An American in Provence

(before picture)

My wonderful mom spent many hours making a special quilt for my wedding. It was with Provençal fabrics that we bought when they were here for Christmas. She had our monogram embroidered onto a large center square. (I removed our last name in the photo, just for safety) Originally we were going to display it at the wedding reception and have guests write on it, either on the squares on the front side or on the back.
Examples:
http://www.weddingshowergifts.com/photo_quilts/index.shtml#faq

Finally we decided not to, afraid that the ink would bleed through to the other side, etc.

We displayed it at the wedding along with the two pillow cases she had made for us. I finished up the quilting by tying a piece of yarn through each corner. For the final step, cutting off the extra material and sewing on the border, I decided to take it to a tailor as I have no sewing machine.

So I took it to a tailor that works a few blocks away. I should have known better, this is the guy who suggested that we use velcro to bustle my wedding gown. Anyway, I brought it down with the fabric for the edge on Tuesday and explained what I wanted. I was quite clear- I want this cut off and this strip of fabric sewed onto the edge, all the way around. The one thing that I never thought to mention is the one thing that he did.

I returned today and picked it up, 15 euros. I was tired and in a hurry so I didn't take it out of the bag to look it at closely, it looked okay so I returned home. After eating lunch and relaxing a bit, I decided to take it out and admire it. I was examining the edge and noticed something was terribly wrong.
He had sewed the blanket halves together, turning a large square blanket for a bed into a rectangle for a couch blanket! Ahh! Even worse, he had sewed the purple border fabric DIRECTLY ACROSS the middle of the monogrammed square. What was he thinking!? Why on earth would he think that I would want half of our names covered up with this purple strip? Here is my illustration of what it looked like, after. (I was too distraught to take a picture at the time, but seriously it was laughable.) (Imagine puple photoshopped border actually matches)

(after picture)

Oh my god my mom is going to kill me after she spent all this time and money on the fabrics and some two bit tailor who smokes in his shop ruins the quilt.

I quickly headed back to his shop with the quilt rehearsing French phrases in my head. What were you thinking? Who would actually want it to look like this? Where is the back fabric? I am not paying for this! You completely ruined my wedding quilt!

I got there and almost calmly explained that it was not what I wanted. He said don't worry, stop trembling, I didn't cut off the extra material, or throw it away, it is still there, just all sewed together. Fantabulous. So he ripped off the border and showed me. Whew. He said that he did it that way because there was a pin stuck through the middle and he thought that as strange as it seemed, that was how I wanted it. Now, it seems odd to me that a stray pin would make a professional tailor do something like this, but oh well. So he will redo it, and I can pick up Tuesday. Not sure if this going to cost me more. He didn't say anything and I hope not. I guess I forgot to cover the "Don't fold the quilt in half and sew it all together" part in the instructions. Note for next time: cover everything you can think of and give them your phone number with the instructions of "If a fit of madness overcomes you and you decide to just wing it, please call me first."

Ah yes, it is open season again. The time for all desperate people to sharpen their knives, put on their best gear and go out in search of the ever elusive
JOB.
Very rare animal indeed. More so when you have no practical skills beyond speaking English.
Can you speak French? No.
Do you have a work visa? No.
Do you have experience in the Microelectronic Manufacturing industry? Uh, No.
What can you offer us? Umm, my stunning ability to translate from English to English?

I have realized that job hunting is much more trying when you are looking for a job in a specific geographical area (say, 45 minute radius) versus look for a job in the entire United States, able to move anywhere after graduation.
I started out with very specific ideas- microelectronics. This quickly expanded to anything within the microelectronics industry- contracts, business, training, etc. Ok now heck it doesn't even have to be microelectronics.
I have hallucinations of opening a crosstitch store or selling wedding gowns or something but am quickly brought back to the reality that I know nothing about accounting, advertising, running a store, inventory, getting the permits and dealing with customs, etc.
The all of two microelectronics companies nearby say that they are hiring, but it is a bluff I think.
If I want to work for the Consulate I believe I will need to subtract every degree from my resume.
I received the wonderful news today that I need my carte de resident (see I love the Prefecture post) in order to work. Okay, that is normal. Oh, and it might take 3 months or more. Which is fantastic because I sent in the paperwork in August.
I got a call from a company that was involved with shipping (Marseille is a major port). She asked me if I had experience with a particular program. I didn't, so no. Now at this point I would usually throw in some bull honkey about being adaptable, quick learner etc etc but it is difficult to express in French. So just no. Period. No, I have no other skills. Thank you, goodbye.
The thing is that they are more interested in whether you have the exact qualifications that they are looking for (ex/ want someone with 3 years of experience, don't bother applying if you have two and a half) than someone who is adaptable and can learn that.
Sigh.
Taking a year to tour France and write a book about Cheese is starting to look really tempting about now.

Alain and I finally decided to go and visit the Chateau d'If and the Ile de Ratonneau. The boat trip from the Vieux Port to the Chateau d'If is 10 euros each (roundtrip) and for 5 more euros you can visit the Ile de Ratonneau, one of the several rocky islands. Ratonneau is inhabited while If is just the castle and a few outbuildings.
We took the ferry at noon and sat next to some American girls. Oh my god! Look at the like dead fish!
(it was fish market day)
We got to If and then paid another 5 euros each to visit the chateau. We had an hour until the ferry to Ratonneau. We toured the inside and listened to the commentary.
The Chateau was begun in 1529, as a fortress to guard against the rebellious Marseillais. Marseille had become a part of France in only 1481. It quickly began to house prisoners. The guide said that the first prisoners were two fisherman who had wandered too close to the military island and were held for fifteen days, I guess as a warning. Now if you wander too close to the Pentagon they just shoot you.
3500 Protestants were held over a period of 200 years. Here is a plaque commemorating it. last line "They preferred the chains of prison or death to giving in."
Other notable signs- the prisoner who was burned alive, and the room where the Man In the Iron Mask supposedly stayed. (à la bad Leonardo diCaprio movie). This is where the novel The Count of Monte Christo was set. Another prisoner was held here because he supposedly brought the plague to Marseille in 1720. They also guarded carefully, and quite successfully I might add, a dead man, General Kleber, for 18 years.
Ah yes, and in 1513 the first rhinoceros to be seen in Europe was brought as a gift. The poor thing was then sent to Rome and was shipwrecked on the way.

At 1:30 we caught the ferry to Ratonneau. We found a nice place to eat a picnic lunch, then walked up to what I believe were Nazi bunkers during WW2. I wouldn't bet my life on it, but I think that is what it is. Then we walked to the Hospital Caroline, constructed in 1828 and used as a quarantine place. From Wikipedia

On 29 August (1944) a landing party drawn from the Marine detachments
from Augusta and Philadelphia went ashore on the islands of Ratonneau and
Chateau d'If in the harbor of Marseilles and accepted the surrender of
German forces on those islands, taking 730 prisoners.

We had a juice at the port, then at 4 took the ferry back to Marseille. The return trip was extremely foggy. Here is a video I took of the return into the Vieux Port. As far as groundbreaking, exciting cinematography is concerned, it's not, but just to give an idea.

Alain and I took the Metro back to our Quartier. There were wedding guests waiting for the newlyweds to come out of the church, so I wanted to stop and watch. And then, as a final wonderful end to our day, with a flutter of pigeon wings and a ploop! I got christened. Ugh. I shrieked but I guess people were more interested in the wedding. Alain took out a napkin and wiped me off. Ahh, what a good husband. In sickness, health, and pigeon poop.

Last Sunday Alain and I went to visit the Abbaye de Silvacane, between Salon and Aix, about 45 minutes from here.
It was a nice afternoon. We got there and spent 2 euros to park, then 6.50 each to visit the Abbey. It was quite lovely but there was no guide. They were having a string concerto that night. When I saw the ad I said "oh! We should stay for that." Then saw the price, another 20 euros each, and said, Oh, never mind.
It is one of three Cistercian abbeys in the area, the other two being Abbaye de Sénanque and
Abbaye du Thoronet. (not a monk ---->)

It was founded in 1144 on the site of a Benedictine monastary. The name comes from "forest of reeds" (silva canorum). It was very austere, and had about 16 monks back in the day. After the revolution it became state property and was used as a farm, and now transformed back into a tourist attraction. Whoops, I mean abbey.
There was a strange light table/stained glass exhibition of light tables. The theme seemed to be science and the universe, so the designs were supposedly scientific/artistic representations of concepts like neutrons. For my two cents, it was a lot of piffle. We stayed about an hour and then left. I imagine in winter it was pretty cold as the only fireplace was in the room where they worked on the manuscripts.

I got my hair cut on Thursday. This was the third or fourth time that I have gotten it cut here in France. I had cut out a page from a magazine with a style that I liked, as I find that is more helpful in explaining what I want.
I decided to try a new place this time, as the last place was really expensive (27 euros). There is at least one beauty salon on each block. And by block I mean one side of the street between two side streets. I don't see how they all keep in business. I guess either a) French women go a lot more often to the beauty parlor, or b) the salons charge a lot more to make up for it. I am guessing a mixture of the two.
I saw the list of prices on the sign outside. transformation- 12.50. Okay, good I just want that. I don't need my hair shampooed and styled for another 20 euros, I just need it cut.
I go in and say I want my hair cut. They then proceed to lead me over and wash my hair. I guess I need to be more forceful about these things. No, just CUT!!!!
While I am covered in suds, the teenager washing my hair and smacking her gum asks if I want the cream. I don't know, do I want the cream? Do you want me to want the cream? (Of course she wants me to want the cream- it is five euros a glob as I find out later when paying my bill. Thanks for that!) I figure it is some sort of conditioner and say yes. I guess it was some sort of color enhancer.
I get toweled off and lead over to the chair. And search frantically in my purse for my magazine clipping, which is not there. Panic and consider bolting wet-headed out the door. Um, quelques centimeters? She starts to cut and I start to worry. Whoa that is short!
She finishes cutting and starts to style it (another ten euros).
It is of course, very important to pay attention during this part so that you can try and try and try and drive yourself crazy trying to recreate the same look every morning at home for the next two months until you get it cut again. It is no use- you can buy the same brushes, creams, and hairdryers, and you will never acheive it.
The secret? I am about to reveal to you why.
Are you ready?
The reason is, gentle readers, is that you, unlike hair stylists, do not have a third arm.
Yes, it is true. It is hidden back there behind the chair so that you cannot see it in the mirror, but it is there. That is how they manage the curling iron, hair dryer and flat brush at the same time. So, you might as well just give up. Or get your hair professionally styled every day. Or grow a third arm. It is up to you.
The lady did flatter me by saying that I have a very nice hair color and that it is a color that all the Frenchwomen envy.
So I paid, 30 euros. Way to save money by switching salons Megan. The hair color compliment only marginally lessened the blow.
My hair looked Super Cute Thursday afternoon until I took a shower to wash off all the hair pieces, and that was the end of it.
So sad.