Weeks 6 & 7: Strasbourg, and my weekly rant about France!

Hi all!

I'm behind on my blog posts - two weeks to catch up on this time!

We've gotten up to a few fun activities the past couple of weekends:

1) Strasbourg. Two weekends ago we went to Strasbourg to meet our friends Jane & Joe and to visit the famous Christmas markets (Strasbourg has named itself la Capital de Noël, and I have to agree!). We had a great time, filled with new and old friends, vin chaud and great food!

Capitale de Noël

This giant Christmas tree was lit Friday night JUST before we arrived

Us in the square in front of the tree

The giant cathedral of Strasbourg

A few highlights from Strasbourg:

• Vin Chaud ("hot wine" - usually referred to as mulled wine in English). The markets had stand after stand selling vin chaud, which typically came in red or white and was full of yummy spices like cloves and nutmeg. Each stand had their own slight variation on the recipe, so we tried to taste as many as possible. What a great treat to warm you up on a cold day! We should really adopt this practice in Canada. I guess we'd have to change our open-alcohol-in-public regulations first... Anyways, for a euro you got a plastic cup that you could keep or return - and although we amassed quite a few of them between the four of us, we kept two as souvenirs from the Christmas market. 

  

  Me enjoying a cup of vin chaud

  
  

  

  Vin chaud stands

• Yummy German treats. Since Strasbourg is in the Alsace region of France on the border of Germany, there is just as much (if not more) German influence as there is French. The market was full of traditional Alsatian treats, such as bredle (traditional cookies; each flavour is always a specific distinct shape - for example, the cinnamon ones are star-shaped), bretzels (pretzels, obviously!), kougelhopf (the bread that looks like a huge upside down muffin in the photo below), beignets (similar to the filled donuts popular in New Orleans), and grilled baguette-pizza-sandwiches. We made sure to sample as many treats as we could! We also had a 16 € clementine-bredle-dark chocolate skewer (the guy thought we gave a 5 € bill rather than the 20 € bill we actually paid, and we failed at arguing in French. It was delicious and worth every penny). 

  

  Kougelhopf and beignets

  
  

  

  Bretzels

  
  

  

  Bredle (traditional cookies)

  
  

  

  Baguettes- flambéed!

• It was so nice to meet you, Jane & Joe! (And now I can officially say I have friends in France). It's too bad it's a 7 hour train trip to get to Strasbourg, because I loved it and if it were closer I'd be there all the time!! In fact, I think I could move there, except for one thing...
• Alsatian cuisine is not my #1 favourite. A typical restaurant has 18 variations of ham, sausages, etc., a lot of fried/battered food, sauerkraut, foie gras, and other things I generally skip over on menus. We went out to several nice restaurants and I was usually able to find SOMETHING I would eat, although it did mean having a ham and cheese crêpe for dinner one night, and chicken Cordon Bleu the next, which turns out to be chicken stuffed with ham. Good thing my principles are flexible. Tout c'est jambon!

  

  A typical Alsatian dish: let's see how many types of pork we can pile in a bowl of sauerkraut!

2) Neanderthals in a castle. Yesterday we checked out one of the only tourist sites in Caen, which was the Musée de Normandie - a museum inside the remains of the old Chateau de Caen. We learned about the Normandy region throughout the ages, and checked out the current exhibit, which was on Neanderthals. It was pretty cool to see the skulls and bones of our ancestors - and their wooly mammoth friends! One good thing about living here is that the museum is free the first Sunday of every month, so we can go back whenever we want. Next time we'll check out the Musée des Beaux Arts (the art gallery), which is in another building of the chateau. 

Chateau de Caen

This crane ruined a great sunset view from atop the chateau

View from atop the Chateau

3) Chanukah! After our museum trip, we went home and lit the menorah for the first night of Chanukah. Since Chanukah is early this year and I can't be with my family, I wanted to celebrate in France. Alex was a good sport and listened to me sing the blessings and play all kinds of Chanukah music (ok, there really isn't anything good except the Adam Sandler song, so I eventually got sick of it and turned it off, but it was festive for a while). We made dinner together and I made my first ever roast chicken (turns out it's super easy, who knew) and Alex made his first batch of latkes. Coupled with some tri-coloured roasted honey carrots, it was a pretty nice little Chanukah dinner! Too bad I forgot to pack a dreidle! (Thanks Grandpa & Barb for mailing me the beautiful Chanukah candles!)

First night of Chanukah

Chanukah dinner

And now, what you've been waiting for: my weekly rant about living in France.

The French are so much more inefficient than North Americans. 

Here are a few examples:

• I tried to foster a cat. I had this idea since I really want a pet, but I can't adopt one (it would be unfair since we're only here for two years, and I have a cat at home, and we don't have a pet sitter whenever we go to Canada, etc.). I found a local organization that rescues cats, and spent half an hour drafting an email to ask if I could help them by fostering cats for short periods ("foster" translates to famille d'accueil = "host family" - so really I said something like, "I just moved to France with my fiancé. I want to be a host family for a cat. I like cats. I have a cat at home. He is with my sister. I miss him. I can't adopt a cat though. I'm going home for Christmas. But I could be a host family before and after that. Until May when I go home again. Can I be a host family, pretty please?" I'm very charming in French). I got an email back from Claude (obviously!) and he welcomed us to Caen and immediately agreed that I could be a host family (I have not yet figured out how to translate this in a way that doesn't make me sound like a single person family). However, contrary to what you would expect in Canada, I was not given any information about the organization, or the cats, or asked any questions about myself, or asked to fill out any paper work. Instead, I was told in French "Michèle will call you - she has the cat chez elle". I got a phone call from a French woman the next day, who gave me no information about the cat, but asked if I could take him that very day. He wasn't getting along with the other cats. Umm, not today, I said, flustered. I'm going to Strasbourg this weekend. And I need to buy things for a cat, like a litter box, litter, food, etc. (I actually said "I need to buy...some things for a cat"). Ok, she said, I'll call you on Monday and you can get him then. I emailed Claude that Friday - a very complicated email to write, asking whether the organization covers things like a litter box and food (since they do in Canada), and that it was ok if they didn't; I would buy them, but that I just wanted to know so I could buy all these things before Monday, since I was going away for the weekend. (It took me about another half hour to draft that email and make sure it sounded polite in French). The weekend came and went, and no response from Claude, or Michèle. I went out and bought everything I'd need, just in case (litter box, litter, food, bowls, etc.). Late on Monday afternoon I emailed Claude and asked for Michèle's phone number, and explained that I was supposed to get the cat but that she hadn't called me (another French email). I called Michèle, who gave me a long explanation that I didn't understand about why she hadn't contacted me, gave me her address, and asked if I could pick up the cat tomorrow. I agreed, because I didn't really know how to say anything else. I did manage to ask her if she had a "cat box" since I didn't have one. Luckily she understood that I meant a cat-carrier. Then I googled her address and realized it was very inaccessible by tram (and over an hour walk, which was a bit impractical since I'd be carrying a cat one way!) I called her back right away to ask if she had a car and could bring it to me instead, and said if not I'd take a taxi, but she couldn't hear (or understand?) me. She called me back a bit later, and I couldn't hear her (bad reception I guess). Later I got an email from Claude saying Michèle couldn't understand me and asked whether I could I email him what I was saying so he could text her. (Not sure why I wasn't just given her email address, but so it is in France). The communication chain went on like this for awhile, with me emailing Claude and him texting Michèle, and him emailing me back. It was eventually established that Michèle would bring me the cat the next day. Yay! However, he didn't specify a time, so I emailed to ask when she would be coming, and he never responded. I waited around all day the following day, and nothing. I tried Michèle three times on the phone, and when it got dark, I left her a message (which is very daunting to do in French, and probably sounded something like, "Um, hello, it's Samantha. When do you bring the cat? I...um...thanks"). It was all sort of humiliating. I never heard back from Michèle. I emailed Claude and explained that I still didn't have the cat. The next day he responded and apologized: "I just spoke to Michèle on the phone. The cat (Igor!) drinks too much and Michèle wants to take him for analyses." (I can only imagine this must mean that Igor had to go to the vet.) Claude apologized for Michèle not having called me ("ce n'est pas correcte") and said he would understand if I no longer wanted to be a host family. No!! I responded about two minutes later with something like "That is ok. Thank you for the information. I still want to be a host family! Are there any more cats that need a home??" (In subtext: I'm lonely). A full week later, Claude responded. "No, there are no more cats now. Try back in the new year. Merry Christmas." So, after about 2.5 hours collectively in email writing, a lot of time wasted sitting in my apartment and not wanting to leave in case the cat showed up, and a huge bag full of cat stuff sitting unused in our closet, I still have no kitty to foster. Oh yeah, and we got charged for all my calls to Michèle's cell phone, since I forgot you can only call landlines with the landline. You better bet I'll be emailing Claude back on January 4th.

On a happier note - I saw two puppies on a window ledge today. This is the second time I've walked by this particular apartment on the way to the grocery store, and seen them sitting there (unleashed, but making no moves to jump down even though they're on the ground floor). They turn their heads in unison every time someone walks by. It's really cute. This time, as I paused to admire them, a cat came up the sidewalk, jumped up, and joined them on the window sill! They were nuzzling each other, and obviously I had to take a picture! I'm waiting for a bird (or a pot belly big) to join them next time.

• The concept of American-style dining doesn't work here. Last week we had a dinner and movie date (we went to see Suffragette, which was the only English movie playing at our little independent theatre - and it was a great movie, albeit hard to watch, and I would totally recommend it if it's still playing in Canada!). Afterwards we walked to Whoopie's Diner, which we'd walked by a bunch of times in the past month and wanted to try out, since it's rare to see a 50s diner in France. After being away for home for a month and a half, I was super pumped for a night of comfort food from my childhood - chicken fingers, fries and a milkshake. (I hadn't even had French fries since we'd moved to France! Go figure.) When we walked in, the diner was mostly empty except for a group of friends that seemed to know the owner, and I felt sort of like we were disturbing their hangout. The restaurant is open till midnight every night, but it's been empty every time we've walked by. Not sure how they stay in business. Anyways, we were seated and given plastic menus that listed about 15 types (no exaggeration) of steak hachée (hamburgers), one chicken burger, onion rings, four salads, and milkshakes. I immediately skipped over all the burgers in my head and skimmed the menu for chicken fingers. There were none. Damn. Oh well, I thought, I'll order the chicken burger. Just then, the waiter came to our table to inform us of the things they were currently out of - about 5 of their burgers, including the chicken burger. Right then. Guess I'm having a salad...so much for comfort food. The waiter must've caught the word "salad", because he turned back and told me they couldn't make salads either. What were they out of? Lettuce?? Well then, I said, growing more and more disappointed, guess I'm having a milk shake for dinner. We went to order our shakes, and Alex immediately ordered Oreo, his favourite. Obviously they were out of that too, as well as a few other flavours that were listed on their menu. I got a peanut butter milk shake, which was luckily "in stock" and it was divine. (I haven't had peanut butter in any form since I've been here - and for me that's a feat!) Alex settled on a classic strawberry shake, and the waiter pointed out to me that I could substitute any burger for a veggie burger. Veggie burgers? In France? What good luck! He then asked if I wanted a potato or vegetable burger. Hmm. I ordered veggie, hoping it somewhat resembled the soya-veggie burgers we have at home. It was a greasy hash brown patty with peas and carrots in it, surrounded by a bun. I ordered it in cheeseburger form, so at least there was cheese and ketchup on it. I should've known better than to think/hope for a veggie burger in France! We gave the restaurant 2/5 stars (the fries weren't even salted!) and decided that France should stick to what it's good at - delicious, slow-service food prepared with good ingredients - and leave delicious, quick-service food made with crappy ingredients to America, who does it best. 
• Motorola is playing a cruel joke on me. I still don't have a cell phone. I won't go into all the details, but since I last updated you, I received several more "nous sommes désolées" emails from Motorola and made multiple French phone calls to their service department. Since the last email indicated that my order had effectively been cancelled, we gave up and Alex and I decided I should just order a different one of their phones, since maybe that one was out of stock. So we ordered a totally different phone. Again, no confirmation email - but this time I expected it, since I now knew that confirmation emails take up to 4 days to arrive in France. Later that week, Alex was on my laptop and saw an email from Motorola come through. I was in the other room, and asked what he was laughing at. Nothing, he said. This email also started with "nous sommes désolées". I called Motorola about the new order. We also called our bank to see if there was a problem with our card. Turns out there was a limit about how much we could spend in a month, so Alex's card and this online purchase weren't working - although my card was working fine, and we'd booked expensive train tickets on the same card. (Did I mention French services are inefficient? Banking is one of them.) I called Motorola back the following morning. Yet another French service phone call. The woman said, not to worry, we put your order through yesterday. I'll call you back in a few days to confirm. "D'accord..." I said, warily. This was mid-last week. Still no confirmation email or phone call. Still no cell phone. If you want to start a pool as to whether I'll have a French phone before I come home to Canada for Christmas, this is the time.
• But... their postal service is amazing! I sent a postcard to Strasbourg at about 10:30am one morning last week, and Jane and Joe got it THE NEXT DAY. As I mentioned, it's a 7 hour train trip from Caen to Strasbourg. (That's including a stop-over in Paris, and a high speed train, not a car). Not to mention I didn't even mail the postcard in the post office - just dropped it in one of those boxes, so I figured it wouldn't even get picked up till the next day. Plus, as I mentioned in a previous post, mail boxes don't even have numbers on them, just names. How my postcard got picked up, sorted, shipped across the country, sorted again and made it into our friends' mailbox in one day, for 76 centimes, is beyond me. Moral of the story: if the French treated all their services like they did their postal service, things would be a whole lot different around here!