La Musique

Check out the song that I have decided will always remind me of my life in France (even though it's Canadian!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heI6UT55ZZ0

Walking to Work

For the past two weeks I have been babysitting for a wonderful French/American family. After years of driving to work via Thomas Road, 44th Street, and Van Buren in Phoenix, not the most picturesque part of Phoenix, my new commute to work is very different. I have divided the 30 minute walk into three 10 minute phases.

I like to call the first phase Riding Off the Wake. The side streets in my neighborhood happen to be tiny, allowing barely two people to walk side by side (even by French standards of size). So unless I am walking in the same direction and at the same speed as everyone else which is never the case, this is a tricky walk. I have to dodge people, dogs, and strollers left and right, usually with one of us jumping off the street and then right back on. Most people here are in a hurry, so making these split second decisions as to who is going to yield to the other or who has to make a quick leap off and on the street can get stressful, but I am getting better at it! I am always relieved when phase one ends without me tripping over a stroller or crashing into someone who makes a sudden stop.

The second phase is called Tourism. This lag begins at the US embassy. From here I cross over the busy roundabout of Place de la Concorde, then angle to the right through a park that takes me to the Champs Elysées. I cross over this famous boulevard and head towards the river, cutting in between the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais to reach Pont Alexandre III, the most ornate and elegant bridge I have ever seen. Its statues and decor rival the Italian section of the Louvre. I walk over the River Seine on this bridge, leaving the Right bank for the Left bank at which point the imposing Eiffel Tower peaks over the buildings off to the right and Les Invalides is directly in front of me. I swing right at the bridge and follow along the Seine with the lovely Eiffel Tower in my view. This concludes phase two during which my eyes take in at least a third of what tourists in Paris are here to see!

Phase three is called Temptation. During this final stretch while I am nearing the kids' school, I can walk no more than 50 steps at a time without passing a patisserie. More often I go only 15 to 20 steps before having to avoid looking into the impeccable windows filled with croissants, pain au chocolat, tartes, flan, and galettes... It is truly tortuous. I check my watch and if I am running a few minutes early, I am tempted by the thought of stopping in to grab a croissant aux amandes to eat while I rush to the school. These patisseries are everywhere in Paris, but this stretch seems to have an unfairly high concentrations. I am happy to report that thus far, I have yet to succumb to the temptation (I usually just wait until I get home so I have more time to enjoy the treats!).

I then wait for the kids to be released from school, walk them home, hang out with them for a couple of hours, and then walk home, again taking in all of the lovely views, but with the Eiffel Tower behind me. Now that is a pretty perfect commute!!

Les Chiens

My memories of the dog's life in Paris were way off, I have come to realize. I remember dogs being more welcome than children at French establishments. I remember flipping through a rack of jeans while shopping when a dog popped through the rack and trotted through the store and out the door. I also remember constantly dodging excrement on the sidewalks, publicly accepted as les toilettes pour les chiens. People seemed to just look the other way, knowing the street cleaners would take care of it all that night.

Eight days I have been here and already Majerle and I have been politely booted out of parks three times and asked to leave l'arc de triomphe plaza. I have also been scolded by a parisian when I was caught without a baggie to pick up after Majerle. Although I fail to believe that most parisians are actually picking up after their chiens because having to dodge the "messies," as my nephew would call them, is still a focus of every Parisian's stroll through town.

Dogs don't seem to be that common here, actually. The majority I have seen are puppies curled up in the laps of homeless people, presumably to aid the humans in receiving pity, and Euros. I just want to bring the cute little pups some Schmackos (Majerle's dog treats). The AAWL volunteer in me also wants to help find decent homes for the poor little guys!

There is definitely an exception to the lack of hospitality towards les chiens. Dogs seem to be welcome in the bar scene. No tabac seems complete without a massive retriever mix meandering through the tables or hanging out behind the bar. On one of our first nights here, Brock and I were in a bar chatting with the charming bartender, Rosette. At one point a large black scruffy dog entered the bar. This was her dog Rainbow (sounds RAM-bo when she says it). She told us how he walks the streets on his own but always ends up coming home. Yesterday, several blocks away from that bar, we stepped out of our front door to take a walk and spotted some black fur moving behind the cars across the street. We thought this couldn't be... but it was Rainbow! On our street! We ran towards him and followed as he looked both ways before joining other pedestrians crossing at the cross walk. He seemed to know exactly where he was going but he stopped to let us pat his head for just a minute before resuming his journey. We can not wait to tell Rosette we ran into her mutt on our block!

Whether or not Majerle is welcomed at parks and tourist sights here, the Parisians still seem to like him since they constantly make kissing sounds at him. It never ceases to make me laugh when I see a French businessman puckering up and smooching at my dog.

Je Suis Ici!

We arrived in Paris on Sunday, three days ago and only two days late. It was a drizzly and overcast day, but it felt perfect to me. We were so lucky to have a taxi driver take us to our apartment who happened to have such a familiar grasp on what we must do in Paris that we were recommended such hidden gems as Eurodisney and the Moulin Rouge, and thank goodness he warned us about certain sex shops that get you in the door but then charge a fortune for champagne. Thanks taxi driver, that was brilliant and appropriate advice...

Walking into our apartment was definitely a bit of a shock. Even though we viewed the pictures dozens of times and even used tape measure to block off the portion of our Phoenix home that would give us an idea of the size of this place, it was still surprising how small it really was. But, once we got unpacked and spent some time checking it out, we both got used to the size quickly. It's pretty well laid out and as long as we fold up the hide-a-bed as soon as we're up in the morning, it's comfortable and cozy. And who can complain when we happen to have a view of the Eiffel Tower from our dining area?! It may only be the top 20 feet or so, but we can see it nonetheless! It lights up the sky at night and the whole thing sparkles every evening for about 5 minutes at 7:00, giving me something to look forward to each day!

Something tells me that Majerle was born to be Parisian. I had a calculated plan to start out my walks with him using his muzzle the entire time, then reducing this each day, presuming he was not growling at passersby or barking at anyone who looks in his direction which is his usual habit. But I have yet to use his muzzle even once because he's been a perfect street walker! He weaves through the constant crowds of people better than I do, although sometimes we head different directions and then nearly trip people with this leash. He puts up well with me tugging him in all different directions. When we walk the bridges crossing the Seine, he loves to pull me aside to jump up on the side of the bridge to see the river. I guess he's impressed and wants to take it all in too!

Our neighborhood is exactly what we were hoping for. We thought we already knew it inside & out thanks to our many virtual jaunts around the streets a la Google Earth, but we are pleasantly surprised every day with new discoveries. Yesterday, for example, I found that L'Olympia, a very famous music hall where Edith Piaf sang one of her final concerts, is tucked away on a street just minutes away. I have counted already three H&Ms within a five minute walk scattered around the world renowned Galleries Lafayette and Au Printemps, department stores that occupy about four long blocks. C'est tres dangereux pour moi! Within a 30 second walk we have estimated there are two grocery stores and at least 15 restaurants, including two patisseries and two sushi bars. Our street is also lined with all sorts of shops and salons. The nearest metro station is only 3 minutes away, although we have yet to use it since everything is walking distance.

It is definitely time for us to get going on the job search, although it's tough to get motivated with all of these wonderful distractions!

Goat Herding in Phoenix

One Saturday morning in August I woke up uncharacteristically early at 7 am, mainly due to being up all night with indigestion from a late dinner at Vincent's for Phoenix restaurant week. But since I was up, I figured I would enjoy the cool 80 degree temperature of the early morning so I woke up Majerle and headed outside for a walk. The first thing I noticed which is sadly not at all out of the ordinary on my block was a police car stopped to the south of my townhouse.

Majerle and I walked north on our usual route and had only been walking for a couple of minutes when I noticed something just slightly unusual: three goats were standing on the sidewalk directly across from me. They were looking at Majerle and me and bleeting at us. I kept walking, hoping that they would stay put. But they did not. They came toward us across the street rather quickly. Unsure of their intent in charging towards us, I assumed it was malicious and started walking faster but they were keeping up pace with us. So I realized my only chance of escaping a potential goat attack was by sprinting as fast as a girl wearing flip flops can right down the middle of the street! Majerle ran faster than I did and I knew I was only holding him back, but I held onto his leash and we both kept turning around, astonished to see the goats tailing us at full speed! And seemingly, the faster they ran, the louder they bleeted! I was terrifed, perplexed, and very unsure of what to do since I knew I couldn't keep sprinting (I'm not really one for "exercise"). I was approaching an apartment community that was surrounded by a wooden split-rail fence. I summoned up my 7th grade track hurdling technique and I hurdled right over the fence! I let go of Majerle's leash as I was jumping, not sure if he would know to make the leap. I landed in the grass on the other side, certain that the goats were on the outside of the fence and I could figure out what to do next, but when I turned around, they were inches from me, having all cleared the fence (probably much better than I did). I froze, but soon realized they were harmless. They kept bleeting at me but they weren't at all threatening. I hopped back over the fence where Majerle was waiting for me with a confused expression.

A small group of walkers and neighbors had gathered to find out what I was doing sprinting down the street with goats on my tail. I explained that they came out of nowhere and assumed the worst so I ran! I remembered the cop who was parked further south down the street so I decided to lure the goats back in that direction and ask the cop what to do. I began walking and sure enough, the three billy goats followed me! I'm not sure what scene was more embarrassing, me running from the goats or me presumably herding the goats. I tried to hide my face as onlookers who drove by slowed down while mouthing "what the..." So there we all were, me, Majerle, three goats, and then I noticed my cat Reggie was trotting down the street along side us. I must have looked like St. Francis! Majerle astounded me with some inherent herding skills, because anytime a goat fell out of the line and attempted to run up beside us, Majerle pushed him back in line with his snout. He actually seemed pretty proud of himself.

As we approached the police vehicle, the goats were distracted by several dogs barking in the front yard of one of the houses on the street and ran towards them. The woman who lived there called out to me: "What are you doing with those goats?" I said I thought it was quite obvious that I was doing nothing with them, but they had apparently considered me their new leader. She said she knew where they lived and said she would herd them back home. Sure enough, she headed up the street and they tagged along.

I proceeded to go have a chat with the police officer (actually there were two by this point, parked side by side, talking to each other). Before I reached their cars one of them called out to me "Were you walking a bunch of goats??" I said that I was not walking them, they were chasing me!! And I asked if it was legal for goats to be roaming the streets! They mentioned how funny it looked and seemed unaware of or unconcerned with any law being broken. So I figured talking to them was futile and would only result in them making fun of me, so I turned around and resumed my disrupted walk with Majerle. I noticed the woman with the goats standing in front of a house on the street where I guess the goats lived. A man opened the door and I heard the woman say "Your goats were chasing some girl and her dog down the street." And the man rang a cow bell and herded the goats into his house!

I spent the next hour walking my dog, wondering how I was going to explain this to my husband and sort of wishing someone had caught the ordeal on video. I have been checking Youtube ever since, hoping someone actually did.

Flight Delay - It's All Majerle's Fault

While planning our flight to Paris, we had to consider the difficulties of winter travel with a dog. Most airlines have minimum temp requirements to fly with a dog in cargo. Our original plan was to fly out of ND or MN, but we ultimately opted for Denver since the weather there is far more consistent and the average temps are warmer than in the north. We also chose an airline that didn't have a temperature restriction for dogs in cargo. We paid quite a bit more for this flight, realizing we could safely bet on traveling that day with Majerle, but burdening Brock's parents with having to drive us to Denver. We drove 8 hours through nearly constant blizzard conditions, sometimes never able to see anything other than pure white in front of us. After a long and nerve-racking drive, we made it to Denver!

The next morning we awoke to news of a major winter storm hitting Chicago which is where we were connecting flights. I checked the flight statuses over & over and while over 500 flights in & out of Chicago had already been cancelled, both of our flights were scheduled to depart on time! When we arrived at the airport however, we were immediately told not to make ourselves comfortable. Having noticed our dog's kennel, the agent advised us that at 6 degrees below zero, it was too cold for dogs to fly in cargo, therefore we were stuck in Denver for the next 2 days until we could catch another flight to Paris. Poor Majerle, he had already been drugged with sedatives and could barely coordinate his little legs to walk.

We were disappointed, since we had already selected our restaurant on google earth for our Friday night dinner in Paris and had a weekend plan of walking all around our new neighborhood, but we also wanted to arrive there safely with a healthy dog. We took the news much better than the couple at the counter next to us whose bunny was denied travel. The bunny, who was supposed to fly in cargo, was also denied into the cabin. The ticket agent explained to some angry passengers that their sweet bunny could potentially escape and chew up crucial airplane wires. This didn't go well with the couple who assured him their rabbit would do no such thing. Their outrage made Brock and I all the more polite to our ticket agent who was merely doing her job and keeping our mutt safe.

We were then told that Saturday, our new departure date, would be a pleasant 40 degrees! 46 degrees warmer than the day we were supposed to leave. Friggin winter!! So now Paris is 2 more days away and I've got a bad craving for a croque monsieur.