7 year-old

Hard to believe it but our little girl is seven now. It was her birthday on Friday. We had a nice low-key day. It was their last day of school before the ‘ski holiday’ (2 week break at the end of February) - and Matea had one friend over for supper, cake etc.   She got to choose her favourite food - so we had crepes for supper - and a rainbow cake.  They played outside blowing bubbles, and painted, and played a bit of scrabble (en français).

Good time, nice day, great kid.

Ski de Fond au Clair de Lune

Last Friday night I went on an evening ski trip with a bunch of guys from the French church that we partner with plus three of us from our church.  {tip of the hat to Justin who graciously risked carrying his camera so that I was free to have the chance to fall, break nothing of value, and still have the above photographic evidence}

It was a great time of just hanging out with a bunch of guys. There was a full moon -but most of the trail was deep in the woods - so you had only a head lamp to see where you were heading.  (note: this works about as well [read: ‘poorly’] as you would imagine when you are flying downhill)

The winter has been so warm and dry here this year that the first 75% of the trail was all snow that had been trucked in and groomed onto the trail  It was also mostly man made, and all of it has gone through so many freeze-thaw cycles in the last few weeks that it resemble a skating rink more than a ski trail in places.  So basically a very interesting place for those of us who have, shall we say, “limited” cross-country ski abilities.  (The last time I partook of this sport I believe was the last we lived here about 10 years ago when we went with a family where all four of them competed at a fairly high level.  So at least this time I wasn’t been shown-up by a 6 year old!)

The plan was to meet at 5:30, drive up to the trails, start skiing by 6:30 - and it should take us - we were told “45min to an hour - tranquillement”  Well  - as this is France- none of those things happend in the temporal manner they were supposed to. I believe it was closer to 7:30 or so when we finally started out - and by the time all 14 of us made it to the refuge the trek had taken 1hr 45. Then we all sat down in this little alpine refuge that you can only get to by skiing (or snow-shoeing) to have supper together. To start we had tobinambour soup with a pastry baked right on top, roasted duck on a cornmeal base covered with mashed potatoes plus a salad as a main, and a baked apple with sugar, cranberries and sauce for dessert -  plus the obligatory bottles of house wine and coffe to finish off. I have no idea what time it was when we finally finished our meal but it must have been quite late as it took about 1/10 of the time to get back to the cars - and it was around midnight by the time we arrived there.  The strange thing (well at least for those of us raised in Canada where winter=pain) is that it was still only -3 out.   It was 1:15 when Matt dropped me off at home.

To make it a truly French experience we were almost hit head-on by someone who decided to pass on a blind turn on the windy narrow mountain road heading back in to the city.

It was one of those experiences that we’ve had since arriving here that in some strange way seems so very natural, normal, and is nothing unexpected - and at the very same time can feel so foreign and once-in-a-life-time-ish that you aren’t sure how to take it all in.

Elevation

It’s cool and rainy here today. Well, at least it is here at our house, it’s snowing just a little bit up from us.

That difference is one of the things that struck me as truly strange when we first arrived here - how important elevation is to your daily life.    

Pretty much everyone who lives up out of the city (on any of the three mountain ranges around Grenoble) can tell you the elevation of their house, often to within 10m or less. Some places are even have their elevation as part of the actual name. When there is precipitation you are told the limite pluie/neige. It is something that seems to be as natural to speak of up here as your neighborhood would be in a normal city.

Although the area around Grenoble truly does experience four full seasons - it seems that altitude is one of the key factors that moderates them.  Elevation changes temperature, and therefore also rain vs. snow, and therefore skiing, driving, living conditions etc.   (our house is about 690m above sea level, in case you were wondering).

I have been told that - all else held equal - the temperature drops 0.6 degrees for every additional 100m of elevation.  We are close to 500m above Grenoble - which means that there is almost always a few degrees of difference between our house and the city.  However, since Grenoble is in a bit of a Y-shaped valley (two rivers coming in -merging and heading out as one) and thus three mountain ranges around it - the city can also get some strange inversions that can drop the temperature to be colder than us, or can have weather systems that sit on the city and absolutely trap the head (and smog) in the summer time.

Living in Grenoble, you would  never need snow tires, up where we are, you could possibly get away without them - but would be resigned to parking your car at the bottom of certain hills and walking home a few days a year.  Up just 10 kilometers past us you would (in a normal year - this year not being normal) likely need snow-chains to ensure you can get into your driveway.

One other strange thing that really shocked me the first time I learned it was the elevation of Grenoble.  Much of the city is around 200m above sea level.   To put that in context - when you are in Grenoble, surrounded by mountains, looking up at snow capped peaks and within a short drive of world-class ski resorts - you are almost half a kilometer LOWER than when you are sitting on the prairies in Edmonton.  (I know, weird right?!)

Learning quite well

The other day Micah and I were driving home having dropped the older two off after their (two hour) lunch break.

As we approached the village boulangerie he piped up from the back seat “papa - stop at the boulangerie and I will get a baguette all by myself”

Wow.

 How much he’s learned already.

 His grasp of French is already good enough that he has confidence to go into the store and buy bread.

Jonah started doing this a while ago - so I guess he feels now he is also up for the challenge.

I thought I better double-check his abilily to do so, and make sure he is using polite forms of verbs etc.

“What would you say”

“uhh - Bonjour! Un pain au chocolat et une flute”

that’s right - a croissante-like pastry filled with chocolate and (for some reason) a long skinny baguette.

Nice Try.

Unfortunately the boulangerie was closed - must have been Tuesday or something.

Maybe next time

Train at Great Speed

How did we get cover the nearly 1200km for a round trip to Paris and still make it worth while to only be there one day. This is how. The TGV. Train à Grande Vitesse- literally “Train at Great Speed” no kidding. This would be meeting another train heading in the opposite direction. Us leaving Paris travelling at about 300km/h + train Paris bound travelling at around 300km/h = wow. Bear in mind these trains tend to be very long.

iZap

There is a new type of train service here in France. They have decided - it would seem - that riding on the regular old TGV is no longer cool enough for 18-35 year olds. The solution: a new way to travel. The iDTGV. Tickets are only sold online. There is separate boarding procedure. Different prices. They are actually different cars - but at least on the train we were on - it was attached to the regular TGV that was also bound for Grenoble. During the day - you have a choice between two different ‘atmospheres’: iZen and iZap. During the night there is iDNight. Nope, not sleeper cars with beds - that’s so old fashioned. This one is not for sleeping - it’s pretty much a 300km/h all night rave across the country. Live DJ’s, dancing, disco lights - you know, over-night train. During the day, iZen is for those who want to sit quietly and not be disturbed. It’s what we travelled in - the conductor actually came through and reminded everyone right as we were pulling out that we had to be quiet and leave the car to use a phone. Then no one came through our car for the rest of the journey. Yikes. We grabbed a couple baguette sandwiches before we got on board - but nothing to drink - so I wandered one car over to the bar car. Guess what - it was iZap. This is what was going on there. Next time I think we may have to ride iZap.

Paris

We had a very quick trip to Paris - it was a mere 24 hours and 8 minutes from the arrival of our train on Friday - until our train pulled away from the platform on Saturday.

While it wasn’t tonnes of time - it was enough to see and do some things.  Having never lived in a big city - places like Paris always leave an impression on me.  It is a completely different world - and seems especially so when it was a very short slice of life in the 18eme arrondissement of Paris shoved right into the middle of our life in a little house on a narrow winding lane in the alpes on the edge of a quaint village up the mountains outside of Grenoble.

The following is a collection of rather scattered memories that I have from our day in Paris:

1. A city worker in the Cimetière de Montmartre who was apparently supposed to be removing layers of moss and grime off the centuries old grave markers - but was instead cleaning off his friends Peugeot hatchback.


2. A woman driving a scooter in a mini-skirt and high-heels


3. Multiple groups of tourists stopping mid-stride in the middle of the sidewalk to unfold their “Free Tourist Map of PARIS!” and attempting to deduce their location


4. People crammed so hard on the No 14 Metro that through the windows they looked like the smushed gummy bears through the clear portion of the bag that we picked up before the opera


5. A courtyard in Nathan’s building: about 1.5m wide and 3m long - but 6 stories tall - like an inverted silo. 


6. A group of about 10 older men who were playing Pétanque on the crushed stone sidewalks in Jardin des Tuileries just in front of the Louvre


7.  A middle-aged woman on the metro with a violin case completely covered in skateboarding decals and US sports team stickers


8. A small bakery in Montmartre where all three of the young employees were (apparently) American.


9. The amount of guys aged 16-25 who jump the turnstiles at the metro


10. City-workers turning on curb-side taps to let the water flow down the street in hopes of cleaning it - but essentially end up making a river of cigarette butts sliding along the curb


11. A 20-something guy who had just climbed the stairs out of a metro station, got to the top just in front of us and noticed a woman with a stroller. Without a hesitation he turned right around and helped her carry it back down the equivalent of two floors or so, set it down, then just turned back and headed up again.


12. A young father walking away from the local hardware store who had his purchase (a sheet of MDF that he had cut in the store, apparently) on a dolly that he pulled down the crowded sidewalks with his young daughter.


13. Two gas-pumps installed basically right on the sidewalk - just on the side of a busy street. Apparently a heart-of-the-city version of a gas station.

l’Opera

The reason we went to Paris this weekend was for a chance to see my cousin Nathan singing the role of Achilla in GF Haendel’s opera “Giulio Cesare”.  When describing this opera Le Opéra National de Paris claims “Never was Handel’s melodic genius more effulgent: the score contains some of his brightest jewels…”  Sounds good to me….bring on the jewels.

my beautiful date

We have been to a few operas now -and from what I can deduce - it seems the goal of the art form is to blend orchestral music, classical singing, and theatre in a way that every  main character but one is dead, there is a complicated love triangle based on mistaken identity and death-threats, and there are enough plot twists and strange events that the audience cannot possibly stand a hope of fully understanding the story. The show started at 7:00 - and counting the two intermissions was just over four hours long. This is obviously a type of entertainment that was not developed for a generation weaned on YouTube.

The Palais Garnier (the older of the two main opera halls in the city) holds 2,200 people - and all 14 shows have been sold out for months. The opera is also being live-broadcast to a chain of movie theaters around France for one show next week. Those tickets are selling for €28 - and Nathan heard that they’ve all already sold out as well. Not only that - but on Friday night when Guilio Cesare was playing at the ‘old opera hall’ the Opera de Paris was also putting on a production of Madame Butterfly at the Opéra Bastille (the other 2700 seat opera hall in Paris)  So I guess - yes - Paris likes its opera.

see...I can clean up

We were sitting right down in the Orchestra section, 8th row back, just two seats from the centre aisle.  Amazing seats.  A-mazing.   Best seats in the house.   Well, we were close to what was an aisle at first - but then right before the show started, they ushered some additional  people who had paid to have these smaller flip-up seats that turn and face the front. So now there are two seats across what was the aisle in each row. So now the entire lower section of the opera hall has no aisle. There is now officially no egress in case of emergency.  So much for fire codes.  Susan said she just told herself that it was an old stone building - and unlikely to burn down.

The show was utterly impressive. Between the orchestra, the singing, the costumes and the stage props - up to and including a statue of Pharaoh lying on his back that was probably 2.5m tall and 10m long.  Everything about it is over-the-top.

As soon as the intermission starts there is this sea of designer dresses and black suits that flow out of the main hall - into the various stairways, hallways and halls like there was a giant pool of upper crust of society pent up in the main hall that suddenly had a stopper removed and now the mass all just flows down like water finding the path of least resistance.  However this is not random movement.  These people seem to have something that is part of them at a very base level that directs their movement - like the embedded genetic disposition that salmon have for swimming upstream.  However the goal here is much simpler - they are all moving directly towards the champagne.  Everyone seemed to be grabbing one glass of champagne for each person in their party.  Seriously - we probably saw a dozen people drinking something other than champagne.  (Two of those people were use, we shared a bottled-water - I know, big-spender right?)

Looking straight up from our seats

The celling of the main hall was re-painted in 1964 by Marc Chagall (the 20th century Russian/French painter) in his unique style.  This is why one could argue that  it fits in with the rest of the decor about as well as having a Portugese Regge band would have fit in as an opening act for the opera.  Chagall’s painting (which itself is beautiful) surrounds the main chandelier which purportedly weighs in at 8 tonnes and hangs 20m above.  This is a fact that one tries not to dwell on when one is seated directly below it.










Since I only had my phone with us -and couldn’t get any decent pictures inside - I’ve found a few to give you a sense of the over-the-top opulence of the place if you’ve never had the chance to see it.

NOTE: for a better feel of what it’s actually like, there is a virtual tour here.

Front of the building…

[photo from Peter Rivera on Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/riverap1/3736516253/]

Below is le Grande Foyer. You can think of it like this: The Grande Foyer is to the Palais Garnier what the mini-arcade-in-the-lobby is to the CineplexOdeon 12.  You grab a flute of champagne and then just wander through and mingle.


[from A7Design1 flickr set : http://flic.kr/p/74o8xB]



Below is the main staircase - which is 30m tall (that’s right 100ft) and made of white marble.


[from scarletgreen’s flickr stream: http://www.flickr.com/photos/9160678@N06/with/723885412/]

Overall, I must say that there is something suspiciously  humbling about hearing an opera from the 1700’s in a building built in the 1800’s at the beginning of 2011.

Today

What did we do today? Well I’m glad you asked.  It started with Matea getting on board the vommit-express at 3AM  (which had stops every hour on the hour) and not giving that up until noon.

However it was nice and Sunny - Susan and Mom went for a long hike - while my boys and I had a leisurely lunch in the sun.

We also tried to take in one more experience that appears to be an absolutely quintessential part of living here.  We had a fire to burn shrubbery and other garden stuff that was lying around.

that is all.

I am powerless in this situation.

So (as previously discussed) our car is an Opel Zafira.

Opel is a German manufacturer - which is good - because that’s about the only positive thing this car has going for it.  From what I understand, it’s the frame and engine from the Opel Astra - a small 4 door car. This car form was also apparently sold in North America as the Saturn Astra - but with a bigger engine.  And therein lies the problem.  Ours is the smallest engine available in the 5 seater car - but with the 7-passenger body of the Zafira.  To put it in perspective - it’s a 1.6L - you know, the size of engine that one could find in such heavy, fast cars as say: a Honda Civic.


The only reason I bring this up is because of two things the kids have said lately:

A few weeks ago, we were following a car from Paris (last two digits on French plates tell you what department the car is registered in) up the mountain when we were coming home from church.  The guy obivously didn’t have much confidence in either where exactly he was going, or much familiarity with our windy mountian roads. Jonah suggested: “just pass him”  (note: this is one more sign that our children are adapting to life in France, he suggested this on a blind corner on a hairpin turn going uphill)   I told him I would show him why this would not happen.

 ”Hang on” I warned him.

“Did you feel that” I then asked.

“no”

“that was me putting the accelerator to the floor”

“Feel that”

“nope”

“that was me doing it again.  That’s why we’re not passing him.”

The second thing was a week ago when there were some workers here building a lean-to on the side of our house. A giant lumber delivery truck had completely blocked in our car when I went out to take the kids to school.  Seeing our predicament - Madame Ribo gave me the keys to her car and told me to take it instead.  (again … world’s greatest neighbours)  The kids were saying things like “WOW - is this a sports car?” -   “This sure is fast” and  ”what kind of car is this Papa”

It’s a small -  Diesel-powered  - Citroën (French made) hatch-back.