Last weekend was a weekend of many first. First snow fall, first fully french dinner party, and first play dates for the dogs. Firsts are new and exciting. Firsts invigorate.
Early Friday morning, I woke up to see large snow flakes out the bedroom window. The snow had a warm glow, back lit by the street light. Half awake, it took a few moments for me to realize what it was - the first snowfall of the season. After colleagues telling me how unappealing winters were here (rainy, cold, and no snow), it was a pleasant surprise. I was so excited by the unexpected snow, that I woke up Thomas (who was non-plus about it) to tell him. I am glad I woke up in time to see the snow fall, because by the time I got to work, the snow turned to rain.
Another first this weekend was our first french dinner party. We had been invited to a few other dinners before but not with a slew of french guests (so the past dinner conversations were in English). Some friends of Thomas from the association he joined invited us to their house for dinner last Saturday. They turned out to live just up the street, so not only are they acquaintances but they are also neighbors. While the hosts were from Scotland who have been in France for over twenty years, the other three couples were french.
The dinner conversation was 99% in French- a challenge for me and an even bigger challenge for Thomas. The guest were quite cognizant of our limited french and spoke slowly and translated occasionally. Once the wine started flowing however, the velocity of their speech increased. And after four hours, I was tired of thinking in French. By the end of the evening, my comprehension level dropped 20%. I was proud of Thomas for enduring a full evening of dinner in a foreign language. It is not easy to stay engaged when you don't understand the conversations around you. Every time I looked over at him, however, he was often trying to converse - sometimes in French sometime in English.
Once we returned home, I translated for Thomas the parts of the conversation I could remember. They talked about all sorts of subjects, from the state of French Universities to the recently passed Gay Marriage Bill in France to tax collection in Garches. I was a bit surprised that they talked about the second subject given its political sensitivity. I suppose since they were all close friends, that it was OK.
The anatomy of the French dinner party seems to be always the same. The first is always the aperitif. Usually champagne with nuts and charcuterie (cured meats). This is done while waiting for everyone to arrive and continues once everyone is there. We were told that the French are notorious for the late arrivals to dinner parties, and that we could also arrive late, but under no circumstances should we come before the stated time. Dinner was at 8 pm. We left the house a little after 8, so we thought we would be fine since they were a 5 minute walk from our place. We were, of course, the first to arrive. Thankfully we weren't too early since the next guests arrived 5 minutes later. The last of the guests came by 8:30.
After chatting for a bit over champagne and whisky, we were invited to the dinning room for dinner. But before we could be seated at the table, the host placed each guest at their seat assignment (boy girl boy girl of course). I was seated next to the host, while Thomas was seated next to the host's wife - a strategic move since they were the only people we knew, and they could help ease us into conversation. One thing you will quickly notice is that french dinner parties are as much about the conversation as they are about the food.
Dinner was four courses. The entree was salad and garlicky shrimp. The main course was turkey stuffed with sausage and chestnuts with cranberry gravy. If you are American in France during the holidays, you know the difficulties of find a turkey in Paris. The turkey at this dinner table is a testament to the strong network and connections of our hostess. She knows a butcher whose family raises lamb but they also happen to raise turkey's this year. She heard about this and asked if he could get a turkey. Friday morning, she had it already stuffed and ready for her oven. After the main course comes the cheese plate. She had six selections of cheeses - blue, cambert, manchego, chedder and two more that I could not remember. The dinner was capped with an apple spice cake with your choice of one of five different ice cream flavors.
Mixed between the courses, fork fulls of delicious homemade delights, and sips of my new favorite wine - a 2004 Chateau Gazin Pomerol- were friendly conversations, meaningful discussions, and at times intense debates. It was at the end of the night, when I came to realize the importance of the french dinner party. Of course, the meal itself is at the heart of the dinner but so too was this exchange of ideas and amity. By the end of the evening, I realized the significance of being invited to such a dinner party. It's a chance for bonds to form or grow stronger.
At some point during the dinner conversation, Thomas told one of the other guests about our beagles, Molly and Scout. That was all it took to get our first doggy play date the next day. The night ended with an outing on Sunday with Thomas, myself, Molly, Scout, one of the other dinner guests and her four, yes FOUR, dogs. It sounded daunting and it was a bit chaotic at first (early in the hike I tripped over/stepped on Molly), but it ended up being quite fun. Scout got to be a free dog (off leash) for the entire hike. She led the pack and sniffed her way around the woods. Molly kept up with the rest of the dogs. The woman who joined us spoke very little English. She was nice and was again very patient with our French. She even remarked on how much Thomas' English has improved since their first encounter. This outing hit four general life objectives: practiced french, enjoyed the outdoors, exercised, and met a neighbor.
Seven months in. And life is starting to feel settled.
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Tried to get all six dogs in the photo,
but they were hunting dogs and scents
were everywhere and so were the dogs. |
