Picnicking french style

Salut friends. Here I am again, ready to write. I'm going to try to regulate my blogging schedule; you can expect a new entry (providing there are no natural disasters or swine flu outbreaks) each Thursday. Speaking of Grippe A--H1N1's french name--the masks are out in full force in Paris. And not just among Asian tourists. I've seen several older french women walking along the Champs-Elysées sporting the mask like it was an Hermès scarf. Not sure about the rest of the world, but here the maladie porcine is getting serious. "Guard yo' grillz" ladies and gentlemen. And wash your hands!

Last friday I had the honor of actually exploring Paris with another human! It was so nice to have contact with someone my age. I was giddy. After I saw the kiddies off to school I went in to Paris to explore. As luck would have it, an old high school friend is also in Paris going to medical school (I know, impressive). He called and asked me to go to an art exhibition with him. Jumping at the opportunity to catch up and SPEAK ENGLISH! I said yes. I met him near the gallery and we took a look. The art was definitely interesting. It was by an artist named Takashi Murakami (http://www.takashimurakami.com/). He has worked with Louis Vuitton and Kanye West...ew, Kanye West. Even in France I saw him diss Taylor Swift and I am SO not down with that. Good thing the gallery was free. I have to say my favorite part was the video installation. Several french people were gathered around watching an anime cartoon about the environment ( I think). It was in Japanese and subtitled in English. The little characters were jumping around with a giant watermelon and screaming about poop. Yes, poop. I think it must have been something about composting but I got there too late to be sure. All I know is that I was trying to stifle laughter in an absolutely silent..and small..gallery (imagine, very artsy french people pretending to understand and appreciate this wonderfully artistic video that is in fact about poop).

He also showed me around Le Marais, the Jewish/gay section of Paris. Needless to say, there was great food and great shopping. We ate at the most delicious falafel restaurant and I got to indulge in a delicious beer. Wine is great, but being from Indiana, I appreciate beer just as much as the next redneck! Then we walked to this chocolaterie where I had the most decadent chocolate concoction ever created. Taking Neil's advice I ordered a hot chocolate. This was no Swiss Miss, let me tell you. This was hot cream mixed with the most luxurious melted chocolate in the world. I kid you not. Delicious. Definitely a highlight in my day. And they gave away free samples of chocolate! You say free, I'm there.

On Sunday, I signed myself up to go hiking with Zoe. The rest of the family had to go to Scouts ("scoots" as they call it) so I agreed to tag along with her so she could go. A little perspective is necessary for this story, as with so many of my other tales. This hike was a family hike, organized by the PTA association of Zoe's school. It was meant to be a nice way to bring together parents and kids on a sunny Sunday. Despite knowing all this, I was still surprised to see that I was the only american au pair waiting at the meeting point. I felt like a kid at a new school; everyone knew each other and I was standing in the corner nervously twisting my hands.

The first hour of the hike, Zoe (fortunately) hung with me. We chatted and actually enjoyed the beautiful weather and scenery. Somewhere along the path, we ran into two of her classmates, Elisa and Julie. Because I seemed to be the only adult this far ahead in the hike, they stuck with me. Here I was making friends with seven year olds. Sad. Somehow the conversation moved away from farts and butts to the fact that I was from the U.S. (I kid you not, these kids did not notice my american-french accent). "So that means you can speak English?" one of the girls asked. Yes, yes I can. The rest was history. A wildfire had spread through the crowd; within moments, the entire group knew I was american. A dad approached me. "Zo you are from ze United Ztatez?". Gee sir, how'dya know? We chatted in English and before I knew it, we had arrived at the picnic area. I had made a real french friend! Nevermind that he is a middle-aged dad with two small children.

At the picnic, in typical french tradition, there were apperitifs before the meal. This means that everyone passed around a huge bottle of Sangria and ate some stale crackers. That wasn't all though. Before I could even break out my sandwich, my new friend approached me with three bottles of wine. "Wheech one do you like?"...I started with a nice rosé. The moment I finished my last drop, the guy next to me was there with a white wine. He offered me a glass and before I had the chance to protest, he poured. Christophe was his name. He even shared his scrumptious rice salad a la provencale with me. So this is the way to make french friends, huh? Drinking.

I started on my sandwich and Olivier, the guy I met on the hike, comes over with his friends and introduces me. One of them asked if I was a redneck when I told him I was from Indiana. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed that he knew that word or offended that he was accusing me of being a redneck. They, of course, all had bottles of wine. Despite my attempts to say no, they were hell-bent on having me try all of the wines at the picnic. Tasting the regions of France was their weak excuse for getting me tanked on a Sunday. Two reds and two whites later, I was feeling pretty good, chatting with the guys about archaelogy. Or something. Luckily, the French like to lounge for extended periods of time after a meal and I had a good hour and a half to work off my buzz before walking back to the house (it was on the hike route).

Thanks to the hike, I made several new friends! Okay, so they are all older couples with children, but who says we can't be friends? They invited me to join their running group, and although I am not quite up to their speed (11 km per run..yikes) I think I will go. At least once, before I realize my body is not made for running 11km.

So that's it here. A la semaine prochaine.