Souvenir de Paris

As much as I am continually charmed by the life in France, some things lag behind. For example, to complete most bureaucratic tasks (banking, visas, health insurance), a secretary hands me a blank piece of paper to put my request in writing. Most secretaries have a desk piled-high with said requests. Hmm.

Peeling paint and spiderwebs are often a part of the decor.

Our old washing machine has been bust for months now. I’ve been begging my husband to ditch it. However, there is only one issue; it is also our only counter space. How I long for one of those stainless steel and granite American-style kitchens with a French-doored refrigerator and a freezer larger than a shoebox!

Finally, the other night I was brushing my teeth on my way to bed. Not only to find a worm on the bathroom floor. Of all the things that could come off the street and into our humble bathroom, a measly little worm is the least of our troubles. But it doesn’t mean I want to have my bare feet in the proximity of an unannounced worm.

Old world charm, first world woes.

Twee for Truffe

In France, instead of calling something cute, choux (or cabbage, respectively) is a term of endearment of choice.  Does this have anything to do with the unfortunate invention of the Cabbage Patch doll?
 
And mind you, baguette refers to not only to the staple of my ex-patriotic diet, but also to magic wands and chopsticks.
 
And dogs noses are affectionately given the name of truffe.  Or the 2000 euro/per kilo mushroom. What could be more precious? Shameless plug for my pending birthday present….darling, if you are reading this, a german short-haired pointer is much less expensive than a kilo of truffles!