The postcard says that Garches had 4,407 inhabitants. Today the town has expanded both in area as well as inhabitants (18500 today according to the town's website).
Showing posts with label Garches. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Garches. Show all posts
La Grande Rue
This photo was on an advert for a realty company. It's a photo of our street (Grande Rue). It's undated but it looks to be from the early 20th century. I don't have a recent photo from the same vantage point, but I've posted a photo from last year of the same street but the top of the hill. The street still maintains some of its old world charm.
The postcard says that Garches had 4,407 inhabitants. Today the town has expanded both in area as well as inhabitants (18500 today according to the town's website).
The postcard says that Garches had 4,407 inhabitants. Today the town has expanded both in area as well as inhabitants (18500 today according to the town's website).
On the streets where we live
It's summer in France. Last week it meant 97 degree weather in a country that does not believe in air condition. This week it means that anyone with means have made their way out of town. In my opinion and weather permitting, early August is France has the best. You have the streets all to your self. Last Sunday afternoon, I took a walk through our little town of Garches. Below are some of the scenes I saw along the way.
Street from our house to the center of town.
Porches parked along the street in the business area of Garches.
The church in the town square.
The gates to park in front of city hall.
Street from our house to the center of town.
Porches parked along the street in the business area of Garches.
The church in the town square.
The gates to park in front of city hall.
International city of lights
Last Saturday, Thomas and I had planned to go to Kathmandu, the Nepalese restaurant in Garches, to celebrate our four year anniversary. However, that same afternoon, our upstairs neighbor invited us for an apperatif which turned into an impromptu dinner.
They are sweet, retired couple (he is Egyptian. she is German) who have been together 40 years and spent most of their lives working in the Middle East- Kuwait, Dubai, and Jordan. We spent the evening chatting about the French system, traveling, and living an expat life. It was an international evening where they served Armenian cured meats, Italian stuffed peppers, homemade German bread, and a French Sancerre.
In addition to being neighborly, I think they invited us for drinks because they understand our situation very well. They can relate to being a foreigner in a city and trying to re-create a sense of home by making new friends, establishing a routine, and finding sources for both new and familiar things. They retired to France around 2002, and since then they have forged strong relations with local producers and have discovered areas of the city (both Paris and Garches) that locals could only know about. They have graciously offered to take us around and be our source to these treasured locations. Until Saturday, I did not realize that Paris had an Indian and Arab quarter. It is here, where they stock up on their exotic, but well priced, cooking spices. They also told us about an authentic Indian restaurant in the next town over. The best part of the evening was the fact that I was able to go to the dinner (upstairs) wearing my fuzzy slippers. That and after four bottles of wine between the four of us over the course of seven hours, it was an easy walk home.
The last few dinners has shown us how international our little town is. This is our fourth dinner so far, and three of the four were organized by a non-French couple. I'm trying to decide why we're meeting so many expats. It's probably because we are one ourselves, Garches has a large number of expats, and our limited French make it hard to meet more French people.
The other big news this weekend is that it hasn't stopped snowing since Friday. Snow has come as quite a surprise to me because the French said that it hardly snows here. And when it does, it melts in a few hours. I'm a firm believer that everything is better with snow (but only if you don't have to travel). So this weather has brought me back to my childhood days when snow meant grabbing your sled and finding the closest hill. I felt a little bad for the French kids, because very few had sled. This is just as well, since there aren't any hills that don't bottom out onto a road.
We took the dogs out and about town to enjoy the wintry weather. Here are some more snowy Garches photos.
To end the weekend, we had fish tacos for Sunday dinner (Thomas was craving fish tacos). Since the French don't really have a taste for Mexican food, aside from tortilla shells, we had to make everything - beer batter fried fish, (sort of) re-fried beans, salsa, and spicy, creamy taco sauce. Two hours later, we finally ate. Yum! but way too much work for Mexican food. Recipe from allrecipes.com.
They are sweet, retired couple (he is Egyptian. she is German) who have been together 40 years and spent most of their lives working in the Middle East- Kuwait, Dubai, and Jordan. We spent the evening chatting about the French system, traveling, and living an expat life. It was an international evening where they served Armenian cured meats, Italian stuffed peppers, homemade German bread, and a French Sancerre.
In addition to being neighborly, I think they invited us for drinks because they understand our situation very well. They can relate to being a foreigner in a city and trying to re-create a sense of home by making new friends, establishing a routine, and finding sources for both new and familiar things. They retired to France around 2002, and since then they have forged strong relations with local producers and have discovered areas of the city (both Paris and Garches) that locals could only know about. They have graciously offered to take us around and be our source to these treasured locations. Until Saturday, I did not realize that Paris had an Indian and Arab quarter. It is here, where they stock up on their exotic, but well priced, cooking spices. They also told us about an authentic Indian restaurant in the next town over. The best part of the evening was the fact that I was able to go to the dinner (upstairs) wearing my fuzzy slippers. That and after four bottles of wine between the four of us over the course of seven hours, it was an easy walk home.
The last few dinners has shown us how international our little town is. This is our fourth dinner so far, and three of the four were organized by a non-French couple. I'm trying to decide why we're meeting so many expats. It's probably because we are one ourselves, Garches has a large number of expats, and our limited French make it hard to meet more French people.
The other big news this weekend is that it hasn't stopped snowing since Friday. Snow has come as quite a surprise to me because the French said that it hardly snows here. And when it does, it melts in a few hours. I'm a firm believer that everything is better with snow (but only if you don't have to travel). So this weather has brought me back to my childhood days when snow meant grabbing your sled and finding the closest hill. I felt a little bad for the French kids, because very few had sled. This is just as well, since there aren't any hills that don't bottom out onto a road.
We took the dogs out and about town to enjoy the wintry weather. Here are some more snowy Garches photos.
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| Snow beard |
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| Despite seeing one snowplow today, most roads remain uncleared. |
To end the weekend, we had fish tacos for Sunday dinner (Thomas was craving fish tacos). Since the French don't really have a taste for Mexican food, aside from tortilla shells, we had to make everything - beer batter fried fish, (sort of) re-fried beans, salsa, and spicy, creamy taco sauce. Two hours later, we finally ate. Yum! but way too much work for Mexican food. Recipe from allrecipes.com.
Wintry Mix
The dogs love it. Scout skips (hops on one hind leg for three/four steps) down the snowy sidewalk, and Molly, whose belly barely gets above the snow loves getting her nose deep in the stuff in search of smells.
The market was smaller than usual today. The crepe lady and coffee guy were not there, much to the disappointment of our grumbling bellies. A third of the vendors decided to stay home this weekend. No one can blame them. I cannot imagine working outside in the cold and snow for six and a half hours. There hands and noses looked ruddy from weather. Those that did come had business, evident in the fact that we still had to wait in line, but not like on good weather days. Our regular charcuteur still had almost a whole jambon aloise (ham). On normal days, coming at the hour when we did this morning, that ham would have been half sold already. The market vendors got extra respect from me today. I've always admired the vendors who take pride in their work displaying awards or articles about local competitions they've won or having vast knowledge about the products they are selling. But those that came on a day like today - 28 degrees, four inches already on the ground, and snow flurries- those are the vendors who deserve loyalty. They came for their customers.
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| Garches Mayor's office |
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| the market must go on |
Snow, dinner, doggy play date
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.
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. |
A day of thanks
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| 2012 Thanksgiving meal. Or as we say in France- the meal we ate on Thursday Nov 22nd. |
This year, Thomas and I decided that we would not make a traditional meal. At this point, we don't know enough people who would appreciate such an effort. We will celebrate it - sort of - tomorrow. Thomas has an American friend who lives in Italy. He and his wife are visiting Paris this weekend, so tomorrow we will go out to dinner. I'm sure it will be nice. But no turkey. no pumpkin pie. no stuffing.
In France, they don't celebrate Thanksgiving, so there aren't many people to share in the anticipation. It is just another ordinary Thursday. To try to make today not so ordinary we included a few festive dishes to tonight's dinner. It made us feel a little less disconnected with everyone in the States. While not the traditional turkey Thanksgiving day dinner, we came close. Today's dinner was lamb with homemade stuffing and green bean casserole. In my opinion, Thanksgiving isn't really Thanksgiving without the green bean casserole.
The stuffing was your basic recipe. It was good, but not extraordinary, although I do recommend using a day old baguette because it soaks up the butter and chicken broth nicely. The green bean casserole was a nice find on allrecipes.com. It uses a tasty, easy to make cream sauce instead of cream of mushroom soup and caramelized onions and planko instead of french's onion. I'm glad we included a little bit of Thanksgiving in our new French life. Making time for family and friends that includes good food and desserts sounds like a good idea no matter in which country one lives.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
Things I am grateful for:
* My husband who is generous, caring, smart, and industrious
* Our two beagles who are loyal, reliable, and great bed pre-warmers
* Family and friends and the ability to skype and facetime with them
* The opportunity to live here in France
Rainy Daze
It has been raining non-stop for about two weeks now here in France. Because of the weather, our time has been spent indoors (mostly recovering from this cold that Thomas and I keep passing onto each other). The wet weather also leaves us two choices as far as things to do -- baking and hitting the museums -- and this weekend was no different.
Yesterday, I tried channeling my inner french chef and decided to try my hand at making a chocolate souffle. There is something about being in France that makes me want to cook - and not just scrabbled eggs, but dishes that tantalize the gourmand in us. I think this is because markets with fresh and colorful ingredients are close by, and I often walk pass pastry and chocolate shops run by not just shop keepers but by artists who take great pride in their work. With fresh and artful food everywhere, how can I not be inspired? My sparse kitchen skills will put a limit on what I can do. Thankfully, there are surprisingly many dishes that seem fancy, but take only minutes to prepare. The chocolate soufflé is one of them.
This recipe from epicurious involves only 3 ingredients - (good quality) chocolate, eggs, and sugar. The only special tool you need is the soufflé pan. After 40 minutes of melting, whipping, folding, and baking we had a delicious, airy, and deep dark chocolaty after dinner treat. I hope all french desserts are this easy. Next time, I might try my hand at chocolate eclairs!
Thomas and I also decided that we need to explore our area, which is quite easy given the fact that in France you are always a day trip away from some Chateau of a famous French, historical figure. This weekend's trip took us to the neighboring town of Port-Marly to visit Alexandre Dumas' house. Alexandre Dumas, if you recall from AP English class, wrote high adventure fiction such as The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo. His "country" house, which was converted into a museum, included a chateau, formal gardens, and what Thomas called a "man cave" (a separate house on the estate where he worked on his novels). The small museum showcased his heritage, his life, and his life's work.
The trip to the museum was also our first outing with our new, old car. What should have been a 20 minute drive, became 40 minutes even with the Tom Tom GPS. The routes are marked clearly, but we could not figured out how to determine direction. The French clearly do not designate routes like they do in the states (pairing route names with cardinal directions. Route 51 South for example). The GPS told us to take route A13, but we would inevitable take the A13 going the opposite direction. We think that it's like taking the metro. Direction is indicated by the end of the line, so you have to know that A13 Paris is heading SE, while Rouen is heading NW. And just like the bus line, if you miss your stop/exit, it is miles (or kilometers) before you can turn around and head back in the other direction.
At least we figured out which gas to use for the car (thank goodness for a working smartphone with internet connection!). Gazole is french for diesel, sans plomb is unleaded, and then they give you a choice of octane amount. We were just glad we didn't put diesel in the Nissan!
Yesterday, I tried channeling my inner french chef and decided to try my hand at making a chocolate souffle. There is something about being in France that makes me want to cook - and not just scrabbled eggs, but dishes that tantalize the gourmand in us. I think this is because markets with fresh and colorful ingredients are close by, and I often walk pass pastry and chocolate shops run by not just shop keepers but by artists who take great pride in their work. With fresh and artful food everywhere, how can I not be inspired? My sparse kitchen skills will put a limit on what I can do. Thankfully, there are surprisingly many dishes that seem fancy, but take only minutes to prepare. The chocolate soufflé is one of them.
This recipe from epicurious involves only 3 ingredients - (good quality) chocolate, eggs, and sugar. The only special tool you need is the soufflé pan. After 40 minutes of melting, whipping, folding, and baking we had a delicious, airy, and deep dark chocolaty after dinner treat. I hope all french desserts are this easy. Next time, I might try my hand at chocolate eclairs!
Thomas and I also decided that we need to explore our area, which is quite easy given the fact that in France you are always a day trip away from some Chateau of a famous French, historical figure. This weekend's trip took us to the neighboring town of Port-Marly to visit Alexandre Dumas' house. Alexandre Dumas, if you recall from AP English class, wrote high adventure fiction such as The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo. His "country" house, which was converted into a museum, included a chateau, formal gardens, and what Thomas called a "man cave" (a separate house on the estate where he worked on his novels). The small museum showcased his heritage, his life, and his life's work.
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| Chateau Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas' country home. |
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| The house across from the Chateau where Dumas wrote - what Thomas has dubbed as the "man cave" |
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| Dumas' desk in the man cave. |
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| Beautiful architectural detail. |
The trip to the museum was also our first outing with our new, old car. What should have been a 20 minute drive, became 40 minutes even with the Tom Tom GPS. The routes are marked clearly, but we could not figured out how to determine direction. The French clearly do not designate routes like they do in the states (pairing route names with cardinal directions. Route 51 South for example). The GPS told us to take route A13, but we would inevitable take the A13 going the opposite direction. We think that it's like taking the metro. Direction is indicated by the end of the line, so you have to know that A13 Paris is heading SE, while Rouen is heading NW. And just like the bus line, if you miss your stop/exit, it is miles (or kilometers) before you can turn around and head back in the other direction.
At least we figured out which gas to use for the car (thank goodness for a working smartphone with internet connection!). Gazole is french for diesel, sans plomb is unleaded, and then they give you a choice of octane amount. We were just glad we didn't put diesel in the Nissan!
Amped up
Thomas and I have learned a very expensive lesson. You cannot just buy a plug adapter so US plugs fit French outlets and expect US purchased appliances to work in France since most US appliances run only on 110 volts. Before plugging anything in ... in fact before packing it up and shipping it over, it is best to check that electronics will be able to work on France's 220 Volt electric system. Thankfully most laptops can work on voltages between 100-240V. I had no fear of ruining my new Toshiba laptop by plugging it in here in France. Unfortunately, we were not so lucky with our not-even-a-year-old Dyson vacuum cleaner. We even bought a voltage converter for it. But as soon as we plugged in the Dyson into the converter and then the converter into the French outlet we heard a small thud. This was either the fuse blowing, the Dyson crapping out on us, or both. A quick google search (which we should have done back in the States) led us to believe that even with a converter, the Dyson is not going to work or at best the motor will wear out before long. Same story with our fancy schmancy Cuisinart coffee maker. Lesson learned this week - check voltage requirements, and leave incompatible electronics at home.
On a happy note, we are getting a free car from some one who is leaving the organization and heading back to the States. He also received the car for free, so now he is just paying it forward. It's a 1997 Nissan Primera. It's old, but it's clean. And, it functions. Having a car should make grocery shopping easier. Sometimes we have to make two trips into the center of town because we can't fit everything in our shopping caddy and shopping baskets. We are also looking forward to some weekend road trips!
On a happy note, we are getting a free car from some one who is leaving the organization and heading back to the States. He also received the car for free, so now he is just paying it forward. It's a 1997 Nissan Primera. It's old, but it's clean. And, it functions. Having a car should make grocery shopping easier. Sometimes we have to make two trips into the center of town because we can't fit everything in our shopping caddy and shopping baskets. We are also looking forward to some weekend road trips!
We have way too much stuff
The movers came and went on Wednesday. After two months sleeping on an air mattress and living in an apartment with only a table, two chairs, and one floor lamp, I am grateful to finally have a couch to sit on and a down comforter to cuddle under. It took the three guys about three hours to unload the truck - all 81 boxes. I wasn't sure if it was all going to fit in our tiny apartment. We have a lot of stuff... too much. We lived the previous month with just two plates, two sets of utensils and wine glasses, one saute pan, and pan to boil water... while we had to plan how we cooked our dinners, we survived. But now that I am staring at our cupboard, I wonder why we need four different types of bowls (two types of cereal. two types of soup), three wine openers, eight sets of napkins and four cutting boards. Everything fit in our Arlington apartment, but here in France where space is a premium, I am of the opinion that we have too much stuff. I can understand why people see America as a land of excess. Although, compared with the miniature/doll house size furniture, cars and apartments, even normal American thing seem supersized. Our dishwasher can't fit our American plates (they are too tall). We had to leave all our baking sheets in the US, because they won't fit in our small oven. And because our closest space is now reduced by 75%, sadly I think need to re-evaluate my wardrobe. Our life in France includes a bit of purging, which is probably a good thing.
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| The echoing will finally stop! |
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| Living space! |
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| Only a few casualties. |
Weekly Market Outing
I am absolutely loving the fact that we are a ten minute walk from our bi-weekly open air market. Each Wednesday and Saturday morning the central square brims with life as dozens of vendors bring to Garches peppers, raspberries, leeks, flowers, homemade pasta, cured meats, roasted chicken, cheeses, and freshly baked bread. It is a gourmand's paradise. There are even folks who sell crepes and fresh orange juice, as well as paella, Chinese and Lebanese food.
Each Saturday, Thomas and I head to the market to buy the ingredients for the meals that we'll have over the next few days. Tomorrow, I decided to make a quiche Loraine so we bought something bacon like. It was not exactly bacon because the butcher ran out of that, but he recommended this smoked something or other (he did tell me what it was, but I can't remember). I trusted his judgement. I told him what I was making, and I was happy to take his recommendation. We also bought some homemade pasta, and some veal. For the veal, we went to the butcher that Thomas befriended last week. He spoke only a little English so it took us (me, Thomas, the butcher, and his wife) to figure how to tell them that we wanted veal. They were patient and are always friendly and helpful when interacting with us. After trying to describe what we wanted to buy in broken French and the butcher listing all the meats he had, I pulled out my iphone and just googled it. His eyes lit up when he realized what we were asking for: "escalope de veau." Now we will know how to ask for it next time.
The market is always fun. Seeing all that fresh foods, also makes me want to cook better. Perhaps a cooking class is in our near future.
Each Saturday, Thomas and I head to the market to buy the ingredients for the meals that we'll have over the next few days. Tomorrow, I decided to make a quiche Loraine so we bought something bacon like. It was not exactly bacon because the butcher ran out of that, but he recommended this smoked something or other (he did tell me what it was, but I can't remember). I trusted his judgement. I told him what I was making, and I was happy to take his recommendation. We also bought some homemade pasta, and some veal. For the veal, we went to the butcher that Thomas befriended last week. He spoke only a little English so it took us (me, Thomas, the butcher, and his wife) to figure how to tell them that we wanted veal. They were patient and are always friendly and helpful when interacting with us. After trying to describe what we wanted to buy in broken French and the butcher listing all the meats he had, I pulled out my iphone and just googled it. His eyes lit up when he realized what we were asking for: "escalope de veau." Now we will know how to ask for it next time.
The market is always fun. Seeing all that fresh foods, also makes me want to cook better. Perhaps a cooking class is in our near future.
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| Crepes, coffee, and freshly squeezed OJ break. |
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| Handmade Pasta Guy |
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| Market is always at the town center next to the Church. |
Community
On Friday, I had a conversation with a former colleague who also happens to be French. He asked me if I thought French weekly markets were different from Farmer's Markets in the US. My opinion (which he generally agreed), was that the variety and quality were the same, but there was a mark up in price in the US. US Farmers markets are showcased as having better quality produce and more homemade (time intensive) items than the grocery store. Here in France, the quality of the vegetables at our bi-weekly market in Garches are definitely better than what I've found in the grocery stores, but the prices don't seem to be higher. Every community has a market, and that is just where people do their weekly shopping. There seems to be no reason to have higher prices in the market.
However, after spending yesterday morning in our town square market I realized the one major difference between open air markets in the two countries -- community. Precisely because every community here in France has a market, and these markets are where people do their weekly shopping, this is the place to see neighbors. Every Saturday morning, you see the same people at this central place. Most folks, including Thomas and myself, make the morning of it. There are three cafés on the square, and they are often filled with Garchois families conversing over coffee (and sometimes beer -despite being only eleven in the morning). Thomas and I often stop by Chez Bad, the crêpe maker I met during my first visit to Garches. Since we don't have our coffee marker yet, we look forward to our regular visits to his crêperie to have a café crème on Saturdays.
Now that we are in the rentré (the moment when everyone comes back from their vacation) Garches has come to life. Thomas arrived just in time to see how active this community is. This weekend was Garches "community day" - at least that is what I'm calling it. They had fireworks on Saturday night. Today there were games and food at the town square. There was a mini conference in the town gymnasium where all the club and associations had tables and people can sign up and join their group. Thomas and I talked to people from the Rotary Club, a running group, a rock climbing group, and even an association that helps people learn to speak French. In thirty minutes we managed to find lots of ways both fun and useful to spend our time here in France -- and all in the community of Garches. It was a delightful way to spend a Sunday.
However, after spending yesterday morning in our town square market I realized the one major difference between open air markets in the two countries -- community. Precisely because every community here in France has a market, and these markets are where people do their weekly shopping, this is the place to see neighbors. Every Saturday morning, you see the same people at this central place. Most folks, including Thomas and myself, make the morning of it. There are three cafés on the square, and they are often filled with Garchois families conversing over coffee (and sometimes beer -despite being only eleven in the morning). Thomas and I often stop by Chez Bad, the crêpe maker I met during my first visit to Garches. Since we don't have our coffee marker yet, we look forward to our regular visits to his crêperie to have a café crème on Saturdays.
Now that we are in the rentré (the moment when everyone comes back from their vacation) Garches has come to life. Thomas arrived just in time to see how active this community is. This weekend was Garches "community day" - at least that is what I'm calling it. They had fireworks on Saturday night. Today there were games and food at the town square. There was a mini conference in the town gymnasium where all the club and associations had tables and people can sign up and join their group. Thomas and I talked to people from the Rotary Club, a running group, a rock climbing group, and even an association that helps people learn to speak French. In thirty minutes we managed to find lots of ways both fun and useful to spend our time here in France -- and all in the community of Garches. It was a delightful way to spend a Sunday.
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| Garches, all decked out for it's community day. |
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| There was even a parade with a band. |
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| Not bad for my first time at target practice. |
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| Barbe a Papa = Cotton Candy |
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| The French do not know how to make a hotdog. Baguettes are good, but not as a bun. |
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| But they do know how to make good fries. |