Raconte-Moi une Histoire

Further to the soundtrack of the past year and the previous introspective blog post, I continue to be moved and motivated by music. Having recently come across a French group called M83 upon hearing the track ‘Midnight City’, I downloaded their discography and explored their melodic and electronic symphonies. Almost instantly I was drawn to the track titled, ‘Raconte-Moi Une Histoire’ (featured in this link), and the joyful innocence of the young girl’s voice and energy. With each successive listen I find myself chuckling along and delving deeper into the mysterious possibilities of the childlike mind, reminded by the innocence of youth and the simplicity of joyful living and unprompted experiences.

As an adult with firmly entrenched logical and practical perspectives, I was initially stuck on the superficial theme of the journey experienced from touching a hallucinogenic frog… yet with each new listen I find myself identifying with the little girl, further exploring the concepts of adventure, play, connectivity and laughter. Reminded of the importance of remaining rooted in the present, finding the novel in the everyday, and laughing at the mundane!

Cupcake anyone…?

Introverted Introspection

Carl Jung said, “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” Such a simple yet profound thought and one that causes my ever wandering mind to wander even further down the rabbit hole. It is those very characteristics and traits that I find ever annoying, grating and unbearable in others that are the very qualities I struggle with internally. Of course I can’t find an example, but perhaps it is in vain or self preservation. It is interesting however, that in the very same manner we often attribute those undesirable traits in others as outside ourselves and something to be prevented or avoided, when in its very essence, it resonates within our very own being as traits we dislike just as much within ourselves.

But, what about the opposite? What about those qualities in others that we admire? Can we find these same qualities within ourselves? Do we admire them because we embody them, or do we aspire to develop, hone and use them? Can it be that simple? I am not convinced…. rather I assert that those qualities I admire in others such as boldness, inner confidence, mindfulness and steadfast faith, are indeed qualities I possess, but are also qualities that I continually struggle to empower, enforce and maintain. It is these qualities in others that I admire and aspire to learn and grow from. Yet I question whether we can admire qualities not yet personally witnessed or experienced as then they have the potential to be undefined and therefore unknown?

The ever infinite circle of analytical thought, sometimes it plagues me, other times it motivates me and often times it propels me… Developed at a young age, the innocent questions of faith, purpose, personality and experience crowds, clouds and confirms my thoughts; reaching outwards, upwards and onwards, gathering the past, defining the present and identifying the possibilities of the future…

I'm afraid of...

Over the past couple of months I have come to an impasse of sorts; a place where I feel comfortable with my French side but still uniquely Canadian. A pensive realization that my French half is evolving at a separate rate, pace and identity to my Canadian persona; a blank slate where I am free, able and willing to try on new hats and ways of living. A simple lack of language and strained communication coupled with innately natural apprehension, and a desire for intelligent discourse, paves way for a new cultural identity, one where I can steer the course and define its direction.

Exciting yet peculiar, forbidden yet permissible, this evolving experience and opportunity lends light to the possibilities and vastness of who, what, and why we are who we are. Throughout this progression I am trapped in a revolving state of stagnation and limbo, where the present moment is preferred in its changeability, flexibility and mindful knowing. A place where I am neither French nor Canadian, where I prefer the French landscape yet fear the familiar North American influence.

 

A reverse culture shock of sorts, especially around other North American expats… Despite the few incredibly cultured and inspirational North Americans I have been fortunate to meet and know; others register within me a sense of shock and opposition. My eyes and ears respond in learned recognition, but my mind and intuition are quickly turned off by the shared similarities I hoped wasn’t so personally ingrained. The expressions, tones, topics and confidence are eerily familiar and heavily recognizable, as if I am listening to myself; yet is it me now, or was it me then, or is it an unchangeable aspect of myself…?

 

It is something I had imagined would be a reality, if and when, I resumed residence across the Atlantic, but it is just as impactful a world apart from its origins and evolution. And so I am struck with a sense of saddened association to my North American roots, yet I remain steadfast, confident, opinionated and direct in my youthful innocence and experience.

 

Perhaps David Bowie describes it best in “I’m Afraid of (North) Americans”… Is there any other culture as influential, imposing, inspiring and invading?

I unmistakeably love and identify with my Canadian roots,

however, in this evolving identity and recognition of self I am beginning to

recognize, evaluate and dissect

the cultural anomalies present in our vast multicultural identities.

Who’s that chick?

Oh là là, je suis belle!

A huge thank you to my friend Marta who recommended an impromptu photo-shoot, with only a simple vision and minimal accessories, resulting in phenomenal expressive shots.  With background indie beats, bright lights, and big hair, we set off for an afternoon of focused photography. In between intense eye to lens contact and various poses – hand on chin, arm slung over chair, elbow resting on knee – direct gaze, elongated neck, sideways glances – the afternoon unfolded and great photos were captured.

Usually modest and almost always reserved,

I enjoyed every minute and proudly owned and loved the snapshot results!

Check out Marta's work on her website!

Les Tickets Restaurant

With a social system that can be perceived as invasive, bureaucratic and information intensive, the rewards are often immeasurable. Despite the mounds of documentation, seemingly random questions and countless office visits, it is not surprising that one can feel that their individuality and personal privacy are infringed upon. Take for example, the transfer of an international licence over to a French licence. Obvious enough is the need for a copy of the international licence and verification of driving status by the governing bureau. But is it absolutely necessary to require proof of residency for the first 6 months of licensing?
 

While the process of qualifying for the benefits of the generous social, medical, educational and employment systems may seem daunting and downright irritating, some of the most innovative and appreciated payoffs are the rewards. The employment advantages themselves are numerous and globally recognized. With 5 weeks starting vacation, and a 35 hour full-time work week, French workers are already at an advantage in the areas of physical and mental health (less stress placed on the workday), leisure and lifestyle (the ability, encouragement and expectation to enjoy time away from work), and equality in the workplace (these are standard practices that require specific contract amendments to modify or alter). I should mention however, as with any system there are always loopholes and exceptions. For example, my current employment is contract based, in which I fall under a CDD (contrat à durée determine), which means that I unfortunately, do not enjoy 5 weeks paid vacation or the security of a permanent contract; although I am paid a percentage on each paycheque to cover for vacation and holidays, and I enjoy a flexible self-determined work schedule.

 

Additionally, French workers are also further rewarded through the implementation of Les Tickets Restaurant . While the rules and regulations governing these are specific, generally speaking, if an employer is unable to provide a cafeteria or lunch room on site then they are required to offer restaurant vouchers, which are a tax free incentive for the employer and an added bonus for the worker, who only pays no more than 50% of the value of the voucher from their paycheque. In my case, as long as I work at least 6 hours in one day, I am eligible to request a ticket resto for that day, by keeping a tally of all eligible days. At the end of the month half of the amount of each voucher is deducted from my pay and my employer pays the remaining difference. I then receive a booklet of vouchers worth €7 each (of which €3,50 is deducted from my pay).These vouchers can then be used at restaurants and for ready to eat groceries, with many establishments allowing payment with as many as 2 or 3 vouchers. The vouchers are good for the entire year and can be used for lunch, dinner or at the local grocers. So in essence you can enjoy a nice meal with a glass of wine, or pick up a baguette and viennoiserie at the local Boulangerie knowing that you have only paid for half of the purchase! Plus with an automatic paycheque deduction it is often unnoticed and not missed!

With a multitude of social advantages in France, the simple difficulties like language and unrushed attitudes are easily minimized, and the simple pleasures of daily life are emphasized by the generosity of a world class social system.

… Perhaps my view will change come tax time…? J

Épidémie de gastro

So I am apparently not alone in my recent stomach maladies. Turns out that my good American-French friend Emily, and her out of town guest have also fallen ill with the dreaded gastro! Both are completely independent and unrelated to my recent bout, but may be even worse. For the last several days I have yet to return to 100% appetite, energy or general well-being. Despite some general nausea, pressure around my breastbone and lots of sleep I am still somewhat sluggish and the sight of food is unappealing (this may be the most puzzling and the most appreciated J).

Funny enough is that in France anything gastro or stomach related is met with the dreaded outstretched palms of distance, or fingers dramatically crossed in a X with a fearful expression of, ‘please don’t infect me’. It is perhaps one of the most common illnesses to afflict just about everyone in France at least once per year, and it is still met with intense fear and panic. Mind you I can’t blame anyone since there is nothing worse than feeling sick to your stomach, so I can relate. But it is still odd, at least culturally, since in North America the common cold or a cough incite the mass purchasing of hand sanitizer and Kleenex, coupled with dirty looks and the unsympathetic covering of faces in the vicinity of someone with the sniffles.

So over the past couple of days when someone at work asks how I am and I say that I am much better and that it was a mal au ventre, I unintentionally elicit both sympathy and panic that I may be harbouring a greedy infecting bug ready to infest. Now I doubt I had or have the flu, and if anything it feels more like a long winded stint of heartburn or indigestion, although I am starting to question that too as my body is still not back to normal… perhaps it is a mild case of food poisoning or my body rebelling against the deliciously decadent French diet? Whatever the cause, my waistband is happy and my grocery bill is nil for this week!

I have also included a link to another gastro related blog sent to me by a French friend with international roots and experiences! (anomalies-of-french-life-la-gastro) .

Je suis malade :(

I can’t tell if I am a suck or if my infrequent periods of illness create miserable company? Yesterday morning, just before 3am (anyone notice a pattern?), I woke up with the most annoying pressure and pain around my sternum, coupled with a pulsating headache and a touch of nausea, only made worse by lying on my side. Propping up my head, I went back to sleep only to push snooze and repeatedly change the wake up time on my alarm, before finally sending off an email, en français, to my boss to say I would not be in.

Despite the landline ringing repeatedly with the same private number and ongoing telemarketing calls, I eventually succumbed to answering in an annoyed gruff bear voice to tell the phone company representative, “Il n’est pas là!” (“he is not here!”), in reference to my cousin. Good for me though, as I always refuse to answer the phone if I don’t know the number, in avoidance of an awkward conversation in French.

In between watching some French TV, which is probably the 5^th time I have turned on my TV in the past 15 months, and random self diagnosing WebMD searches (likely intense heartburn or maybe a hernia, but probably not a heart attack), I tucked myself in for more slumber, comforted by the warmth of my water bottle, and slept intermittently until 4pm!

Still feeling pretty horrible, fueled only by a small piece of cereal bread with butter and jam and a vanilla yogurt, I made the short but laborious walk up the street for my weekly English teaching lesson with a friend’s daughter. Within a half hour that nauseous, want to lie down, feeling resurfaced and I knew I was not yet out of the clear. By 7:30pm I was once again in bed where I slept until 7:30 am!! I wish I could say that it was uninterrupted and dreamy, but unfortunately it was not, but at least in total it is probably more than I actually sleep in a week.

It is now 9:15 am the following morning and I am getting ready to head off to work, surprisingly still tired with a touch of nausea and a lack of appetite (this is a nice change of pace and I wouldn’t mind if it stayed around for a while J ). I guess I shouldn’t complain though since I really can’t remember the last time I was actually sick with something other than a cold or ear infection. And truth be told, good for me in taking care of myself and not going to work yesterday, as one of the biggest lessons I am learning, and continue to learn, is one of self care and self attention!

Le permis est arrivée!

Oh how I love the French bureaucratic system! Okay not really, but most times than not, the hassles, documents, paperwork and missing pages, etc, etc, etc….are actually worth the wait. 

Along with the pile of mail lying on my kitchen table awaiting my arrival from the holidays, was an envelope from the Prefecture de Rhône. Inside was my long awaited French Permis de conduire!! Some may remember that around 4 months ago, with some reservation, I handed over my pretty pictured Ontario Driver’s Licence for an Attestation (aka, a stamped sheet of paper attesting to a valid French licence). Well, it has officially and finally arrived - a mini pink brochure style permis, complete with a haunting photo and stamps to highlight that I can drive a car, small truck or mini motorcycle (under 125cc)!!

Aside from a watermark, I could probably print off copies from an old school bubble-jet printer. And just in case you are confused about what vehicles you are allowed to drive; the picture icons alongside the driving category should help out ;)  

Ah, another piece of the French identity puzzle is in place… or should I say ‘oh no’, since it is going to be much harder to use the, “I am an Anglophone Canadian”, excuse any longer. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to rely on my accent, wit and charm for any future traffic violations. Let’s hope there are none….

Le Fromage

As a little foodie experiment before the holidays I left out 5 rounds of semi-soft goat cheese on an uncovered plate in the fridge … Encouraged by my Dad’s recommendation, who swore that it would result in a très bon goût, that was not only delicious but safe to eat, I found new and edible ways to use up the perishables in my fridge before embarking on my Irish holidays. Five onions later I enjoyed a heavenly onion quiche while the quinoa, rice & kidney bean stuffed bell peppers simmered in the oven. As the last of the fruits and veggies were cooked, baked or frozen, I crossed my fingers and placed the plate of fresh cheese on the top shelf to ferment and ventilate for 2+ weeks!

Almost 2 ½ weeks later I hesitantly opened the fridge, expecting the pungent, knock you on your ass, stinky feet smell of mouldy fuzzy cheese. But low and behold, true to the advice of my dad, there sat 5 little rounds of goat cheese, slightly yellowed, dry and smaller in shape, as if they had been dehydrated; minus mould and sans scent! Truth be told, I let them sit in the fridge for a few extra days before braving a taste (aka goût). Rougher and drier in texture, the taste was slightly sharper and tangier than traditional fresh goat cheese, but nonetheless tasty and surprisingly edible!

Fast forward to today, January 22, 2012 and I still have 4 of the 5 rounds hanging out on the top shelf of the fridge, uncovered and timelessly preserved (after one month of airing out and being exposed). This second tasting was reminiscent of the first one (originally eaten almost 2 weeks ago), with a drier surface and interior, somewhat similar to the texture of parmesan but with a slightly higher moisture count.  Slightly salty and a touch tangier than regular goat cheese, I definitely prefer the creamier texture of the fresh cheese.

For the third round of cheese I cleverly thought of heating it in a frying pan on the oven…. Oops, maybe not the best move, especially when preoccupied with writing a blog…. So I just returned from opening the kitchen window to air out the now smoky kitchen, tossing out the charred little round of goat cheese L No worries though, in between vowing to invest in a smoke alarm I sautéed up the fourth round of cheese to a golden brown with a slightly softened interior. Eureka!!!, it is perhaps the best reinvention of goat cheese I could have ever imagined!! A slightly nutty, creamy and salty, solid morsel of cheese, full of goat cheesy goodness! And now for the final round of cheese, I shall repeat the same process above!



I now nominate myself to true Frenchie status!!

Emerald Isle holidays (Part II)

A girls only road-trip, took us to the west-coast of Ireland, to the coastal city of Galway and the breathtaking Cliffs of Mohr. Bright eyed and bushy tailed we set out for an early morning drive to the other side of Ireland, stopping of course to fuel (car & bellies), and arriving in the city of Galway in just over 3 hours! Aided by high winds and clear skies we took a quick stroll through the city centre, a peak in the Galway city museum & Church of Ireland, and a stroll along the Eglinton Canal.

Marta, Aggie & I in Galway City

Galway City

Galway City

Back on the road with the late afternoon fast approaching we began our ascent along stone wall lined rural roads, twisting and winding up mountain passes, stopping to take in a random sighting on the way. A picturesque castle nestled along the water, surrounded by fields of green and plots of farmland.

Dunguaire Castle

Dunguaire Castle

Dunguaire Castle

With the sky slowly falling and the winds whistling and shoving we arrived in County Clare and the Cliffs of Moher! Despite neon signs warning of the Cliff’s closure due to extreme weather, and horror stories of people being blown off, we pushed through the wind to the heights of the Cliffs of Moher overlooking the Atlantic Ocean!  Words cannot describe its serenity, yet it was enchanting and mystical and charming; a true wonder and exemplification of the power and purpose of nature.

Cliffs of Moher

Cliffs of Moher

We walked along the stone slab barrier separating the grassy knolls leading off the cliffs and marveled at the magnificence and beauty of the shapes, lines and colours of the surrounding natural environment, reflecting between the water and the sky, which was setting into a radiating hue of pink. Grateful that our day trip unfolded in perfect succession, we set out for the peaceful confines of the village of Stamullen, ending our west-coast Irish adventures.

View through the slate barrier of the Cliffs

Two crazy people laying on the grass (past the barrier)

Us three ladies braving the wind



The last few days were spent visiting family and friends and indulging in fun photo shoots, surrounded by the inviting and charming Irish and international personalities of the wonderful souls I was fortunate to connect with!

 

Emerald Isle holidays (Part I)

Two weeks away in the beautifully lush, hilled and untouched naturalness of the Emerald Isle was enchanting, relaxed (aka lazy), and dreamy! Despite hoards of horrible eating – think chips, crisps, biscuits, gallons of tea…, and lazy afternoons spent in PJ’s, cuddled up in blankets – as always, it was 2 weeks of holiday spirit and time spent in cherished friendship, hospitality and heart to hearts.

Fresh holy along the roadway in the village of Stamullen

Afternoon trips along narrow, winding, village roads to the shops one town over; fried food indulgences over beer and wine; and pots of tea while visiting family & friends, rich in Irish hospitality and warmth; rounded out the quiet mornings and lazy afternoons, perfect for resting in a quaint village populated with 2 pubs, a café, a small grocers, a Butcher and a Chipper. 

Aggie & I on New Years Eve

Aggie's little village Stamullen

New Years Eve at the Huntsmen

Spending two holidays amongst friends, appreciating their unconditional warmth and kind spirit, exemplifies the very essence and meaning of the holidays! Indulging in great food, conversation and sharing in time and space led to deepened understandings of the true meaning of friendship, support and acceptance.

During the second week of holidays, Aggie and I took an afternoon day-trip to Trim, where we took in the historic site of Trim Castle and walked along the Boyne River. Beforehand, on our rural drive to Trim we stopped upon an old relic; a partial stone wall standing majestic in a farmer’s field. Pulling over to take a closer look, we noticed off in the distance, a grey donkey, horse and Shetland pony. Within seconds the donkey took notice and began to run toward the wood column fence that separated us. Feeling like a 6 year old, I could not contain my excitement at a real life donkey!! Not that I haven’t seen one in a zoo, but up close and personal, it was the highlight of my day, and possibly the best start to 2012! “Donkey, donkey, look it’s a donkey!” was pretty much repeated over and over as he approached the fence, with the horse and pony in tow. Like I said, I felt and was acting like a 6 year old!! In that very moment, I knew that 2012 should be a year of childlike excitement and appreciation of the simple and random daily experiences that often go unnoticed and underappreciated. Throw in a quest to be spontaneous (which saw a dry run pre New Years Eve), and 2012 was off to an impressive start!

Ruin on our way to Trim

Isn't he adorable!!! Bisous donkey!!

Trim

Trim

On that same unexpected drive we also came upon an old Abbey, flanked in a stone wall and edged with a low wooden fence. Acres of lush green fields radiated from the space, with a quiet stream in the distance, dotted with imposing trees that rooted and whispered into the cool afternoon air. A truly peaceful and majestic space rich in energy and calm intensity.