Is it really French I'm learning?

I'm am still surprised at times
when I realize that my journey
here, to France, is so much
more than experiencing a foreign
culture and learning a language.

While my  French is improving
with daily study and interaction,
it is another language that is
seeping ever deeper into my bones;
the language of healing.
This language and all the words
inherent within it is not
new for me.

Years ago, while in
my twenties and early thirties,
I lived within a Catholic community
called Madonna House. The community
was situated in  the small village of
Combermere, in southeastern Ontario,
 a rural area where the locals
had to "stone" their fields each spring
before plowing.

madawaska river

.
It was during this time that I began
to experience the language of healing.
Surrounded by the natural beauty of this
rural landscape I was  greeted each day
 by  the magnificent Madawaska river
which wound her way past our shores.

I'm Ready To Go Home!

"I'm ready to go home mom,"
Alec said to me last night.
He just finished his two weeks of
vacation and returned to school this
frosty morning for another six
weeks.  While this school routine
--6 weeks on, 2 weeks off---may be
envious from afar, it is a grueling, daily schedule
that leaves you exhausted after the six weeks.
 Even though Alec  was not looking forward to
this morning, last night he packed his backpack
making sure everything was ready.  He awoke
this morning to the church bells, got out of bed
and dressed for the day.I so appreciate his
willingness to continue this journey here and
am thankful he is not a whiner!


I must admit, I feel like I'm ready to
go home.  Sometimes I just miss the familiar;
the wide open spaces, especially.

While the time here seems to pass quickly,
now and again, I feel like I run into "walls."
---living next to a fortified church with
    a wall surrounding its exterior space,
    driving on narrow streets
    bordered on both sides by walls,
    passing through village after village,
    where walls of houses are all shuttered closed,
    walking along walled paths that block
    the view into neighbouring gardens---
these walls no longer feel quaint to me,
but rather suffocating.

Alec tells me we are living in one of the most
fortified regions in the world! Perhaps this is why
sometimes I feel like I am walking upon a
cultural mine field.

Take for example the "faire la bise," tradition in France.
Upon meeting and again upon separating,
it is customary to make the sound of a kiss
while lightly brushing your cheek against
another's cheek.  The question then becomes,
"how many kisses" does one do?
Here, in the northeast of France, in the Moselle
department, two kisses seem to be customary.
Though I would appreciate the sunshine of the
south of France right now, I'm not sure I could handle
their "three-kiss" hello and I am definitely grateful
that we don't live just west of us
where there is a "4-kiss" hello!  Finistère, the
department hugging the northwest coast of France,
looks mighty appealing to me right now;  yes, there
is the ocean but they only give one kiss!


Perhaps you think I speak in jest  but the gesture of giving
the kiss can be deadly serious.

Recently, Alec had a rather uncomfortable experience
while celebrating with friends.  When Alec asked for
a piece of the delicious chocolate cake that a woman
was cutting, she snapped, "no!"  Confused,
her young daughter asked why Alec couldn't
 have a piece of cake and her mother responded,
"because he never says hello to me!"  In other words,
when Alec enters a room of people that he knows, he
says "hello" to the group but does not go up to each,
individual person and kiss them on both cheeks;  a major
faux pas here.

Later, at home, I explained to Alec that while he may not
like the  kissing on both cheeks hello and goodbye 
routine, he needs to respect this custom.  Personally I
I find the faire la bise to be rather laborious.

Some of my french friends who are artists have taught me
that, upon entering a room, you can say "bisous à tous,"
kisses to all!  Now this I like though I believe not all
French would accept this greeting.  The only good thing
about having a cold here is that when you enter a room
you can say "I have a cold, therefore I will not kiss!"

You can see why at times I feel we are navigating
cultural mine fields.  Apparently in the German workplace
kissing is getting out of hand.  "A German Society which
advises on etiquette and social behaviour has called
for kissing to be banned in the workplace."  I'm not
sure what Angela and Nicolas will do.

"
 I find it interesting that while it is acceptable for men
to offer a handshake in greeting it is not so for women;
equality for women has a way to go here in France, but
that is another post.

Trying to delicately maneuver the cultural nuances of
a society can be tricky.  Alec, who tends to see things
as black or white just wrote off the woman, who
denied him his chocolate cake, as being  nuts!   Ah,
the simplicity of a 13 year old.  For me, after such an
experience, I am simply grateful to be reading a wee book
 entitled Loving Kindness,  by Pema Chödrön. 
 Her words invite me to soften any judgement.

If you want an interesting insiders look into the
French family rent the moving Sky Lab,
by Julie Delpy.

Delpy is brilliant at chronicling 

the nuances inherent in family

gatherings.

Speaking of family, Alec did

manage to get a large piece 

of that delicious chocolate cake.

mardi gras

Today we celebrate le mardi gras;
Mardi  Tuesday
Gras    fat
or fat Tuesday in English.  Mardi gras
sounds so much better.  While
I knew about mardi gras (I'm Catholic, eh?)
I did not know that the French explorer,
Iberville brought this celebration to America,
just south of New Orleans, in 1699.
Marci Gras History   Of course Catholics
stole this feast from the Romans who probably
celebrated it as a fertility festival.

Speaking of celebrating, food and drink, parades
or carnivals and of course, masks usually mark the feast
before the fast.  This recipe for a french pancake
calls for honey beer (pale ale will suffice).

http://www.thegoodlifefrance.com/french-pancake-recipe/

Move over pancakes because Blinis, tiny yeast pancakes,
 are traditionally eaten here
for mardi gras.  Check out food gypsy's blinis recipe.

http://www.foodgypsy.ca/recipes/post-french-blinis-2/

Speaking of Catholics, mardi gras ushers in Ash
Wednesday, le mercredi des cendres which
begins the season of lent, le carême;  a time of prayer,
fasting, doing good works.  "We Catholics
don't make  new year's resolution, we have lent!"
(I can't remember where I read that).

But enough about fasting, tonight is for feasting.

"There's still some hope left"

Meet Ameena Mathews who knows what it's like
to go "from zero to rage in 30 seconds" yet chooses
not to go there and helps street-wise youth of
Chicago do the same.

from The Interrupters 

"We still look out for one another, for me it's like,

there's still some hope left."

The Interrupters, a film which is "a collaboration

between Hoop Dreams director Steve James

and journalist Alex Kotlowitz." ( npr)

For someone who knows what it is like to go

from "zero to rage in 30 seconds," Ameena is

an inspiration.

Happy Valentine's Day

Walking with Piper I saw this
green barrel with a pink heart painted
on the side;  so much better than a
card don't you think.

Today we had a Valentine's day miracle;
Alec and I agreed
on a movie that we both wanted to see,
the latest Sherlock Holmes movie which
was playing in Metz. Even though it was in French
we understood the gist of it.  This
movie is worth seeing just for the music.

After the movie we walked over to Tonya's for a visit with
Christopher and David and for "the best popcorn ever, mom."
 I think Alec may want a new mom.

  Walking toward our parking garage we passed
several  florist shops with lines spilling out onto
the streets.  Valentines day is alive and well in France.

St. Valentine receives a
rosary from the Virgin Mary

I'm glad we didn't receive rosaries today.



 Rachel brought us this Valentine
dessert which looked too good to eat....well, I guess not
as we just dove in..

I Look To You

Whitney Houston, may you rest in peace.

The Cure

Les vacances, or the vacation has started;
Alec has two weeks off school.  Before you
become extremely jealous regarding this
school break here is a message from
Alec;  I would much rather have the
school schedule in the States,  in France
the schedule is crazy and exhausting.

We decided to start our vacation with
The Cure, a visit to the  Thermapolis in
Ammneville, about 30 minutes from here.



We have been here before but not in winter, not with a light
covering of snow on the ground and temperatures below
zero.

Imagine stepping into a clear blue river naturally enriched with
salt, calcium and magnesium, flowing about 20km/hour
 which propels you outdoors where,
in 35 degrees C water, you float next to snow
 covered grounds.




If the crisp winter air is too cold  for you the river will
return you indoors where you can step in front of
hydro massage jets aimed at different levels of your body.

I couldn't photo shop Alec and me!

If water isn't your thing you can explore the sauna, the steam room,

or the heated Egyptian room




People call visiting these naturally enriched waters
going for The Cure.  Apparently different springs have
different healing properties.

For me, any kind of water---
  standing under a hot shower,
  floating in my kayak down a lazy river,
 swimming next to Piper in the pond in Vermont
 or floating around Thermopolis in Ammneville---
 is the cure.

30rock saves the day!

Living in small quarters with a soon
to be 14 year old son can be challenging;
for both the son and his mother.  After a
heated dispute yesterday afternoon I ended
up walking over to Rachel's with Piper
and Alec, well he ended up  being
 banned from the computer.

When suffering from mental anguish,
write or walk.  I seem to gravitate toward walking.
Choosing the later in -15 degree weather
 immediately kicks in survival skills;
your walking speed goes into overdrive as
you intensely focus on your boots crunching
through the snow, one quick step at a time.
Simultaneously, you clench and release your
 fingers in a winter hello-are -you-still-there 
greeting.   But slowly, you raise your head and
something amazing happens;  no longer is your
brain recycling the previous conversation with
your son.  Now, you can see;
  the bright, blue sky overhead sparkling with
  an eye-squinting  sun,
  Piper, your dog, racing circles around you,
  leaping at invisible pursuits,
  and quiet, you can actually see quiet.

Upon returning home and attempting to re-discuss
our previous disagreement I finally said to Alec,
"sometimes you just have to agree to disagree;"
a difficult concept for Alec who truly believes
there is a right and a wrong and that  discussions
are battles meant to be won.


"Do not let the sun go down on your anger."
Ephesians 4:26
Oh don't panic just because I'm quoting from the
Bible (I did have to research the source of this quote
if that makes you less nervous!).


To end the evening on a positive note
we agreed to watch 30Rock,
a situation comedy television series by Tina Fey.
If you know me you know that I haven't had a t.v.
since, -----gee, since my five brothers and sisters
gathered around our set to watch
The Ed Sullivan Show on Sunday night
 (after, of course, we had already knelt down before
 the blackened t.v. screen to say
the rosary)---a long time.

Now and then Alec attempts to interest me in
a television series via the internet,all to no avail.
 But last night, while watching Rachel Dratch
  impersonate Barbara Walters during the first season,
we were laughing so hard we had to click pause.

 Later, in our shared bedroom,
with the lights out and me almost asleep
 I heard Alec giggling.  I thought he was asleep.
"Alec," I whispered.  He started laughing louder.
"I'm awake mom," and then we giggled our way to
sleep, reliving some of the 30rock scenes.

When in doubt, laugh with your son, and all
shall be well.  Thank you Tina Fey.

Country Music and Gregorian Chant

Mornin'

So I'm trying to learn guitar, again, (borrowed Rachel's).

First song I came upon was The Gambler;

interesting that I found this song first.  

Alec is having heart failure, worried that I'm into

country  While listening to this song he jumped up,

saying "that is absolutely horrible mom" and left the room.

I'm trying to expand our son's repertoire.

 "Listen to the lyrics Alec, they are all about life!" 

You've got to know when to hold 'em

Know when to fold 'em

Know when to walk away

know when to run

You never count your money

When you're sittin' at the table

There'll be time enough for countin'

When the dealin's done.  (Don Schiltz)

Perhaps I am responsible for Alec's aversion

to country music. When he was a baby 

howling in his car seat in "the valdez," 

our green Dodge caravan,

I would play Andrea Bocelli's version of Con te partirò.

Bocelli's tenor voice would usually lull Alec back

into baby gurgles.  On the rare occasion when Bocelli

didn't do the trick, I would play Gregorian Chant.

No wonder Alec wants to learn latin!

It is a good thing we have two separate rooms

in our apartment.

One thing we do share is a passion for archaeology.

Today is free entrance into the museums in Metz so

we are heading into town to visit La Cour d'or, 

our favourite museum.

Regarding music, I won't be playing either 

country or Bocelli on the radio;  French stations

seem to play American songs from the 70's 

and 80's.