Italian or French?

My new roommate here in Rome is a UW law student named Tessa. Her mother is French and her father American of Italian descent. She speaks fluent french and much better Italian than I. We decided that we would speak either French or Italian at the apartment. However, we slip back into English more often than we should, especially since we both speak French fluently.

I seem to read Italian better than I speak it, and I speak it better than I comprehend it at this point. However, I've only been at it for two days. I'm sure I'll improve. Many of the words are the same as French, but are just pronounced differently. Once I get the phonetics down, I think I'll pick up on it very fast.

I managed to tell the lady at the bakery today that I wanted a roll to make a sandwich tomorrow so I wanted a roll that would stay fresh that long. (Most bread here seems to go stale overnight.) I was rather proud of myself. Of course, I didn't communicate that using full sentences, but I did manage to communicate my needs.

I'll keep you updated on my progress.

Easy Jet: The Flight from Paris to Rome

Taking the train is no longer the cheapest way to travel in between some European cities, especially when you factor in the cost of your vacation time and how long it takes for travel. For example, going from Paris to Rome on the train takes over 13 hours and costs over $250.

I got a ticket on Easy Jet between Rome and Paris for a little over 40E, which is approximately $60 and the flight took around two hours. Even with the pre-flight time going through airport security, I came out way ahead of train travel.

The trick with small regional carriers like Easy Jet and Ryannair is two-fold: (1) they fly in and out of outlying airports. I chose Easy Jet over Ryannair because Easy Jet flies out of Paris' Orly airport at the south of the city, instead of Beauvais, which is 50 kilometers north of the city. (2) The weight restrictions on luggage is VERY strict. I chose Easy Jet over Ryannair because their checked-luggage weight limit is 20 kg instead of 16 kg. Even if you pay extra for a second checked bag, it doesn't increase your weight limit (what it means is that you can pay an extra 7E to have two bags make up your 20 kg instead of one). If you go over your weight limit, it costs 9E per kg. (A kg. is 2.2 lbs.)

However, it all turned out well. I mailed two packages home with my spare clothing that I wasn't wearng and the few items I had purchased. By putting my laptop, its spare batteries and my textbooks in my carryon bag, my checked bag only weighed 17.5 kg.

The flight is no-frills, even more no-frills than Southwest Airlines. No free beverages or snacks - you pay for everything. In addition, they sold parfume, stuffed animals and various other items on the flight in order to make money. However, you can't beat it for getting from Point A to Point B in Europe in a fast and cheap manner.

Chez Olivier

After cleaning up my mistake at France's house (see previous post titled, "Chez France"), Olivier and I left with Alexandre and drove to his apartment on the other side of Paris. Olivier was fantastic and drove me past all the major Paris landmarks, except Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur.

Olivier asked me if there was anything special I wanted to do in Paris and I told him that what I was really interested in was a "Day in the Life of Olivier." My time in Paris was so short that the last thing I wanted to do was run around like a crazy tourist trying to see the sights.

After we arrived at his apartment, we dropped off my stuff and then headed down to the corner store to pick up fixin's for lunch. After lunch, we headed out to a bookstore so I could pick up a couple of books for Mrs. Pike, Marlo's French teacher, and went over to the post office to mail home a box.

Olivier then gave me a tour of his building and we ran a few more errands to pick up fixin's for dinner. (It is common in France to pick up groceries one day at a time to ensure that the freshest ingredients possible. Some people go to the grocery store once a week, but bread is almost always bought fresh.)

Olivier's wife, Marie-Helene came home from work in the late evening. She works at L'Oreal Paris and has a very responsible position with the company. She works long hours, but is very good at her job. Her background is in pharmaceuticals. Marie-Helene and I began talking during dinner and didn't stop until Olivier forced us to go to bed because the taxi was picking Marie-Helene and I up at 5:15 a.m. to go to the airport. I really enjoyed talking to her - she is very intelligent and very well-read.

Anyway, the next morning came too soon and we headed out to the airport.






Louvre (left)





New opera house (right)

Chez France

After leaving Ile d'Yeu, my French sister, France (sort of a French version of "Frances") met me at the Gare de Montparnasse. She is a true Parisian and does not own a car. We lugged my bags through the metro and arrived at her apartment.

France is at attorney. We talked a long time about our families, our children and our careers. It was wonderful. France is an intelligent woman with a big heart. She was warm and caring towards me.

In addition, France is an artist. She paints furniture - and also enjoys painting her apartment, which is beautiful and very comfortable. I slept in her eldest daughter, Lucie's room. I slept so well that I didn't hear that the neighbor below us had a little party until about 1:00 p.m., when France was finally fed up and sent him a text message that she had to work in the morning.

The next day, I got up early so that I could have breakfast with France before she left to work. Olivier was going to pick me up later that morning to spend the day and evening with him and his family before I went to the airport the next day to fly to Rome.

After France left to go to work, I got ready so that Olivier could come and get me. France had just painted her bathroom walls with this beautiful and fun striped pattern. She hadn't yet painted the final protective coating over the paint so she asked me to scrunch down in the shower and not get the walls wet.

Have you ever noticed that most disasters occur when one is specifically trying to avoid them? Maybe it is because one is at someone else's house and things are unfamiliar. Unfortunately, during my shower, I must have nudged open the shower partition a little bit. I ended up flooding the entire bathroom and also into the hallway onto France's freshly shampooed carpet.

I was completely panicked. When it happened, it really was a dramatic amount of water and I was so worried that I had ruined something. I mopped up quite a lot of the water and went to go call Olivier to come and help me. The battery on the house phone was dead. I opened up the back of the phone and saw that the batteries inside were not rechargable so leaving the phone on the jack wasn't going to get me anywhere.

I knew France had Skype on her home computer because her eldest son, Jean, is in Argentina for a journalism internship. I turned on her computer, which is powered by Windows XP. On the initial screen, there were four accounts listed: France, Lucie, Isabelle and Jean. I tried France's account first, which was password protected. I then tried Lucie's, which was also password protected. Next Isabelle's - also password protected. Cripes! I need in this computer to be able to call! Finally, I try the last account for Jean, which gloriously was not password protected. Amen for men sometimes!

I tried the only phone number I had for Olivier, which was his home phone. It went straight to voicemail. I then called Pascale (France and Olivier's oldest sister) to see if she had his cell phone number. I chatted with her for some time, while being completely distracted by the huge mess I had caused. However, I was afraid to say anything about what happened because I was certain that I'd burst into tears and my French doesn't improve at all under duress. I then tried to call Olivier's cell phone - it also went straight to voicemail. I left Olivier messages on both his phones.

Unfortunately, there was no way for him to call me back because the house phone was dead and Skype has limited capacity to receive incoming calls. I called France on her cell phone and asked if she had spare batteries in the house. She told me that the batteries recharged when the phone was left on the jack. I tried to explain that the batteries in her phone were not rechargable, but wasn't able to communicate well. I wanted to tell her what had happened, but knew I could not even start to talk about what I had done without bursting into tears. I hung up the phone continued mopping up the water. Laying down fresh towels on the carpeting and stomping on it to absorb as much water as it could.

Finally, Olivier arrived a little before 11:00 a.m. with his son, Alexandre. By that time, the bathroom was dry and the carpeting was only damp, not soaked. I am sure he thought I was crazy and over-reacting. I tried to convey how bad it had been before, but I don't think he believed me. I asked him to call France for me and explain what had happened.

I emailed her after I got to Rome to confirm that everything was OK and she told me that nothing was permanently damaged - only that she had to go to the laundrymat in order to dry the towels because the weather in Paris was so cold they were taking too long to air dry.

My heart still races just thinking about it.

The most gut-wrenching 10 minutes in my recent past: Leaving Ile d'Yeu

To get from Ile d'Yeu to Paris, first you must take a 35 minute ferry ride to Fromentine, and then, if one is using public transport, a bus to the train station in Nantes. Jacqueline & Pierre decided that they would accompany me and see me off at the train station in Nantes.

We took the 10:30 ferry. As we left, someone on the pier was waving an American flag. Jacqueline & Pierre decided it was in my honor. Anyway, we arrived in Fromentine just after 11:00 a.m. Because they don't keep a car on the mainland, Jacqueline & Pierre rented a car for us. The drive to Nantes took a little less than an hour.

After arriving in Nantes, the plan was for us to get lunch and then go to the train station. It was raining and the wind was blowing and it was COLD! Seriously, the weather was like October. We parked the car and went to find a restaurant. Because it was Monday and also during August vacations, most restaurants were closed, including all of the ones that the family was familiar with. The only restaurant near the car park that was open was a kebab restaurant. Jacqueline suggested it, but Pierre cried, "Alas! We aren't going to eat just anything!" Apparently, kebabs are not high up on the French culinary scale.

We finally found an open bar/restaurant about six or seven long blocks away (and they felt even longer in the rain!). This restaurant didn't have a menu, but rather gave you two choices for a three course lunch. For appetizer you could have a greek salad, or a type of fish pate. For the main course the choice was some sort of beef entree or turkey curry with rice. The choices for dessert were an apple tart or turkish yogurt with a honey-apricot coulis. Nice meal.

It was then time to go to the train station. From the car park to the train station, I concentrated hard on not crying, repeating to myself "don't cry, don't cry, don't cry." We arrived at the train station, parked, got my luggage out, entered the train station, stamped my ticket on the machines on the quay, and found the train. Of course, I'm still chanting to myself, "don't cry, don't cry, don't cry." I figure if I can just get on the train, I'll be OK.

We find the train, store my luggage, find my seat and I kiss and hug Jacqueline and Pierre goodbye. Now crying - mantras don't really work.

They left the train, but instead of leaving the station, Jacqueline & Pierre stood on the quay and waved to me until the train left - for ten minutes. Every time I would look out the window and see them, I'd start crying again.

I think I like airplanes better. Once you board, you can't actually witness everyone you are leaving behind.

Placeholder - Two weddings, one marriage

Placeholder - Clothes shopping at the open air market

Placeholder - Grocery shopping

Placeholder - Driving: like shooting a bullet through a tunnel

Placeholder - Ile d'Yeu: Cote Sauvage (my favorite)

Introducing the air kiss

The custom in many continental European countries is to kiss each other in greeting. This seems to become more prevalent and the kisses more numerous the further south you travel.

In Amsterdam, I didn't see anyone greeting each other with kisses in public, but I do know that it is customary to greet close friends with three cheek kisses (left, right, left).

In France, one always kisses hello and goodbye, or good morning and good night. In Paris, the custom seems to be two kisses (one on each cheek) and might increase with the closeness of your relationship to that person. On Ile d'Yeu, the custom is four kisses, no matter if you just met the person or have known them your whole life. Public displays of affection seem to be rampant in Rome.

The day after I fell off the bicycle (see post titled, "It's like riding a bike?"), Jacqueline fell on some stairs and smashed her chin and cheek. It hurt when people kissed her on the cheek so I introduced the L.A.-style "air kiss" to accomodate her injuries. The family thought that was amusing.

Placeholder - Ile d'Yeu: Port des Meules (sp?)

Placeholder - Ile d'Yeu: Pointe de Corbeau

Placeholder - Ile d'Yeu: Sant Saveur

Placeholder - Ile d'Yeu: Port Joinville

Placeholder - Ile d'Yeu: Plages des Vieilles

Placeholder - Opera a le citadell

Placeholder - The animals

Placeholder - 50 years of marriage

Placeholder - Excelling in birds and music