October 11, 2009

Erin, aka "The Thinker"





Good news! I think I figured out how you can comment on my rants. Some of you have emailed and said you couldn't comment on the site. Go to the bottom of the new post and type in the "enregistrer un commentaire" box. Then press on "publiere un commentaire".

It's October already! Gheesh. I was supposed to have finished my novel by now and have started work on my Nobel Prize-winning economics research. I'm a teensy bit behind.

Megan and Claire just returned from their week-long school trip to Brittany. Megan had a blast and came back very hoarse - hopefully not from learning to smoke Gauloises. Claire did not have a great time. Apparently the food was awful, meaning they served something besides cheese pizza. She did mention that she was chastized for taking a croissant and a piece of baguette (they were only permitted to take one at a time) and denied any other food for the rest of the meal. I still haven't figured out what they learned on the trip (besides how to ration bread), but I'm sure it was educational.

Erin leaves tomorrow for her trip to Bordeaux to ride ponies. She's a bit nervous since she's never been away by herself before, but she's looking forward to the pony part. The parents will not be able to contact their kids, but the school is making a recorded message available every night so we can keep up with their adventures. No parents allowed on the trip.

Erin had an interesting experience last week. She came home and said she was playing with two little French girls at recess and one said to the other "Wouldn't it be funny if we poured oil on Erin and then dropped a light on her?" The other girl cracked up. Erin didn't think it was that funny, but she had no idea how "unfunny" it really was since she didn't understand what they meant by "light." Now, in the US we'd be headed straight to school (and our attorney's office), the kid would be suspended pending an extensive psychiatric evaluation and counselors would be made available for any children that were feeling traumatized.

I know better than to even say anything to the school here. The headmistress would just shake her head and chuckle. "Those wacky kids," she'd say indulgently. "They've been watching CNN International again. I'm sure it was all in good fun."

Immolation? Fun?

Here are some other fun games that kids of from all countries can enjoy:

• Suicide bomber. Since you're the new kid, you get to be the bomber!


• Earthquake. You lay down, we'll cover you with a pile of rubble and leave you for a few days. We'll wait until your cries for help are really faint and then we'll rescue you. Unless the bell rings.


• Tsunami. We'll get a firehose and turn it on you full force to see how far we can blast you! Don't forget your wellies!!


• Genocide. This one is an old favorite with kids of all ages. A group of us decides (ethnicity #1) we don't like a group of you (ethnicity #2) and we gang up on you (invade), take your lunch money (plunder the Treasury) stomp on your iPod (destroy your infrastructure), and beat you to a pulp (murder and mutiliate). This game is great because it can be played in its entirety before the playground monitor (UN) even notices!!

Dontcha miss being a kid?

The Gym
I finally broke down and joined a gym. The "oh you walk everywhere so you don't gain weight in Paris" turned out to be a cruel joke. I do walk everywhere but I also huff down a lotta croissants. I have quite the brioche-top going. So, I joined the gym down the street. I'd hate to have to walk too far to get there.

It's quite an experience, the French gym. First, it's like an AA meeting (I would imagine). People wearing trench coats and hats sneak in with their heads down. No eye contact. And absolutely no gym clothes. They arrive dressed for work! Makeup and everything! Ok, maybe the guys are just wearing a little under-eye concealer. Then, after sneaking into the locker room
they strip off everything, get into their workout clothes and head downstairs to work out.

There's no socializing. Not even pleasantries. Why? Because NO ONE wants to admit they're there! No one is willing to expose the "we French aren't fat because we walk everywhere and are able to control ourselves" myth.

I made the mistake of wearing shorts to the gym. Women sneered. Men averted their eyes. Apparently, it is only socially acceptable for men to wear shorts. Short shorts, from the 70s of course. Women must keep their legs completely covered. Having said that, the women's outfits are quite something. One 75-year old woman with a St. Tropez tan was wearing leopard skin leggings. Quite slimming, actually.

One final observation on the gym. You're not supposed to use a water bottle. You are permitted to interrupt your exercise briefly for a drink of water at the fountain. Drinking from a water bottle while exercising, however, is simply not done. I think it stems from the French aversion to multitasking. You can understand the thought process. First, drinking water on the treadmill. Next, eating lunch while driving. Before you know it, France has , has become....the US!!! So, if a few people drop dead of dehydration at the gym to preserve the French way of life, well, so be it. A small price to pay. No one knew they were there anyway.