Adventuring in Europe

Okay, here is what the problem is.  We're big bread fans.  Eat a low fat diet with lots of healthy carbs.  We regularly ate bread before going to Paris last year.

No more.  We can't eat this stuff here now.  We are spoiled.  This stuff here is awful.  Susan tossed a cardboard baguette a couple weeks ago.  I just don't even try now.  We can eat whole wheat bread, and Susan likes the whole wheat, added fiber English Muffins for breakfast occasionally. 

But the only bread I now eat regularly is what I bake myself.  This is bad. 

We are plugged back in to Las Vegas and the shows.  As many of our friends know, we are on various lists for free shows.  Producers frequently need to fill seats, and we are on two of the local databases.  Annually we attend 30-40 live music performances, comedy shows, and etc.

Other times we get local discounts or discounts that we find out about.  We saw Bette Midler just before she closed her show at Caesar's.  Not quite a sell-out, so Susan grabbed two great seats at stage left, about 8 rows back for $60 each; regularly $175 each.  Wonderful show.  The Divine Miss M was on top of her game.  Glad we got to see her.  What a pleasure.  Funny audience as she called them all out at the beginning of the show; mix of gay men (the mermaid stuff), devout Christians (In the Distance), and just general folks like us (the remainder of her repertoire).  Funny, warm, and loving crowd.  Lovely night.

Last week we caught Gordie Brown, comedian singer/impressionist,  on a freebie at the Golden Nugget.  Highly recommended.  We were in stitches.  Very current.  Not a lot of dead Hollywood star impressions.  Some on the brink however.  Audience was a little clueless when he did Eminem.  We liked it. 

And the other night I got carded (!!) going into a club on the Strip for Rockstar - The Tribute.  Freebie.  They had a few impersonators, with a backing band of real rockers: current drummer for Whitesnake Chris Frazier, Tony Montana on bass from Great White, Rob Robbins from Steel Lily and April Wine on guitar (he was great).  Unusual show.  We would never go to an impersonator show, but the real rockers are the draw.  Darn good music, if a little loud. Would we recommend it?  I dunno.  We enjoyed it, but would probably pass if it wasn't free.

They seem to be having a problem filling the Blue Man Group; we could go just about anytime for free.  And Frank Caliendo is not proving to be a big draw, even though he had his own TV show.  Aside from that, we could plug in to the comedy scene just about any night.  They have seats going begging.  Some of that may just be the time of year. 

Oh well, I'll write about any really good freebies we get. 

That may be the biggest change so far.  Oh, yeah, and they speak American English here, too.  But honestly, we had never before lived in a real city.  Real mass transit.  Walk a few doors to a bakery, a grocery store, a cafe.  That was so different for both of us.  And really enjoyable. 

We grew up in suburbs, and have always lived in suburbs.  We are participants in a massive "car culture" and are used to driving everywhere. Now we can't even get enough walking in without driving someplace.  We go to a park daily and walk around for 30 minutes, just to get out.  The condo complex where Susan rented us a place doesn't have sidewalks.  It just has walkways from parking lot to buildings.  How odd for us now.

We miss Paris.  But not for the stuff people might think.  We miss the ease of acquiring food and the ease of just walking out our front door and hopping on a bus somewhere.  Anywhere.

It is just so strange to get into a car and drive for anything, and everything.  Big change. We don't like it much anymore. 

Oh, boy, this is tougher than anticipated.  We had what passes for a baguette here.  I was starving and ate it, although it had no taste whatsoever and a really dense, odd texture.  Susan threw hers out.  Then we had some soup that we bought at the grocery store.  Tasted like baby food.  No spices (except lots of salt) and no taste.  

I have been subsisting on oatmeal, organic yogurt, and raspberries, while Susan eats rice.  We just left the food capitol of the world, and we have parachuted in to a land of pre-made meals, machine-grown produce picked unripe and transported across a continent, and everything is too sweet from all the added sugar.

Look, we love being home.  We have a dishwasher in our rental condo, a garbage disposal in the sink, central heating, and a washer/dryer.  All of which is wonderful.  We have satellite TV with a DVR, and it is all in English!  Today we're going to get an American newspaper.  We're just having a real problem with the food.  We're going to Whole Foods this afternoon. Hope to have better news soon. 

Guys in cowboy hats.  Fat people.  Smiles.  Nice cashiers and service personnel.  Strangers saying hi with a smile.  $2 cups of double espresso (instead of $6).  Flight attendants who call you dear or hon, and pat your arm for no reason whatsoever.  Firm handshakes.  Shuttle bus drivers that chat you up.  And smiles.

Smiles.  Everyone here smiles.  What a relief after a year in Europe. Everyone. Here.  Smiles. 

And we went into Von's today to pick up a few things.  And stopped dead in our tracks.  It isn't just large for a grocery store.  It is larger than a European computer superstore.  Wide aisles.  Bright lighting.  Clean.  Remarkably, obsessively clean.  It was wonderful.  We're home.

Goodbye to Paris, at least for now.  Heading home today.  What are we thinking of?  What are our impressions?  We don't know yet.  Haven't sorted them out. 

We are like two little kids heading home from summer camp.  It's been great, but now it's time to go home.  We miss home, the intricate yet simple cadences of American English.  The baseball caps and dopey t-shirts.  The fat people.  TV programs we can understand.  Hamburgers.  Real American Hamburgers.

We will miss everyone and everything here.  And we will never escape its pull. 

I'm not sure they have one here.  The restrooms in most restaurants in Paris don't have any soap.  And they certainly don't have any hot water.  My favorite cafe has a tiny little cabinet downstairs with a porcelain trough you stand over.  That's all.  We use a lot of Purell - hand sanitizer.  Problem is, I don't think they do.  Oh, well, best not to think too much about it.

We're winding down here before returning home for a couple of months, and went out to dinner to a neighborhood place we like.  They have a huge rotisserie out in front and do chickens and suckling pigs.  I love their half-chicken.  With starter or dessert and frites, it's about $20 bucks.  Of course, that comes with a basket of fresh bread.  Susan likes their Boeuf Bourgignon.  Always trim and tasty, not fatty like some of the tourist places. 

The rotisserie is the issue.  It's outdoors.  It's exposed to the street, cars, and pedestrians.  At the bottom is a stainless pan running the whole length of the rotisserie, and in the pan are the cooking juices, carrots, potatoes, and etc.  The guy who runs the rotisserie just ladles this stuff over the chickens from time to time as he's doing other stuff there. 

Can you imagine the health department in anytown USA allowing this whole thing to transpire while people walk or drive by?  I don't think so.  But boy, does it turn out good chicken. 

Paris on Christmas Eve, it was raining like crazy all night, and the streets were just about empty.  At one point we were the only folks on a bus until a family of five Chinese gals got on talking to each other a mile a minute.  I'm not sure any of them took a breath the whole time they were sitting there.  Man, could they talk.  I know much less Mandarin than French, even though I took two semesters of it in college (Mandarin, that is).  All I can say is thank you, and good night.  Fine if you are a comedian or magician.  Not really useful for much else. 

Anyhow, we got off at the Palais de Justice and walked over to Notre Dame de Paris.  The tree in front is really nice this year.

Notre Dame de Paris - Christmas Eve

We got lucky and got in while they were still showing the presentation of the Christmas story, using images from the Cathedral and recorded music.  There was a huge screen draped across the front of the nave (the approach to the alter in a Cathedral).  After the presentation, the screen was lowered, then removed.  And this is what the inside looks like when they run the lights up.

Inside

Then the choir marched in, and took their places.  The organ kicked in, and played a lovely set up.  Then choir and organ launched into Silent Night.  That was magic.  Just magic.

The Choir

So we decided to restart the day, and went out to dinner at the little Italian place where the guy makes each dish of pasta from scratch for every order.  Wow.  It was super. And we sat next to a delightful American couple.  He is in TV, she is a Performance Artist.  They were lovely.

Then the chef was racing around as La Madame apparently was detained.  He greeted us like long-lost family; we've been there maybe 5 times this year.  Asked how we were doing, in English.  When he caught up he took our order and raced off to take care of the rest of the house.

Food was great.  Piping, steaming hot.  Fresh as can be. All ingredients fresh.  Aromatic.  Italian food in France. 

Then Madame arrived; shared with us that the Metro had a problem and she was stopped near Bastille for quite some time (she said how long, but my limited French failed me).  The American couple finished and left.  Nice folks.  Then the Madame stopped by to tell us about Christmas gift buying for her grandchildren, who aren't children anymore.  Now they want real gifts; Playstations, money and gift cards.  I suggested iPods.  She said it was all about family, food/eating, and now the gifts.  Longest conversation we've had with the Madame. Between us, we understood maybe 40% - that's an improvement.  As we paid and started to leave, we shook hands all around.  Everyone was thanked and wished a Joyeux Noel (Happy Christmas) and a Bon Annee (Good New Year). 

Le Monsieur was outside in the cold making phone calls on his cell.  When we met him outside we all shook hands, he thanked us and wished us a Bon Annee too.  It keeps happening.  We fall back in love with this town.   

We got new next-door neighbors just a while back.  Like many French (most? all?) our new next door neighbors smoke a lot of cigarettes.  How much or many?  They smoke so much, they smoke themselves out of their apartment.  It actually becomes overwhelming to them.  So they open the door, and vent the smoke to the hallway.

Guess where it goes from the hallway?  That's right; the smoke pours into our apartment, to mix with the volatile organic compounds and paint fumes from the renovations on the third and seventh floors.  It's really nice.  Add that to the elevator (still broken after two weeks), the dust everywhere from the renovations, and it's an absolute joy in Paris right now.

The weather has been too cold for them to spray-wash the sidewalks, so the dogs**t is starting to pile up all over.  In fact there is a lovely half-frozen patch of it right in front of the door to our building.  Paris is charming in winter.  Susan says hello, too.

Sorry, bad day.