Fete du Citron

While Carnival is going on here in Nice, another big festival is happenning nearby - the Citrus Festival in Menton.
Menton is the last town in France before the Italian border. It is very famous for it's boardwalk, beaches, mild climate and lemons and oranges. All kinds of oranges - clementines, mandarin oranges, blood oranges, bitter oranges, kumquats, and stuff I don't even know what the heck they are, as well as different kinds of lemons, and something called "cedrats", which are lemons as well (maybe?) Grapefruits and avocados are also on the menu.
Every year during Carnival, Menton offers up its own version of Carnival called the Fete du Citron. It consists of parades of floats made entirely out of lemons and oranges, plus huge gardens full of sculptures and displays made of....lemons and oranges.
7 years here and I had never been. Off we went on the train today with my friend Chantal and her 2 granddaughters.
Here are some photos. The whole experience made me feel like it was either Thanksgiving or New Year's Day and I was at the Rose Bowl or something - all thoses frigid holidays growing up in Vermont where you're sitting knee deep in snow watching TV specials where anchormen and women present those parades in parts of the USA I have never been to in my life- Florida and California. It had that whole feel to it - Tropicana, retired people, the early bird special.
This year's theme was "Islands of the World". Some of these "sculptures" are 10 meters high, and have up to 15 tons of citrus fruit on them.
This first photo is supposed to be a fishing boat on Tahiti. There were also enormous replicas of the famous big head statues on Easter Island but they were terrifying towers of citrus and Estelle was scared of them so no photos.

This is supposed to be a volcano in Sicily.

This is a pirate ship on the "Fantasy Island" for kids.

Orange trees:

More Sicily

Estelle in front of a wild boar ("sanglier" in French) that was part of the enormous Corsica spot. At least the boar wasn't made out of lemons.

This enormous turtle had a head that moved. He was very interesting to Estelle. Hiding behind him are the aforementioned terrifying Easter Island statues.

More turtle

For a solid 5 minutes, Estelle talked to the lemons. She kept leaning over and hollering "COUCOU LES CITRONS!". Loosely translated, this means "Hey there lemons!" This became a source of much entertainment for all the passers-by, and she got filmed and photographed by many a festival-goer, as she stood there bent over, squealing at a bed of lemons.

These last 2 photos show her glee about conversing with the lemons. She even put her hand to her ear as if they were responding to her. Maybe they were?


There was another part of the festival that was inside - and all ORCHIDS. Every orchid that exists in the world was in this expo. Since I kill every plant I own, I was sort of like "ok, moving on." But my friends were dazzled.

My Foot!

Incidentally, the way we in English say "My foot!" to mean something along the lines of "yeah, right!"- something you disbelieve, the French say "My eye!" - which is often accompanied by taking your index finger and putting it to your cheekbone, below your eye, and pulling down as you say "Mon oeil!". Needless to say, back in the day during my first year here, this caused a lot of inward confusion for me - I thought literally people were saying to me "My eye!" and then showing me that they had lint trapped in their eye or something. Thankfully someone, at some point, enlightened me.

At any rate, Estelle still loves to chew on her own toes, or any part of her foot that she can cram into her mouth.
Photos to prove it:

Nursery Rhymes

In between several visits from technicians for our hot water heater = THE BEAST (see post from last year), which border on the ridiculous, as well as our toilet breaking and spending 4 days waiting for the plumber, low pants and all, we shot a video.
This is Thomas pretending to be Burl Ives (or, something - Richard Simmons, the French version for children perhaps?)
He sings the song for "Petit Ours Brun" - Little Brown Bear - a well-loved and very family-oriented cartoon here.
Next is the French version of "There's a cabin in the woods, 3 little men by the window stood, etc."
The difference is in French that the rabbit is saved by deer who live in the cabin. At the end they shake hands, whereas in the English version the rabbit is invited inside "safely to abide".

My Funny Valentine

I've had that old song from....Pal Joey, was it? running in my head all day.

We got a lot of great valentine's: Here's one we got via the internet from Estelle's favorite cousins under the age of 7.

Here's our valetine from the bakery downstairs - a baguette shaped like a heart - sooooooooooooooo cute! It's bigger than it looks! We ate 2 of them!

Here are various valentines up on the wall - made by Grammie Alexander, aunts Lisa, Joan, Martha and cousins Anna & Emily. Estelle is one lucky duck.

And finally, a somewhat boring video of Estelle manipulating a Fisher Price toy.

Salmon Pea Wiggle

This New England dish is a favorite in my family and miraculously Thomas, after 5 1/2 years of knowing me, had yet to be subject to it. He loved it!
Think I'm making it up? Google it and you'll see. Though we had to eat it over mashed potatoes and not saltines, since saltines don't exist here. Sigh.

Saturday night I had an evening with the glamourous on the boardwalk of Cannes, where the Int'l Film Festival is held. An acquaintance called with an extra ticket to see a friend singing jazz in one of the big theaters. Off I went for the show start time of 9:30 pm. Her band were all French - and quite famous at that - but the singer is American (has lived in Paris for 20 years, married to a Frenchman), and so sings all in English. Cole Porter, Billie Holliday. One song about being homesick with the blues which got me a little teary. But who cares! Free tickets, backstage entry after the show - fun to feel like this washed up mother of a toddler had her foot back in that old life I used to lead, occasional brushes with the rich and famous. Of course I was exhausted the next day, but still took Estelle for a long bike ride in the sunshine along the sea.
In other events, Estelle's latest antics - trying to swing a leg over the side of her crib and make a break for it:

Mardi Gras!

Super WHAT? Fat Tuesday, not Super Tuesday - at least that's the tune being sung over here.
Whoop it up tonight, because tomorrow, for all you good Catholics out there, it's time to repent.
Maybe repent about the vote you cast today? ha ha
Here is how we celebrated Mardi Gras in Nice:
Fun hair do's:


A Mardi Gras tradition: Crepes. I would like to state I haven't had any bugnes since Friday. This is perhaps a record for me. I'm drowning in a translation which is the only reason why I'm not in the bakery more. That may change by tomorrow! I could fast for Ash Wednesday on just bugnes, right? Anyways, here's Thomas with the crepes he made:

Bonjour Ma Cousine!

My niece Anna popped over for a quick wkend visit from Bristol, England where she is studying for her junior yr abroad from Brandeis. I had to keep saying to other people, "No, she's Estelle's COUSIN, not her aunt!"
It was a weekend of firsts for Anna - walking on the Mediterranean beach, riding on a scooter, eating not only "bugnes" but also socca (chic pea pancake specialty of the area), and enjoying a meal of raclette.

Kissing Cousins

Estelle eats her first socca too!

A quiet moment with a book.

As the Carnival season is just around the corner, there is the local Independent Carnival which happens every year on the Port where we live. This is, apparently, how the carnival "used" to be - just anybody dressing up funny, bringing something to make music or bang on, and throwing flour on each other and everyone watching. Here is a photo of it from our balcony.

And finally, Anna decided to make a video of yours truly with Estelle, to add to the growing list of 1.

The Butterfly

Estelle, who has been struggling for months to fit in at the day-care that she attends 2 afternoons per week for a few hours, seems to finally be settling in. Hallelujah.
Watch this video where she has consented to be interviewed by the press about it.
I sound like a fool, but that's besides the point.

More Nonsense

In an effort to clear off my memory card, here are a few odds and ends videos, some a few weeks old.
The only video of me and Estelle. Disco, what can I say? In watching this I am alarmed at the resemblance between me and my sister, Mary. Those are some of her moves in there, I'm sure of it. Those pursed lips is right up her alley. She might only be 5 feet tall, and I'm, well, you know, a lot taller than that, but we've got the same blood that's for sure. Yikes. Thank god it's only 18 seconds.
Estelle reading a book by the light of her window.

Estelle and Thomas vacuuming a few weeks ago....

Nonsense

Life goes on in Nice. Estelle is healthy = sleeping well = we have nothing to complain about.


Estelle and Elliot met for a play date at the park on the chateau hill overlooking the sea.

This is Elliot signing something to his Mom - Elliot is Estelle's only friend who also knows baby sign language. His Mom is Dutch and his dad French.

This is a video of Estelle using her little phone to call Thomas. She says "Allo, Papa?" Then answers her own question by saying "Pas là!"

Snow and Raclette

Saturday we had the pleasure of being invited up to Valberg, a ski area not far from Nice - a solid 90 minute drive (though only 90 kilometers) and 2011 meters up.
Our day started at a hundreds-year-old sheperd's barn, purchased 10 years ago from my old boss Philippe (see previous blog entry) and little by little turned into something habitable, but rustic. Philippe had invited his 3 childhood friends, their wives, and us. So off we went, party of 10 plus Estelle, all on snowshoes trekking about in a lot of snow and a lot of sun. Philippe's "grange" is litterally on the edge of the Parc du Mercantour, a massive French national park in this range of the Alps, called the "Alpes Maritimes" to distinguish them from other groups of Alps.
We picnicked halfway through on a pile of wood next to a summer sheperd's hut. My banana bread-- "But that's not bread! It's cake!" was the general response-- went down well with the group.
Estelle was delighted in her new snowsuit and boots and loved the view from Daddy's back.
After returning in the late afternoon, we had......wait for it............Galette de Roi, both kinds. I can't get away from the stuff!
Then, later for dinner, Raclette. The French verb "racler", essentially means "to shave" or "grate" or "scrape". This meal is a traditional cold-weather favorite, when large wheels of special soft cheese would be placed next to a warm hearth, cut open so that the inside of the cheese was exposed to the warmth. Boiled potatoes and smoked meats were laid out and people would go over and scrape off the edge of the cheese that was halfway melted. Then you plop that onto your potatoes or meat, and enjoy.
Nowadays, there are "raclette machines", things with an electric coil underneath and individual TEFAL mini-pans where you stick your cheese to melt it and then slide it out onto your plate. There is nothing better, along with some red wine and tomatoes and pickles (this is to cleanse your palate in between servings).
Thomas and I were like the observant guests around the table of these 4 men and their spouses, these 4 guys who have known each other 40 years. We have had the pleasure of joining them a handful of times over the years, and by now we know to expect to be entertained in their presence. They are like my brothers, except all the same age, and French, thus ready to holler about politics and religion - as opposed to sports and hunting as might be the case with my freres.
A wonderful lovely day, and one very tired Estelle when we got in our rented 4-whl drive car at 10 pm that night to drive back to Nice. She was asleep before I had even clicked my seatbelt.
A few photos:








The Musketeers - Xavier, Michel, Philippe, & Jean-Pierre - a force to be reckoned with.

And finally, recuperating from her big day out, Sunday involved crawling around on the laundry basket.

Milestones

Toothbrushing, complete with toothpaste. And, no more using the bath ring. One evening of slip-sliding-away in the tub sent us running to buy a grip-map to keep everybody stable at least as Estelle discovers her new-found freedom in the tub.

Pretending to wave like the queen.

Walking ALL around the port with Daddy on a Sunday morning.

Making her toy that is a top work all by herself.

And a video of our favorite leek peddlar returns.....

Shoes and shopping carts

Queen of the King Cake

Can you see the extra kilos on me?
It's Monday morning, and Thomas and I are recuperating from going to 3 different get-togethers this weekend to eat....you guessed it, Galette de Roi. Each event featured both kinds of cake mentioned in my previous posting - the Frangipan and the Brioche (called a "Royaume", I was just informed this wkend- this means "kingdom" in French).
There's some kind of tradition that the youngest person at the event has to climb under the table at the cutting of the cake. Here's how it works: The host cuts the cake in equal parts numbering however many people are there and going to eat it. Then the youngest person there has to climb under the table and shout out the name of someone at the table - that person then gets served the first piece. And so on. All of this is to be sure there is no "tricher", or cheating, about who will wind up with the piece that has the "fevre" and/or the statuette, thus they get the crown and good luck!
Estelle was often under the table but that was just because she was enjoying exploring all these different homes we were visiting (all 3 of which had cats, which was TRES interesting for her). At the last party we were at yesterday, the hosts decided that whoever Estelle would look at first would get served, etc.
As you can see, it is SERIOUS business, the season of the Galette.
Event #1 Saturday brunch: at our neighbor's, who are both professional musiciens with the Monte Carlo Opera - the cat decided she like Estelle's portable high chair.

Event #2 Saturday tea-time in Grasse, sort of near Cannes, at our friend Emma's: Estelle was NOT the youngest attendee - here she is, coloring with Elodie who is 4 months younger.


Event #3: In the hills above Nice, we are at the home of 2 brothers I have given lessons to for 7 years. Their mom, Valerie, made her OWN Frangipan, which is a first for me. It was leagues better than anything I have had from any boulangerie, even the top-notch ones. As I said in my last post, I am no big fan of Frangipan, but yesterday chez Valerie changed my mind. Around a lovely fireplace, we enjoyed our galette with "cidre" - not apple cider like in New England, but fizzy cider, either "doux" (sweet) or "brut" (lightly alcoholic). Here is Valerie, cutting her beautiful Frangipan, under the watchful eye of Estelle:

Royaume:

Also at this party was the man who is responsible for me deciding to stay a 2nd year in Nice after my Fulbright year - Philippe. He was my boss my first year in Nice, and looked after me as well as any of my brothers would have. His reference letter got me my job at the university, he introduced me to Valerie and her husband and their boys (who incidentally own our apartment where we live now), and because of Philippe I kept my head that first year when I was in a bit of a state: culture shock when suddennly you realize that America is not the center of the universe, 911 shock having arrived in Nice on Sept 23, 2001, and lastly it was only a few months after losing my Dad. Where would I be now if Philippe hadn't said to me one day in January 2002 "You should look into a job at the university"????? Only fate knows.