My life in Paris part II: My battle with butter

I like butter; butter on my bread in the morning and used ever so sparingly for baked goods. It can be tasty and good for you in small doses. However, I'm the kind of person who prefers the natural taste of foods with a touch of olive oil if necessary especially when it comes to veggies. After my initial indulgence in french food, I started paying more attention to my meals especially at the numerous family dinners I attend. That being the case, I obviously can't be picky and make special requests all the time. Well..

Like I've mentioned, there are a number of people living and working in the family house. All the characters play an intricate part of the way the house functions. However, the most entertaining of them all is the crazy part-time Sri Lankan chef. He can't hear and likes to yell responses that have no relation to what your asking like, "EAT, EAT, it's good for health!". He professes to be a knowledgeable palm reader and has done some disturbing readings mostly for the nanny and au pair. He doesn't seem to like the lady of the house much though she is his boss, and ignores special notes she leaves for weeks. However, whenever Joe's dad is sick Gamini (the cheff) brings a cocktail of ayurvedic remedies for a special healing tea. His eye sight isn't the best either and there are times he bumps into walls, then runs away pretending it didn't happen. Then there is this evil, husky laugh, "Heh Heh Heh..."

I've had a bit of a silent on going battle with him over the past 6 months. Well, me and the au pair really. I understand that different cultures have different ideas on nutrition, and most of the food Gamini makes is delicious with indian spices and such. However, he seems to think that anything SOAKED (yes, dripping!) in butter (i.e. pasta, veggies, cakes) is tasty and "good for health". I'm more of a naturalist when it comes to food and prefer tasting it without a thick buttery coating. I'm not complaining as a tasty homemade meal 3 nights a week is a treat. In fact, I'm not used to sit down family dinners or personal chefs for that matter and never felt comfortable making requests. So as time went on, I started eating less and less at family dinners until finally all I ate were salads and a taste of meat provided it wasn't walking off my plate.

Finally, Joe made the request for me saying it was for my "regime", my diet. For a while, Gamini (the chef) would bring out a special plate of sides, drop the plate in front of me and announce "NOoo Butter!", then walk away laughing his evil husky laugh. I would get embarrassed feeling like a spoiled child. This lasted a month or so before it was dinner as usual. Then, the au pair started making requests. Then the lady of the house. I think all of this irritated him. I found him giving me the evil eye whenever I walked into the kitchen. I would just smile sheepishly and say, "Hello Gamini", "Thank you Gamini".

His compliance each time only lasts about a month. I'm not sure if he forgets, doesn't care, truly thinks it's healthy or is being vengeful. It's still under debate. It took me a long time to say anything, and even then it was Joe who made the request. These days, depending on his mood, the meal can be caked in butter or a healthy mix. Just last night I found Gamini cooking a cake and noticed 2 large sticks (= to 4 US sticks) of butter next to the ingredients. When I saw it baking, I asked what kind of cake it was. He proudly responded, "A BUTTER cake! Heh, Heh, Heh..."

My Life in Paris part I: apartments, houses and inmates...

As I anxiously approach my return, I feel the need to reflect on my unique situation here in Paris. While many move to Paris not knowing a soul, I was fortunate enough to be enveloped into a very generous and warm family which I consider to be the size of a small country. A little background: I'm an only child. My dad is an only child. My mom has one sister who has only one daughter. That being said, I come from a very small, dispersed family. Needless to say, there have been times in Paris where I've felt more than overwhelmed.

For starters, I'm not used to sharing...ANYTHING! I've always had MY own space and MY own things. It's been a long time since I've lived with my folks, so moving in with parents was quite an adjustment especially when I lived as a BIG girl in the BIG city for nearly 6 years. Though I've had serious relationships, I never lived with a significant other (I'm rather old fashion about that!) until moving to Paris. So it's completely understandable why I experienced "mild" melt downs for the first 6 months I was here. But it's amazing what you can adjust to given some time...

When I first arrived, we lived in the 8th district with Joe's mom. It was a great place to begin my journey as it was in the heart of everything! Joe and I had some growing pains going from a long distance relationship for 11 months to living together. Well, actually, it's more like I had a lot of growing pains with not having MY own space in MY familiar world. Fortunately, Joe's mom has the patience of angel and delicately imparted her relationship wisdom and support as needed. I admit it wasn't always easy listening to her advice, even if it was given with subtle finger wagging. I tend to become rather defensive in these circumstances with "I'm not a child!". I truly commemorate her bravery in accepting a young, passionate couple into her home. Though it was a glorious apartment, it was a city apartment so privacy was limited. I know what your thinking, but ACTUALLY I was more referring to the passionate "discussions" Joe and I would share as any French/American couple desperately in love trying to understand eachother would. (i.e. cultural and language barriers)

By early summer Joe and I were fairly adjusted, and I realized that our growing pains weren't so uncommon. (I took a tally with friends and family regarding there own experiences and was pleasantly relieved by their equally horrific/humorous stories!) I was starting to get quite comfortable in our situation with afternoons of freedom and evenings splurged with good food, family gatherings, long conversations, laughter and music. Although, sit down dinners every night took a little getting used to. As for the music, Joe's step dad is akin to a concert pianist. So it didn't take long for me to rediscovered my love of classical music. But just as I was getting used to my new living situation, we had to move. So we went from living in a luxurious and serene apartment in the heart of Paris with a grown up couple to a house with 5 other permanent residence and a revolving door of others.

Now living in a house in Paris in itself is unheard of, but living in a house that can very comfortably house two little girls, one 20 something brother, a young couple, a dad and a step-mom is unimaginable. Add to that a nanny, au pair and a crazy sri lankan chef, well you can only imagine how (in Joe's words) "alive" the house is at any moment of the day or night. And then there is the night life! Yes, late at night you can here cackling, music, restless whines and loud voices from the street. No we don't live near a club district, but a jail. Amongst all the luxury of living in this beautiful house with all it's comforts, there is the dichotomy of inmates in a jail just across the way. Don't worry, we are safely separated by a large wall and regular patrolling police cars. Apparently, it's the club med of jails with mostly white collar crimes. It does add a strange sense of surrealism to an already fairy-tale like existence.

Now, I'm sure by this time you are asking, why don't they get there own apartment like a grown up couple? Well, we do have what I call our "love shack", but it's the size of a dorm room just steps away from Joe's school. It was pretty clear early on that we could not survive as a couple living in such close quarters. So while Joe is in school, his family graciously opened their home to the both of us. Lot's of perks when you are adopted into a large family. But with all the perks there are many more concessions.

More to come...

-CityGirl

Un je ne sais quoi:

There's Something about Frenchmen

As much as I would like to think of my Parisian romance as unique, I know without a doubt I am a walking cliché. American girl has a chance meeting with a sexy Frenchman. They have an amazing night together, and then VOILA, they're in love! Well, it’s not quite as simple as that, but you get the idea. Even my idea for this blog isn't original, as I've seen a number of other bloggers with similar bylines. With all the romantic stories of girls falling in love with Frenchmen, you gotta wonder what’s their secret. What is their “je ne sais quoi”?

Getting comfortable in Paris meant I had to make friends. So I did what any New Yorker does best, I networked. I went on expat sites, chatted with girls at my language school, and before I knew it, I was connecting with girls in much of the same position as me. I’ve met girls from all over; America, Brazil, China, Japan, Holland, Russia and of course France. Except for a few, nearly all are living in Paris for one reason, l’amour. Regardless of where we come from, we all share commonalities. We are living in this foreign land, coping with all its quirks and kinks to be with our sometimes infuriating Frenchman who somehow looks irresistible no matter what he's doing!

Yes, a Frenchman can be spontaneous, romantic, charming, passionate and incredibly complicated. Add to that the natural sensuality of France and you can only begin to understand the innate sense of seduction every Frenchman emits. But unlike the stereotype, they are amazingly exclusive. I remember friends in the States being concerned about my love affair because everyone knows “Frenchmen are NOT faithful”. However from my experience, Frenchmen aren’t any more deceitful in matters of the heart than American men. In fact, loyalty and honor are MORE important to the French than Americans. A written contract is a requirement in the States for any legitimate promise. But for the French, your word is your bond. Sure the French are more “open” and not stuck on conservative or religious ideals like some Americans. I don’t doubt that loads of French men and women cheat on their spouses. But, I can confidently say after years of bartending in New York City and witnessing married men regularly remove their wedding bands while others conveniently forgot they had a live in girl-friend, a Frenchman is surprisingly monogamous. Okay, maybe that monogamy only lasts a couple of weeks or a month, but it keeps until your love affair is over.

When Americans first start dating, they aren’t considered “exclusive” until it’s discussed. But for the French, it’s assumed you are monogamous and faithful until otherwise stated. To a Frenchman this explanation sounds VERY “unsexy". But as an American, I have to strongly disagree. I can’t speak for the other girls who have left their native land just to be with their French boy-friend, fiancé or husband, though there is obviously more to be discovered beyond my reasoning, but I can definitely say that exclusivity, honor and loyalty are VERY sexy. As for the rest, well that’s just icing on an already deliciously decadent cake.

Á Bientôt

-CityGirl