Check out the photos linked on this English blog that follows our local newspaper, Nice Matin.

Often we don’t take the time to appreciate happiness regardless of which corner of the Earth you choose to make as your ‘home’.  Your home is your home; no one else can force that upon you.  But we are all guilty of getting too distracted with our daily worries to realize that maybe happiness never left you; you left happiness.  Well that is too strong of a phrase.  Maybe ‘overlooked‘ happiness is a better way to understand these thoughts.  This past year has been filled with a lot of distractions for me.  These distractions haven’t been uniquely French nor American.  Everyone can relate.  The distractions of personal finances, taxes, work deadlines, catching the next bus to work and determining how to better budget your grocery list.  Then add the challenge of a linguistic barrier (of any kind) and those distractions hold a greater power over you.

Valley by Moutiers and lake Sainte Croix in the background.

I had to two small excursions that allowed me to clear my mind and appreciate this new land that I am calling home.  A couple of weeks ago, I drove over two hours to the village of Moustiers-Sainte Marie for the weekend.  A close friend has a family home there and it was available to us for a weekend getaway.  A classic French village perched on the side of a mountain and a flowing creek down the middle.  There was a charming chapel further up the mountain that has been a site for Christian pilgrims, past and present.  You can feel the history as you made the long journey to the top.   The stone steps were so smooth and slick from age that it was difficult to climb.  You look further up to see a golden star strung between two mountain peaks overlooking this village.  That star was a symbol of gratitude by a villager of a previous century who safely returned home after battling the Crusades in the Middle East.  In the afternoon we drove a little further to the beginning of the Gorges du Verdun; an amazing canyon holding its own geological patterns and vegetation.

The church, Notre Dame, overlooking Moustiers.

The following weekend, I discovered another village a little to the north of Nice, Levens.  There this village proudly held a festival dedicated to Franz Listz, a master composer on the pianoforte.  Even though he wasn’t French by birth, he did spend a portion of his career in France among artistic peers such as Chopin and George Sand.  The motivation for this séjour (trip) was to listen to concert of classical, romanticism music.  Part of the program included an American singer, Amy Blake. A new companion who I can reminisce of expatriate dramas at the local Préfecture for obtaining the famous carte de séjour.  Again this village was postcard perfect and could not be replicated.  Small shops and brasseries near the village center with continuous water fountains that allowed the water to flow through the small streets and down into the valley below.  Levens proudly holds in its possession a pianoforte Érard dating back to Listz’s era of 1835.

This is France.  Authentically France.  Often the bling-bling of Nice can sometimes distract you from recognizing we are in France.  In these moments of experience, I can clear my head.  I have climbed another mountain to obtain a goal, a dream, a new reality.

Gorges du Verdon

Let’s flip the coin.  France is not paradise.  In Moustiers the one café had one cranky lady serving our boissons chauds (hot drinks).  Once we paid at the register and left, she came running out declaring that we cheated her out paying the bill in full.  Only few minutes later does her colleague yell out the door that in fact, we did pay for the bill in full.  There was no further discussion.  No apology was given either.  The next morning we were determined to have breakfast somewhere else than that café with the cranky woman.  Well in a tiny French village, there are limitations.  We had to go back because nothing else was open.  Even in Levens, after we did a quick exploration of the village before the concert we discovered similar limitations.  It was 18h00 and we wanted to have a beverage and to relax.  Well everyone was closing right in front of our eyes: the café, the brasserie, the bar . . . they clearly rolled the carpet up.  With time to kill and nowhere else to go, we ended up back in my car hovering over the heater.  There is a price to be paid in order to be authentic.

So why was I on that night bus to begin with?  Well my shower pipes were clogged.  (Unfortunately this event is not uncommon in France.) When I took a shower in my apartment the water no longer drained out.  I had to go to a friend’s place to literally take a normal shower and shave.  The agony of an ordinary distraction.  One that could challenge you in thinking why did you make such as change in your life?  But you have to let it go.  That clog can remain a little longer because there are more villages to discover.

My point on this blog is not to be an advertisement but to share my recent experience at the Picard.  Like many French stores, they are trying out American marketing gimmicks to get you to come back.  Right now Picard is having a promotion that if you buy something you get a free scratch-off ticket to win a prize.  La di da.  We all know the routine.  You take the card home and then scratch it off with a coin hoping you get a cute little prize making you feel good.  As if the store is soooooo nice for giving the gift that you will come back and be a faithful customer.  Well maybe the phrase consumer addict might be more appropriate.  In any case, I returned home and put my new purchases in the freezer.  Immediately I got out a coin and began scratching feverishly at the card to acknowledge my cadeaux (gift).  In big letters, one word stared at me.  Perdu! (Lost!) For a second I thought the words were actually laughing at me to rub in the fact I lost.  I thought “Well I am never going back there again.” What a let down after trying to develop a relationship with a frozen Chinese dinner.  Then I snapped out of my entrapment.  Why am I being so sensitive?  It is just a marketing gimmick.  It was also an American in Paris moment.  I don’t have French skin.  The same gimmick in the States would have said Please try again!  Words of encouragement.  Words that wouldn’t be deemed as offensive or inconsiderate.  Even though the French know how to be formal their constant pleases and thank yous, they are definitely more honest and direct.  In the States we care more about niceties and how one feels then accepting a reality.  I lost.  I can’t change that reality.  Accept it.

Did This Man Win or Lose?

Another variation of this dichotomy is new employee orientation at work.  I read that French companies don’t have them (or a very small one).  At Amadeus we didn’t really have a formal orientation except a few hours with our Human Resources representative.  She covered the basics about our work contract, pay cycles and insurance.  We didn’t get anything in reference to dress code or even who is Amadeus?  The attitude is that we are adults and you are smart enough to figure things out.  The French are not about hand-holding.  They feel it would be rude to treat you like a baby and show you every little thing about the company.  You want to know something?  Then ask a question – the right question.

I reflect back on the new employee orientation at my previous job in Philadelphia.  We actually hired a consultant from . . . you guessed it . . . Walt Disney to redo our orientation.  He came up with a fun-filled, feel-good, one-day session.  There were games, videos and lots of animation in the PowerPoint slides.  Even a group picture taken at the end of the day.  A true sensory experience whose goal is to make sure you came out with a smile.  After having worked in a European setting for well over a year, I can tell that my current colleagues would not have made through lunch.  They would have left to go look for another job.  Why?  Their reaction more than likely would have been “Don’t treat me like a child, just tell me what I need to know.“  In other words, let’s not sugar-coat reality.

This difference in approaching reality even starts out young in schools.  French parents get nervous when their children’s backpacks are lighter than the weight of the kid.  Homework and more homework is their mantra.  American parents won’t hesitate to go to the teacher to tell them they are assigning too much homework.  I read a brilliant metaphor between French parents and American parents when they drop off their kids at school.  The American parent will say ‘have fun!‘ whereas the French parent will say ‘work hard.‘

I am not the only one who has observed this difference.  My good friend Clara has pointed out similar examples in her blog Pardon My French!  (sorry, it is mostly in French)  She witnessed during her brief time in the States how kids at an award ceremony all received something (no one was loosing) and the American obsession with the superlative in describing everything.  [How many times have you walked out of movie theater and the first thing said is "Wasn't that a great movie?" instead just acknowledging that it was just an okay movie?  Think about it.]

Even in the banal responses among friends you catch the subtleties.  You invite your American friends to a drink after work and not too common you hear “sounds great!  let’s do it!“  Then you turn to your French friends and receive a straight forward “pourquoi pas?” (why not?)  Notice the usage of the negative in the French response.

So where do I fit in? For those of you who know me well, this post may show my slight advantage.  My ex-colleagues told me more than once that there were unsatisfying moments in our professional relationship.  A major change would occur in one of our work projects and they would come and tell me.  I would listen and then simply say “okay“.  My colleagues were disappointed because they wanted an emotional reaction to the change.  They wanted a “That’s ridiculous!” or a “That’s awesome!” or a “No way, that is so much more work!“.    Another example was when I answered the phone.  If it was a close colleague identified on my caller ID, I would answer with a simple “yes?“  Why?  Because I knew they had a question for me and didn’t feel the need to go through the niceties of “Hello.  How are you today?“  Graciously I have always worked with intelligent people who accepted me for who I am.  No apologies necessary.   I gave my ex-colleagues plenty of memories triggering smiles and laughter over their cup of French pressed coffee. 

Yet in my new sugar-free reality, I may have actually gagné (won).

Guess who loves Paris the most?  According to Adrian Leeds, the American tourist still tops the list!  We just can’t seem to get enough of France as international travel destination in spite of current economic woes.

Of course there is the reciprocal.  President Nicolas Sarkozy was in the U.S.A. for bilateral talks.  My good colleague Michael Barrett was able to catch a little of the French President’s humor in this news post.

Then I am told to leave and take a vacation!  The Best of Nice Matin (the local newspaper) highlighted the upcoming G20 summit here in neighboring Cannes.  The region will be in an absolute mess with traffic and infrastructure congestions during the first week of November.  So I took this American blogger’s advise.  I booked my flight to JFK from October 28th till November 11th.  I wouldn’t want to get in the way of others enjoying the French Riviera.

First I believe there is a psychological impact that makes one feel that taxes in France are significantly higher.  How so?  Well for one, it is 100% the responsibility of each citizen and resident to manage their own taxes.  Not a single company in France assist their employees in managing their incomes taxes.  (Please note that French companies do contribute towards the social security taxes of each employee that funds the health system and sick leave.)  In the States, we always fill out our W2 forms on the first day of hire declaring how much we are authorizing the company to take out of your paycheck to send directly to Uncle Sam.  In France, the company stays completely out of this relationship.  It is the only European nation set up in this way as everyone else has followed a variation of the American model.  So your paycheck in France may feel a bit bigger in the pockets but you have to remember that there is a big tax bill arriving in your mail later.  And that is where the psychological impact comes in – you get a full lump sum of taxes staring at you in the face.  (Instantly any foreigner will know how to curse in French upon receipt.) In the States the average person is contributing a little here, a little there throughout the year and then trying to claim a tax rebate because they have contributed too much.  Tax rebates don’t exist here; the best you can do is have a zero tax bill (which does happen).

Donnez-moi votre argent!

Now the French government has done progressive things to enable the average citizen to pay this daunting bill.  First, I have heard more than once that the people working at the tax office are actually nice (contrary to the stereotype of French customer service) and more than willing to help you as long as you show willingness to pay.  Next there are actually 3 due dates throughout the year: February 15th, May 15th and September 15th.  The government will graciously divide the previous year’s tax declaration into thirds.  Of course if there is a change in your tax declaration for the year, you calculate that difference on the last date in September.  Another support mechanism is the famous Livret A account.  This is a savings account that automatically comes with your checking account at your local bank.  The benefit?  It is tax-free interest.  The motivation is for you to put aside money in this account to pay your taxes.  If you are good at managing your money and depending on your income, you can easily gain a few hundred euros by the end of the year from your Livret A.  These mechanisms help form the French society to be more known as savers and not spenders like their American counter-parts.  The French are apt to save up for a big purchase instead of buying on credit.  Credits card do exist here but aren’t seen in your average French poche (pocket).

Cross Comparison of Income Taxes

Another interesting approach is that the French government approaches taxes by people’s address than the actual person.  I created a very high level flow chart comparing the two systems.  Of course I have left out a lot of details on both sides but it gives a general sense of perspective.  I welcome my reader’s feedback on the flow in case of errors.  As you can see, you are declaring all revenues earned at your home address.  Those revenues include all accounts you have signature power over, all accounts your partner has signature power over, all accounts your parents (if living with you) have signature power over and all accounts your children (if living with you) have signature power over.  Notice how revenue remains vertical along family lines and not by individuals.

By law, when you die your estate is automatically given to your children (looking down); if they don’t exist the estate is given to your parents (looking up); if they don’t exist then your partner (looking horizontal); if they don’t exist then your declared beneficiaries.  You can’t override this algorithm by moving your declared beneficiaries to the front of the line.  It explains why estates in this country have remained along family lines for centuries – literally.  I even read a legal advice column advising a woman seeking divorce to demand alimony on the basis of her children’s financial needs, not hers.  By approaching the legal situation this way, she will be awarded more money in the French courts.

Sound crazy?  Not really.  You have to keep in mind that France has been around a lot longer than the United States with a legacy of royalties, monarchs and empires.  The United States is culturally too dynamic to view finances, taxable revenues and estates this way.  Plus you see direct results of your taxes in France.  The infrastructure is top of the line throughout the country.  Public transport is well-developed and affordable.  Cities and villages provide so many cultural opportunities free to the public.  You have a landmark distribution of health care.  Education is at a shockingly minimal cost compared to American rates.  The biggest public sector is the department of education, not the military.  It is also nice to simply pay one governmental system instead of several like in the States.  There is one Public Treasure that will gladly accept any of my checks for taxes.  Then that system will allocate the funds to my corresponding Région, Département and Commune.  Again it is a daunting system but streamlined and maintainable.

Give me your money!

What is crazy is I can never escape Uncle Sam.  My American social number is tattooed to my fesse (butt) and Uncle Sam knows it.  Looking back at the French model, you may wonder how does the French tax its expatriates that live in another country?  Well they don’t.  The French views it that if you are living in another country, you should be paying that country’s taxes.  Your address is no longer in France allowing you to escape the tax flow.  Uncle Sam doesn’t see things this way which is flip side of taxing by individual.  The United States is the only country that taxes its citizens regardless of where in the world that citizen resides.  (yea, read that sentence one more time)  Many will argue that “Wait, there is a tax treaty between the United States and France!”  True, no denying that fact.  As they say the devil is in the details.  Americans living in France are in no way exempt from filing taxes with Uncle Sam; they are simply given a tax credit.  Currently that limit is set at $91,500 for a calendar year.  Once an American earns in revenue greater than that amount, they are expected to pay American taxes in addition to the French taxes they already paid.

Luckily I am not near that threshold but I still have to watch out and be attentive of that figure.  Remember that wonderful Livret A account I mentioned above?  Well it is tax-free through Marianne’s eyes but not through Uncle Sam’s eyes.  I have to declare that interest on my American tax form.  There are other ways of saving for the future here in France that I have to keep in mind how it will play out in the American tax system.  Then don’t forget there is the currency exchange.  I may not earn more salary in a year but if the Euro becomes that much stronger, I get that much closer to the threshold.

Also as a resident outside of the States, I now have to declare two forms to the government.  My tax form goes to the IRS and a thing called the FBAR goes to the Treasury Department.  That FBAR form doesn’t declare my revenues but just lists all foreign bank accounts in my name.  If the IRS decides to audit me, they knock on the Treasury Department’s door and asks for my FBAR.  If the accounts don’t match on the two forms, then I get a lovely fine.

So now who do you prefer to pay, Marianne or Uncle Sam?

I often get asked why I came to live and work in France.  One factor I proudly retort is that I had the influence of one my older brother’s who was an expat.  I witnessed his personal journey through several foreign lands; even ones that held a higher security risk such as South Africa and Syria.  It was a risk that I admired.   I remember one night when I visited him in Johannesburg and laid on his floor watching one the most beautiful thunderstorms in my life.  Then I had an epiphany, I envisioned the map of the world in my head and realized I am now at the bottom of Africa.  It was a bit surreal.  I am ‘here‘ and not ‘there‘.  Africa at the point became more than just a bump my fingers encountered as it skimmed across a globe.

On the other hand I have always had a quiet critique of my brother.  I never felt he integrated to these various places that he called home.  He quickly gave up his Italian classes in Milan.  He specifically chose South Africa because it was English-speaking.  I don’t even think Arabic crossed his mind while in Damascus.  His life was very insular and never having to leave the expat community.  Of course most of his journey happened without the Internet; a paramount tool that helps me integrate in France.

Don’t misconstrue my thoughts.  I am not saying his journey was a failure.  It was a fruitful journey in his perception of life and the values he stands for.  I now better understand which choice he made at his breakfast table.  I still critique his choice but I now have a clearer picture on why he made his choice.

What Am I Going To Do Today?

I also see the same choice being made by my colleagues at work.  Obviously after a year I have grown closer to some allowing for non-business conversations.  Some colleague have openly shared with me that they are not trying to integrate into French culture.  When I hop into their car to go for a lunch, French Riviera FM (the only English-speaking station in the area) is on the radio.  They share which movies they recently viewed by downloading the English or American version off the Internet.  If we make plans to go to the cinéma, the only choices are the VO’s (version originale).  They have no plans even to develop friendships with a French person.  At times it can beg the question “Well, why are you here?“  Ironically, within the same conversation they make it clear the Côte d’Azur is home for them.  They don’t see themselves anywhere else.  They recount the good feeling when they disembark from the plane at the Nice Côte d’Azur International airport.  The Brits are notorious for making their own little colonies such as the town of Antibes here in the Côte d’Azur, a little village near Dordogne in western France and even in Spain.  Other more subtle choices are made such as not switching your driver’s license.  French law gives you one year to do the exchange or take the French driver’s test.  If you are caught as a resident of France with a foreign license (European Union members are the exception), you face a large fine.  So after living here for several years, these colleagues are inadvertently putting up a barrier.  They have a fear of driving and getting caught.  Consequently they cautiously drive back and forth to work and keep any driving to a minimum.  How does one discover your new home under that condition?

Of course for those that find a native to develop an intimate relationship, this choice becomes more straight forward.  The choice continues to be on their breakfast table but the relationship will push the decision so that appears seamless.  Failure to integrate very well may mean failure to the relationship.  Then add children to the mix and integration will be essential for survival.  I had an interesting chuckle at an expat Happy Hour recently this summer.  It is a good group of professionals mostly from Europe and North America.  Of course one of the ice breaking questions is “What brought you to Nice, France?”  Most of the responses center around professional reasons and the beauty of the area.  A Finnish guy threw me a surprise to say immediately “Women“.  He found it easier to date here in France because he is considered exotic; so he left his independently willed Finnish women and took residence here.  To him I say “bonne integration“!

My aim here is not to be an integration apologist nor to be a moralist to say one decision is better than the other.  I just feel motivated to reflect on that fact it is a continuous decision.  I openly admit that I have my lazy days.  I am at that breakfast table and I choose conscientiously to not integrate.  That day I could careless what the proper conjugation of être (to be) is at the moment.  That day I want to tell a joke in English.  That day I want the news explained to me in English.  That day I want a cheeseburger, cooked well done and a big Coke and yes, watch me eat it with my bare hands!  (The French love cheeseburgers too but they refuse to pick it up.)  And just maybe, if I feel a little arrogant, I will cut my lettuce in my salad and not fold it onto my fork!  All of these rude demeanor in a place I call home, too.

I often think back at the time when I taught English as a second language to immigrants arriving in west Philadelphia.  Before I was often sympathetic to immigration issues and rolled my eyes at English Only attitudes in the fabric of American politic.  Now I am more convicted towards the cause because I really see things through their eyes.  I admire those students even more on the choices they had to make to survive.  They too had the same decision to make at their breakfast table every morning.  Daily struggles could easily make a person give up on integrating and just cling to those around them that speak, walk and pray the same way they do.

So as Hamlet enters stage left to say his signature phrase known across the anglophone world, I enter from stage right to pose the second question “but which ‘be‘ will you choose?“

Cost of Living for Several Cities

No I am not lost.  Nor did read the sign wrong and ended up in a German class by accident.  I just had a weekend in Germany, the other pillar stone of the Euro zone.  The newspapers here are full of articles of opinions on whether the Euro zone will survive this economic crisis.  What is the wirtschaftlichkeit (economic viability) of the Euro?  Clearly everyone is going through a challenging financial time but I feel the Euro will pull through.  Yet I do feel good that I am just under the Euro zone ceiling for cost of living.  Besides the wider streets, bigger food portions and a slightly more American feel, Germany is having to pull more Euros out of its wallet.  The price of a café was much closer to the 2 Euro mark whereas in my French neighborhood I can still get a cup of joe for as little as 1.20 Euros.  German public transport prices reminded back to my days in Philadelphia where a one-way bus trip approached 2 Euros compared to my simple 1 Euro in Nice.  Then for me to board the regional train system to neighboring cities like Cannes and Monaco, a one-way ticket is still under 4 Euros.  It felt like the German system was easily double for similar distances.  (for the record, they weren’t any more on-time then the French trains; so much for German precision.)

Cost of Living: NICE

I did come across the site Numbeo.com which is a community website to measure cost of living all around the globe.  My curiosity was giving me a bigger rash then most mosquitos.  I decided to cross-compare the cities that I have lived in throughout my life.  Of course, the data is based upon major cities so I had to round-up on my actual locations to Kansas City, Indianapolis (close to University of Notre Dame), Philadelphia and Nice.  (nerd note: my comparison doesn’t factor in time so these are all 2011 numbers so don’t cite me for a false premise.)  Not to my surprise, Nice is the winner as far as the most expensive place I have lived in so far.  This non-epiphany happens in spite that I do live in the ghetto of the French Riviera: Nice.  It is surprising how much more expensive are the surrounding communities of Cannes, Antibes, St. Jean Cap Ferrat and the obvious Monaco.  I do chuckle every time I examine these indexes as they always say the center of the world is New York, NY.  That city is always the baseline and ranked at a 100 regardless of time or wirtschaftlichkeit.  Another factor to always keep in the back of your head, these indexes are also constructed based upon on the average salary of the region.  Then don’t forget currency exchange as the Euro is stronger still to the U.S. dollar.  The cost of living won’t feel that more expensive because I receive a salary in Euros; the greater purchasing power.  For one of my American colleagues, this point sucks because her contract states that she continue to be paid in U.S. dollars in spite she (and her family) are living in France.

Cost of Living: PHILADELPHIA

I also feel these indexes should be taken with a grain of salt as two important factors are missing: taxes (another post soon to come) and health costs.

So what are the highlights?

• The overall index for Indianapolis is higher than Philadelphia which is not that different from Kansas City.
• The highest expenditure in Nice is Utilities (19%); whereas in the States it is Rent, Philadelphia (31%); Indianapolis (19%); Kansas City (22%).
• The lowest expenditure is Clothing / Shoes on both sides of the ocean; Nice (6%); Philadelphia (4%); Indianapolis (5%); Kansas City (4%).
• As far as lowest Transportation costs, Nice is only coming in 2nd with Kansas City as the winner.
• In order to eat (combining Markets and Restaurants) Nice is the winner and Kansas City is the loser.  Clearly the cliché that most of my European colleagues tell me that it is more expensive here to eat out is a false one.

Cost of Living: INDIANAPOLIS

So what is my personal feeling?  Do I really feel poorer?  Well to answer that question, I really have to say give me a couple more years of data collection. This past year has been unique in that I have spent a lot money due to moving expenses.  Yes at the moment I feel my purchasing power is lower than when I was living in Philadelphia.  I have been cautious on my spending just because my nervous personality fears the unknown.  I loath the fact I have returned to car ownership and its related costs.  I agree with the above data that Utilities are expensive in France but my personal budget is still showing Rent as taking the biggest bite.  On the other hand I feel financially empowered by the affordable public transport and there are plenty of leisure things to do for free (the beach, street parties, fireworks, staring at the ocean from my terrace, etc.).  Let’s not forget I can explore several corners of Europe for little over 100 Euros – by plane.

Cost of Living: KANSAS CITY

The bottom-line is that I do have wirtschaftlichkeit and I am not drowning in debt unlike most people/governments.  For making such a drastic change in one’s life, I will wear my coat of pride.

If you really enjoy statistics such as these, I encourage you to participate in Numbeo.com.  The site is dependent on more and more people to enter data of their own budgets to better define the indexes.

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you can click them to expand into another browser window.

Is It August Yet?

They have always said that everything shifts to lower gear in France during August.  I have to bare witness that yes, in fact, it does.  Whether you like it or not, life around you will take on a new energy – a pensive one.  Depending how you approach life, this change may not be bliss and actually raises the potential of some frustration.

At work, there is definite change of mood as the speed of all projects is alleviated.  The word deadline walks around without a proper definition.  Not to mention you walk down the hallways and there can easily be an eerie silence.  Things don’t come to a screeching halt, we are still an international IT firm that has clients looking at a different calendar and living in a different season.  So it is business as usual.  The colleagues who are in the office in a way look forward to this month as it is a great time to catch up on smaller projects.  There are fewer distractions.  August is also a time to exhale after the July rush to complete projects in order for everyone to go on vacation.

What about outside of work?  I have to adjust my way of life in several manners.  My bus (#230) that carries me to work every day now has a different summer schedule.  My wonderful 5:09 p.m. express bus after work is now a local bus.  During off-peak hours, the bus now only comes every hour instead of every 30 minutes.  I don’t blame them, there is plenty more room on the bus with fewer passengers – so why run as many buses on the road?

I have enjoyed that my neighborhood post office is open until 6:30 p.m. allowing me to pick up any letters or packages right when I get home.  Well I just saw the new hours posted for August and they are now closing at 5:00 p.m.  If I need their services, I will have to wait till a Saturday morning.

My favorite boulangerie has announced on their front door that come August 15th, they will be closed all together until September.  I will have to buy second grade bread?  I did what any good French person would have done – rolled my eyes and complained to the first person I met.

So where are my bus driver, postal worker and baker going on vacation this month?  In 2011, they are staying in France.  I have seen several news stories that the French are taking their vacation domestically.  With the talk of an economic uncertainty and the revolutions in the Arab world, the French are choosing to leave their passport in the closet and program their GPS to another region of France.  I can feel it first hand since Nice is a key tourist destination.  I don’t have any exact numbers but there feels like a lot more people this summer in Nice compared to last year.

Because Nice is a travel destination, there is a flip side to all this vacation energy.  For one month it is easier to do food shopping.  The little market across the street is now open all day Sunday instead of just a half day.  The supermarché down the street is now staying open an extra 30 minutes in the evening till 9:00 p.m.  Everyone has got to eat!

So how am I defining my August?  Well for one, I am taking all my Mondays off for the month.  I mean why bother working a full workweek?  Then the last week of August I am off to Bordeaux to meet a close friend and classmate at the Alliance Française de Philadelphie.  That trip will be another great opportunity to see another corner of France, home to one of the oldest wine growing regions.

There is nothing more pleasing than discovering new friendships, regardless of your passport or of your place of residence.  I finally made the commitment to myself to host my first apéritif at my apartment.  This summer has been a personal commitment to meeting people and a true integration.  I no longer have excuses of dealing with clichéd paperwork nor the abnormal mental exhaustion of where am I syndrome.

Off I went to the grocery store last week to buy the true essentials to compliment my room with a view.  I got plenty of savory items likes olives, nuts, chips and cornichons (pickles).  An absolute must is an array of cheeses; I selected a goat cheese, a Camembarre made in the northern region of Normandie and a fromage aux noix (a sweet cheese with nuts and a hint of honey).  I always make it clear to my French colleagues that the States have cheese products, not real cheese; a pleasant way to break the ice with any Gaul.   The final food item is a delicate saucisson (pork sausage) that I was even introduced to by my French friends in Philadelphia.  It is the perfect balance to your tray of finger food for a social gathering and isn’t spicy.  And yes, don’t use the word hors d’oeuvres  here, that is an American bastardization of the French language just like how entrée refers to your main course (?) at an American restaurant . . . sigh.

Moi! and Fa- (Lebanese)

Then of course I go to the wine aisle to make my selection for the evening.  My own predisposition is to go straight for the Côte de Rhones, a medium pleasant red wine that can go with just about anything you serve.   I do take a risk with this selfish decision as everyone here during the summer licks up bottles of rosé like water – whether they are French or not.  It is THE summer beverage.  I have eaten out several times with my colleagues at work and they quickly demand a pichet of rosé while I boldly raise my hand and say with force – une verre de vin rouge s’il vous plait (a glass of red wine please).  Why do I hold out?  Is not the taste of a rosé sensual to my American taste buds?  Well, it isn’t the taste that turns me off, it’s the bloody headache that follows!  Without failure!   I come wondering to my desk after lunch only to stammer for a paracétamol (the French version of Tylenol).  Let’s be clear, if the Préfecture demands me to drink some rosé with them in order to renew my carte de séjour, I’m screwed.  But not to worry, I simply put in my invitation to my amis (friends) that if they want a rosé or white, they need to bring it themselves.  Snobbery?  Not really, it is typical when you are invited to an apéritif that you bring something to drink like wine or beer.  So I was forgiven for my red boldness and have some left over for myself.

Finally the big day (Wednesday) came.  Immediately after work I ran to the boulangerie for several fresh baguettes, as stale bread is ground for expulsion from this country and barred from possible re-entry.   I quickly sliced the bread to place it as the final piece to my gastronomic painting.  I relaxed with my first glass of red for the evening with 20 minutes to spare before the first guest.

From left to right: Me- (French), Ru- (French), Ch- (Lebanese), Ma- (French), Cy- (French), Ol- (Philippine), Moi! , An- (Slovakian), Fr- (Dutch) and Cl- (French).

Everything was set-up for what I planned as a simple mixing of various people I have encountered in the last year.  I have read in some French culture literature to be cautious when mixing the French at a party; they can be reserved among people they don’t know.  They have to warm up to guests.  Personally I find this far from the case and believe it to be a harsh generalization.  My guest list did include both colleagues from Amadeus and individuals I met through the power of Internet socialization like MeetUp.com and CouchSurfing.org.  I feel fortunate to say that I actually had to limit my guest list only for logistical reasons; my apartment is much smaller and could not hold as many people as I would have liked.  In any case, the world was well represented in my living room from France to Lebanon, from Slovakia to the Philippines.  Pleasantly to my ears, the conversations predominately stayed French and not English giving me the practice I hunger for.  We even played a make shift game of charades to keep the laughter continuous.  Proudly I say that my last guests didn’t leave till midnight knowing most everyone had to go to work the next day, including myself.

So now as I am washing my wine glasses in my sink, I can affirm that the smile on my face is a real one.  Since it is my duty as a French resident to support the French wine industry, there will be plenty more apéritifs to come.

Note: Just for the sake of security on the Internet,
I did not put the full names of my guests on the pictures. 
I can share those details with you privately but I at least put
their nationalities to give you the full scope of the evening.