Farmers' Markets in Chapel Hill & Carrboro  We have two that I try to visit.  The Farmers' Market in Carrboro is great fun, parking is in short supply, but aside from that you can find many things except live farm birds and animals, thus this is no place to look for a pet chicken, duck or turkey nor a babygoat, sheep or even kittens or puppies.  However, I am sure if you mentioned that you were in the market for a pet of almost any description someone would volunteer quickly.  There are plants - flowers, herbs, trees, a wonderful assortment of fresh and home-grown vegetables.  There is a variety of farm-raised meats, chicken, lamb and beef and a variety of cuts. There is art work, and handiwork including hand-woven textiles, even outdoor furniture - beautifully made Adirondack chairs.  Another vendor offers items made from cedar  and bags of cedar chips.  It is open Saturday mornings from 8 a.m. through early afternoon and, I think, on Wednesday afternoons.

There is also a Saturday morning market in the parking lot of University Mall.  It is less sophisticated, the range of choices is smaller, but it is pleasant as well.

June 6, 2012  We sold the apartment in Paris and moved what we could back to Chapel Hill, NC.  Unhappily, it will be some months before we return so now my attention is on Chapel Hill and real estate. 

Our daughter with her two little boys (6 & 4) have moved into the same condominium complex where we live, so we see her a little bit more.  I walk her dog, a non-barking Jack Russell.   I had become used to its charms, and now I am looking at Chapel Hill with different eyes as Louise renews her acquaintance with this charming little town (not really so little) where she finished high school and college.

Our condo complex has a swimming pool so she and the two boys spend an hour or two there every time they can.  In Raleigh they did not have access to a swimming pool except at the Y and it was less relaxed.  The public library here is a delight.  Temporarily it is in the University Mall, with lots of parking, and just minutes from where we  live, so they visit it weekly, a good habit for little children, and the children's section there is wonderful.

35, rue de Notre Dame de Nazareth, 75003 Paris

Interior of our apartment.

Entering the apartment you see the windows overlooking the street, and the hand-hewn beams.  A part of Colette's collection of 19th C pottery is on the walls.

Looking from the interior of the exterior wall toward the dining area with the

built in desk and closet.  The appraiser and other knowledgeable people put the date of construction about 1715.  The beams were obviously cut by ax not a circular saw, and the plumbing was added much later.  This is evidenced by the fact that the bthtub and toilet sit about 6" above the floor to provide for the plumbing! At some point before plumbing was added to the interior of the apartment, the building was plumbed and fawcets added to each landing.

The kichen in very serviceable.  The Rosiere stove is really nifty.  Three gas eyes, one electric eye for slow cooking, an oven with built in rotisserie, which we never used, and the bottom drawer is a very efficient dishwasher.

Colette found someone to build a cupboard on which to put the refrigerator wo we do not have to get on our hands and knees to put things in/take out.



Thanksgiving in Bangui, Central African Republic (CAR)

       Thanksgiving in Bangui, Central African Republic (CAR)

Colette and I were married in September and by October we were well established in our little house on the edge of the great Ubangui River and very much a part of the local civil and diplomatic party scene.  Colette’s English teacher, Tim Browne, and his wife, Carole, had become good friends and they would frequently join us, and other friends, for barbecues on the front lawn.  Other good friends included the Jacques and Augé and their two teen-aged sons.  Brigitte Renault would arrive via the river in her inboard motor boat, the fastest on the river!

As was/is the custom in French speaking Africa, soon after our arrival we had given our own party to introduce Colette and it had been a success.  More than 40 friends and acquaintances invited, my secretary at the US AID office in the Embassy engulfed in telephone calls of people who thought they should have been invited, many of whom I had never heard of.  The crowd was such that arrival times had to be budgeted by the quarter hour so everyone would not arrive at once. 

Now a year later and in anticipation of Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays, in September the Embassy had put a group order for frozen turkeys and other goodies from Denmark, so the menu was already established.  Over sunset drinks on the terrace overlooking the river with the Browns and the Augés the subject of Tfhanksgiving – a high profile American feast, came up and we planned a simple dinner.    The issue of additional guests was discussed and we agreed to keep the group small, say 12 persons.  The goal had been set, and the execution was the next step.

A week or two later Tim dropped by and said with excitement that they had written friends in England about the Thanksgiving project and said friends, an airline pilot and his wife, replied they would fly to Bangui for the occasion.  Another French friend heard about the project invited himself and his wife, and said parents would come down from France for the occasion.  The guest list became longer.

The turkey was at least 20 pounds so we were safe.  The great day approached. I would cook the turkey, and the Browns and Augers would prepare other dishes.

On the equator the daily weather is fairly predictable.  The big rains come in April-May, and a shorter rainey season in September-October.  The hot weather without rain is more or less from Ocgtober until the spring rains begin.  December and January are splendid!  So we had no concern about planning an outdoor activity.  Chairs and tables were borrowed from the Embassy.  Now we had to cook the dinner. 

I had decided to do a corn-bread stuffing, so my battered copy of The Joy of Cooking was brought out. Jacques Augé said he would help and the late evening before the schedule feast we set to make corn bread stuffing following the recipe from Ms. Rombauer in The Joy of Cooking.  The guest list now numbered more than 20 persons, so we set up an assembly line for measuring, mixing, and baking.  I

By midnight we were done, Jacques went home, and I set the alarm for 4 AM and went to bed.  Too soon the larm went off and I went to the kitchen and lit the oven, stuffed the turkey, and popped it into the oven and returned to bed.  Our cook  and houseman would come in by 7 and would take over the responsibilities of watching the turkey, setting up the tables and chairs and preparing for the onslaught of guests.

By 12 noon the guests had started to arrive, men in shorts and flipflops, the women in a wide variety of costumes from the African version of the Hawaiian mou-mous (?) to skirts and shorts.  Dorothy Parker put it neatly that candy is fine but liquor is quicker.  There was a wide variety of thirst quenchers – guests brought Champagne, white or red wine, and of course there were G&T’s. 

Beside the turkey the highlight of the afternoon was reading aloud and passing around copies

of

Buchwald’s A la Recherche du Temps Perdue

By Art Buchwald
Thursday, November 28 1996; Page B01
The Washington Post

---

[ In 1953, during my tour of duty with the French Foreign Legion in the Sahara, my tough sergeant from Marseilles said to me, "Why do all the American recruits refuse to eat anything but turkey on this day?"

I told him I was sorry but my lips were sealed. He then poured honey on my head so the ants would get me. That's when I broke down and talked.]

One of the most important holidays is Thanksgiving Day, known in France as le Jour de Merci Donnant.

Le Jour de Merci Donnant was first started by a group of pilgrims (Pelerins) who fled from l'Angleterre before the McCarran Act to found a colony in the New World (le Nouveau Monde), where they could shoot Indians (les Peaux-Rouges) and eat turkey (dinde) to their hearts' content.

They landed at a place called Plymouth (now a famous voiture Americaine) in a wooden sailing ship named the Mayflower, or Fleur de Mai, in 1620. But while the Pelerins were killing the dindes, the Peaux-Rouges were killing the Pelerins, and there were several hard winters ahead for both of them. The only way the Peaux-Rouges helped the Pelerins was when they taught them how to grow corn (mais). They did this because they liked corn with their Pelerins.

In 1623, after another harsh year, the Pelerins' crops were so good they decided to have a celebration and because more mais was raised by the Pelerins than Pelerins were killed by the Peaux-Rouges.

Every year on le Jour de Merci Donnant, parents tell their children an amusing story about the first celebration.

It concerns a brave capitaine named Miles Standish (known in France as Kilometres Deboutish) and a shy young lieutenant named Jean Alden. Both of them were in love with a flower of Plymouth called Priscilla Mullens (no translation). The vieux capitaine said to the jeune lieutenant:

"Go to the damsel Priscilla (Allez tres vite chez Priscilla), the loveliest maiden of Plymouth (la plus jolie demoiselle de Plymouth). Say that a blunt old captain, a man not of words but of action (un vieux Fanfan la Tulipe), offers his hand and his heart -- the hand and heart of a soldier. Not in these words, you understand, but this, in short, is my meaning.

"I am a maker of war (Je suis un fabricant de la guerre) and not a maker of phrases.

Although Jean was fit to be tied (convenable à être emballé), friendship prevailed over love and went to his duty. But instead of using elegant language, he blurted out his mission. Priscilla was muted with amazement and sorrow (rendue muette par l'etonnement et la tristesse).

At length she exclaimed, breaking the ominous silence, "If the great captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me, why does he not come himself and take the trouble to woo me?" ("Ou est-il, le vieux Kilometres? Pourquoi ne vient-il pas aupres de moi pour tenter sa chance?")

Jean said that Kilometres Deboutish was very busy and didn't have time for such things. He staggered on, telling her what a wonderful husband Kilometres would make. Finally, Priscilla arched her eyebrows and said in a tremulous voice, "Why don't you speak for yourself, Jean?" ("Chacun à son gout.")

And so, on the fourth Thursday in November, American families sit down at a large table brimming with tasty dishes, and for the only time during the year eat better than the French do.

No one can deny that le Jour de Merci Donnant is a grand fête, and no matter how well fed American families are, they never forget to give thanks to Kilometres Deboutish, who made this great day possible.

(C) 1996, Los Angeles Times Syndicate . Copyright 1996 The Washington Post Company

Marriage in Paris

Marriage in France consist of one or two ceremonies.  In any case there has to be a civil ceremny.  The civil ceremony now is referred to as the Pacte civil de Solidarite or Pac.   Originally the civil ceremony was intended only for heterosexual marriages.  The PAC now includes same sex marriages and provides for most contingencies included in marriage vows concerning property and divorce.  As a result many young, and not so young, people on both side of the sexual fence prefer the one step PAC and forget the religious ceremony.

In any case for a marriage to be recognized by the government there must be a civil ceremony.  If you want a religious one as well, that is your choice.  As the PAC simplifies the ins-and-outs of marriage, it has become a popular alternative.
 
I do not have wifi in the apartment and because the town hall does and the town hall for the 3rd district (arrondissement) is open Saturday mornings, I come in with my backpack with my laptop to one of the desks in the east or west wing to check my mail and read the papers.  Before I pack up to leave I hear the crowd noises of guests coming to the town hall to watch a friend or friends get married that does not due justice to the red carpet on the elegant, late 19th C staircase to the first floor where the civil ceremonies are held.

Because the bride is wearing a traditional wedding gown, we assume that following the civil ceremony the couple and their friends will caravan to the church of their choice for for the religious ceremony followed usually by a formal and extensive luncheon with lots of liquid goodies.

So far I have only seen hetero marriages with the bride outfitted appropriately in a formal  white wedding gown. Here is a bride and groom in full marriage dress crossing the bridge behind Notre Dame de Paris.  We imagine they have made the trip from Japan to Paris for the occasion although for a non-resdent to marry in France it is a little complicated.

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October 7, 2011, Paris almost sparkles!

My French relations, including my wife, Colette, do not understand my fascination with the City of Paris sanitation services.  This blog will take time to develop because I hope to include pictures of the different activities. 

Our apartment is on the first floor (one floor up from the ground floor, le rez-de-chausee) (sorry, my laptop does not do accents) so we have a good view of what passes on the street.

The City of Paris sanitation services operate 7 days a week, all day and sometimes late into the night.  However, lets take it from the early morning.  About 6:15 AM the first heavy truck makes it way past our apartment and, regrettably, I do not know what it does because by the time I fall out of bed, find slippers, it has past our building.  But shortly thereafter the sidewalk crew comes by.  This is a small tank truck with a driver and on either the left-hand or right-hand side, a man with a long wand washes the sidewalk and the water sweeps dog poo, papers, leaves et al into the gutter.  He has tomake too trips, about 30 minutes apart.  I imagine he does the full length of rue de N.D. deNazareth, the makes a U-turn on Blvd. de Saint-Martin, almost a mile west, anprobably returns on Blvd Saint-Martin Meslay, the switches side of the street.

The next person is the gutter sweeper.  He, like all the saniation employees, is uniformed in a dark green coverall with a yellow vest, and a matching green broom.  In times past each neighborhood had its gutter sweeper and they were part of the scenery.  Colette's sister, chatlaine of the family chateau in a really small town in the east of France.

 (Courcelles/Aubreville/Meuse) and thus to the manor born, was vastly amused by the fact that she and the neighborhood sweeper were on daily speaking terms as she progressed down the sidewalk to market and he cleaned the gutter.  They exchanged views on the state of the world, the young people, and the problems of keeping Paris neat and tidy.

Now the gutter sweepers are rotated so it is a different one daily.  His job is to turn on the water at the fire hydrants to flood the gutters and sweep the debris into the drains. The sweeper in this picture is working at a major intersection and if you look closely you will see he has vertical cart that has a ring with a clear green plastic sack into which he is dumping items that cannot be swept into the street drainage system.

Several years ago terrorist would put hand grenade-type explosives with timers in the fixed, metal sided sidewalk trash cans.  When they exploded the trash can fragmented and the trash can pieces caused death and serious injuries to anyone nearby.  The City of Paris' Sanitation Department response was to remove the metal sidewalk trash cans and replace them with short metal posts fixed in the sidewalk with a ring at the top.  The clear green plastic sacks would reveal the presence of unwanted or threatening items plus are lightweight and easily closed, lifted out and replace.  An environmental note here, a second sack in its own ring has been added, and the clear yellow sack is labeled "Recycle."

In the courtyard of our building (now dated as 18th C) there are three types of garbage cans, one for recycle (tins, plastic, paper) one for garbage and one with a special round hole in the middle of the lid for bottles.  Disposing of bottles in Paris is schedule twice weekly and has its own truck.  The truck, like the trucks for the other two types of garbage have double lifts at the back.  They usually come by in mid-afternoon, Tuesday and, I think, Friday.  There is a driver and one helper.  The truck stops for the garbage cans on the side of the road, the driver hops out, and he takes one side of the road and the helper takes the other side.  The garbage cans always seem to be full with bottle, and they are pushed out to the truck, engaged in the lift system, the driver, I think, pushes the button and the plastic cans are lifted into the air, turned upside down, and the bottles drop into the truck.  The sound of breaking glass fills the air with it own music.

The next challenge is copy my pictures of this activity from my Microsoft Picture program however this is proving to be more of problem than I had anticipated.  The next picture will be of the public bottle disposer sites located on an attractivde corner of the Square du Temple.

Tuesday afternoons the bottle truck comes to our neighborhood.  It is exactly like the garbage truck except it pick up only the plastic cans with the special top for bottles.  The picture also illustrates what happens when a large wide truck moves slowly, with intermitent stops, up a narrow heavily travelled street.  Traffic comes to  a complete stop, and horns are honked to now avail.

This is the bird's eye view of our evening trash pickup.  The trucks have two different color schemes, one off white, the other dark and almost lime green.  The trucks are kept clean and the mean wear dark green coveralls with lime green safety jackets.  You can see the back of the truck, the green square can in the lift, and one of the team members.  Occasionally the driver will hop out and help and the team work is remarkable.

October 2,2011, Quai de l'Archeveche

This is the other side of the Pont de l'Archeveche (pedestrians only) where the locks are beginning to accumulate!  Below is the garden of Pope Jean XXIII and the rear of the cathedral.  I cannot find the correct architectural name for the spire above the nef but below is another view.

The Ile de la Cite is part of the original Paris and this is a view of the spire above the nef (I think) thrugh a tiny passage.  Below is a patient artist - I peeked at his work and it the line drawing with a very thin black line seemed very promising.