An American in Provence

Got a happy piece of mail the other day.
I have officially been ordered to present myself, papers in hand, at the Prefecture in two weeks to discuss my nationality file.
I guess they need some further proof of certain things-
Yes, still married.
Yes, still paying taxes.
Yes, still have a job.
Yes, still want to become French.

I have to make some more photocopies of stuff we already have, plus some more stuff they didn't ask last time.
Attestation from the bank concerning our mortgage payments?
Yippee.

Anyway, I guess this will be also my interview to see how well I speak and understand French, before they put their recommendation on it and send it off to National headquarters.
So I guess it took about 4 months from the time I turned in my file until they contacted me for the first part. Not too bad for French administration when you think about it. Actually, not too bad for any governmental administration.

Vive la France!

(Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!)

Had an interesting experience yesterday on my way to the Strasbourg train station. I was walking down the sidewalk, minding my own business and lugging my suitcase along. A guy passed me on his bike, and suddenly spit and said "Sale race" to me.
(roughly translated: filthy/dirty race/breed)
Took me a few seconds to figure out what happened. Did that guy actually try to spit on me/at me and say that to me?

I turned around and yelled a choice phrase in English at his back. I don't know if he heard me or understood me, but he kept on biking away.
I mean, wha???

I hadn't really looked at the guy, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would say Middle Eastern.
I mean dang, it wasn't like I was wearing a "I hate Arabic people" shirt or anything.

I must say, I was a little shooken up by the experience. The guy didn't seem drunk or anything.

Which reminds me of the time I was walking down the street in Marseille at about 9 am and a falling-down drunk guy said something along the lines of how what I was wearing made me look like a prostitute (yeah, jeans and a very conservative sweater will do that).

Back up to Strasbourg tomorrow for another week.
This time, it is a preparation seminar for my exams in March and will be in English instead of French.
Actually, there are three separate sections, English, French, and German.
Hey, I could take the German one just for kicks! (see if I remember anything from my toddler days)

About this time last year, mom and dad were here and we went up to Strasbourg for a week together. They visited the area and saw one of their old friends while I went to my classes.

This week, I will see some of my friends from last year, though they will all be in the French section.

Am actually looking forward to going. Get away a little bit, see other people. I kinda miss Strasbourg (ahh... no trash strikes... no dog poop all over the sidewwalk... no grafitti everywhere... pretzels... )

Unfortunately, the Christmas market will not have started yet.

I am going to be staying in the same place, though the classes will be in a different place.

When I choose the title of this post, I was reminded of my military school days, a jody (cadence call) that they had us sing while marching.

Here We Go Again
Same Old S--- Again
Marching Down the Avenue
Two More Seconds* and I’ll be Through
I’ll be glad and so will you
Am I right or wrong?
You’re Right!
Are we weak or strong?
We’re Strong!
Sound Off!
One two
Sound Off!
Three Four
Break it on down now
One two three four
One two
Three Four!


(* More like 5 more years and I'll be through)

This morning, I stopped by La Poste to buy a stamp. I used the automatic machine, and as I was collecting my stamp and change, an elderly woman asked if I could help her to buy some stamps. Of course.
Here is our conversation.

(her)- I need three stamps. How much would that be?
(me) That depends on the weight.
- I NEED THREE STAMPS!
(louder) Okay, okay, that will be about 1.70 €.
- HOW MUCH?
(select three normal stamps) 1.74 € !!!
(she pulls out all the change in her change purse and tries to figure out how much to give me. There are two one-euro pieces, as well as various smaller coins)
- HOW MUCH?
Give me the two euros.
(she passes me one and puts the rest away, I put the one in the machine. Still need 0.74)
Please give me the other euro.
- I GAVE YOU TWO EUROS! What did you do with the other euro?
No ma'am. You just gave me one euro.
- You stole the other euro!
(she rummages in the machine and pulls out 10 cents that were left over from my transaction, which I hadn't had time to recover before she accosted me for help)
- Where are my stamps?
You need to put in the other euro.
- I don't have another euro.
Yes you do, it's in your purse.
(she took out the other euro (miraculously, in her purse) and puts it in. The machine prints out the three stamps, but then is slow in producing the change. I just walked away at this point. And no point in arguing that she in fact stole my ten cents. That would just be beyond her capabilities of understanding.)

Please God, let me still have most of my faculties when I am old.

A 75 cL bottle of wine is too much for two people to drink in one setting.
I'm just saying.

Plus an apperitif.

Went to the restaurant last night, had an appetizer of foie-gras (delicious with a fig spread), followed by a steak and potatos. Alain then had a dessert but I opted out (too full) and just had a coffee.
Thought about asking the waiter if we could take the bottle of wine with us (as it was still about half full and not cheap) but Alain didn't want to ask.

Got home around 11 pm, woke up this morning with a headache.
Welcome to my post 30 life.

31.
Thirty one
Trente et un.
Yikes.
Now I feel like I'm *really* into my thirties.
Like last year, 30, it was cute. Oh, look at me. I just turned 30.
Now, I didn't *just* turn thirty.

woke up around 9, went for groceries and to the post office, came back and opened my presents and cards.
Alain got me the perfume that I hate most in the world. Again.
He got me the same one last year.
Bless him, he knows I really like perfume and picks out one he likes the best.
Forgetting that he got me the same one last year.
I try to wear it every once in awhile for him, but honestly, it makes me gag.
Words cannot express how much I hate this perfume.
Almost any other perfume would have been okay.

I still have 99% of the bottle he bought me last year.
This year, he said I could exchange it.
I did so, and bought myself a nice Swatch Watch (third one).
The band is a like a bracelet with three individual bands of yellow, white, and rose gold (plated).

Tonight we are going out to eat at one of my favorite restaurants, La Table Marseillais.