Displaying items by tag: Paris

What the French Know About Food: Buy Fresh

Friday, 11 November 2011 11:01
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In Paris, there's a bakery on every corner offering buttery croissants, but residents are still slim enough to fit into elevators the size of coffins. What do the French know? This is the second of several posts on food and lifestyle in the city of lights. Read the first here.

Paris has supermarkets, and you can buy produce in them as in any U.S. store. But most people get their fruits and veggies from neighborhood open-air markets one or two days during the week year round.

These are not a few stalls of local farmers; we have our choice of hundreds of vendors. The variety far outstrips what you see in the local Monoprix or Franprix, and unlike most outdoor markets in the U.S., the prices are actually lower than the supermarkets.

Of course, just because it looks like a farmer's market doesn't mean it is; most of the produce comes from central distribution centers. (For a peek at these, check out the lovely movie, Paris, with Juliette Binoche.) Unless produce is labeled "AB" (for "agriculture bíologique" the equivalent to our "organic"), it is almost certainly raised with "traditional" methods.

But there's much to be said for how these markets put produce--traditional or not--within easy reach of people in all of Paris's neighborhoods. Whereas fruits and veggies are some of the priciest items on our grocery lists in the States, here we can fill our large sack for less than 13 Euros. Snack food items are much more expensive in France relative to these healthy options. (For a point of comparison, watch Food, Inc, which gets inside the U.S. diet.)

So there it is: veggies cheaper than sweets. One more Paris secret.

U.S. cities (especially the NYs and Chicagos), what would it take to get an affordable outdoor market for your residents?

Taking Paris by Classroom

Monday, 17 October 2011 10:48
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From American university to Paris university--it's not a seamless transition. But it is exciting, and my new students have me all revved up to find new ways to make English relevant.

I'm working on a thematic curriculum for our 12 weeks together that will let us explore "Other Americas" through articles and novel excerpts. Some students I've talked to here see the U.S. as one big Hollywood Blvd; I'll introduce them to issues and experiences related to Latino, LGBT, Black, Asian, and Native American communities. We'll also talk about what it means to be disabled or mentally ill in the U.S.--and how these experiences compare to what they know from France. 

I've just posted a list of resources to jump-start English explorations outside the classroom. This list is geared toward adult English language learners, and it's purpose is to help them discover authentic reading material in English that will make vocabulary-building natural. Here's the English Artifact Weekly Assignment that goes with it, for those who are curious. Basically, each week, instead of assigning them a particular reading, I charge students with choosing their own English reading material and bringing back "proof" (their artifact) of the experience along with a reflection that will help them consolidate the learning. 

Bonus: students at different levels can find materials appropriate to their ability, thus avoiding frustration and boredom. And everyone gets to follow his or her interests. Yea for differentiation!

The idea for self-directed reading for language-learning came from following the blog Mis Musicuentos by a dynamic, motivated, and tired-of-the-status-quo Spanish teacher. Here's the post that got me thinking, "yeah, this would work for ELL learners of English, too."

What the French Know About Food: No Snacking

Friday, 14 October 2011 11:01
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In Paris, there's a bakery on every corner offering buttery croissants, but residents are still slim enough to fit into elevators the size of coffins. What do the French know? This is the first of several posts on food and lifestyle in the city of lights.

Among four health-related announcements required to be included in advertisements for salty/sweet junk foods, is the following:

"Pour votre santé, eviter de grignoter entre les repas." OR "For your health, avoid snacking between meals."

When I first read that, I thought I must have mistaken the meaning of "grignoter." After all, hadn't nutritionists been telling us in the U.S. to eat several smaller meals? What is a snack if not a small meal, right?

Well, I can tell you one thing: our "small" meals in the U.S. aren't doing us much good. In fact, I'm inclined to think that we eat bigger-than-French-sized meals plus snacks. But I digress.

So I was saying, snacks basically have a bad reputation here. Unless you're under the age of 10, you will get funny looks gnoshing in public at non-meal times. I've been using public transit in Paris for over a month, and I can count on one hand the number of times that I have seen people eating. Even in the halls of the university where I teach, there are no signs of the sugar/salt stimulants U.S. students rely on to get them through their courses.

For me, this seems to be the most powerful difference between the U.S. and Paris. In the U.S., wherever I am, at whatever time it may be, I encounter people who are eating, and I often think, "Hey, I'd like to be eating that, too." In France, by contrast, when it's not meal time, I just don't see food out. I used to be a has-it-been-two-hours-yet-so-I-can-eat person. Now I actually forget about food for stretches of four hours at a time.

Amazing.

A Few Paris Surprises

Friday, 07 October 2011 10:16
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Random surprises about life in Paris (all somewhat related to water):

(1) The brand new French washing machine in our apartment takes (literally) hours to wash a very small load of laundry. The load I do every night takes 2 hours, 36 minutes according to the timer on the front of the washer. And we use cloth diapers with Liam, which means lots of washing (2 washes per load of diapers). This slowness seems to have to do with high efficiency, but wash water seems minor compared to surprise #2. (BUT: we're blessed to have a washer at all as one load at the laundromat costs 8!! Euros.)

(2) There's always water running in the streets of Paris. I'm talking about a lot of water. Gushing. I still haven't figured out why this is; it can't possibly all be run-off from the street-cleaning guys' hoses. When I lived in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, for a summer, the sewers were always overflowing, so there was a lot of water running through the street, too. But the Paris street rivers have no smell, so I'm guessing (hoping?) it's not that.

(3) It's distressingly acceptable for males to pee in the street, subway station, park, etcetera. I don't have anything against folks relieving themselves, but I do object to (a) the smell and (b) what this means for my small son who is still very much in the habit of licking things like park benches and trees. Please, can we all make water in the water closet? Those handy, self-cleaning public toilets all about?

(4) Breaking from the theme of mild displeasure and bewilderment... I had know idea how taken I'd be with the Eiffel Tower. I don't know what I expected, but it was huge. Not just on top, but from underneath. The view of us in the photo is from beneath the tower, and it was kind of like being inside the world's largest pointy hat. Definitely my favorite of the few "touristy" things we've seen.

Many things about life in Paris are not surprises: the wine, bread, and chocolate are delicious; there are heaps of red tape for doing just about anything; it's a complicated, lovely place with its problems, like anywhere.

We're finding our way, though. And loving the adventure.

How to accidentally make 10 gallons of chicken soup

Monday, 26 September 2011 11:15
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After my recent blog post on losing a day in Paris, someone innocently inquired as to how I managed to *accidentally* make 10 gallons of soup. This is also for Sarah, who wanted to know about the tiny chickens.

It's like this, Adam: you say to yourself, we are so poor, we have to make the most of every rotisserie chicken we buy. Hence, make soup with the bones.

Only... you don't count on gobbling up those (relatively) tiny chickens three times a week.

Then, lurking in your fridge, you have a giant bucket of chicken stock you've cooked with all those little clucker carcasses. You put it on the stove.

Then you think, with all this stock, I better add a lot of noodles and veggies. And then you keep having to get out more pots to hold it all. It's madness, really.

Does anybody have ideas for what else I can make with chicken stock? Because I think my boys are going to go on strike if I do this again.

P.S. Not that I'm complaining about the tiny French chickens. That's probably how chickens are supposed to be. The ones I was used to buying in the US probably had bigger breasts than Barbie; I bet those poor chicks couldn't even stand up. Not cool.

P.P.S. When you buy your eggs in French, the package tells you how they were raised. Not just "en plein aire" for the ones that got to live outside, but also "en cage" on the ones from "traditional" farms. So you really are confronted with what your purchase means. 

Kitty love from Atlanta to Paris

Friday, 23 September 2011 11:31
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In case anyone was wondering, Sugar Mama is spending the year while we're in Paris with her foster mother, Jenny. Here's the note she sent us.

Late-night writing isn't the same without Sugar, but I'm managing. And she's basking in the sun--and her baby-free environment.

Miss you, Sugar Mama!

The Disappearing Day, or: A Time Warp in Paris?

Monday, 19 September 2011 11:32
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We got up Friday morning resolved to figure out our plans for Saturday and Sunday, since September 17-18 are Journées du Patrimoine -- Heritage Days -- in France. This holiday means that many museums are free and everybody gets special access to tons of buildings and sites usually closed to the public.

Imagine our surprise when we discovered that our Friday morning was actually... Saturday.

Now, there were some clues, like the fact that when we walked home last night we'd seen the poles and shelters that they put out the day before the outdoor market, which usually happens on Saturday.

"You think they're doing it a day early because of the holiday?" we asked each other.

Then there were all the school kids running around like it was the start of the weekend--and the French people carrying luggage. "I guess the Thursday before a holiday is a big deal here. You'd think it's Friday!" we said.

It sounds silly, but Arnie and I were both so convinced that it was still Thursday that we checked all of our devices and even got out an old-fashioned calendar.

We tried to figure out, based on what we did this week, what day it must be. Here's our list:

Monday: Explored neighborhoods within walking distance without using the Metro (too close to September 11, and if the US is enemy #1, the French are not exactly popular with Muslim extremists, either). Lunch in Belleville, the Asian quarter. Spotted a bubble tea store.

Tuesday: trip to Nanterre to turn in more paperwork. Tour of Notre Dame. Played in park with Liam.

Wednesday: shopping at outdoor market. Purchased Metro pass for Ashley. Trip to public library to get library card while Liam rearranges books in children section and a grumpy French guy follows behind him putting them back. Checked out nursery schools for Liam. Trek to Auchan (kind of like Walmart, only with crappier stuff that costs more... but good for the Paris poor like us) to buy toys and try to find dried beans.

Thursday (allegedly): Checked out nursery schools for Liam. Trek to Auchan (kind of like Walmart, only with crappier stuff that costs more... but good for the Paris poor like us) to buy toys and try to find dried beans.

Thursday Friday: Play date with new friends and their toddler daughter in the morning. Got rained on. Continued quest for cheap, non-dairy protein source. (Success! dried black beans discovered in Asian market in Belleville.) More chicken soup for dinner.**

Apparently the day we lost was Thursday, and what we thought we did Wednesday afternoon really happened the next day. I don't know if you can tell, but I'm still in denial about this whole thing. In my heart, I just don't believe that the calendars are right. I'm still looking for the missing day...

** I accidentally made about 10 gallons of chicken soup that we will be eating until Christmas.

Living inside my character's skin... all the way from Paris

Friday, 09 September 2011 11:00
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Moving to Paris for the year might not seem like the most logical way to connect with the characters in my new novel, which (like the first 2) is set in Texas--although this time in 1930s East Texas. But I've actually been learning a lot about what my character might feel and how she might feel it. Let me explain.

This is not the first time I've lived abroad, but it is the first time that I've done so as a mom. And I feel the challenges of getting oriented in a new place and a foreign language much more acutely when my mommy "in-charge-ness" is impaired.

My character isn't a mom, but she is in charge of her twin siblings. And she's an outsider--one of a handful of Mexican Americans who lived in East Texas at the time. In my novel, she moves from San Antonio (where there's been a Hispanic presence longer than an Anglo one) to near Kilgore because her father has gotten work there. And because of the schools. The booming oil fields at the time meant big tax revenues, so this area had some of the best-equipped public schools in the nation. In the absence of a large Hispanic population, East Texas only had schools segregated into "black" and "white." By contrast, places like San Antonio often had "Mexican" schools characterized by similar inequalities as those found in black schools throughout the South. So living in East Texas--while it certainly meant daily discrimination in many areas of life--could also open up opportunities since the kids would get enrolled in the white school.

But I'm drifting from the point of this post: what I'm learning about Naomi by being here. Often the scariest thing about being in an unfamiliar place is that it's familiar to everyone around you. If you're going through a complicated, frustrating process (like college registration in the days before Internet) with a bunch of other people, it's still annoying, but it's not scary or alienating. But when you're surrounded by folks who can't imagine why you don't know how to manage the Metro (not just the stops, but also the tricky little tickets which can only be bought with coins or a special European credit card, getting baby through the turnstiles, and the OBVIOUS fact that coins desensitize the strips), it can feel pretty lonely and scary. Can you tell I spent an afternoon just trying to figure out how to buy a fare?

Character connection: what "ordinary" aspects of life in East Texas would feel foreign to Naomi? What would she be homesick for? I need to get my bewildered self to my writer's notebook fast before I get all sorted out here and mine these mounds of fatigue and confusion for writing material...

Paris, here we come!

Friday, 02 September 2011 09:41
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It's official: the Pérez family is going to Paris for the year! We just received our visas, and we fly out on Sunday.

Here's the scoop: I'll be teaching English at Université Paris Ouest (La Défénse) a couple of days a week, working on novel #3, and thinking about my dissertation. Arnulfo will do prep work for his PhD qualifying review. Liam will be focused on a good nap schedule (a real challenge in our one-bedroom place!) and exploring the parks of Paris.

The rest of the time, we'll be soaking up as much of Paris as we can as a family.

Our apartment is in the 20th arrondissement about 8 blocks from Père Lachaise Cemetery. If anyone has tips for living in Paris--cheap eats, shopping, places to explore--feel free to pass them on!

Stay tuned, too, for posts and pictures!

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