I just stocked up on a few scarves. Not the wooly kind but the "cover-your-neck-cause-there's-a-mean-breeze-out" kind. I used to scoff at scarves and the French obsession with them. Now, after one too many throat infections and a pneumopathy a year and a half ago, I cover my neck when it dips below 70°F. And as we are now officially in the fall season, more of those days will be around the corner.
It might not feel very fall-like as I write this, on a brilliant late September day, but I am feeling that seasonal change. Juliette had to memorize a poem at school (so many poems!) and it sums up the change and emotions that go with it quite well. As I helped her learn it, I now know it, too!
Un champignon et trois marrons Sont venus en délégation Accompagnés de feuilles mortes Ils ont frappés à ma porte. "Avis à la population! Aujourd'hui, changement de saison. Mettez les vacances au placard Voici l'automne et le brouillard."
Didier Dufresne
English translation: A mushroom and three chestnuts Came in a delegation Accompanied by dead leaves They knocked at my door. "Notice to the population! Today the seasons change Put your holidays in the closet Here is autumn and the fog."
Ok, slightly less poetic when translated, but it does feel like we're turning a page. Vacation memories are farther back in our mind. School is back in swing, work routines settling in. Days are still long but we feel them creeping in on us in the morning and evening now, condensing time. As my mom said, this season seems to bring out emotions and melancholy like no others.
Does it mirror our own fear of ageing, I wonder? Now is the autumn of our lives. Sometimes I feel I am in that season now. (Coincidentally, I am an "autumn", in the color scheme and feel my warmest and coziest in those colors.) The end of the year is coming soon, and I wonder if I've done all I wanted this time around.
And so we feel like hunkering down, storing our nuts and settling in for a long autumn's nap. We can do that in autumn, right? I am not quite ready for the glittery lights of the holiday seasons, but Halloween and a walk in crunchy leaves are coming soon, so I better get used to it. And I won't forget my scarf.
First of all, thanks to those who responded positively to my blog about wanting to help out the refugee situation. I talked with some of my close friends in town who were feeling quite the same way and it warmed my heart. I can't say I have all the answers or THE way to help. My friends and I all did some researcch and found a few outlets. We are certainly not the only ones interested in helping and there are channels that already exist, especially on the UK side.
So if you are interested in donating goods or money, the Secours Catholique, a Catholic charity, seems to be a reputable one. They are focusing a lot on the Calais migrant camp since this is close to our area in France. Otherwise the Red Cross/Red Crescent is, in my opinion, a good place to donate as well. Doctors without Borders seems to be doing a lot for refugees on site in Europe as well.
Now back to our regularly scheduled program...(frivolity and food)
Work has been picking up a little, which sometimes means grabbing lunch in between companies or eating in my car. I took advantage of a two-hour break between classes and companies to eat at McDonald's. It's always an event for me, being American and all. I feel special going there. And in France they have free wifi, so I can surf for free on my iPad.
So on a rainy Thursday when I was feeling a little glum, a trip to Micky Dee's (does anyone else still call it that?) cozied me up. I ordered their Tex Mex burger (not so spicy) and a caramel frappé (basically a milkshake) and sat down. At this particular restaurant off the highway, there were a lot of business men and women grabbing a bite. I found it funny to watch the smartly-dressed folks sit alone and, what else, surf on their phones, as they munched fries. One business man saw an old acquaintance so they sat together to break the solitude.
I ate and texted or checked my Facebook feed or, gasp, took a look at my lesson for the afternoon. I do actually sometimes work. One of my texts concerned something I was afraid I'd overlooked in a file so I checked with my colleague who seemed to have overlooked it as well. I resisted temptation to text other colleagues for reassurance. Do you ever feel you are in perpetual conversation with all this texting?
As I was still feeling chilled from having gotten a bit wet walking from my car, I ordered a coffee. When I asked for milk, the cashier told me in that case I would need the double latté, ten centimes more. So I dug deeper into my coin purse for the extra ten cents. But in the end she forgot and still gave me a regular non-milk coffee. So I went back up and asked and she corrected the mistake. "There's no milk, in this?" I asked, questioningly, not accusingly. But in France, we are somewhat excused from being overly polite in customer service situations. How liberating ;) I did make sure to say, "Merci, madame." And I went back to warm myself (and burn my tongue) with my latté and think about my afternoon.
Notice how the French Mc Donald's logo is green with a yellow M? In Europe they have changed the colors from the additional red and yellow and, in France at least, are increasing their market share while the US Mc Donald's are struggling a little. Some in France even have a Strabucks-like display case, as this article points out.
They sometimes come out with some strange offerings though, like the shiny bacon they recently advertised. It is good that they include more fruits with the kids' menus, but Juliette was not wowed by the kiwi on a stick and finds their apples have a strange taste from the vitamin C preservatives. As for me, my little McDo ("mack doe" as the French shorten it) trip was satisfying and had warmed me inside and out. I left, ready to tackle the rest of my day.
The other weekend we went to the beach. We dug our toes in the sand, walked on the temporary sandbars at sunset and ate crepes topped with sugar. It was lovely. I didn't think so much about the masses of people in Hungary in refugee camps or their plight. Every now and then my mind would stray to the topic, but it seemed so distant, both in miles and mentally-speaking.
We came back Sunday evening, rested and sun-kissed and started our weeks back at work and school. Still the news spoke of all the migrants. They were protesting in the station in Budapest, trying to get out of that country to continue on their journey to Germany or Austria or beyond. Juliette asked why they were upset. Because their countries are at war or they are very poor and they want to live here, I explained.
Wednesday, in my little world, we realized we couldn't find Juliette's raincoat. I looked around almost frantically for it, thinking we must have lost it on the way home from school the day before. I was sad to think it was somewhere outside, maybe being worn by another child. But I figured maybe that child needed it more. And I realized in the back of my mind, that grieving over a raincoat was a little silly.
Then as I sat scrolling Facebook on the couch that evening I saw that picture. The one that moved so many, dare I say moved the world. The one of a toddler washed up on the shore, drowned when his boat didn't make it across the sea. And like so many others I looked at that picture and imagined my own child being put in such a perilous situation as crossing the sea, fleeing a war-torn country. And like others, I signed an online petition and said a prayer for that family who had lost two children and the mother in this tragedy. This was a real reason to grieve.
But still my daily life continued. One of getting up and forcing my eyes to open at 6:30 or some other ungodly (in my opinion) hour. Of making my little Senseo coffee with milk and sugar and checking my emails. Of hugging my daughter, doing her braids and seeing her off to school. And not worrying about bombs falling on us. And like so many others, I felt guilty at how plentiful my life is compared to some.
And then I saw how some German people were waiting at the station for the refugees who arrived there, a child giving the refugee children his old toys. And I heard that some British families were saying they would accept refugees in their homes. And I thought, why aren't we hearing this in France? Is my adopted country not compassionate? But would I open up my apartment to a refugee? Too many questions that go unanswered. That we don't know how to answer.
Now France is talking about which cities might welcome refugees. I still don't know that I could do anything. Offer my services as an interpreter at the town hall if needed? Donate clothes, toys, money? Pray for a happy end for all these unhappy situations? Sometimes I am too timid/lazy/self-absorbed to take the first steps.
I am not a highly religious person, but I do remember a story from my Catholic schooling that has stuck with me through the years. One of Jesus saying, if you deny the person who is hungry or begging, you are denying me (Biblical scholars, feel free to correct me ;).
There was no talk of borders or nationalities in this story. Humanity shouldn't stop at national lines. But are we brave enough to imagine a life without borders? Some people on this planet are doing just that, opening hearts and homes to strangers. Will we find it in our hearts to do the same?
Me and my first world problems, you might be thinking? But hear me out. There is much more than TV-viewing of cool shows in English at stake here.
I have been considering signing up for Netflix for a while. It came to France this year and, like in the US, it's not that pricey (7.99€ per month). And you can stop any time! I also got a taste of what Netflix has to offer while at my mom's house, where it is part of her Apple TV package. I especially enjoyed watching the only-on-Netflix series, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and the older British series, The IT Crowd (which I'd seen before in some youtube clips). And I started thinking (cue the pros list in my head), access to funny shows and movies and cartoons in my language- we'd never leave the house (cue the cons list)!
And that's why I'm hesitating. Juliette and Remi are very apt to sit in front of the TV for long periods of time. A common complaint from my daughter when I say she needs to cut it off is that there's another great cartoon coming on right after. There's ALWAYS something else on TV, I try to reason with her. It doesn't mean we have to be here all the time. And if we had Netflix there would be that much more to watch!
It's not just them I'm worried about though. It's already hard enough for me to manage my own time and get stuff done what with the lure of Facebook, my blog, youtube videos, emails, accessing the work website from home, etc. I took ages to actually finish my Mindy Project DVDs (seasons 1 and 2) because I never could find the time to sit still long enough to watch them. Or maybe give myself permission to sit down. Let me say I have nothing against some good TV vegging. I'm just worried I would get even less done than I do now.
It's not that expensive though. How often do I waste 8 euro-bucks on inconsequential stuff that breaks or just piles up in my apartment? But I have to think about the other things I am considering buying or paying for...like a used iPhone or buying one through my phone subscription. It's about 250€ for a used iPhone 5. Is it really worth it when my generic smarthone is good enough? But my current phone camera doesn't always have the crystal clear detail of the iPhone, plus I already have other Apple products. And then there's Zumba or a fitness membership. Count about 20€ per month if you're lucky, so that adds up to 240€ per year...about the same as the iPhone.
So if I really think about it, I could pay 240€ for Zumba and get out of the house and off my couch more. Or buy a better phone and take better pictures and use iMessenger all the time with my family in the US. Or catch up on some (not all, cause I checked out the French Netflix with my friend Elsie, and it is not that same as the US one) of my shows for 96€ per year.
So in the end, whether or not I sign up for Netflix is almost an existential* question that could shape the rest of my year. This is too much pressure for me. I think I'll just watch a Mindy season 3 on youtube and think about it later.
*I know this is not a REAL issue. There are of course bigger questions on this planet. Like what to make for dinner.
A lot of people are suffering from TMF lately. They might not even know it. But once you hear the symptoms, you may realize you too are afflicted by this syndrome.
Do you find yourself feeling a bit dazed?
Do you have mood swings or feel a bit blue for no reason?
Are you suffering from thermal shock?
Are you a little bloated or have you recently gained weight?
If you've said yes to two or more of these, then keep reading.
Are you wondering why you are not doing something fun and visiting some new place?
Are you in need of a restaurant experience or decadent dessert everyday?
Are you reluctant to unpack your suitcase because it will mean your vacation is truly over?
Ah, now we're getting somewhere. You, and I, are suffering from Too Much Fun Syndrome. TMF affects those who have had a rip-roaring time on holiday and now have to face the fact that it is over. After several weeks of constantly exciting and fun experiences, it takes your body and mind time to re-adjust to everyday life. The overeating and indulging must stop, goodbyes to family and friends must be said. The warmth and sun of your vacation time zone yield to the rather chilly and grey weather of northern Europe, in my case.
Can it get any funner than this?
Some cases of TMF are complicated by JetLagitis. This can be much more serious as your brain still truly believes it is on Central Time. If you find yourself waking up and not knowing what continent or house you are in, it is a sure sign of JetLagitis. Wondering why kids aren't in school even though you know your own kid is still in daycare is also a clear indicator (in the US most kids are back in school but not in France). Wanting to flick light switches instead of pushing them, wanting to sleep all morning or eat a hearty meal at 3 pm are also dead giveaways.
Luckily TMF with JetLagitis complications is not fatal. It just sometimes feels like you will never sleep properly again and that going to work is the absolute worst thing in the world. The first day back you might not want to speak to neighbors or anyone. You may be tempted to cocoon yourself in the false reality of still being on holiday (in my case, a place I still consider home). Your eyes can tear up a bit thinking about where you were and who you were with just last week and realizing you're not there.
Treatment is varied but actually kind of fun. Periodically give yourself or the patient food you brought back from holiday (Pop Tarts in my case). Allow yourself to look at holiday pictures and relive some memories, but don't obsess over it. And slowly start seeing friends in your current place of residence. Get out and soak in as much sunlight and fresh air in your current surroundings to remind yourself of the real time zone.
And give it time. And don't forget to have fun where you live. Don't save it all up for the next holiday or you could get a bigger case of TMF.
We are back in Alabama now after about six days of
road-tripping through parts of Canada and the northeastern US. And it seems it only takes a few days of me
being back in my old stomping grounds for memories to start flowing back. I don't even know if memory is the right
word. More like feelings and flashes, sounds and smells.
It feels like a poem or stream of consciousness babbling in
my head. I return here and almost step back into my old life- walking down to
the mailbox on baking hot days, entering supermarkets with cold a/c blasting
and browsing Betty Crocker cake boxes- as if I never left. My accent seems to come back as if by magic
(or do I put it on to fit in again?), droppin' the "g" and using
expressions I almost forgot existed.
I forget that I wasn't always happy in my old workaday life
here, that every day wasn't like being on vacation. Because now I am on vacation and that does make a difference. But home has a special flavor that I love to
taste again. Here are a few impressions
and pictures…
One of my mom's crepe myrtle trees.
Dappled sunshine in my mom's yard. Crepe myrtle trees in
every color.
Cicadas and crickets singing all day long. Balmy evenings
and slightly cooler mornings.
Peaches and corn on the cob and farmer's markets. Southern-style decorations and tanned college
girls in pony tails.
Durbin's Farms in Chilton County.
Middle-aged men in college football polo shirts, American
flags everywhere and pick-up trucks that look like monster trucks to me (and
especially Juliette).
Another pick-up, er, monster truck.
US-themed bunting.
The renovated split level and one-level houses in my mom's
neighborhood. A few front porches with gracious ferns hanging on the ceiling.
Shutters that don't necessarily shut but are for decoration.
Familiar intersections and shops interspersed with new
places I've never heard of. Darkened
movie theaters on hot summer days, back-to-school sales while I'm still
playing.
People talking about their weekend on the lake or travelers
coming home from beach trips on the Gulf of Mexico. Little children who say,
"yes, ma'am." (Not mine, for the record, though she should take a cue
from the others…)
Things that I used to slightly scorn or outright shun seem
cozy now, as I smile kindly at my surroundings.
Sometimes you need to leave home to appreciate it more. And as I still have just shy of two weeks, I
have to say (like this air freshener) "it's all good."
When my dad was here in May he suggested going ahead and buying Juliette her birthday present. It is this month, in fact, and he figured he could let her choose then and enjoy while he was there. At first I suggested a chocolate baking kit made for kids but when we saw it in the store it wasn't quite what I had imagined. She didn't seem as interested in it as she when she'd seen the ads on TV. So my dad, wise as he is, said, just let her pick out what SHE wants. And she recalled seeing a Barbie whose hair you can dye in rainbow stripes. So we found that and my dad bought it for her.
She enjoyed dyeing the hair and washing it and combing it. "Isn't Barbie beautiful?" she'd ask me as she combed that incredibly blonde hair. "Yeah, she's pretty," I'd say but felt like adding, of course, brunettes with glasses who aren't statuesque are lovely, too. Six-year olds aren't quite ready for that kind of talk though.
I couldn't fight it, nor should I. Girls like Barbies. My sister and I sure did when we were little. One of my fondest memories is coming home to find that my mom had sewed cute little jackets and skirts for our Barbies and set them up in their chairs, as if they were on a talk show or something. My little sister and I spent many an afternoon making up Barbie conversations. I also remember us beating up Ken in the backyard and clobbering his head against some wooden tool.
There are still moments I look at Barbie and say, in that judgemental way I have, I don't think I could be friends with a girl who looked and dressed like this in real life. But why? Because she takes good care of her hair and make-up? Because she dresses to her advantage and isn't afraid to show off her feminity? Because she can walk way better in stiletto heels than I ever will? Maybe I'm being the catty one here, just assuming Barbie is an airhead because she cares about her appearance and is always flawless. Who knows how many nights girls like Barbie go home feeling lonely because the girls diss her and talk behind her back, and the men who approach her are only interested in her looks. Poor Barbie.
But at 41, I've reconciled with Barbie. She's not as shallow as she might seem. And she's been growing up. Here are some reasons I will let my girl play with her.
1. Because it's not Barbie I need to be afraid of. It doesn't matter if Juliette never owns a Barbie. She will see plenty of images of girls and women on tv that are way more damaging than a pretty plastic doll. Some of the tweens and teens on those Disney shows are more harmful for girls to watch than Barbie because they are often extremely thin and a little too obsessed with fashion. And just look how Miley Cyrus turned out. 2. Because Barbie can be whatever she wants to be. The new generation of Barbies may still love their clothes but they are also equal opportunity. They can be doctors and business women and vets. They can be astronauts and moms, too. Then there is Super Barbie. Good role models for girls!
3. Because Barbie really IS a nice girl. Yes, she's gorgeous. This is no Cabbage Patch ugly cute. But she's also a good friend, sister and girlfriend. I've been watching the cartoons Life in the Dreamhouse on youtube with Juliette and they actually have some good messages and portray Barbie as a kind and hard-working, even intelligent (!) person.
4. Because Barbie can poke fun at herself. In these same cartoons, there is a lot of tongue in cheek humor about how Barbie spends hours picking out her clothes or the problems of getting sand in plastic joints. Mattel has evolved and Juliette's generation sees Barbie as a girl who doesn't take herself too seriously.
5. Because little girls need to dream. No, not ever girl will turn out to look like Barbie.* But as long as girls know that Barbie is just a doll, like Rapunzel and Barbie mermaid, then she fits perfectly in their world of imaginary play. Juliette now tells me matter of factly that mermaids don't exist. So I think she will be able to tell the difference between dolls and people. And all too soon she'll abandon Barbie for fashion magazines, which send more messages than Barbie can.
So, Barbie, you are welcome at my house. We'll sing along to Barbie Girl by Aqua and brush your hair, because girls will be girls, and Barbie is a girl of her time.
*It's pretty rare to have those magical measurements, though one girl
has tried. We saw her photo in a magazine at the doctor's office and
Juliette was transfixed by it. But I told her that girl put herself
through painful surgeries to look like that.
