In which Rebekah discovers that predecoupee does not mean "precut", but rather "before being cut up"

***WARNING: Potentially gross story***

When in Rome, do as the Romans. When in France, eat as the French. Since it's far easier to find French ingredients than say, Mexican ingredients at the grocery, this becomes almost a necessity if you don't want to spend half your life hunting down odd ingredients or trying to convince yourself that bell peppers really are an acceptable substitute for serranos.

Before we came to Paris last time, we bought at cookbook called Bistro Cooking by Patricia Wells, and I cooked from it almost exclusively during the two months we were here. During that time I made all of the stews, all of the unbaked chicken dishes (we had no oven), and even the duck dish. I also made the 3 rabbit dishes, substituting chicken for the rabbit. I decided while selecting a recipe for yesterday's dinner that I was not going to wimp out this year. If the recipe called for rabbit, I was going to buy a rabbit. I also decided that since none of my knives was any good for butcher work (it took my 30 minutes to quarter a chicken last week) that I was going to buy a rabbit that was already cut into pieces.

Off I went to the Auchan with my shopping list: a rabbit, green olives, noodles, and a few other things. First to find the rabbits, or lapins in French. That wasn't a problem, they were over by the chickens. Next I needed to pick one. Keeping in mind that I wanted a whole rabbit that was already cut up and also that I didn't care if it had been free range or anything like that, I selected a pink container labelled "lapin, entier--predecoupee", picked up the rest of my stuff and headed on my merry way.

Around 5:00 last night I headed back to prepare dinner. First I chopped the onions and cut up the tomatoes so that they would be ready to go into the pot once the rabbit pieces were browned. Then I grabbed the salt and pepper, put olive oil into the pan for browning, and ripped open the package. The rabbit seems to have been cut into very large pieces. And what's that? The round thing. Could it be. . . an eye? And were those tufts of fur I was seeing?

Into the office. "Hon, it has an eye." Blaise grabs the camera and I pull the rabbit out of the package. Someone has kindly cut the ears off and cut the rabbit halfway in two at the waist, so it can be folded into the styrofoam.

"Do you have to clean out the guts?" I check. No, the liver and kidneys and heart are all there (ugh) but the stomach, intestines and lungs seem to be missing. Good; if the entrails were there the rabbit would have gone in the trash. Now, the initial photos of the rabbit having been taken, I have to cut the thing into pieces that will fit into my pan. First to go, the head. The side facing up has an eye. The side facing down into the package lacks one. Somehow this is disturbing. Blaise tells me to pretend I'm in high school biology. In my biology class we dissected starfish. This is definitely no starfish. I finish hacking the head off and throw it in the trash. Probably French chefs would use it to make rabbit stock. I'm no French chef.

Now it has much the same general anatomy as a chicken. Cut off the back legs and attached thighs. Separate and cut off the much smaller front legs. There is some meat along the backbone that also needs to come off. Throw away the rest of the rib cage (since I'm not a French chef, remember?).

Finally I'm ready to actually cook. Brown the meat in the olive oil. Set it aside and brown the onion in the remaining oil. Then add wine, tomato, bay leaves, and the rabbit pieces and cover. It's time to take a look at the pictures Blaise took and has downloaded to his computer. The rabbit had teeth. They're quite clear in the photos, though I didn't notice them at the time.

Once dinner is ready Blaise and I carefully cut the meat from the bones, lest Sapphire and Ezio notice that the drumstick and thigh seem to be awfully oddly shaped. Cherry loves it. Sapphire and Ezio aren't so sure. Afterwards, Blaise shows them the photos.

In which we watch the Tour de France

I've always wanted to see a major international sporting event. The problem is that those sorts of things tend to be expensive and hard to get tickets to. Also, they tend to be located in places that I'm not living, which exacerbates those problems. So when I realized that we were going to be living in Paris when the Tour de France finished, I was determined that I was going to see it.

The great thing about the Tour de France is that watching it is free. You just have to find a piece of roadside to sit or stand on, and wait for the bikes to go past. The not so great thing is that (of course) they go past really fast, and then they're gone. Originally we had planned to watch the Tour go through the Paris suburbs, not all that far from our apartment. Then Blaise and I got to talking, and doing a little research, and decided to go down to the end of the route. You see, at the end of the last day, the route loops 8 times around the Tuileries and along the Champs Elysees. If we could get spots there, we'd be able to see the cyclists for 8 times as long.

We set off for the train station around 11:30 Sunday morning, armed with lunch, snacks, books, and a few other things. The RER ride wasn't terribly crowded. Once we transferred to the Metro, things got a bit crazier though. Everyone poured off the train together at Place de la Concorde, and moved en masse through the station. The city of Paris had closed all but one of the exits to the station, and so we were herded like cattle in the direction they wanted us to move. Once above ground, we fairly quickly found a space along the barrier that was big enough for the 3 kids (we weren't sure we'd ever find one big enough for all of us, and Blaise and I could, of course, see over their heads) and settled down to wait. The crowd didn't seem to bad. The barrier was filled as far as I could see in both directions, and the wall behind us was also lined with people, but the middle of the sidewalk was largely open.

12:30--Arrived at Tour de France
12:35 -- Watched car drive by
12:38 -- Watched guy on bike ride by
12:40 -- Watched policemen switch positions
12:45 -- Watched policemen switch positions again (You get the idea.)
1:00 -- Ate lunch.
1:30 or so -- Watched a group of 8-12 year olds race by on bikes.
2:00 -- Watched a group of teenagers race by on bikes
2:45 -- Watched a "parade" of ads for the sponsoring companies. This took about 45 minutes all together.
4:38(or so) -- 30 second blur of brightly colored cyclists
4:46 -- 30 second blur of brightly colored cyclists
4:54 -- 30 second blur of brightly colored cyclists
5:02 -- 30 second blur of brightly colored cyclists
5:10 -- 30 second blur of brightly colored cyclists
5;18 -- 30 second blur of brightly colored cyclists
5:26 -- 30 second blur of brightly colored cyclists
5:34 -- 30 second blur of brightly colored cyclists

By the time the cyclists actually came through, the sidewalk was so packed it was impossible to move, and people who had arrived late were attempting to push past those who had been waiting for hours. After the race we hung around in the Tuileries for about an hour before we headed home, hoping that some of the craziness on the Metro would have a chance to die down. We got home around 8:00, and dined on Muesli with chocolate chips and watermelon for dinner. I figure we spent 8.5 hours standing on our feet (no place to sit down) in order to watch about 4 or 5 minutes of the cyclists. Probably I wouldn't do it again, but I'm glad to have gone when I had the chance.

In which we become members at the American Library

One of the things that is hardest about being in a non English speaking country is the difficulty involved in obtaining reading materials in English. Obviously there are books available for purchase, but the titles tend to be fairly limited, and the prices quite high. Two years ago when we were here, we discussed buying a membership at the American Library in Paris, and decided against it, on the grounds that it would be inconvenient to travel across town by train each time we wanted to check out or return books. Also, we decided that it would be too expensive to make it worthwhile. After about a month in Paris last time, with our kids so thoroughly tired of the few books that we had brought that they refused to listen to them at all, I decided to take them to an English language bookstore and buy them a few new books. It turned out that we could have had a four month library membership for the cost of 3 children's books.

With that in mind, we set out Saturday after lunch to buy a membership at the American Library in Paris. It is now even further away, and more inconvenient to get to than it was, but we'd at least determined that it made sense financially. It took us 2 trains and about 45 minutes to reach the station nearest the library. From there, we had to walk several blocks. We went right past the library the first time, as the entrance is rather unassuming, and Blaise had remembered the wrong address. (His job was supposed to be directions. Mine was making sure we had the right paperwork and documentation.) Finally we found it, filled in our membership application, and paid our 155 Euro fee (for a family membership), about 2.60 per person per month. While they processed our cards, the kids and I went into the children's room to look for books. Each kid was allowed to pick 6 books, and the librarian was very helpful about looking for StarWars books for Ezio. Sapphire and Ezio signed up for the summer reading program (which felt odd, as the program in Kansas is ending in a few days and this one is just beginning). I picked up a couple of grown up books for myself, and we collected Blaise and checked out our materials.

After we reached the river, I noticed that Cherry was no longer wearing her backpack and had to run back to look for it. We found it over by the periodicals after searching both the children's room and the bathrooms. Cherry was extremely happy to have it back, and I was equally happy that I could leave our newly checked out books and all three kids with Blaise while I went back.

In which we try to apply for our residency cards

The last time we were in France we were only here for about 12 weeks, and since Americans may spend 3 months in France without a visa, the kids and I didn't need to bother with them. Blaise needed a work visa because he was being paid as a researcher while we were here, but only a short term one. This time we're staying for a full year, which means that all 5 of us needed visas (Blaise, Cherry, and I flew to Chicago in mid May to obtain them) and Blaise and I need residency cards, called Cartes de Sejour.

We've heard that obtaining these cards can be a bit of a hassle, not so much because the government doesn't want to give them out, but because they want to make sure that you jump through the right series of hoops first. Since our visas officially expire in mid September and everything in France slows way down in July and even more so in August we decided to get the process underway. First we figured out what we needed: Passports and visas with photocopies of each; birth certificates and French translations, also photocopied; marriage certificate with translation and photocopy; 5 passport photos; stamped envelopes; proof of residence with photocopy; copy of Blaise's contract with photocopy. Fortunately we had know about the translations of the birth and marriage certificates ahead of time and had them translated at K-State. And we discovered that the printer/scanner at the apartment we're renting also functions as a copy machine, so that was taken care of. Cherry and I walked to the post office to get stamps while Ezio worked on Rosetta Stone and Sapphire played at her new friend's house. Then we bundled everything into a backpack, collected Sapphire, and headed off to the Auchan, where they have booths for taking ID pictures. (These booths are ubiquitous throughout Paris, appearing in nearly every super/hypermarche and train station. Evidently the French have great need of identification photos. They are also cheap, relatively, costing 5 Euros for 5 copies, which is much more cheaply than you can have it done in the US.)

Upon arrival at the Auchan, we discovered that the booths only took change and 5 Euro bills. I had one bill, which Blaise used while I went into the store to buy something and thereby break a 10. Pictures taken, we headed back to the apartment to pick up the directions (which I had forgotten) and promptly headed off the wrong direction. Eventually we got turned back the right way round, and 45 minutes of walking later found ourselves at the sous prefecture, 15 minutes before they closed for the day. The woman looked at our passports and Blaise's contract, and then told us we would have to return in 2 weeks for a meeting, which she dutifully recorded in her little book, and on our papers. So we get to return on August 6th. Hopefully the meeting will not involve too many questions in French.

Also, Sapphire learned how to do a cartwheel. Blanche (her friend) taught her how.

In which we search for shorts and Sapphire makes a friend

There are two important things to know about sales in France. The first is that during the months of January and July, all of the stores have sales. The second is that during every other time of year there are no sales.

A few days ago, Sapphire, who is beginning to grow in that uneven preteen manner, decided that all of her scooters were too short, and that people might think that the attached shorts were underpants. This was a deterrent to playing on the playground and many other activities, so this afternoon we set off in search of shorts for her. Our local hypermarche has a good sized shopping mall attached to it, and also has some clothing of its own, so we headed over there. After pouring over the clothing selection at the Auchan (hypermarche) and both of the kids' clothing store, we came to the conclusion that the number of pairs of shorts in something approximating Sapphire's size was exactly zero, even after including boys' shorts in the mix. There were a reasonable number of things that would have fit Cherry, but nothing for a 9 or 10 year old. Ultimately I assured her that I had seen lots of girls in skirts at the playgrounds, and that they didn't seem particularly bothered by the fact that people could see their underwear when they hung upside down. Of course this makes perfect sense. Any shorts that they did have would have been marked down to 50% off back at the beginning of the month. Had we gone shopping 3 weeks ago, there would likely have been plenty of shorts.

Since we didn't have any luck with shorts, we swung into a grown up clothing store, and I picked up a couple of T-shirts to replace ones that were beginning to get holes. I am now the proud owner of 2 French shirts, for the grand total 7 Euros.

There is a small playground near our apartment; less than 100 meters from the front of our building. It's not part of our complex but rather is owned and operated by the city. In fact, there are at least 4-5 more playgrounds of this size within a half kilometer or so of our apartment. This particular playground is especially nice because it is close enough so that Sapphire and Ezio can safely go there on their own. Cherry, however, needs to be accompanied. This afternoon, after I had slipped the bread pudding into the oven, the four of us walked over to the playground, accompanied by a timer so that I would know when to get the pudding out of the oven. Sapphire has been somewhat lonely much of the time since we've been here. She wants to play with people, but her French skills are just not that strong yet. Today she finally hit it off with another little girl; probably a year or so older than she is. When I went up to take out the pudding and start supper, she stayed behind and played for another hour and a half.

In which we visit an old favorite

Two years ago we spent 2 months living in a small one bedroom apartment in Paris. Since Blaise was also attempting to work in said apartment, the kids and I spent a great deal of time trying to get out of the apartment so that he could have some peace and quiet. Towards the end of our stay, we discovered a park that we liked very much. Sapphire and Ezio liked the small stream that ran through it, and the multiple play areas. Cherry liked crawling around and trying to eat the grass. I liked the fact that there were lots of flowery bushes to look at. Blaise liked the fact that it was a hour Metro ride each direction, and so when we went we tended to go for the entire day, and he could have many hours of peace and quiet.

Sapphire very much wanted to go to this park for her birthday, but Saturday was cool and overcast; definitely not a good day for splashing in even a very small creek. Since the weather was looking warmer for the beginning of the week, I promised we would go today, which promised to be warm enough for creek splashing. After lunch, we set off.

We're not actually living in the city of Paris this time, but rather in the first tier of suburbs outside the city. That means that in order to get into Paris we have to ride the RER, or regional commuter trains, into the city. Unfortunately, they don't run as frequently as Metro trains, and they don't all run the same route or stop at the same stops. We managed to catch the E line successfully at Val de Fontenay and headed into the city. We switched to the Metro at Saint Lazare and headed south, riding through 13 stops before we finally exited. Amazingly, we actually had seats for the entire trip. I was amazed to discover as we exited the train station that I didn't need to consult the map of the area located outside the Metro. I actually remembered the entire 6 block walk to the park. Even more amazingly, Ezio, who remembers very little of our last visit, was able to identify the little grocery store where we often stopped to buy a snack on the walk.

Sapphire wanted to head to the stream first, so we did. The kids stripped of shoes and socks, and waded in. Sapphire and Cherry promptly fell down in the water and ended up with wet tushes. Although it didn't bother Cherry very much, Sapphire was quite sure that everyone within 20 miles would think that she'd wet her pants, and she was not going to move off the grass until her pants were dry. I finally convinced her that no one would much care, and we went down to explore the playgrounds and the rock "mountain".

After a couple of hours (and a couple of temper tantrums. Why do I never see French children throwing tantrums? If it's something in the water, will it still work now, or does it need to be ingested from birth?) we headed back to the train station. After a screw up on my part at the RER station (I should have read the schedule board before heading down the escalator), we managed to arrive back home in one piece. Now I just need to find equally appealing playgrounds nearer here.

Sapphire and Cherry celebrate a birthday

Well, there are many days in Europe that are now passed, and probably I ought to write about them. Perhaps at some point I will, but for now I'll jump in where I am, or almost where I am at any rate.

Saturday, July 18th was Sapphire's 9th birthday and Cherry's 3rd birthday. Sapphire had requested pastries for breakfast, so we set off to the boulangerie on the edge of our apartment complex to pick up some pastries. Afterwards, both girls opened gifts. Because of the small size of our apartment, and the fact that everything we accumulate here will have to either be discarded or shipped home at the end of our visit, presents were fairly minimal. Sapphire got mostly craft and coloring supplies, and Cherry got PlayDoh and a toy tea set.

After lunch, we set off to find the Bois de Vincennes, about a 30 minute walk from our apartment. Blaise had walked there earlier in the week, and told us about a playground with a cool brownish rope structure for climbing which he had passed along the way. Since we’re always on the lookout for new playgrounds, especially those appropriate for older kids, we were looking forward to discovering this one. In addition, he had told us there were a number of boucheries (butcher shops) and patisseries in that part of Fontenay sous Bois. Since most of the food near me in at the Auchan, our local hypermarche (think Super Walmart, French style), I was excited about having the chance to locate other food options. I was particularly interested now because we needed to
a) Find a birthday cake (or tart), and the boulangerie near us doesn’t sell cakes, and sells tarts only by the slice;
b) Find the proper sausage for the lentil soup that Sapphire had selected for her birthday dinner.

First we passed the playground Blaise had been talking about, and discovered, much to our disappointment that the climbing structure was on a playground that we had already been to a couple of times, and that Blaise’s idea of brown and my idea of red are pretty much the same. A short block later, we reached the crest of a hill, and were able to see the top third of the Eiffel tower, peeking out between tree branches and apartment buildings. The area was beginning to feel more like Paris, instead of the apartment complexes that dominate where we’re living. The bakeries and butcher shops were all closed for lunch, but since it was already three o’clock, we knew they’d be open again before we came back through. Ten minutes later, we were in the Bois de Vincennes. We had walked to Paris.

The Bois de Vincennes is huge, as we knew from previous visits to Paris. Near to our town is a lake called the Lac des Minimes. It's basically a big circle with some islands in it, so we walked around it and watched the ducks and geese and people rowing boats on it. Cherry was scared of the dogs, so we had to develop a new rule. You only get picked up if the dog is big or off a leash. If the dog is a leashed Yorkie, you're just going to have to deal with it.

Back through the center of town to pick up the sausage, then a raspberry gateau that Sapphire picked out for dessert. [I suggested that Sapphire might like to choose charlotte aux fraises, basically strawberry shortcake, but Cherry insisted that Sapphire would have to choose carmen aux fraises; the charlotte aux fraises was for her!]

We had green lentil soup with smoked sausage and fresh bread for dinner, with sirop to drink. (Basically, you take fruit (or flower) flavored syrup, the most common example in the States is grenadine, and mix with sparkling water.) Then cake for dessert. We finally got to use the "9" candle that we brought with us from the US.