True Love

Sometimes just a little piece of paper can make all the difference.



This is the "ticket" from the Prefecture of Nice that was put into my hand this morning. With this ticket (numbers started at 500) I was able to meet with an immigration agent and, after 20 mins, get handed my temporary 10 YEAR visa. This is an amazing thing. Not many people can appreciate the level of trauma that non-Europeans experience in the French admin and the Nice Prefect in particular - so it's ok if faithful readers have a lukewarm reaction. I don't mind. Suffice to say that today is a monumental day in my life. It means I have at least 10 years before I have to go thru the humbling and humiliating experience again that I have sadly had to submit myself to about a dozen times over the past 7 years. Many tears and many sleepless nights and stomach upsets have been provoked by these experiences. So, as Mammy says to Rhett, "Today shoe iz a happy day."

Who made it possible? This charming man below:


This man, my husband, got up at 5:30 and drove to the Prefecture (on the other side of the city) to start waiting in line for me at 6:15 a.m. At 7:45 our bbsitter arrived and I took the bus out to meet him, a 50 minute ride. He was 3rd in line.
I then had to try to get to him - impossible to "cut in" as the whole place in barricaded. Only one thing to do - try to get to the front of the line from the back of the line. We are talking a couple hundred people.
I just stepped up to the end and started hollering (in French) "PLEASE LET ME THRU. I AM NOT CUTTING THE LINE. MY HUSBAND IS AT THE FRONT OF THE LINE. PLEASE LET ME THRU. THANK YOU. I AM JOINING MY HUSBAND AT THE FRONT OF THE LINE. HE IS ALREADY IN LINE. PLEASE. THANK YOU." I repeated this, politely but loudly, and as I was dressed all in white, started to feel a bit like Moses. Little by little people let me thru, and eventually I saw Thomas, waving to me and hollering out "IT'S OKAY. IT'S MY WIFE." One smart aleck guy said to me "Yeah, my husband's at the front of the line too." But nobody tried to attack me so I can handle a few mean jokes.

We waited together about 20 mins, they opened this 2nd set of doors, the security guards let you in 10 at a time. They scream at you "DON'T RUN. NO RUNNING."
Then you get to the 3rd barrier, a large metal overheard door, which opens like a garage door. Some people try to crawl under and cut the line, but they got barked back by some Algerians and Moroccans. Then you wait behind a red line until the Ticket Man motions you forward. For 6 years it has been the same Ticket Lady. She must have retired because there was a young guy today. Or probably she is on vacation and this is a substitute. He didn't ask me any questions, just gave me my ticket. Which Thomas and I both found odd. Normally Ticket Lady won't give you your ticket until she sees that you have all your documents and photos and copies. But Today's Ticket Man just gave me my number, 502. Incidentally, he is now protected behind a huge fiberglass partition. That's new from last year too.

The big LCD screen beeped "502", "502, Station 6". It's loud. Makes people jump. and we went to meet our maker. One would say they're not exactly a friendly lot, these civil servants. All business, no pleasantries, little eye contact. I thank god had every single thing she asked me for. Passport, Visa, 3 pay stubs, 3 months of bank statements with my name, 3 months of bank statements with both our names, various things with both our names: gas bill, electricity bill, landline phone bill, lease, marriage "livret" (kind of the French version of the family bible), Thomas' passport, 3 passport photos, my original form that I rec'd with my national health insurance card 7 years ago. All of these things she wanted to see the original and you have to bring your own copies. Then Thomas has to go to a different line and pay 70 euros (like 100 dollars) for a special stamp (looks just like a postage stamp). He comes back with this dinky stamp, and she slaps it on the whole file. We sign in 200 places and then she gives me a temporary piece of paper and says in about 6 weeks I'll get a notice in the mail (let's hope the mail theives don't strike that day) to come back and pick up the real deal. This does not require the crazy line-staking out nonsense, hallelujah.

Thomas heads off to work, and I get back on the bus into town.

If that's not love, what is? The man stood in line for me for 3 hours.

As Prince says, I would die for you!


And he doesn't just do nice things for me...here he is with Estelle Sunday morning on the beach at St. Jean Cap Ferrat, peninsula sticking out into the sea - this famous beach, Plage Paloma, faces northward back towards the mainland. These photos are looking east, to the cliffs next to Monaco.

Today I was reading this book to Estelle.
And, in a nutshell, this book sort of represents my own day today.
In short (and I mean SHORT),
we got up at the crack of dawn for my annual DREADED pilgrimmage to the Prefecture (home to immigration and visas and all that).
Only to find out that the way it used to work is no longer how it works (despite my repeated phone attempts yesterday to confirm), and so all was for naught.
Now tomorrow we will pay 50 dollars to have someone take care of Estelle in the morning so Thomas can go get in the line at 6:30 and I will join him shortly before the doors open at nine so fight our way thru the process one last time as this time we THINK I get a 10-year card finally.

Then I tried putting underwear on Estelle after she had peed and pooped several times, only to have her pee all over the floor 30 minutes later.

Then I had to go to the Police Station to report our mailbox being broken into the day we can back from vacation. The vandals made off with 9 days of our mail (including checks made out to me by various teaching establishments, thus complicating my life to high heaven and god knows what else) AND the keys to our neighbors-the-musicians apartment. They had put the keys in an envelope and left them for us to water their plants, and put the envelope in our box the very day of our return. Within 6 hours, on a Sunday, someone got into the building, opened our box, cleared it out, and closed our box. It is bent and needs repair. How do they do it? This means locksmiths for the neighbors, insurance companies involved, etc etc and the need for a formal report filed with the police.

Thus the part of my day today called 'Nice Police Station is Anything but Hill Street Blues". Don't even have the energy to type out the whole story, but it involved one of the female police officers deciding that the moment I entered the male officer's office was the time to use his phone to call HQ and completely verbally freak out on her captain about the "quality of their work environment". Only after insisting 3 times that I did not see the reason why I and Estelle should have to sit and listen to this woman's tyrade did the officer relocate us to another office - where the woman followed us. Then they both lit into me about being American and how my country is no better and "just look at they way your government handled that situation with the hurricane Katrina".

Then Estelle got stuck in between two filing cabinets and started to holler whilst I was being beraded for my imperialist nation. Then she decided to poop in her diaper for a 3rd time today - which she never does.

And so on and so on. You get the picture.

Thus, Julie Alexander and the no good, very bad, blah blah blah.

Tomorrow will hopefully be better! :-)

Phew! Vacation

One week later, I'm finally posting up some more photos from our Calvinet/Auvergne vacation....
Agnes arrives the day after us by train from Paris. This is instant fun for Estelle.
The day after we arrive, Thomas is pounced upon by cousins to play in the village soccer tournament that just happenned to be while we were there. This was a fun occasion to see the village playing fields and discover a little playground I didn't know about.

On the same day as the soccer tournament, there also just happenned to be a large event happenning in Calvinet to honor the centennial anniversary of a historic and controversial thing that occurred that very day 100 years prior - the Mayor of Calvinet removed a cross from the top of the central fountain and replaced it with a statue of liberty (not the same as the kind in NYC). This was a huge scandal in the region and he was blackmarked as anti-clerical. A long story but very very interesting and superbly presented the the regional historical society, involving several different parts of a "day-long" celebration. I went alone with Riri and even got my photo in the local paper the next day!

Papie Guy and Estelle enjoying a family dinner on Sunday afternoon

Sunday walk at Thomas' cousin Marthe & Bruno's farm. This is Bruno's prize-winning bull. He literally weighs a ton. He is one big animal. That's Bruno leaning against him!

Here is Estelle going for a walk on Bruno and Marthe's farm, aided by 2nd cousins Lalie and Aubin.


Monday canoeing down the "Lot" river - Me and Thomas and Agnes and her friend Romain. What a glorious day we had.


After canoeing, we hooked up with the family in a nearby village called St. Projet, home to Thomas' great grandparents and the Ouillade family origins. Sylvette, Thomas' godmother and his dad's first cousin, has inherited the old family home up in the village and uses it as her summer spot. This view is from her window of the village and the Lot river below.

In St. Projet, Thomas' godmother Sylvette and her husband Gerard (who is actually quite lovely but looks scary in this photo! :-)

Wednesday was a lovely dinner at Tata Josette's, the butcher's widow. She made a traditional dish called "Aligo" - mashed potatoes mixed with famous local cheese called "Tomme". You serve it by cutting it with scissors. It should be stringy. And it was, which means it is fabulous!

Josette's entree - ham filled with a mayonnaise vegetable filling.

Playing with cousins out on the patio.

One day we stopped for a visit with Thomas' mom's cousin Nanette and her husband Jean who live in the village as well. They are 95 years old. And still driving! Yowza!

The night before we left there was a wedding in Calvinet of a young woman related to Thomas' uncle DeDe, who is married to his aunt Yvette, which is from whom Estelle got her middle name. Anyways, this bride is connected via various ways to a number of Thomas' cousins. So here they all were walking thru the village after the civil and church ceremony, on their way to the vin d'honneur and the big party after that. We lay in waiting for them on the corner in order to say hello and see them in all their finery. TaTa Yvette and Tonton Dede, us & Agnes, then Jean-Luc, Sylvie and Pascal, Joelle and Theirry, and Jean-Luc's wife Marie-Andree - all cousins on Thomas' mom's side.

Thomas and Estelle and I walking around the village.
Holding Estelle is of course Manou Andree, with her two living siblings, Yvette and Tonton Riri. Riri lives in Calvinet on the property of their parents. Yvette now lives in Salon de Provence.

Thomas' cousin Francoise lives with her family in the original family home of her grandmother which they have recently renovated, next to her father Riri. This is her daughter Annaelle, Estelle's favorite person in Calvinet.

Estelle and Annaelle in front of the fountain on the main square in the village.

Here is Ocean, the horse that is in the pasture flanking Francoise' property. He was a large source of interest.

Vacation Glimpse

Here we are, back in Nice after 10 days in the Cantal, which is in the Auvergne - sort of middle of France. Village of Calvinet, Thomas' answer to my Glover, Vermont.
I have a mere 169 photos from the trip, but when you need to pull together a quick blog - always start with the desserts.
Here are photos of SOME of the desserts we ate every day. Every day we had a big meal with different family members of Thomas parents on both sides. This means:
"Aperitif" - light cocktail and something salty to wet your appetite
"Entree" - starter course
"Plats Principaux" - the is the main course with its side dishes and WINE of course
"Fromage" - you all know what this means, and I should add that CANTAL is also the name of the cheese from the region we were in - some of the best cheese in France.
"Yaourt" - yogurt
"Dessert" - this you should need no translation for. And if you aren't sure what I mean, just check out these photos:
Tarte a la fraise:

Une "fraisier" holy moly was it good. Knocked my socks off

Serious ice cream parlor at night in nearby village of Maurs

Tarte biscuit a la framboise

"Cornet Murat a la creme"

Stay tuned for the rest of the trip....

Stuff We've been doing

It's a whirlwind over here - me back from the States, Estelle's birthday, new toys, and my own kid whose French is surpassing my own. Also we've just had houseguests for 5 nights - busy times! AND bought a brand new car, and are wrapping up the "school year" at Estelle's daycare and nanny as the entire country of France prepares to go on vacation for the month of August, as is the custom. Having said that, so are we - on Friday. But lots to do before then! Anyway, a few shots of recent times:
New tricycle bought for Estelle by Manou and Papie. A big hit!

Neon blue pancakes - a gift from DC friend Phil, Dianne, Claire and Jack Spellberg. They mailed a box full of two large Aunt Jemima mixes, an enormous bottle of maple syrup, and neon food coloring. This cost a fortune to mail, not to mention when I went to pick it up at the P.O. it looks like cocaine poufing out the sides of the box -but really it was just Aunt Jemima.

This tent, another birthday purchase, was promptly returned the next day when I realized it wasn't really safe. Oh well! Daddy had fun in it too!

Going for a walk on a Sunday with the new trike in the background.

Play date with Helen and her son Mael.

VERMONT - or - How to be the only person at a wedding wearing a Hat - Part Two

Let's pick up where we left off the other day, before Estelle turned 2. After eating creemees and seeing my aunts down in the Burlington area, swimming with my twin sisters and seeing my niece Rachel who just graduated from my alma mater, St. Mike's, it was back up to Glover on Tuesday the 8th.
That very night I participated in something called "Shape Note Singing", which, if anyone has seen the film "Cold Mountain", is what Nicole Kidman is doing in a few scenes in her dad's church. This old style of group singing has a major grassroots following up there in VT and nearby, and my sister's fervor peaked my interest. I wish I had a photo of the inside of the barn at the infamous Bread and Puppet where it took place, but even that wouldn't do it justice. It's without a doubt an audio thing. Suffice to say that I sang my head off, even if I couldn't always read the shapes. It was so beautiful, truly.
Back to the photo chronicles: Here's our cabin on Shadow Lake. Dad built it himself in 1957 after purchasing the land from my French-side grandfather (in other words, Mom's Dad). 51 years later, it is still going. No running water, sleep loft, and many many memories. We love it. Outhouse and all.

Wes and I took his boys overnight on Thursday evening. They fished, and I barbequed for the 2nd time in 5 days. I'm becoming a pro. This time it was venison on the grill (sorry Jeri and Sara). And man was it gooooooooooooood. Here they are down on the dock catching stuff.

Oh that's right, readers, lean in an get a closer look - yep, a real griddle. There it is. As in John Denver and sun's comin' up and there's cakes on the griddle. Even with blueberries.

And maple bacon.

Friday we got ready to leave on Saturday to head down below Boston for my niece Caitrin's wedding. I took a photo of the limo cause I knew my husband would be impressed.

Here's part of the ceremony of the wedding in the Orthodox church. They circle a table 3 times holding hands. I should be able to tell you what it means but I already forgot. Check the comments on this entry and with time I'm sure sister Laura can chime in with an explanation.

Maid of honor, my niece Maura and the groom's brother as the best man.

Me with the bride and groom, Michael.

That is one blue cake. Yummy.

The 6 sisters hit the dance floor. You probably all know who is who in there. Without planning it, we are lined up in order of beauty, I mean, age! Just kidding Joan!

This in my niece Emily and her beau Michael (can we find some guys to add to the family who aren't named Michael, please?) They both live in NYC and came on the good old Chinatown to Chinatown bus for the occasion.

Maura and Joan

Maura and me

Cait and Wes (who is sober, even though he doesn't look it!)

Mom getting serenaded by the DJ man, to a Sinatra song of course.

In case you hadn't noticed, I wore a hat to the wedding. In France, women wear hats to weddings. I brought a hat. Suffice to say there was a LOT of commentary about the hat throughout the entire weekend. As the dancing went on, the hat started making the rounds. These are just a few photos:
Wes in the hat

Sister-in-law Susan in the hat

Woman whose name I can't remember in the hat. Laura, what is her name? She is the woman who brought together my sister Laura (mother of the bride) and her 2nd husband New Paul. We call him that to distinguish him from the "real deal", our brother Paul. I have always called him by his middle name, George, so I only have to refer to New Paul as New Paul when I'm talking out loud to anyone else. Which is, I have been told after the past 2 weeks, all the time. Me?

You think here I'm laughing but really I think Mary stepped on my foot.

There are no pictures of so many other family who were there - brothers Ed and Ced, brother-in-laws Dan and Danny (again, looking forward, I ask that we try to avoid bringing in a man with a name already in use by someone in the family), brother-in-law Chris and his daughter's boyfriend Chris (you see what I'm saying here?) and all my nieces and nephews like Conor, Eliza, Addison, Alexandra, Jacob, and Jesse and his girlfriend Sara (thankfully my niece Sara was not in attendance just to confuse everyone more). And somehow WAYNE, youngest family member in attendance, escaped my shutterbug eye. So here's a shot of him 2 days later, on the eve of my departure to Montreal, a send-off BBQ with corn on the cob and all the works to go with it. And peach cobbler made by Darlene who also is in no photos! Sorry!

Here's Cole, working on his Statue-of-Liberty look.

Heather in one of Estelle's old t-shirts...

I boarded the plane and so enjoyed my anonymity and watched the films and ate my meal. I was not the "Woman with the Toddler". What a joy to travel like that!
But look who I returned to! And look at this photo and the previous one of Heather - are these girls cousins or what?

Lastly, despite my jetlag, this girl was ready to go the day I arrived at 7:30 a.m. after stepping out of a taxi.

All in all, what a lovely trip!