Living At the Casino!

No, I have not acquired a new hobby!! Casino happens to be the name of one of the local supermarket chains. In my neighborhood, the Casino is situated on the southeast corner of the intersection of Boulevard Gambetta and Rue Bottero. It is similar in design to the supermarkets in the States, with the grand exception being the products are labeled in French!! (Surprise!!)

Upon entering the store and going through the turn-style, I find myself in the Produce Department, and I am confronted with a dizzying selection of fresh produce. The Produce Department happens to be “the budget buster” and the “time consumer” in my case!! After grabbing the staples for my petite cuisine (onions, garlic, and bell peppers), I turned my attention to fruits and vegetables that refuse to be ignored!! This week, the celery, carrots, and cauliflower begged my attention!!

After weighing and ticketing my selections, I made my way to the Meat Department by way of the “Bread Department.” There I grabbed a loaf of French bread and I decided to try the mini gaches too!! Finally arriving at the Meat Department, I pondered the selection of chicken, turkey, and what we know in the States as “rock Cornish hens.” Moving along the aisle, I reached the section containing rabbit. I examined the offerings of veal, beef, lamb, and pork. This day, though, I was searching for beef bones (os à moelle) for my soup stock. Finding none, I headed back to the poultry section where I found a bargain on chicken wings!! So, instead of French Onion Soup prepared from “hearty home made beef stock,” I am to prepare the soup using “hearty home made chicken stock.”

Leaving the meat section, I headed over to the Yogurt section. Yes, I said “section.” There one finds an immense variety of yogurt!! I deliberately avoided the smoked fish section and headed over to what I call the “Cheese Department.” Once again, I chose a block of Provolone Piquant. Since the Cheddar looked particularly enticing, I could not resist dropping a block into my basket.

As a result of the change to French Onion Soup using a base of “hearty home made chicken stock,” I visited the Wine Department to choose a “dry white wine.” I selected a reasonably priced Chardonnay, and after checking my list and confirming I had not omitted anything, I made my way to the check out counter.

With a view to quickly paying for my purchases, I decided to queue at the “self check-out” counter, given the lines for “live” cashiers were quite long. It seemed the other shoppers also had the same idea! So, I found myself in what I thought would be the “line of the quick,” given there were only four people in front of me. Of course, it turned out to be the “line of the glacially slow!! In fact, my line neighbor and I even commenced to chat. The topic of conversation? How glacially slow the line was moving, of course, and what could possibly be the cause!!

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If It's Got a Good Beat . . .

. . . And I can dance to it pretty much sums up my “appreciation” of music.

This weekend, though, kicked off the Sixth Edition of the C'est pas Classique Festival in Nice. Commencing with the opening event Friday, 12 November 2010 which was held at the Apollon Auditorium at the Acropolis, and concluding Sunday evening, 14 November 2010, the festival is a musical feast which offers something for everyone – young, old, and even those who love “da beat.” Best of all, the events are gratis!

I took the decision to head over to the Acropolis Friday evening to “weigh in” on the concert featuring the Quatuor Ébène, an award winning classical string quartet, whose selections, according to the program, were to be melodies from their newly released recording, Fiction.

Upon arriving at the Acropolis, I assumed my place in line, which moved rather quickly given we had to go through security and given the size of the crowd. My program informed me the concert was to be held in the Auditorium Athena and, following the clearly posted markers along the way, I easily located the venue. I found the Auditorium Athena to be cozy and comfortable, given it has a seating capacity of around 750.

Moments after settling in, the lights dimmed and the show began. The members of the quartet include: Pierre Colombet, violon; Gabriel Le Magadure, violon; Mathieu Herzog, alto; and Raphael Merlin, vioncelle. They were accompanied by percussionist Richard Hery.

After opening remarks, the ensemble launched into “Les Temps Modernes,” which was followed by the melody “Nature Boy.” I thoroughly enjoyed their interpretation of “Come Together” and I was enchanted by the haunting drum solo by Mr. Hery, during which he used what appeared to be Indonesian gongs as a prelude. It was when the ensemble played Astor Piazzolla's Libertango that I become totally captivated.

The program described the quartet as “A classical string quartet that can be easily transformed into a jazz band.” I would only add: What an excellent transformation, indeed!!!

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French Onion Soup, Part 1

The weather has turned chilly here in Nice. The coming of the cooler temps (and with everyone coughing around me) inspired me to try my hand at preparing soup in my petite cuisine. Searching the Internet revealed a million recipes. Some of the recipes were quite elaborate. Some recipes were geared towards the chef who has no time to cook. Some of the recipes required the use of chicken stock, while others required the use of either a beef or vegetable stock.

Given my petite kitchen is sparsely furnished with cooking utensils, I decided to try the recipe written for the chef who has no time to cook, which entailed using bullion cubes in lieu of real home made stock.  After preparing my shopping list of the ingredients necessary for my “quick-n-easy” soup, I was off to the supermarket.

The recipe called for Gruyere cheese as the desired topping, but when I checked the cheese section, there seemed to be every brand of cheese but Gruyere. The recipe stated I might substitute Gruyere with Swiss cheese. Interestingly, there was no Swiss cheese either. So, I decided to be daring and try the Provolone Piquant which was available in abundance!

Next came the search for the dry red wine. The selection of wines at the supermarket is enormous. With my tiny budget in mind, I selected an inexpensive Bordeaux and made my way to the check out line.

It was an interesting experience to cook without proper utensils such as a measuring cup! Although I checked while at the grocery store, there were none available. So, I had to rely on “eyeball” measurements using one of the mugs from the cabinet.

The next task was chopping six onions and a few cloves of garlic on the tiniest chopping board ever made!! While engaged in my chopping task, the bullion cubes were fast becoming my “quick-n-easy” soup stock. The longest part of the preparing of the soup is the cooking of the onions until they caramelize. Eventually, the onions began to comply and “caramelize.” Then as the recipe instructed, I combined caramelized onions, garlic, dry red wine, and stock and allowed them to simmer for a half hour.

The result? I found the soup a little on the salty side, but it was tasty! The grated Provolone Piquant over toasted bread turned out to be a delightful topping!!!

Culture Shock!

How does one write about Culture Shock? What does one write about Culture Shock? The first step, I would imagine, entails defining the “culture” which is doing the “shocking.” In this particular instance, I am defining the culture as “a certain member of the U.S. Banking system.”

As you have probably gathered from my previous blogs, my introduction to the city of Nice was one of being greeted with sunny smiles and beautiful weather which allayed my growing unease as a result of my experience with the “polite” ATM machines. My faculty adviser had thoughtfully placed an array of food items in the petite refrigerator, so I had no need to engage in the hunt for food on a Sunday afternoon. (Thank you, Madame!!)

Once the tour of my new home for the year was completed, I explained my experiences with the polite ATM machine in the States and with the currency exchange clerk in Zurich and that I had around 100 Euros total (taking into account the splurge of a cup of coffee at the airport in Zurich).

Given the full schedule of activities planned those first few days in Nice, which included a wonderful luncheon prepared and hosted by my Faculty Adviser, a tour of the city (my favorite: The Garden at the Monastery of Cimiez), and that I had arrived on a Sunday, the conclusion reached was “give the bank a few days.”

As agreed, I “gave the bank a few days,” and I plunged wholeheartedly into getting to know my “hood” or “ mon quartier.”

Would you like to know more? Stay tuned . . . Same Bat Time . . . Same Bat Channel.

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Petite Treasure No. 2

During an errand run today, I spotted another “petite treasure.” This petite treasure is special because it reminded me of the summer of 2007. That was the summer I decided I would not deal with the “what do I do with my hair” issue, and I marched into Mason's Barber Shop and demanded a precision haircut. After verifying I, indeed, wanted to be rid of “all that hair,” the courageous barber began the task of cutting.


If you have ever seen the film, “Barbershop,” then you have a fairly accurate representation of the ambiance of Mason's. There were a couple of regulars there, and they were engaged in cheerful bantering back and forth with the other barbers in the shop. The television was on, and the topic of said bantering was sports, of course!!

The latest arrival to the conversation entered the shop, and along with the haircut, he also had a shave. This was not your shave with a disposable razor. This was a real shave which entailed the lathering of the client's face with the brush and the use of a straight edge razor. Those types of shaves require skills!!!

So, it was pure delight to stumble upon the following shop. Although closed for lunch, it's nice to know there is a place to go to obtain the tools of the close shave trade.

I present to you my Petite Treasure No. 2, for those of you who engage in the fine art of the precision shave:

Some Things Never Change!

Some of you will probably wholeheartedly agree with the title of this little blog, while others may choose to vehemently disagree. Before you “weigh in” on either side, consider the facts I present to you:

Fact Number One. I am a legal resident of Washington, D.C., United States of America

Fact Number Two: I am a Temporary Tourist/Student Resident of Nice, France

Fact Number Three: Washington, D.C. And Nice, France are popular tourist destinations.

Are you with me so far? Are we all in agreement with the facts as presented above?

The “evidence” supporting my statement is as follows:

Evidential Argument No. 1: Said author of this blog, henceforth to be known as “Elizabeth,” has heretofore and currently is legally domiciled in the area known as Washington, D.C. Said area known as Washington, D.C., is neither a city nor a state, but a District. Said District is a popular tourist destination. Elizabeth, author of this blog, being a legal resident of the area heretofore identified as the District, but which shall hereafter be referred to as “D.C.,” has been, upon occasions too numerous to count and while being in the company of self, friends, families, and general passers-by, specifically called upon to provide directions to various locations within the area known as the District (hereinafter referred to as “D.C.”); to provide the current time to the general public; has been called upon to recite bus and subway schedules upon being asked; has provided on the spot instruction on how to ride the subway system in the area known as the District (i.e., D.C.); has been required to function in the role of “human” GPS mechanism to provide directions to points beyond said District (hereinafter to be referred to as “D.C.” (I promise) and points of interest in the immediate vicinity thereof; and has functioned as impromptu tour guide and keeper and reciter of historical knowledge deemed of interest by persons identified as “extremely temporary residents,” (hereinafter referred to as “Tourists”).

Evidential Argument No. 2.: Said author of this blog, hereinafter to be referred to as “Elizabeth,” on 5 September 2010, became a Temporary Tourist/Student Resident of Nice, France.

Evidential Argument No. 3.: Said author of this blog, Elizabeth (hereinafter to be referred to as “Temporary Tourist/Student Resident of Nice, France”), upon arrival in the popular tourist destination known as Nice, France (hereinafter to be referred to as “Nice, France”) has been, upon occasions too numerous to count while being in the company of self, called upon to provide the current time, to respond to queries regarding the schedule of Bus Route No. 22 or to provide the status of buses during days of strikes, and to provide directions as requested.

Conclusion: Perhaps some things never change.

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Petite Treasure

Taking the bus home from school the other day, it was such a lovely afternoon, I decided to hop off the bus and walk through the neighborhood. During my walk, I spotted an interesting “treasure:” A wonderful trompe l'oeil mural to delight the eye!

The pencil at the top right corner “tells” the viewer the work is “in progress.”

I wonder when will the "artist" complete its master piece.

Would you like to know more? Stay tuned, Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel

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Passage de l'Avenir

Madame G and I had a lively chat during the ride from the airport to my new home for the current academic year. The scenery during that rather brief ride was that of a typical warm and sunny Sunday afternoon. People were strolling with friends, and they seemed to be enjoying the lovely day as much as I was. Concerned about where I would find something to eat later, I asked where does one go that would be open and not too expensive. Madame G responded there are few establishments open on Sunday, but I should be able to find something. In fact, she took an extra turn around the block in order to show me a bakery which is only steps away from the apartment.

I had a lovely welcoming to my new home. My faculty advisor and her husband were there and Madame G's husband was there too. We all climbed the stairs to the top floor, which would be the Third Floor in the United States, but somehow is the Second Floor here in France. We all entered, and I was given a tour of home.

Home is a small studio. It has an interesting tiled floor and an equally interesting wooden ceiling. In terms of dimensions, I would say it is about the size of a small master bedroom, and that is including the petite kitchen!! There are two windows with shutters that provide a wonderful view of the apartments of my neighbors. The bathroom is equally interesting. It has a tiny skylight which provides lovely light, and it is tiled also. There is a petite shower which provides great incentive for me to lose weight!! (Don't Drop the Soap!!!)

There is a petite laundry machine manufactured by someone called Candy, and a petite refrigerator which Candy has also fashioned. (Fortunately, my adviser had kindly put a few lovely things for me to eat in said petite refrigerator.) To dry my laundry, I hang out of the window like my neighbors and with clothespins, I secure my freshly washed clothing.

I have a tiled square table near one of the windows which I use mainly as my desk. There is a built in bookcase which houses the petite television, a lamp, and the few books I lugged along in the heaviest carry on bags I could manage.

I am only a few short blocks from the famous Promenade des Anglais, and there are many shopkeepers and shops which are yet to be explored . .

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Identity

For the majority of my tender years, I was simply introduced as “Amelia's daughter,” or called “daughter.” It wasn't until I entered the public school system that I understood the name, Elizabeth, applied to me.

During my 20s, I became known as Wife of, or The Wife, and I acquired the title “Mrs.” before my understood name of “Elizabeth.” I also received a new last name.

At the dawn of the decade of my 30s, I became a “She Who Must Be Obeyed” and I joined the elite club to which my mother belonged, to which my grandmother belonged. My budding linguist, however, shortened my new title to “MOM!!” or “MAMA!!.” Others simply referred to me as Only One Son's Mom or Mother of Only One Son.

The end of the decade of the 30s, I became identified as a “Divorcee,” which I still find strange, since I commenced the proceedings. Why was I not given the title “The Divorcer?”

During the decade of the 40s, I was addressed as Madame Court Reporter, lest I forget why I am sitting in a room with total strangers dutifully memorializing every word being said.

A new decade has commenced, and with it, a new identity. I am currently a full time undergrad student and Tourist-Temporary Resident of Nice, France. I must confess I am curious to learn my new title (smiles).

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Touchdown!!!

And a smooth landing it was!! Gathering the heaviest carry-on baggage I could manage, I began the trek to the baggage retrieval area. Positive I would be reunited with my luggage, I daringly spent 1 Euro on a baggage carrier on wheels!!! I then joined my flying companions at the designated station. Lo and behold, my luggage was the first to make an appearance, and everything appeared to be intact!

I then made my way to the arrival area. I was informed prior to my departure I would be met at the airport by Madame “G.” As I drew closer to the area where there were others waiting and holding signs with various passenger names, I noticed there wasn't a female amongst them. Thinking perhaps there was a change in plan, I carefully scanned the colorful signs being held by the various representatives. My name wasn't there!!!

I thought “Maybe I can't see her because of all the tall fellows holding signs.” So, I did a careful re-scan of the area, and I still didn't see my name!! Then I thought “Maybe I should go back to the doorway and re-enter.” By doing so, I noticed a lovely petite lady holding a sign that simply said “Maryland.” I introduced myself, and it turned out she was, indeed, sent to meet me!!

With a sigh of relief, we exited the airport and made our way to the parking lot. While Madame G was placing the baggage carrier in its designated return area, I took a moment to observe my surroundings. Nice was sunny and hot, just like Miami!! The buildings which were visible reminded me of the architecture in Miami!! There was a slight difference, though.

Instead of being spoken to in Spanish, I was now being spoken to in French!!

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Destination: Nice

To be perfectly honest, I don't remember much at all about the flight from Zurich to Nice. I remember the layover. The landing was uneventful, and maneuvering with the heaviest carry on bags I thought I could manage was becoming less onerous. Having a couple of hours until my flight departed and refreshed from the night's sleep, I thought taking a walk around the terminal would be energizing (along with a cup of coffee).

I found it interesting the first “fast food” chain I happened to lay eyes on was Burger King!! There are not so many Burger Kings in the Washington, D.C. Area. The chain is more visible in Miami, which I believe is the home of its corporate offices. There were the usual luxury item boutiques, but I didn't explore them mainly because of the baggage I was carrying.

I soon spotted a currency exchange counter, and once again, I attempted to withdraw funds. This time, there was a real person, but the result was a repeat of the encounter I had with the polite ATM machine: Transaction Denied!!! It was at this point that my anxiety level was raised to the level of total alarm. I had no problems using my card just prior to departing Miami. I had informed the bank (who confirmed my status) prior to my departure to ensure there would be no misunderstandings. Yet, once again, I received the message “Transaction Denied,” but at least the clerk was kind.

Determined to remain calm (along with the knowledge I was unlikely to reach a person at said bank on a Sunday morning/Saturday night), I resorted to the past time of people watching. Curious to know how Europeans dress, I found a nice spot to people watch. Khaki colored trousers that zip off at the knee to convert to knee-length shorts seemed to be quite popular with both sexes. A few fashionably casually dressed businessmen types strolled by. The majority of the ladies were dressed with comfort in mind, but there was the occasional fashionista teetering by on high heels.

It wasn't long before the announcement came that my flight was ready to board . . .

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Destination: Zurich

The flight to Philadelphia was calm, the skies were clear. The landing was smooth, and maneuvering while loaded with the heaviest carry on bags I could manage didn't seem so bad after my refreshing nap during the flight. I decided against exploring the airport shops, and once I confirmed the departure gate for the next leg of my journey, I began the long trek to the designated departure gate.

I noticed a currency conversion booth, and I thought this would be a good time to exchange currency. Near the departure gate for my flight, I spotted nearby an ATM machine. Luckily, there was no line!! So there would not be a repeat of the experience with the line at McDonald's. I keyed in the necessary codes and requested of the machine a sum of money well within the daily cash withdrawal limit. After the momentary processing, the machine politely informed me: Transaction Denied!! Not giving in to rising panic, I thought perhaps so many people have been at the machine today, it is possible it is low on cash.

Thus, I initiated a new transaction and requested of the machine a lower reasonable amount of cash which was definitely within the daily withdrawal limit. Once again, I received the polite message: Transaction Denied!! Struggling to not give in to the rising level of anxiety I was beginning to feel, I boldly initiated a third transaction, knowing the possibility my bank card would be retained by said polite ATM machine was extremely high!

Bingo!!! I was able to obtain a small sum of cash which, when converted to Euros, and once fees were deducted netted me a little over 100 Euros. Definitely well below the amount I requested and nowhere near the amount I needed upon landing in France, since I was to hand over the caution (security deposit) to my landlord upon arrival!! I thought Well, at least some money is better than none at all!!

It wasn't long before the announcement that my flight to Zurich was ready to board, and I made my way to the check-in counter. Unlike the orderly procession of boarding passengers at the US Airways terminal, the passenger boarding “procession” was one in which everyone raced to check in simultaneously. Fortunately, there was no pushing or shoving!!

I found my seat at the very back of the plane – never sat that far back before – and this time, I had the window seat (sigh). After that startling experience with the ATM machine, it was nice to relax. My seat mate and I must have had the same thought. We both quickly stowed our carry on bags and liberated our blankets and pillows from their guardian plastic enclosures. She got out her book, and I retrieved mine. We chatted briefly, but it was nice to know I would not have to try to engage in conversation the entire flight especially since I could not shake the feeling of mounting anxiety I had as a result of my encounter with the polite ATM machine!!

The in-flight movie was the newly re-made and released Karate Kid starring the son of Jada Pinkette and Will Smith, which I had not seen (and which I still have not seen in its entirety since I fell asleep at some point). Dinner was delicious, although I can't remember what it was at this point. I do remember thinking it was better than I expected of “heat and serve” in-flight cuisine.

I woke up, and I was greeted by the most beautiful sunrise. Soon, the entire cabin began to stir, and breakfast was served promptly by the flight attendants. It wasn't long before the pilot announced we would be landing in Zurich in about 20 minutes.

With my excitement level rising and such a beautiful sunrise, I thought this is going to be a good day!!
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Destination: Philadelphia

I will start today's blog by saying Thank you to the inventor of Flip Flops!!

After bidding farewell to my over weight baggage, I began the long trek to the departure gate. Loaded with the heaviest carry on bags I thought I could manage, this long trek was no small task! After completing the security check in process, I still had a good walk ahead of me.

Since I had spent the morning repacking, I had not eaten. So, with the grumbling of my stomach reminding me I had overlooked the morning's meal, I decided it was a good time to grab a bite to eat. The Double Arches of McDonald's beckoned me, and since only a few people were at the counter, I – loaded with the heaviest carry on bags I thought I could manage – began the relatively short trek to the counter.

Interestingly, with each step I took, the line at the counter magically grew! So by the time I reached the line – loaded with the heaviest carry on bags I thought I could manage – I had, in fact, taken only a few steps!!

Finally, the moment came when I presented myself to the gentleman behind the counter to place my order. I ordered a light meal, and it was presented to me quickly. Now, the task became how to get to the seat I had my eye on given I was loaded with the heaviest carry on bags I thought I could manage (smiles). After my wonderful meal, I along with my bags began the trek to the departure gate. Once there, I found a wonderful seat with a view towards the runway. Soon, I was joined by many others, and the moment arrived where we all boarded the plane. There was the usual assortment of folks, including the proverbial crying babies and barking dog. Yes, I said barking dog!!

I thought I must really be tired, but a curious glance at my two seat mates (I had my beloved aisle seat) confirmed I was not having “a moment.” For a second, I thought the barking dog of my son's neighbor had managed to sneak aboard the plane!! Indeed, someone had “carried on” a dog. The owner must have applied a muzzle as a result of many curious looks towards the end of the cabin from whence the barks came, 'cause he or she was quieted quicker than the crying babies!!

The flight was comfortable, and after a moment, I began to do what I always do on planes. I fell asleep!!!!

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My Flip Flops – Part Two

Even though it technically is time to put my beloved flip flops away, I just could not. Instead, I and my beloved flip flops jetted off to the land of Louis XIV!!

Yes, I said I and my beloved flip flops boarded not just one, but three planes to visit the land of Louis XIV!!

In a moment of madness which occurs when one reaches a certain age, I decided to apply for study abroad to improve my French!! During said moment of madness, I took the decision to stay not just one semester, but the entire year!!!

So, on 4 September 2010, I boarded a plane to commence the first leg of my journey to France!! It was a typically beautiful Miami morning – sunny and hot!! I started the morning by repacking my bags since I was determined not to be slapped with over-weight baggage charges. Finally, the moment arrived when it was time to go to the airport. Remembering my last experience at the airport, I donned my beloved flip flops and away to the airport was I (smiles).

The drive was short and uneventful, given any sane person would still be asleep on a Saturday morning, and after hugs and kisses to my son and his pal, I entered the hallowed halls of US Airways to commence my journey.

Luggage check in was easy!!! Somehow, I still managed to be charged for 7 pounds of over weight luggage!! The good thing though, my bags commenced their journey straight through to France. I, on the other hand, still had to go through security. . . .

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My Beloved Flip Flops

Alas, the lazy days of summer have once again slipped passed me.  A new school year has commenced, and with that, comes the time to retire my beloved footwear of summer -- the flip flop!!  Yes, the days are still warm and the nights equally steamy, but it just doesn't feel like lazy summer any longer.  So, in tribute to the passing of those lazy days, I'm pondering the destiny of my flip flops. My flip flops are special because they were a gift to me, and you all know how much I cherish gifts!!!  They're not your average flip flops either!!  They are Black with a two inch sole, and they are (or were) extremely comfortable as we treaded the steamy pavements of College Park, Maryland, Washington, D.C., and Miami, Florida.  Certainly, in keeping with all things modern and produced with planned obsolescence, the glued on strip which separated my feet from the true sole (or is it soul) of my flip flops became detached; but that didn't deter me and my flip flops from our various appointments with destiny at the Library during the Summer Research Institute I attended, nor did that detachment stop us from visiting the French Consulate in Miami.  Real troopers these flip flops of mine!!  Unfortunately, the time has come to give them a much needed vacation.  My, my, my, the stories they could tell!!!