Les Chiens de Paris and other observations

  

Along the way, I made some friends. We didn't speak the same language, but most of them let me take their picture. And their proud parents were happy to have their "children" photographed. There is something special about "dogs" in any country.

As you can imagine, I've had an incredible experience and some humorous moments. The first day I was here, I was hit by a bicyclist who was riding on the sidewalk, around a corner while smoking a cigarette. I, obviously, wasn't hurt, but momentarily thought he was going to burn a hole in my coat. It didn't happen and the man apologised profusely.

I have come to believe the reason Parisien women have "skinny" legs is because, from birth, they have been required to climb the stairs of the Metro. It is eqivalent to a daily exercise on the Stair Master. In the beginning, my thighs burned on every step. Now, much better. Walking everywhere helps too. I've also learned that the French do not (against the law, perhaps) use high fructose corn syrup in their food production. At any rate, things here are not as sweet. Tasty, certainly. Also, they are particular about food code violations. To be called "chocolate", the product must have a certain percent of cocoa. That's probably why it is so delicious.

Speaking of food, the French eat out a lot. In the mornings, it's cafe au lait or espresso etc. with a croissant; at noon, they eat their big meal "au restaurant" and in the evening, they basically snack. So, today, in French fashion, I went to Chez Paul. This restaurant is famous for its potatoes and the review gave it 5 stars. I was seated in a corner but very near 2 business men who were half way through their lunch. I was hoping to hear their conversation, but the place was crowded; I couldn't understand a word. I looked at the menu and decided on "le plat specialite" - the house special. When the dish arrived at my table, I gasped. I had ordered "Steak Tartare". Before me, there was a pile of ground beef, uncooked along with "salade" and, of course, potatoes in a scalloped form. I told myself, "when in Rome..." and dug in. It was delicious. There were finely chopped onions and herbs and all kinds of seasonings. The potatoes were sumptuous too. All in all, it was terrific.

I find it interesting that two incredibly difficult but memorable events occurred during my stay: the Japanese Earthquake/Tsunami and the Libyan Air Strikes. These events remind me, daily, that we live in an uncertain and very fragile world.

Even though I feel I've learned many things, I continue to struggle reading a map. Unlike loggerhead turtles, who evidently can find the route to the Sargasso Sea immediately after birth, even if there in the wrong hemisphere, I sometimes travel miles on foot to locate a famous monument.

I think the French, like the Canadians, have a rye sense of humor. They are very self-deprecating. On one occasion, my teacher asked me if I liked the view from Sacre-Coeur. I told her there were low lying clouds and I couldn't see the city. She asked me if I was sure it wasn't pollution.

Unfortunately, I found, much too late, watching the French cooking TV Channel extremely helpful in understanding the language. The cook speaks slowly while mixing the ingredients and the visual of the food and the prep gives additional clues to what she is saying.

This is my last blog. Thank you for all your tips and comments. I'm excited to be coming home as I miss you all.

Much Love, Sally

P.S. I only stepped in dog-doo once. Amazing.