got the ingredients for a little salad.


The mini-bag: stuff it, grab it, and go

3) Aack - I can't bag my stuff fast enough!
Think ahead. I don't mean organizing your groceries on the belt in size/weight order (although that's not bad either). I mean buy one unusual, obscure produce item that the cashier will have to look up on their list of codes in order to ring it up. (I suggest a piece of fresh ginger root. Works like a charm and makes a fantastic addition to pear cobbler.)

4) Prepare your payment speech and be patient.
If you're paying with American plastic, be ready to explain why your card looks and functions differently than a European bank card.

5) When all else fails...
Buy a pastry on the way home to cheer yourself up and remember the good, chocolatey parts of France.

I do-ing...and doing it well.

We've been married for over five years now. When I got married, women who had been married for five years were big experts in my mind, just brimming with wisdom and experience for making a marriage work. (Which is basically how I now feel about women who have been married ten years.)

I remember hearing the story of a wife (who may or may not have been my grandmother) who would occasionally spray lemon furniture polish around the house. When her husband came home, he'd think she cleaned the house that day. It's not a horrible idea, you know. I considered taking it a step further today and pulling out my yoga mat and running shoes to look as if I'd exercised...


Would a pair of smelly socks be overkill?

It got me thinking about marriage advice and tips - preferably less deceptive than the yoga mat or Lemon Pledge routes. Let's be honest, saying 'I do' is the easy part. It's the 'do-ing' that's hard. So I asked a couple friends for help on this one and here's what we came up with:

"Always assume the best. And ask older or wiser people for help!"
Kate, married 5 years

"Kiss a lot!"
Meaghan, married 8 years in May

"Don't expect your spouse to meet all your needs. Accept him for who he is, not what you'd like him to be. Forgive a lot and forget even more. Remember your role is to be his helper, not his mother, guide, teacher, counselor..."
Cile, married 32 wonderful years (33 years in all, but one wasn't so good)

"Wait for the right time to bring up difficult subjects. Show respect to your husband in public - not criticizing or nagging."
Me, married 5 years

"Remember, she can find better."
Stephen, married 6 years

"Marriage is not meant to make you happy. It's God's tool for making us more holy and more like Him."
Julie, married 5 years

"Serve one another with your whole heart. Always be committed to your marriage. Make a decision early on that it's never an option to end it."
Andrew, married 2.5 years

"Have realistic expectations. TV & movies are not real."
Keely, married 12 years

"Getting married doesn't mean it's going to last forever; marriage is the commitment to make it last forever."
Stephanie, married 6 years in June

Any more to add?

Enough...

I am going on strike.

I am leading a revolt.

I have had enough.



Enough Winter. Enough cold. Enough gray skies. Enough chills.
Enough clouds. Enough slicing winds. Enough dreariness. Enough snow boots.
Enough shivering. Enough cold drafts. Enough brrr...
Enough.

Who's with me?

(I know you both are.)

I spy Easter.

Easter is just around the corner - literally. It's hanging out in the corner window of our local Voisin chocolate shop. See?


Our Voisin shop (as if we can ever afford to shop there!)

Chocolate bunnies, chocolate eggs, chocolate bells, chocolate hens (don't they know bunnies lay Easter eggs?), dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate... what's your pleasure? Oh, there's also a three-foot tall chocolate egg masterpiece that takes about 20 hours to make.



Easter chocolates are big business in France, worth $330 million in 2007. (Not sure of the dollar to calorie conversion rate, but am sure it's high!)

A couple years back Jonathan went in to a Voisin shop to buy me a couple bites. It was around Easter o'clock and the guy in front of him spent €60+ euros (about $85) in seasonal chocolate treats. Jonathan did not spend €60... just in case you were curious.


While I was checking out the Voisin chocolate display, Jonathan was checking out their...


...coffee display! What a great shop, eh?

Geez Louise...

This afternoon at work I was busy fighting with the printer (stupid thing hates me) as usual. One of my French coworkers politely interrupted my mutterings to ask me a question. "Kari," he said, "in English, what does 'greef' mean?"

I thought about it for a second, trying to figure out what he meant. "Greef?" I asked. And then as I said it out loud, I realized he meant 'grief'. I was just seeing it spelled wrong in my head.

So I went on to explain that grief is like mourning. When someone dies, for example, there may be a grieving period. If you give someone grief, you give them a really hard time. Blah blah blah.

He looked interested at first, then less so as my explanation rattled on. When I paused for a breath, he asked, "So just now, why did you say 'good grief' at the printer?"

Ah. Gotcha.

Trying to explain the expression 'good grief' is harder than you might think. Give it your best shot, blog readers. We'll see if what you come up with is any less complicated/boring than my explanation! (Am guessing that's the last time he'll ever ask me for an mini-English lesson...)

Good thing the neighbors like us...

If our neighbors didn't like us, I could have had a real reason to be concerned about this little offering on the doorstep. First thing in the morning (coffee or no coffee, I'm still not awake until 10am) this sure looked like the remnants of a flaming bag of dog poo.



But no worries. They neighbors love us and that is why they left the last of the GrandGarden's turnip crop outside our door on this lovely morning.

The nearest dog poo is on the sidewalk between our apartment and the bus stop - just begging me to step in it before my brain wakes up at 10am.

Hey, I know that guy...

Extra, extra! Hot off the press! The March/April issue has an article on medical trends in France and includes photos of your favorite American osteopath studying in Lyon.

PS - While we're on the subject, did you know he finished his mémoire last week? Edited, printed, bound and handed in. Despite a little malaria scare, last week sounded like one big sigh of relief around here.

Wake up and smell the Nescafé...

Nescafé Classic - found in just about every country on the globe

We're too broke to be considered true coffee snobs, so I'd say we're just really, really picky about our coffee. Just ask anyone we've ever stayed with for more than one night. We don't assume we won't like their coffee, but we do bring our own just in case.

Up until recently, our coffee of choice was Monoprix generic Moka 100% Arabica. We had tried the famous Carte Noire (do not understand how it has such an amazing reputation) and loved Malongo (too expensive considering the quantities we consume), but the Monop' generic was our usual pick.

Sitting in the Dieye courtyard in Senegal, I was having a really tough time waking up in the morning. Beautiful sun and sounds, but the fog in my head was thick. So I took desperate measures: I ripped open a single-serving pack of Nescafé instant coffee.



The Senegalese breakfast would not be complete without a steaming cup of Nescafé with two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and two or three heaping spoonfuls of powdered milk. (Stir well.) I had mine a bit more Kari-fied: just a bit of sugar, please. And it was surprisingly good. In fact, I had a second cup about an hour later... by which time I was appreciating the beautiful sun and sounds.

That was about two weeks ago and I've been a Nescafé girl ever since. We bought a little jar of Nescafé Classic for me, and I convinced Jonathan to try Nescafé Espresso.

Yup. Definitely no coffee snobs here.

The M word...

Jonathan started running a fever about two nights ago. No other major symptoms really, just the fever... and some really pathetic sad eyes. With our recent travels in mind, I called our doctor yesterday and got an appointment for that evening - a quick exam and we left with paperwork to get a malaria blood test at the lab across the street.

As one of my college roommates used to say, I' not gunna' lie to ya... I was more than a little worried. If it was malaria, would we be able to find a doctor who had experience treating it?

We were out of the lab in 15 minutes with a promise that the results would be ready by 11am the next day. But later that evening, we got a call saying the results were in and negative! Apaprently it's just a bug, not from a mosquito bite. Phew.

I slept much better last night. However, Jonathan seems to think my attentiveness to his illness has dropped off too quickly. This morning he busted out the pathetic sad eyes and made reference to 'if you can believe those lab tests...'.

But there was a twinkle in those eyes too ;)

What I enjoyed coming back to France...

...clean sidewalks. What's a little dog doo on the sidewalk when you're used to walking in sand/goat droppings/plastic trash/broken glass as you avoid the cow dung? It's all about perspective, I tell you.

...good water pressure in the shower.

...not having to soak fruits and veggies in bleach water to sanitize them.

...vegetables. You can get lots of 'ceebu jen veggies' in Senegal easily, which includes onions, garlic, parsley, tomato, eggplant, yam-type things and cabbage, and also a wide variety of other vegetables. But after two weeks of avoiding salad veggies to protect out stomachs (and opting for the amazing fruit!!), one of the first things I made was a huge serving bowl of mâche leaves with roasted beets and vinaigrette.

... bubble baths and all kinds of smell-good products.

... drinking tap water (no filter first!) and brushing our teeth with tap water.

... clean feet.

... the silence in our apartment. I miss the sounds of Dakar (birds, horns honking, people talking, even the chanting and call to prayer from the mosque) but the quiet is nice as we decompress and process the trip.

Do you ever feel a little overloaded?

Yeah, so do they.

The return back to France seems a bit heavy. Saying goodbyes is coming much too soon, leaving a place we love is hard, returning to work and school feels kind of pffffth...

But here's the thing: if it were easy to leave, we'd have to wonder if moving here in a year was truly the right decision. So instead of focusing on the heaviness, I'm thankful for, as the Wolof say, my full heart.

Sama xol dafa fes.

Happy birthday to me!

Such a great way to celebrate my 29th birthday: in Senegal, with friends, surprise cake, jewelry and a very special gift from my friend at Malika Monkeys.

For my French-speaking friends...

Life in Senegal can be funny. I saw this our first day there and giggled over it, so wanted to share.

You may be familiar with the famous French seasoning called 'herbes de Provence', meaning herbs from the region of Provence. However, 'herbe de province' means a single herb from any of the provinces, which are like states.

Trust me... it's funnier than my explanation makes it sound. :)