Good friends…good memories

Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending the birthday celebration of a few of the best friends I have made over the past few years, actually, the first real (French) friends I made shortly after arriving. I don’t get out with them anymore as often maybe I should, but what’s great is that is almost always like I haven’t missed a thing. A few weeks ago I missed Thibault’s birthday, but was able to make amends at the party last night for Nico, Marc, and Hervé. For the most part, it’s the same group that I first became a part of 5 years ago (the boys have known each other since high school) with the addition of girlfriends and their friends (who haven’t changed much in 5 years either!). One thing that I love, though, is there a couple of newcomers to the group; a couple of girls from elsewhere in France, in Mulhouse teaching junior high (in France once you become a teacher, you go where the government tells you – which could be anywhere in France, and have to work for a few years and get a certain number of “points” to have the possibility of choosing where you go). I met both several weeks ago, and saw them for the second time last night. One of the two, Delphine, hasn’t had the greatest experience in Mulhouse, and to a certain extent has been calmly racking up points to be able to leave. This is mostly due to the fact that the people she has met (particularly her coworkers) haven’t been terribly welcoming. I can’t help but hope that hanging with the Nico crowd will help that. I mean, really, if it weren’t for them, I might never have wanted so much to stay in France in the first place. Here’s to hoping that I can help.

Wow, between rereading my old posts and hanging out with Nico and the gang, I’m getting a bit nostalgic! About those old posts…For the past week I have started posting, one by one, emails that I wrote when I first arrived in France, which would undoubtedly have become a blog at some point, had I been more comfortable with the medium at the time (my sister suggested it, but I wasn’t ready). It’s actually been a fantastic walk down memory lane, as I go back to the times I first heard the pronunciation of my name butchered, the first time I met some of the people that have become dear friends, the time I figured out what people had to do to actually reach me on the phone… It’s so refreshing to go back to that time, so I hope you enjoy the sometimes naïve, sometimes totally ignorant story-telling of 2003 Heather. To see the stories, simply flip through the calendar in the right bar of this page to posts starting in January 2003 (I love that I can back-date these!). I have added comments (in Italics) of things I have learned since then, and removed a (very) few details I was uncomfortable posting, but otherwise it is very much the recounting of my “adventures” just as I recounted them then. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have enjoyed rereading them!

Chapter 106 – Address change

Did you miss me?

Okay, so I’ve been a little slack on the writing (8 months isn’t long, is it?), but since I just moved, I figured I’d better at least give sign of life… Yep, I have officially moved out of the château (sigh). Not that there’s anything wrong with my new place, but there was something special about the château. It has been passed on, in due course, to 2 new lectrices; a Canadian (from Laurier!) and an American. Anyway, here are the new coordinates:

(insert address of abode #4 here)
68100 MULHOUSE
FRANCE
(ah yes, the French fetish for capital letters…speaking of capitals, here’s some useless info for you…since, during the Roman Empire, all roads led to Rome, Napoleon felt it only appropriate that all roads in the French Empire lead to Paris. In modern France that hasn’t exactly been maintained, but you can’t get on a major highway anywhere in France without finding a sign directing you towards Paris, and telling you how far away you are. Imagine that with Ottawa? That’d just be too funny.)

Chapter 105 – It’s alllll about the French cuisine

Yep, on my road to discovering good cuisine, from the simple (mushrooms) to the surprising (cabbage salad…probably not unlike coleslaw, but I’m not sure) to the nothing-to-do-with-French-cuisine-at-all: sashimi. Yep, I ate at a Japanese restaurant last weekend (or the weekend before now, I guess) and wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been the restaurant chosen to celebrate a friend’s birthday. I was relieved to see a good selection of cooked items: most notable a plate of various skewered meats (being a meat-a-tarian, it worked out well). First came the cabbage salad. I only tasted it because, well, it was sitting in front of me, and it was really good! Then was soup, then my skewers (and rice). Nico and Baptiste both ordered the full dinner, which as everything we had, plus sashimi and sushi. I didn’t try the sushi (still reticent about the whole eating seaweed thing), but I did try the sashimi and it was really really good. I’m quite looking forward to my next opportunity; which I plan to complete by eating at the traditional places (i.e. on the floor). Who knew going to France would open my eyes to Asian cooking? I developed my rather limited tastes for Chinese/Vietnamese food here (helped along by the Vietnamese restaurant a block from my apartment) and now I’ve added Japanese to the list.

In a more traditional light, I also discovered some Alsatian cuisine (basically a mix between German and French) that I had not yet tried, when my dad, came for a visit in January. We discovered mostly villages and restaurants during his stay here, plus a couple of museums, and some of the bigger towns/cities (Strasbourg, Colmar, Mulhouse) and some nifty castles and ruins (some of which I had visited, and others that were new to me). All in all a good, if short, visit!

And in the realm of North American cuisine, I continue my mission to prove that Anglo and/or North American cuisine is not as bad as Frenchies think. Failures in my mission include Rice Krispies squares (opinions ranged from “it’s not as bad as i thought it would be” to “this is disgusting, how can you people eat this stuff”). In my defense, if French marshmallows weren’t half pink, they wouldn’t have looked quite so strange. Cookies have been generally successful (peanut butter…chocolate chip…butterscotch chip and the like) as have a couple of good family recipes (oven barbecued chicken). I don’t even bother trying to share my coveted (rare) box of KD, because I know French stomachs would turn at the thought. My latest success: Baileys Chocolate Cheesecake…a particularly key success since when Manu heard what I planned to make, his comments were less than positive (not surprising, since he was the one that threw his Rice Krispies square in the garbage finding it inedible). He only somewhat reluctantly admitted that the cheesecake was really good! Funny, since I thought that it could have been better…

And with all that talk of food…I think a little dessert is in order before bed!

Chapter 104 – It’s beginning to look a lot like…oh wait

It was anything but a white Christmas, but at least it didn’t rain. It has, however, snowed a bit in the past couple of days, giving a very thin, but nonetheless white, coating on things that makes winter just a little easier to bear.

For the second time in these three years (yep, January 18th is the 3rd anniversary of my arrival in France…January 17th being the 3rd anniversary of my departure if you want to get technical).

So, a bit about Christmas in Alsace.

First off, as in many parts of Europe, but especially Germany, towns and villages all over Alsace hosts beautiful Christmas markets which bring a strong element of tradition back to the lives of locals for one month every year. (Digression – yes, already – many things that we consider to be German, most French people consider to be Alsatian…like pretzels, for example). Anyway, Alsace appears to be renowned in France for their Christmas markets, and the traditions that go with them. In fact, when I typed “marchés de noël” into Google, www.marche-de-noel-alsace.com was the first link to come up, followed by “les marchés de noël en allemagne” and only then “marchés de noël en france et en europe”.

Christmas markets, set up generally one month before the big day, generally consist of wood-cabin style market stalls where people sell decorations, baked goods, handmade gifts (jewellery, wooden toys…) and, of course, food. The first alimentary product people generally think of is spiced wine (vin chaud or glühwein if you will). While the French seemed at a loss when asked about non-alcoholic spiced wine (which exists in Germany, and I knew about it from back in my Denninger’s days), besides the red and white wine that is spiced and heated, they also heat apple juice (normal enough; if only they would add cinnamon more often) and orange juice (hot orange juice just seems inherently wrong to me, but hey). The most prominent food is probably the well-known Alsatian favourite, Flammeküche (tarte flambée: think pizza with impossibly thin crust and cream, cheese, onion and bacon bits instead of tomato sauce etc.), but, of course, crêpes and company can also be found. (I was very excited to find my crêpe man, who I finally re-discovered a couple of months ago after not having seen him in over a year, had a traditional stall set up – which also means he was probably able to stay warmer than in his usual tent-style set-up!).

Different towns and villages are known for different things (or, depending on who you talk to, are good at varying levels). As with so many things, people figure just about every other place is better than Mulhouse, but I think Mulhouse is just fine (frankly, the markets look more or less the same and sell more or less the same things everywhere). I saw Strasbourg two years ago, and had big plans to see lots this year, but busy-ness prevented it. I did, however, make it to the one I had most wanted to this year in Montbéliard. Apparently, each year they have a special invitee (from the little I know, a country) and this year was Canada. I had expected to see a stall among the others, but in fact there was a whole set up, about half a dozen stalls (all French Canadians), a couple of teepees, and other Canadiana set up in a section apart from the rest. There I got to buy an incredibly over-priced bottle of maple syrup for a friend, and the friend that I went with bought us each a ‘tire d’érable’ (I don’t remember what you call it in English…when you pour hot syrup in the snow and eat it once it’s hardened). I got to see Père Noël, and looked around at some nifty merchandise before our sticky and frozen hands got the better of us and we headed home.

Other cool events, classmates of mine invited my to their annual dinner which was, as it turned out Raclette (a personal favourite – similar to fondue, but you each have you own little pan in which you melt your raclette (or other) cheese to pour over (a couple of forkfuls worth at a time, because it has to be eaten warm) potatoes, cold cuts, and other such things. Deeelicious. I was very embarrassed when I realized that they had arranged their annual Secret Santa exchange, but, having forgotten to tell me about it, pooled together and bought me a gift (the uncensored Simpsons family photo album en français). It was really cool. It was actually then that I was supposed to go see the market at Montbéliard, but we didn’t end up having time, so I was happy that I managed to make it a few days later, just a few days before Christmas.

Christmas Eve I was invited for dinner at my friend Léo’s, where we had the traditional foie gras, oysters (okay, 2 of 6 people had oysters, and I was not one of them, having tried two years ago, and having not at all enjoyed), and smoked salmon as the main dish. Christmas Day I was invited to another Christmas dinner, this time at Nico’s parents’ where I got to meet Nico’s then 4-day old nephew Éthan. This time smoked salmon was the entrée, and a bird resembling (but apparently not quite the same as) a chicken was the main course. Both were great in any case.

After dinner, I went back to my apartment, where I has an online rendez-vous with my dad, sisters, and brothers-in-law. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology (ie. webcam and high-speed internet), I got to be present for the gift unwrapping. Something that, even two years, I could not have hoped for with my 512k internet connection.

Overall, a very nice Christmas!

This has been a busy work week, with a couple of late evenings and a website to relaunch tomorrow that, as is so often the case, will be ready only if we’re very lucky, in part thanks to the fact that the client that insisted on this extremely tight deadline is on vacation. Lucky her.

For New Years, it’s Oven BBQ’d chicken for dinner, and cocktails for after, all happening at Château Maximus Force (still named such despite that ‘Maximus’ moved out at the beginning of the summer, because it’s a cool name!). Then, well, then it’s 2006 and we’ll see what happens with that!

My very best wishes to all for the rest of the holidays, and for the new year.

Chapter 103 – The little engine that…

H-Force-1 (knock on wood) has been treating me well, although the price of gas will run even the most fuel-efficient car-owners into the ground (1.30€/L; that’s about $1.83CAD). This is the non-crisis price, I might add. Fortunately, I was told very early on that grocery store gas stations (because most grocery stores here have gas stations) are generally cheaper than gas chains, and I’ve found that to be true to the tune of 5-10 cents a litre. It’s insane!

There is one amusing story though…thinking back to the Justy, and it’s 1.3 litres of raw power, you’d think it couldn’t get much lower. Welcome to the world of the 1-litre engine (in a country where the major highways are limited to 130…and yes, the car can do it, surprisingly enough). H-Force-1, if I haven’t mentioned it, is an early-90s (I forget the exact year) Peugeot 106, in a beautiful shade I lovingly call ‘Peugeot green’. This shade is (if what I’ve heard is true) owned and/or copyrighted by Peugeot, and is found on a surprising number of 106s in the area…because they’re made in Mulhouse. I don’t know if it still exists, but unlike with the Justy (which did, nonetheless, have twins and less identical siblings around Oakville), the Peugeot Green 106 is anything but a one-of-a-kind in Mulhouse.

On to the story…en route to a mountain-top walk with the English department at the beginning of the school year, I offered to drive Liz (of course…maybe that’s not really an ‘of course’ for some of you, so I’ll tell you for now that she’s my roommate, and a lectrice, and tell you more later) and 3 other lecteurs. The mountain we were going to was (and still is, barring any major geographical changes I’m not aware of) in Germany, near Müllheim (just across the border). On our way past Müllheim, and just before the navigation would get tricky, Ellen, an English prof, appeared in my rearview mirror. So, we drove merrily along knowing that at least if we got lost, we wouldn’t be the only ones. As we made our way up the mountain, trying to see the ruins that would help guide the way, which were invisible in the fog that day, H-Force-1 started losing momentum. I was getting very very worried, and finally pulled over, hoping Ellen would do the same. She didn’t; she just started driving past. Fortunately, there was a road coming up onto which she had to turn left, so I had time to jump out of the car and wave her down. As a temporary fix, the two males in the car got into Ellen’s minivan in the hopes that we could make it the rest of the way…which turned out (to my embarrasment) to be about 100 metres, and no longer really uphill). Anyway, the temporary fix worked, and was unnecessary on the way home, since it was, well, back down the mountain.

More on that trip: the sweaty walk in the mountains (and it wasn’t even hot that day) was followed by a trip to a nearby village (Badenweiler) where there is a thermal baths complex (Cassiopeia Therm). Michel (an English prof and VP of the university) graciously paid for everyone present (about 20 people) to spend several hours in the pools/saunas in the complex. It was absolutely fantastic. With hot tubs, cold pools, regular pools (indoor and outdoor) of varying temperatures and currents, it was the best soak I’ve had in as long as I can remember (I haven’t had a bathtub in years…definitely one of the few things my apartment is lacking).

So there you have it, a little story to let you know I’m still here, and still doing well. I hope you enjoyed it!

Chapter 102 – Random thoughts from a random mind

Sunday, May 29, 2005
Once the mechanic, had put the steering column back together, he started talking about his other passion (and what car mechanic isn’t a lover of flowers, after all). By the time we left, I had 3 branches of “snowballs” (those white flowers that grow, well, in balls), and a few other flowers. Nico had never seen this man do that (I guess he just liked me better, hehehe), but it was sweet.

So, with H-Force-1 on the road, and no longer smoking. The next step was ownership. On a morning when my classes started a bit later, I went in to the sous-préfecture as soon as it opened…and there were still 25 people ahead of me. Fortunately, they were super efficient, and I was in and out within 45 minutes, the proud new owner of H-Force-1. Thus ends the tale of the acquisition of the Justy’s worthy successor. What would a car of mine be, without stories to tell right from, literally, day 1?

On to the random thoughts. Is it really almost June??? At least the weather here is finally feeling like…now to find a reasonably-priced air conditioner so that I can sleep!

Construction: Months ago, the building across the street was taken down, in preparation for a new apartment building (I’d like to make a side observation that “apartment building” is nothing like what you might picture in a North American city, but rather a 3 or 4 floor building with no more than about 15 or 20 apartments). Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, then finally started working on the hole in the ground that they left months back. Bit by bit, though, the fence around the construction zone started moving farther into the side-street that half the neighbourhood parks on, taking away more and more spots. This would happen within days of me getting a car, of course! I made some comment that soon they’d take over the whole street. Nonetheless, I was plenty surprised when they did just that. Well, not the whole street, but the whole width of the street, and a bit more than the length of the lot under construction. On the bright side, random people going out the the Valentino (the “old people” bar across the street, which just re-opened after months of remodelling) no longer park on that street, because they wouldn’t know to, with that end blocked off…on the downside, they all park on the street my building is actually on, on which you’re not allowed to park, but, in true French form, everyone just parks 75% on the sidewalk, which seems to be the acceptable alternative. Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me anymore.

Shopping: I’ve finally made it to Germany to do a little grocery shopping, which was originally to be one of H-Force-1′s first missions, but hadn’t happened yet. First was a walk around Freiburg, on an absolutely beautiful day. The plan had been for several hours, but the heat started getting to us, and we cut short early to head to the grocery store that another friend had once taken me and Lynn to, near the border. Finding it ended up proving more difficult than expected, but after a phone call that cost a fortune for all (me calling from Germany on a French phone, to another French phone in England – in my defense, I didn’t realize he was still in England), and a bit more difficulty, we finally found ourselves in front of it. First was the bulk beverage section (actually a separate store altogether) where I stocked up on my favourite German beverage; carbonated apple juice…I know; it sounds weird, but it’s sooooo good. By doing this, however, we are inherently committing ourselves to returning; Germany consigns 100% of their glass beverage bottles (which, themselves, are the majority of all beverage bottles) and even some of the plastic ones, which are not melted down, but simply reused! Fortunately, it’s just 15 minutes farther than the major grocery store in Mulhouse which has quickly been added to my list of stores to shop it, since they’re just about the only people around that sell cheddar (and good cheddar at that!). Anyway, I didn’t end up buying lots of stuff, limiting myself mostly to things I can’t get in France (like sour cream), and things that are waaaay cheaper (like shampoo). Nico’s observation of the day made me laugh: it _is_ just the freaky French that use pink toilet paper 95% of the time. You can get white (and green, and orange), but pink is everywhere. I had told him a while ago that in Canada 95% is white, which came as a surprise to him. I was plenty amused when he caught up to me in a different aisle to observe that most of the toilet paper was white. He also said that packages were bigger, and bought a “large” (500g) box of Corn Flakes (cereal in France is general about 375g at the most!). There were one or two of cereals that I haven’t seen in France (like Mini Wheats) which was exciting, but the selection is still severely limited compared to North America.

Anyway, those are my random observations for the day, which weren’t really all the random, but oh well. Happy Sunday!

Chapter 101 – Adventures in transportation

Wednesday, May 25, 2005
When last we ‘spoke’ I was trying to buy a car from Nico’s mom. Having my driver’s license was definitely a good start towards that, but I had an inkling that what was to come on the scale of bureaucracy could drive me a bit crazy. It sounds like both little and a lot to deal with (depending on your experience, and with which bureaucratic organizations); I needed only 2 things: insurance, and ownership. I had to have the insurance first, of course, so I immediately called my dad’s insurance company in Canada, to get a new version of a paper they’d sent me once before, indicating my driving record with them. I also called the teacher here who is a certified translator, and booked her services in advance to get the thing translated as soon as it arrived. In the meantime, I got on the internet and started getting quotes. I started with one of those sites that gets you quotes from all over. The difficulty was, none of these quotes would be correct, since there were a bazillion or so questions, and many I couldn’t answer properly due to the differences in driver’s licensing and insurance systems here and in Canada. No matter what I did, I was going to have to follow up by actually making appointments (or else waiting for ages) at at least a couple of insurance offices to know for sure, and be able to actually compare. The lowest quote I got was for GMF, a company that I had heard of, so I figured that that was a good sign. Denying all suggestion that marketing works on me, I also went to the MAAF website (‘la référence qualité prix’) and ended up with a quote within 3 euros of the other (guess that web site didn’t use all possible resources). The next thing was getting these quotes lowered, because, in the French system, your insurance rates go down 5% every year that you drive without incident, giving you a coefficient applied against the ‘normal’ rate. I was encouraged (and none too happy) to be aggressive about getting the right coefficient. After all, depending on how they counted it, I have be driving for 9 years. Hence the next problem; how could they count it? The calculation of the coefficient (for those interested) is .95 at the beginning of the second year, and then multiplied by .95 every year after (but rounded each time, so when I was calculating it to check, I also got a lower number than they did). The date on my French license is this year, and the date of my Canadian license (indicated on my French license) is indicated 2000 (which may be when I got my G, or it may just be when I got my last license card, I can’t remember). I got my G1 in 1995, though, and my G2 in 1997 (but had no proof of either).

Once I got the insurance paper (a few weeks late) I made appointments with GMF and the MAAF. Unfortunately, that week had a Thursday holiday, which meant getting in to see them was going to be torture (Thursday holidays often mean half of France doesn’t show up to work on Friday, which brings me to another tangent, that I may or may not have already told you about; they may have way more vacation days, but they don’t have sick days. Being off sick, with the exception of serious illness and/or having a doctor’s note, means losing a vacation day. That said, I’ve been told that it’s easy to get into a doctor’s office on Fridays (many doctor’s don’t take appointments, you just go and wait with everyone else) but really hard on Monday mornings. So I guess it’s probably not that difficult to get a doctor’s note. Students that are most certainly full of it have brought them to me before. Anyway…). I ended up getting an appointment at GMF the same day (Monday), although I was trying to get both for Wednesday, so I could just miss a half day of work and get it all done. Silly me, GMF doesn’t open on Wednesdays (of course). So I hurried out of work early, and got the bus downtown. I didn’t have the insurance paper with me, and couldn’t remember the date on it; the woman said they’d take the date of the start of my insurance as the date for calculating the coefficient, rather than worrying about the license dates (made sense to me). She gave me a ‘best case scenario’ of .72 coefficient. Then, since I still had time before closing, I ran over to the MAAF (which was a bit outside of downtown, and between the running and the heat, walked in with my bright red face, realizing that I couldn’t really do anything, because the online quote I got hadn’t made it to their computer system, and I didn’t have any of the information I needed (like the photocopy of the car ownership, which gave all the key details). So, I would still have to wait until Wednesday. By now I was getting really excited, because I had found out that once it was insured, I could drive it, and I had a month to get the ownership changed. Plus, I had been invited to a friend’s cottage for the Wednesday night (taking advantage of a Thursday holiday) for her birthday, but getting there was going to be a pain, because I had to be back in Mulhouse for lunch with some other teachers, while everyone else was planning to stay there for at least the morning, if not all day. I started asking more people about which company they would choose (between GMF and MAAF) and got several that told me to try MACIF (another one). I was mostly asking about service, since I knew more or less about price. I finally got the kind of anecdote I was looking for; GMF had not renewed a contract with a coworker’s girlfriend, because of several incidents in a short period of time, none of which were her fault, leaving her with a really really hard time getting insurance elsewhere. MACIF, on the other hand, had reimbursed him for something they normally wouldn’t because “he looked honest.” So I called MACIF. I explained about the Canadian stuff, and the dates, and he said he’d have to give me a quote as a new driver, and that I’d have to go in to their office to show them the paper and get something better. I laughed when the quote he gave me was for something like 550 euros a year (the others were under 300) because, he said, that included a ‘new driver premium’ as well as the coefficient of 1.00. I told him that that was ridiculous compared to the others, and he said that if I took my stuff into the office, they’d take it into account.

Following my appointment at the MAAF (which went really well; they offered my .72, with a lower rate than GMF, and the guy had been to Toronto like 9 times, and was telling me about museums there that I didn’t know existed) I decided to walk up to MACIF. It was well out of downtown (in a different direction) and took me a good half hour to get there. When I arrived, I asked if the wait was long, but there was only one person in front of me, and the girl at the desk said it wouldn’t be. The person ahead of me was called almost right away, and I was reassured. A few minutes later, another client came in, and was looking at me oddly. He finally asked if we knew each other, which, clearly, was not the case once he heard the accent. We chatted for a bit anyway, and then he was called. I was a little irritated, until the girl told me that the person that would be meeting me was on her way. Five minutes later, she finally came (by now I’d waited about 25 minutes), and I started to explain the situation on the walk to her desk. I showed her the paper, and the translation and she excused herself to ask her colleague a question. She came back to tell me that they couldn’t take anything outside of the EU into consideration. In other words, 550 euros a year. I had barely sat down before I was up, extremely irritated that the guy on the phone hadn’t bothered to find out / give me that information, and started the long walk back to the MAAF. I called the guy on the way, to make sure he’d have time to see me as soon as I got back. Yahoo for cell phones. We finally got things under way, and despite a few computer glitches, and some extra time, I walked out with a .68 coefficient (although I can no longer remember how we arrived at that) and insurance papers in hand. I left a message on Nico’s phone to let him know (his parents wanted the car out of their driveway, almost as much as I wanted to have it). By some miracle, we managed to meet up that evening after work, and got the forms filled out and ready for my to take to the sous-préfecture to take over the ownership. I couldn’t believe it. I had a car! I even made it up to Marie-Luise’s cottage (which was amazing) and back to Mulhouse for lunch the next day.

It was only later that evening that my car (H-Force-1; a 1993 Peugeot 106) started showing it’s Frenchness…and smoking. Yep, less than 24 hours after getting the car, the Heather Force car curse was in motion. The smoke looked almost like cigarette smoke too; coming up in just a thin line…from the steering column. There was also a bizarre clicking noise coming more or less from the turn signal, and while the smoke was rare, at one point the two things (the noise and the smoke) were fully connected, as the smoke started, and I was unable to use my turn signal. The following day, there was no smoke, but I figured that it was information I should pass on to Nico. That night I was supposed to pick up Lynn’s boyfriend, David, at the airport, but Nico didn’t want me driving the 106 until a friend of his father’s (who had always been their mechanic, and therefore knew the car well) had had a look at it. He lent me his car for the night, though, so I could keep my promise to David (they’ve stopped bus service from Mulhouse to the airport, and a) the taxi-train-taxi combo, or b) the taxi-all-the-way method are a) a giant pain, and b) way to expensive to be reasonable). On Saturday afternoon, we were able to see the mechanic, who was super nice. He took apart the steering column, but could find no indication of fire or anything. He did figure out what the clicking was (current going back to the indicator) and promised to change that. I figure that same current probably lit a bit of dust on fire a couple of times, and that was that (oh, and Nico’s parents insisted on paying for the repairs). He hasn’t had a chance to fix that since, but the clicking only seems to happen when it’s cold, and it hasn’t smoked since. Ah, Frenchies. Deep down, they’re all smokers.

Chapter 100 – The 100th Episode (I mean Chapter) Spectacular!

Tuesday, April 5, 2005

My next something to say, is here, and it’s not far from spectacular (no, it wasn’t just a shameless Simpsons reference)!

Newest news first…wait for it…wait for it…the Mulhouse Scorpions are Champions of France!!! After making our way into the playoffs in the less than magnificent fourth place, and a couple of not-so-pleasant incidents (melting ice, and Montador, Mr. NHL, being disciplined and returning to Canada rather than facing the music here), they pulled out on top, winning the first two games of the best-of-three finals (quarters and semis were best-of-fives). Seems a nice introduction to tell you some more personal news (no, not that personal, no wedding bells).

I’ve been using my Canadian (plus an international) drivers’ license on the rare occasion I’ve driven. I was only partly oblivious to the rule that for me to change it to a French license, I would have to do it in my first year of residence. The problem with that, of course, is that I had no idea if I would be able to stay past two years. I was sort of afraid to take such a bureaucratic step without some assurance that I could (and still wanted to) stay longer. Compounding that (although I didn’t realize it at the time) is the fact that in order to exchange my Canadian license, I actually have to give it up. It truly is an exchange. This would have, however, avoided the need to re-do a license, which takes something like 20 hours of driving classes, at about 60 euros an hour. That means I couldn’t be driving for at least another year, and with a whole lot less money to do so. With plans to stay longer, and the possibility of buying a car at a really good price from my friend Nico’s mother this spring or summer, I decided to start trying. From what I had heard from Americans I know, there was no way I was going to be able to avoid doing my license over, but I had to try before I could start lessons anyway. I emailed the préfecture to find out if I had a hope. To my surprise, they told me that I would have to write a letter to explain why I missed the one-year limit, accompanied by a photocopy of my license, the translation into French (thank goodness for being Canadian), and my residence permit. That was a significantly more positive response that I had expected. On the more negative side, the letter also noted that there were certain Canadian licenses that could not be exchanged; notably “Edmonton and Vancouver,” which seems very strange to me, particularly since licenses are provincial, but it didn’t affect me, so I had hope.

I wrote out the draft of a letter, and with Nico’s help, I reworked it, and flowered it up. He suggested showing my excitement at being able to stay in France, among other things. I also, for good measure, included that fact that I had an international license in case of emergency, and that I thought that that would suffice since my time here was, officially, temporary. I also included the photocopy of that (which, of course, also had a complete French translation of my license details; much better than my license card itself). I even went to Colmar myself with the letter, rather than mailing it (it’s a 20-30 minute train ride) for extra good measure. Imagine my surprise, when a I got a letter from them only 9 days later (I love Saturday delivery). I nervously opened it, since it would decide the fate of 1200 euros of my money (that’s nearly $2000 Canadian) and a lot of time and frustration. You can imagine how thrilled I was that the letter was to inform me that in response to me “gracious” letter explaining my circumstances, they were granting me the exchange, despite having long missed the deadline. What a relief! So I went straight back to Colmar, right after my visit to the tax office in Mulhouse, where the less fun (and guaranteed loss of money) bureaucracy needed to be dealt with. Fortunately, since I only worked 4 months in 2003, I should have to pay taxes on that anyway, so I shouldn’t have too much trouble. So here I am, complete with ugly pink French license and just waiting for papers from my Canadian insurance to…buy a car! Just as soon as I have the paperwork in hand, I’m off to get myself insured, and as soon as I am insured, I’m set, since I’m buying my friend Nico’s mom’s car, and she’s already bought her new one. Just a matter of time and bureaucracy…

Chapter 99 – Mmmmmmmm Chooooocolate

Monday, February 14, 2005, 10:00pm
Wow, if that wasn’t an exercise in communication, I really don’t want to see what is! Mechthild fell asleep before dinner (stupid illnesses) but at least Thomas was there! Her mom’s English is pretty amazing for someone who hasn’t used it in many years, and I fumbled my way through a few sentences in German, or used the few words that I knew where possible, as well as getting a few translations from Thomas, but wow. It’s still so much easier to learn this way (and so much easier to motivate yourself!). It’s too bad that I won’t have time to do an intensive course this summer; I’ll just have to spend more weekends in Germany! Dinner was great though, and they were thrilled to have a reason to call my grandparents (who were equally thrilled to get the phone call!). Anyway, I’m going to look at a little more German and get some sleep. Tomorrow the chocolate museum (mmmmm chocolate) and, weather permitting, a little shopping before my train.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005, 4:25pm
The morning was great: the chocolate museum was very interesting, and was followed by a last-ditch effort to find a good mp3 player at a good price (which, when I finally did, took forever to buy, leaving lunch a mad rush to get to the train in time). So, here I am, on the train, approaching Mannheim. Still at least 2 stops before Basel (6:47), a 20-minute train to Mulhouse, and (hopefully) a bus to get me home ASAP!

What prompted me to write at this moment, though, was that Nokia ring – that one that seems to be synonymous with a “normal” cell phone ring in the movies and such. It makes me laugh now though, because it’s also a part of a (rather stupid) comedy DVD that Lynn has. That distinctive ring is always followed by a guy screaming into the phone in the most inappropriate and / or annoying places; “HELLO!” followed by an exclamation (equally screamed) of his location, such as “I’M AT A CONCERT!” or “I’M AT THE LIBRARY!” I almost expected that this ring would be followed by that unforgettable “HELLO” and then something to the effect of “I’M IN THE TRAIN…YES…I’M ALMOST THERE. WHAT??? I’M IN THE TRAIN!!! YES!!! I’LL BE THERE SOON!!!” If you’ve seen this thing, you understand. If not, I apologize for this interlude!

Wednesday, February 16, 2005, 6:00pm
The rest of my trip home was uneventful, with the exception of an extraordinary number of people getting off the train at Basel Bad (in Germany), but I’m sure at least a few of them were probably intending to get off at Basel SBB (in Switzerland; where all the connections, including the French station, are found). In Basel I tore across the station, sure that there was probably a train sooner than my own (I arrived in Basel at 18:47, and my train was at 19:17). I was (fortunately) not stopped at the “border” into the French station, and, sure enough, there was a train at 19:00, which I was able to take. Unfortunately it was a local train, though, so we only got in 8 minutes before the other (and probably less than that, since we had to stop between the last stop before Mulhouse and Mulhouse itself to let a train going crazy fast tear by). I tried to locate a bus going the right way (which is particularly difficult since the entire area around the station is under construction for the Tram, and there are 6 possible bus stops). It was 8:30 when I finally got home, and was able to swap stories with my roommate, play with my new mp3 player, and get some sleep.

And that’s where it ends…until next time I have something to say!

Chapter 98 – My teaching career has been longer than I thought!

Monday, February 14, 2005, 8:55am
The train trip across was beautiful (despite the weather) since the IC (the regular train, but not the ICE, the high-speed train) follows the (west) bank of the Rhein pretty much the whole way. The east bank (in full view from the right side of the train) is covered in towns that are only a house or two deep, with a backdrop of mountains, half covered in vineyards. Now and then there is also a castle standing at the top of one of the hills, over a town; it’s really amazing.

At Köln, Thomas, who I had never met, found me about 10 minutes after I arrived since, although he was on the right platform, he was facing the wrong way; the ICE from Frankfurt arrived just 2 minutes after the IC on the other side of the same platform. Anyway, he finally found at the exit of the platform, but even if Mechthild had been there, I don’t think it would have made a difference for me; the last time I saw her, I was 5 years old. She says that my face hasn’t changed. She also told me that she remembers me particularly well because (background; she went to Canada in 1985 to learn English, and stayed with my (Anglo) grandparents; my grandfather and her father had met through work) I had, up at our cottage apparently, shown her my picture books to help her learn English…she said she learned a lot! The way she put it, I actually started teaching when I was 5 (no wonder I’m ready to move on; I’ve been in the business 20 years! ). I thought that that was really cute. What strikes me even more is that, while waiting at Frankfurt station for Jordan, the other day, I had been eyeing the children’s books, thinking that that might be a good way to learn. I guess I’ll have to head to the library in Mulhouse when I get back!

Anyway, Mechthild was at home getting tea and cake ready, and feeling a little under the weather (there’s a major cold going around; probably the same one that had Katharina at her parents’ an extra day, and had knocked Lynn and Liz flat in Mulhouse a few days early). I’m hoping that it doesn’t get me! So, Thomas took me on a brief detour to see a bit of the city, before heading to the house just outside the city in a town called Brauweiler.

The cake was delicious, and next was a walk to the main point of interest in Brauweiler: a former monastery (including the church at which Mechthild and Thomas were married). It was an interesting (but cold!) visit as, like so many old things, the history of the abbey is varied; in the 20th century it served as a sort of concentration camp, an alcohol rehab centre, and now as an office for the government organization responsible for the preservation of historical buildings / sites. This was followed by dinner (delicious!) then photos of their wedding and of their trip to Canada last year, and it was soon time to call it a night.

Monday, February 14, 2005, 6:20pm
Today I played tourist, but it was perfect (because when it wasn’t just grey, it was rainy and greyer). Thomas accompanied me on a bus tour of the city, delivered in both German and English. It was really, really interesting! Plus, when the lady said a particularly thing in English first, and German second, it was great for my learning. I won’t go into all that we saw, but a particularly interesting aspect was a stop at a museum which had a model of Cologne in the 16th century, where we were able to sort of put everything we had just seen (and their locations) into perspective. What made it even cooler was the fact that museums are closed Mondays, and it was opened just for us!

After the tour, it was lunch at a typical Brauhaus (brew house; bar and grill really) where I had a very good wiener schnitzel. Then Mechthild joined us, and Thomas went to work for the afternoon. We went into the cathedral, but were early for the guided tour. We debated not going on it, since the pamphlet was very detailed, but Mechthild thought it would still be good. It was! Our guide had some very interesting things to say, and weaved throughout his talk the reasons that the “Dark Ages” is an unfair name for that period, using architecture and stories about the cathedral to show how enlightened people were. It was really interesting!

We had planned to do some shopping, and I had though about going up one of the cathedral’s towers, but the rain made both less desirable. Time passed quickly though, and we did hit one store (a home and electronics store that has great stuff and significantly better prices than in France) where I bought some baking pans (really cheap, and, according to Mechthild, really good!) and checked out prices for an mp3 player (I’ve been trying to find a good one that isn’t enormously overpriced for ages). Now it’s almost dinner time, and we will be eating with Mechthild’s parents.