bon appétit

Julia Child...my hero.

Lately, I’ve become obsessed with food. I’ve been reading The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan and haven’t been able to put it down. I also, and I think this is a result of watching the new movie about Julia Child and the fact that I am in France, have made it my ambition to expand my knowledge on cooking and the art of taste (my life goal: to be able to cook like my Dad, Mom, and Oma). Here is an excerpt from Omnivore’s Dilemma that I believe is so true:

(To give you some context, Pollan has been talking about Americans’ susceptibility to food trends and diets because there is no established food culture in America as in other countries. His thesis is that Americans have a sort of twisted relationship with food)

“We Americans are amazed to learn that some of the cultures that set their culinary course by the lights of habit and pleasure rather than nutritional science and marketing are actually healthier than we are—that is, suffer a lower incidence of diet-related health troubles.

The French paradox is the most famous such case, though as Paul Rozin points out, the French don’t regard the matter as paradoxical at all. We Americans resort to that term because the French experience—a population of wine-swilling cheese eaters with lower rates of heart disease and obesity—confounds our orthodoxy about food. That orthodoxy regards certain tasty foods as poisons (carbs now, fats then), failing to appreciate that how we eat, and even how we feel about eating, may in the end be just as important as what we eat. The French eat all sorts of supposedly unhealthy foods, but they do it according to a strict and stable set of rules: They eat small portions and don’t go back for seconds; they don’t snack; they seldom eat alone; and communal meals are long, leisurely affairs. In other words, the French culture of food successfully negotiates the omnivore’s dilemma, allowing the French to enjoy their meals without ruining their health.”

I’ve never heard a more accurate description of how French people eat. With my grandparents, it is pretty usual for Sunday lunch to start at noon and end at 4:30 or 5. I kept on thinking about that while I read that excerpt.

Three steps to the French "look"

1. Drop 15 pounds.

2. Wear lots of stripes (this will offset the 15 lbs. you just lost)

3. Skinny jeans (the reason you lost the 15 lbs).

Okay, but seriously. Here are some other tips:

4. Flats, Converse (low-tops), and Bensimon…basically the rule with shoes is that you can’t have anything with arch support.

5. Make-up: none.

6. Hair: au naturel. Lately I’ve seen a lot of bobbed hairstyles. It’s really cute with curly hair. I don’t know that I could ever pull it off, but a lot of girls here make it look fantastic.

What amazes me about French style is that even though they look like they just rolled out of bed (and, honestly, they probably did), they always manage to look amazingly chic…it’s a sort of “rugged-chic.” Maybe it’s the “yes, I’m better than you” attitude that often accessorizes their wardrobe that makes the French look so classy. I don’t know. I’m really trying to figure it out. They make it look so easy.

no "troubles" for me in northern ireland...

Mural in Belfast
Causeway Coast

Last week I rediscovered a truth I’ve known my entire life: Paris is the best city in the world. But, before I ramble on about how much I love that city (it is a thing I do really well…), let me ramble about my time in Ireland: It is true; the grass is greener on the other side of the channel and it is, without a doubt, due to the amount of rainfall it receives. Every single day was soaked in a sort of misty rain that I quickly learned is called wet rain. Wet rain…in comparison to what? Dry rain? I laughed when I first learned that this is how the Irish refer to that sort of rain, but they probably laughed at me when they saw me walking around with an umbrella. In Ireland, as I unpleasantly discovered, umbrellas are pointless because this “wet rain” often seems to be coming up from the ground. It sounds magical but I promise, it’s really just annoying.

Despite lacking appropriate attire for the weather, Ireland was wonderful. My first thought upon arriving in Dublin was “I wanna know where tha gooold at, give me tha gold, I want tha gold” (if you haven’t seen this video, please search “leprechaun in Mobile, Alabama” on YouTube immediately). After a few days in Dublin, I took a train to Coleraine in Northern Ireland to visit two friends who are studying abroad there. It was so good to spend a few days with friends. Together we visited Giant’s Causeway, Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge, and had fun going out in Portstewart at night. Irish people were a breath of fresh air after having been in France for almost two months, and maybe it is because I had been in France for two months that the Irish seemed SO incredibly nice. Those of you who have been to France probably know what I mean when I say that French people live in bubbles. Once you are in that bubble, they are the nicest people you’ve ever met, but until then, most French people seem distant and haughty (I should probably add here that not ALL French people are like this…I like to think that my grandparents are very welcoming to foreigners and my best friend Pauline is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, from the moment we met). While I’m thinking of it, I hope my blog doesn’t sound mean or offensive…? I want to be honest about my experiences and so much of that involves the strangers I pass on the streets and the impressions I get from them. I like to think of this blog as a sort of cultural commentary.

This is getting long so I will quickly summarize the rest of Ireland. I went to Belfast and had so much fun, even though I was alone. It is incredible seeing the scars left on the city from the “troubles” that happened throughout the 20^th century. I went on a tour of the neighborhoods where most of the fighting was. Honestly, the buildings looked a lot like those one might find in the Mississippi delta…falling apart. It was so fascinating though, especially seeing the murals everywhere commemorating people who died in the fighting. It is strange being in a place where people my age have known and lived through such violence. It is so recent. A few fun facts about Belfast: it is the birthplace of C.S. Lewis (I love him) AND the Titanic, and, lastly, when the city decided to create a hockey team, they almost named the team the Belfast Bombers. This was rejected, however, and today they are the Belfast Giants.

A friend forwarded me an email called “The American’s Guide to France” and, within it, I found many laughs. Earlier when I wrote about French people being distant, I was reminded of the email. Here is an excerpt; I hope it makes you laugh like I did:

France has a population of 57 million people. 52 million of these drink and smoke (the other 5 million are small children). All French people drive like lunatics, are dangerously over sexed, and have no concept of standing patiently in line. The French people are in general gloomy, temperamental, proud, arrogant, aloof, and undisciplined; those are their good points. Most French citizens are Roman Catholic, though you would hardly guess it from their behavior. Many people are communists.

Haha. That excerpt is from the part entitled “The People.” Here is an excerpt from “Economy”:

France has a large and diversified economy, second only to Germany’s in Europe, which is surprising because the French hardly work at all. If they are not spending four hours dawdling over lunch, they are on strike and blocking the roads with their trucks and tractors.

France’s principal exports, in order of importance to the economy, are wine, nuclear weapons, perfume, guided missiles, champagne, guns, grenade launchers, land mines, tanks, attack aircraft, miscellaneous armaments, and cheese.

But, my favorite is “Conclusion”:

At least it’s not Germany!!

Well, I think I’ve reached the limit on this blog. I will write about Paris very soon though, not because you want to read about it, but because I love talking about that city. Ooh la la, Paris j’adore!

le 21 septembre

1. I am starting to get the hang of laundry machines over here.

2. I am becoming way too obsessed with Longchamp, reading status updates on Facebook, and making collages.

3. I just finished reading an incredible book. In French the title is Elle s’appelait Sarah, but I believe in English it is Sarah’s Key by Tatiana de Rosnay. Thank you Jessica Phillips for recommending it!

4. Classes are really difficult. Who knew that in the French language there are 6 different ways to speak in the past tense (and that each is really specific and has a definite right or wrong time to be used based on the nuance of the sentence)? Not to mention that real French people don’t use three of those ways but my teacher is still making us learn it. My GRAMMAR BOOK doesn’t even have one of the tenses we learned. Thankfully, this is the last week of the “intensif” program…real classes start on October 5^th and will be much more laid-back. Instead of grammar, I will be taking French literature, culture, and classes of that nature.

5. Next week I have a vacation. My itinerary: Ireland and Paris. YAY!

6. Better blog coming soon. There is so much I want to write about but haven’t had time lately. Coming soon: “The secret Paris of Coco Chanel”; “Why 1989 is the most important year in modern history (and it’s not because it’s the year I was born)”. Stay tuned.

7. For a class project, I had to interview French people about national pride. When I asked, “At what moment have you been most proud to be French,” four out of five responded: the moment France won the World Cup in 1998. It was definitely a great moment, I remember. Nonetheless, the frequency of this answer surprised me…a soccer match is really how they identify themselves as French? Another answer that surprised me: Opa telling me that he is not proud of the French Revolution. I said, “but Opa, you believe in democracy and liberty, right?” He said, “bien sûr, but one must remember that if it weren’t for the kings of France, there would be no France. The revolution was too bloody and violent.” He has a point. But it still surprised me. Considering that he is Napoleon Bonaparte’s #1 fan (if you’ve ever seen his Napoleon-ornamented office, you know what I mean), I figured that he would be a fan of the revolution, too. The only response that all the interviewees had in common was that they are proud to be French because it is the birthplace of le droit d’homme…the rights of man (thank you Montesquieu, Voltaire, etc…). This is home of the democratic promise, and it is interesting to see how the government and the people relate to that idea in an era of diminishing global prominence and an increasing immigrant population…a population of people who come to France to be part of that promise. It’s quite a controversy these days in the French media.

8. I used today’s blog as a means to procrastinate from writing a paper based on the research done in #7. I should probably start writing my paper now.

"Skinny Love"

Marion Cotillard Lady Dior Ad Campaign

French women are often stereotyped as being skinny or thin. Well, I know their secret(s). Discovering this secret was somewhat anticlimactic, though, because it is summed up in three boring words: the grocery store. Their trick to being thin has nothing to do with themselves but instead with the structure of French towns and where the grocery store is in relation to the city center.

It is important to first understand a major difference between American cities and French cities. In France, and elsewhere in Europe, there is a strong concept of a “centre-ville”…everything is at the center of the town. City life is very centripetal. For example, in old towns, streets are not built in blocks but, rather, all streets lead to the center. Looking at a map, the roads look like a spider’s web. Conversely, in America, city life is centrifugal…people flock to the suburbs for shopping, eating, and other commercial things.

Because of the centre-ville, it is almost impossible to drive to the grocery store, which is typically at the very center. If you live in the center, this is the grocery store you go to, and if you live in the center, you probably don’t have a car. Furthermore, even if you did have a car, the grocery store doesn’t have a parking lot.

Now that I have explained the centre-ville, I can tell you the secret(s).

Secret #1

French women walk to the grocery store and, consequently, carry their groceries all the way home.

Secret #2

Having to carry groceries all the way home, French women only buy what is necessary.

Secret #3

The French government passed a law banning all non-degradable plastic bags (http://www.endseurope.com/11124). Because of this, French women must buy a large, reusable bag from the grocery store. So, not only do they only buy what is necessary because they don’t want any extra weight to carry; they also only buy what is necessary because it all has to fit in their large, reusable bag. It’s not hard to make sure everything fits into your bag, however, because as you shop at the grocery store, you do not have the luxury of using enormous shopping carts (like the ones we have in the States). If you want a big cart, you have to pay for it (and I wouldn’t suggest doing this because it probably wouldn’t fit down the aisles anyway). So, shoppers are left with the option of carrying a shopping basket (which, because of the weight it accumulates on one’s arm, makes it very easy to only buy the minimum) or pushing a shopping cart designed for Polly Pocket (I’m not kidding).

One might think that this would result in French women’s making more trips to the grocery store in order to get the same amount of groceries as normal people. False. Going to the grocery store in France is like going to a Turkish bazaar, minus the bargaining. The hassle is just not worth multiple trips.

It all makes sense, right? I kind of like it this way. It makes me realize what grossly easy access to food we Americans have. Not that it’s bad to have easy access (I’m very grateful for it) and not that the French don’t have easy access…I mean, relatively, France is still one of the richest countries in the world. Nonetheless, it almost seems shocking to me now how many times I’ve filled my gargantuan shopping cart at Kroger or Wal-mart with pointless food, simply because I know that I can just roll it on out to my car, fill up the trunk, then take “trips” back and forth from my car to the door to my house which is maybe five feet away. Now, because of all of the effort I put into carrying my groceries all the way back to my house, I almost feel a little pride as I cook that which was so carefully chosen. There’s no harm in working for your food. It seems a little more natural that way. Plus, I feel healthier now because of all that effort.

Angers: pour tout de suite et pour longtemps

One might think that when living abroad, the most difficult adjustments to make in one's daily life, or vie quotidienne, would be those that result from cultural or linguistic differences. I, however, have found that my most baffling experiences yet have had to do with laundry. It has been the pursuit of a washer and dryer and, even more befuddling, actually figuring out how to use the machines, both here and in Rome, that makes me think, "my life in America is SO easy." It is not the fact that there is no air conditioning any where nor the fact that you have to pay to use public restrooms; even the reality that everything here is at least half the size of things in America (cars, rooms, people) is easy to accept. Consistently, it has been my experiences with washers and dryers that make me think to myself, I heart the U.S.A.

There are other aspects of daily life here that make me think the contrary, I heart la France:

Castles less than 500 metres from my house; the impression you get when walking down the street or sitting at a restaurant that there is no rush. Take your time. Something that I particularly like about Angers is the abundance of crêperies (if you sit down, the meal usually consists of 1) a galette, which is a crêpe with eggs and ham or vegetables; 2) a dessert crêpe...just with sugar is really yummy. Another favorite is chocolate and banana; 3) cidre, the cold, alcoholic, bubbly cider that one traditionally drinks while eating galettes, grâce à la Bretagne) and kebab stands that stay open all night.

The history in Angers is fascinating because it is the heart of French history. It is out of this region, Anjou (of which Angers is the capital), that the lines of French kings came. This is where France was born. Angers is also really different from the France I am used to, la Provence. The fashion here is so preppy. Everyone wears pastel Ralph Lauren and Lacoste polos; boys even wear them with beige sweaters wrapped around their shoulders. Furthermore, no one is without the ultimate prep accessory: the classic Ray-ban Wayfarer. And, bien sûr, all the girls carry Longchamp and boys carry man-purses. I love it. Thankfully, I also have my faithful wayfarers and Longchamp.

My classes here are great. For the month of September I am doing an intensive French program. This means that I am in French language and speaking classes for about 8 hours a day. It is indeed intense, but I love it. I love le français. And, so far, I love Angers.