Category: Expat

Britain, Expat, Friends, Humor, Linkstorm, London, Travel, Weekend, Writing April 11, 2014April 11, 2014

Friday Links (Expat Buddy System)

“Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.”
― Mark Twain

Just a quick batch this week kittens. My future bestselling YA author buddy Caitlin is in town – from China, by way of Paris. We’ve been swapping stories of the expat and writing life, taking tea, and going to the theatre. And if you’ll excuse me, we’re off this evening for more of the same (you can follow along on our adventures here until the official recap in a couple days)! Here are your links and tell me what you’re up to this weekend!

In honor of Caitlin, who for a time worked as Winnie-the-Pooh at Disney World, I’ll just leave this thing here. Oh bother!

Amanda Brooks is an author and former Barney’s fashion director who switched up her life and career plans to move to a farm in Britain with her family. She blogs about it here (and her instagram feed is beyond worth following), cataloging her rural life. I loved this recent post on the hunts she and her family participate in. Blood sport is controversial, and I’m not making an argument about it here, but I have to admit the tweedy, old fashioned, country elegance of the participants makes for some beautiful photography! Lady Mary, is that you?

Excellent advice for writers, #8 resonates with me particularly lately.

Remember, you have the same amount of hours each day as Beyonce. And Beethoven. And Balzac.

When we were in Paris we saw that a cottage industry had sprung up around “love locks,” but apparently they are quite literally putting some structures in danger.

Baby naming phenomenons are interesting to me. This time, let’s hear it for the boys. h/t Savvy.

Just saying.

Hilarious and awesome writer and friend of the blog Sunny from Sunny in London, put together a great post today on tips for aspiring bloggers and writers. I took notes.

NO. Not okay! Unbelievably not okay!

I often get slightly annoyed when I hear people rave about how much they “love a British accent,” because I want them to specify: which one? Because let me tell you know, not all regional dialects are equally sexy and what most people think of as a British accent is a clipped form of speech developed almost entirely in the upper class halls of learning to be used in the new medium of radio.

The internet is a strange place, the oddest things can be linked. Often weirdly successfully.

Game of Thrones is back!

Expat, History, Humor, London, Travel April 8, 2014April 8, 2014

Paris Snapshot

“You will respect mah authori-tay!”
– Cartman, South Park

Respect the hair, people. Man and beast alike.

Expat, Food, Humor, London, Travel April 7, 2014April 4, 2014

Shameless Food Porn in Spitalfields

“Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what’s for lunch.”
― Orson Welles

The Brick Lane Market, which is just around the corner from Spitalfields Market and bleeds into a bunch of other less official markets (as previously discussed) is stuffed with good things. But when I convinced Jeff to go wandering with me the other weekend, we spent an inordinate amount of time surveying the food options. This is partly because Jeff’s metabolism is a ridiculous thing that requires (no exaggerated, by the way, doctors confirmed) nearly four times as many calories as me a day to just maintain his weight. And also because there were free samples at every turn.

With that, I present to you the fascinating, and mouthwatering, cross section of global cuisine we taste tested.

Ethiopian.

French – and who would have thought beef bourguinon would ever count as street food!

Oh, Canada!

Chinese.

Southern North American.

Malaysian. Pancakes. Apparently, with a side of surprise.

Thai.

North African.

Hungry? Come visit. I know where the good food lives.

Expat, Humor, Travel April 5, 2014April 1, 2014

Art and A Sense of Proportion

“I dream my painting and I paint my dream.”
― Vincent van Gogh

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed in the Louvre, but I find it’s the proximity that really throws one off balance. For example, in one of the many French galleries hangs this self-portrait by the artist with a couple of his masterworks hinted at behind him.

Of course, the you turn around in the gallery and on the opposite wall…

Paris, you are spoilt!

Britain, Expat, Humor, London, Travel April 3, 2014April 2, 2014

A Night On The Seine and a Confession

“London is a riddle. Paris is an explanation.”
― G. K. Chesterson

On our first night in Paris after our meal, we wandered along the river at in the dark – one of the best ways to take in the city of lights. Couples were cuddling, friends were blowing lazy and very French streams of cigarette smoke, a few boys were making inappropriate comments to passing women and being rebuffed with perfect flicks of their eyebrows, and everything was bathed in soft gold light.

Paris conflicts me. On the one hand, it’s stunningly beautiful. It’s colors of stone and slate are instantly recognizable the world over, and it wears both its age and good looks well. London, by comparison is certainly less romantic and elegant (Paris does have the advantage of not having been Blitzed in WWII, it must be said), and I think in many ways it’s less beautiful… but I still love London more.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not supposed to, like I’m obliged to adore Paris for the sophistication and je ne sais quoi that defines it over London’s rougher edges. But I don’t. I can’t help it. As much as I admire them and long for a touch of their style, I’m not a French girl at heart. I salute the Audrey Hepburns of the world, and will never stand in the way of a person who dreams of the Eiffel Tower, much less bash a genuine love of pastries and good dressing. Hell, hand over the pain au chocolat and wrap dresses! But as stunning as the Seine is at night, I’m afraid that in defiance of both convention and accepted popular taste, I say give me the Thames.

I plan on coming back to Paris as often as I can, but the truth is that London got her hooks into me long ago and I doubt I’ll ever get them out again. And I don’t particularly want to. That quote at the top of the post is one of my favorites about the two cities, and in the end I much prefer the riddle!

Expat, Humor, London, Travel April 2, 2014April 2, 2014

Crepes and Lingua Franca

“In Paris they just simply opened their eyes and stared when we spoke to them in French! We never did succeed in making those idiots understand their own language.”
― Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad

Once upon a time, I had pretty decent schoolgirl French capabilities. I studied it Middle and High School (with a one year break for Latin, which I had to give up when we moved to a godforsaken island in the Pacific ocean…not that I have any remaining linguistic bitterness or anything). I also took two additional years of it at university, after which I quit so I could take other time heavy courses like Art History of the Northern Renaissance (which I talked my way into without any other Art History credentials) and Comparative Literature of the Early 18th Century.

My nerdiness is well established, yes?

Anyway, I was proud of my French. I’ll be the first to admit that it wasn’t always technically strong, I never really learned how to study properly until my last couple of years at university and grammar was always difficult, but my usage was great. More than one teacher questioned in interviews how I could get only moderate scores on written exams while being able to speak it well. The answer was, I used it. For two summers I lived and interned at NATO in Brussels, which is a multilingual organization. I heard it all the time, I used it out and about in the city, I read it everywhere on signs. I learn best by doing and that’s been as true for languages as any other skill I’ve tried to acquire. Heck, I even picked up a bit of Flemish Dutch just by listening to it and getting subtitles on every TV program.

But after I quit French, I didn’t get the chance to practice it again except for an occasional film. It slid into disuse. Because my technical skills weren’t as well developed, I actually felt it slipping from my grasp over time. My accent (which had once been complimented by a Parisian waiter who initially mistook me for a native speaker, high praise) got clunky and awkward in my own ears, my mouth forgot how to form itself to produce the correct sounds.

As we were gearing up for Paris Jeff kept teasing about making me speak to strangers or order food for everyone, but the truth is I was terrified. I wanted to practice my lost language but the very idea seemed overwhelming. The first day and a half was hard. I could read the placards and exhibitions information at Versailles, but it took effort. I ordered my food in French but even then I winced at a couple of the errors I made. (For what it’s worth, I have found Parisians entirely thrilled to hear a tourist even attempting to speak French, it makes a nice change from preppy American students shouting, “Please speak English!” at them across counters. Which we saw a lot of.)

But something amazing happened on the Metro on day two. I’d spent the day listening hard (in the least creepy way possible) to conversations around me and suddenly, from one moment to the next, something clicked in my brain. An announcement came on over the PA…and I understood it. The fast jabber of talk around me still was hard to grasp, but I understood what the conversations were and how they were progressing. A lovely little old lady stopped us on the street to ask for directions and I was able to apologize, explain our tourist status, and exchange pleasantries without a hiccup.

We went for crepes to celebrate (not really, we were on our way for crepes anyway, but Francophone pride certainly added some je ne sais quoi to the whole affair) and I was able to order for both of us and have the briefest of conversations with the delightful proprietor.

He’s the gentleman in the blue shirt, and I’m a fan. He’s a love!

Good looking husband is good looking.

Know what else is good looking? That pear, chocolate, and cream stuffed flirt!

It probably seems really dinky but I was thrilled to realize that even though it’s rusty, my French is still there. If I learned it by doing, I’m suddenly confident in a way I haven’t felt in years that I could remember by doing as well. As it happens, on our second crepe endeavor, besides the Eiffel Tower, I was again complimented by a Parisian on my language skills. He didn’t mistake me for a Native, but he did ask if I was Canadian. All things considered, and years without practice, I think I’ll take that as high praise as well.

These guys charmed locals and tourists alike with tons of gesticulation and winks.

I might be half blinded by the sun and look like a sleep deprived crepe troll, but that face is the look of rediscovered Francophone victory well rewarded, minions.

Expat, Humor, London, Travel April 1, 2014April 1, 2014

A Brief History Review and a Puzzle

“Accordingly, I determined to pass that by as unknown, and to proceed at once to treat of his character, his deed, and such other facts of his life as are worth telling and setting forth, and shall first give an account of his deed at home and abroad, then of his character and pursuits, and lastly of his administration and death, omitting nothing worth knowing or necessary to know.”
– Einhard

He’s the first Holy Roman Emperor, and yet we have no idea where he was born or even precisely how many siblings he had. He conquered huge tracts of Europe, founded the first great institutions for learning and study since the fall or Rome, but remained almost entirely illiterate. He had masses of illegitimate children and refused to allow his daughters to marry, but let them carry on with their paramours and common-law husbands and enjoyed the bastard grandchildren they gave him openly. He campaigned against the Moors, who most people don’t know sent their armies deep into France and Germany in the 8th century and might have taken the continent but for him. Despite being absolutely brutal in warfare, he became renowned in the later age of chivalry for his deeds. He was crowned emperor of the Romans by the Pope himself, mostly to try and shake claims to the Byzantine Empire’s claims of cultural and authoritative inheritance, but which largely contributed to the destabilization of both the East and the West in the end. His power and commitment to art as well as war ushered in the first (of several, for what it’s worth) Renaissances.

So could somebody please explain what Charlemagne is doing with this highly unexpected piece of domestic equipment in this Paris statue? Inquiring minds want to know.

Expat, Humor, Travel March 31, 2014March 26, 2014

Paris Snapshot

“There is but one Paris and however hard living may be here, and if it became worse and harder even—the French air clears up the brain and does good—a world of good.”
― Vincent van Gogh

Expat, Food, Friends, History, Humor, London, Travel March 30, 2014March 29, 2014

Saturday Night In Paris: A Short Trek and Sean Penn. Seriously.

“Paris is the only city in the world where starving to death is still considered an art.”
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón

After a gorgeous day at Versailles, we convened at Katie and Adam’s quite-nearly-as-gorgeous-and-only-slightly-less-gilded hotel room to pick a place for dinner. It was a bit late in the day to be sorting this out but Katie (as ever, the best travel planner I have ever had the pleasure of frolicking around a major European capital with!) had already created a whole list of recommendations and hot spots. We settled on a restaurant that sounded promising and, after trying and failing to make a reservation online, got the brilliant idea to ask the concierge service to make a reservation for us since we figured a top-notch restaurant would be more willing to accommodate the request if it came from the front desk of the Le Meurice hotel rather than tourists. We we right. We know our cultural limitations, and how to work them, kittens.

Reservation made we made the trek across the river, found the right area, and then got a bit lost since we’d marked the address on a map but believed that we left Katie’s all-important list in the hotel room, containing the precise address. As it happened, we found the list the next day. In my camera bag. (Thunks head on her desk. I’m wincing just remembering it. Carry on, I’ll meet you at the next paragraph.)

Anyway, we were late for our reservation, but managed to find the joint Le Coupe Chou, which might be one of the most ambiance-rich place I have ever had the pleasure of dining in. I’m not surprised we got a bit lost, really. We were in the Latin Quarter, the old medieval heart of the city. The ruins of the Abbey of Cluny (once the largest building in the world, and the site where the Crusades were first kicked off a thousand years ago) was a mere stone’s throw away.

Don’t let the humble exterior lull you into a false sense of security, Le Coupe Chou is fearfully and wonderfully made within! In it’s 17th century past it began its current incarnation as residential spaces, which means that you have to be led through multiple rooms and levels of dining, drinking, and lounging spaces to get to your tables; complete with old wooden stairs, knocked through stone walls, heavy stone fireplaces, delftware tiles, and dark timber beams in the ceiling. The effect is very cozy and elegant at the same time.

Apparently both medieval and Roman site elements were discovered during upgrades and renovations. Which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, it’s rather par for the course in a city as ancient as Paris, but excites me all the same. The remains of a 16th century well can be found in the basement along with 12th century pottery, and a piece of graffiti from the Revolution has a place of honor behind the bar. My little history heart was melting with contentment.

Late as we were, we were shown to our table and got to peruse the menu and talk all we wanted while waiters kept the bread and courses coming. Jeff chose best with the veal, by the way, which we both heartily recommend. At one point Adam excused himself from the table and when he came back, he was wearing an expression of complete delight masked by false nonchalance – a sort of widening of the eyes with the corners of the mouth turned up ever so slightly against his will.
“Guys, I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure Sean Penn is sitting three tables away.”
Naturally this meant that throughout the evening (spaced well apart) we all excused ourselves to confirm or deny the news.

And team it’s confirmed. I googled it later, just to verify we weren’t blinded by the Romantic lights of the city (or perhaps still slightly winded from our dash to find the restaurant in the first place), but yes. Sean Penn was in Paris, and he was definitely sitting thirty feet away from us that evening. More googling later informed me that other notables to have dined at this spot include Brigitte Bardot, Marlene Dietrich, The Beatles, and most of the great and good of French theatre over the last half century.

I herewith surrender any rights to complain about my life being uninteresting for the next six months at least. If I do, minions are encouraged to slap me across the face.

Expat, Freelance, Humor, Linkstorm, London, Travel, Weekend March 28, 2014March 27, 2014

Friday Links (A Week After Paris, Edition)

“There is but one Paris and however hard living may be here, and if it became worse and harder even—the French air clears up the brain and does good—a world of good.”
― Vincent van Gogh

Have I really been back from my fly-by-night vacation for a week? Time flies, kittens.

This week, while I’ve been regaling you with tales and photos from Paris, I’ve had a bit of a stressful schedule. I’m still finding the balance for my new temporary work reality (particularly in terms of late nights and lack of adequate sleep) but I think I’m figuring things out. I also welcomed a new freelancing client from a recommendation (huzzah!), submitted some pieces to the editor of a site I’m wild to write for, and spent yesterday coworking with the whipsmart and borderline intimidatingly savvy Alanna.

You may remember I met Alanna at the Levo League event from a couple of weeks ago. She’s a freelancer and social entrepreneurial consultant who has worked on some incredible campaigns, just chatting and hanging out with her was inspiring. It was probably the most focused and productive 6 straight hours of freelance work I’ve put in all week. Editors, entrepreneurs, and socially conscious citizens, take note of this woman.

It’s amazing the influence other people have on you when you work for yourself…I sense a blog post in the near future.

In any event, stay tuned for more tales from Paris this weekend, but in the meantime here are your links. Do add anything worthy of the minion coterie’s time and attention, plus tell me what you’re up to this Friday, in the comments!

I’ve only mentioned Paris about a gazillion times, haven’t I? I would say I’d shut up about it, but that would be a lie.

WANT.

An important, interesting question that’s not often considered: what makes something ugly? Form? Function? Intent? Exposure of inner bias? Bad taste? It’s actually a pretty complex process to declare something grotesque.

Nazis, a recluse, and over a thousand works of art. You’d think this was an Indiana Jones plot pitch, but it’s just glorious history.

Subtle shifts in perspective on major historical and cultural landmarks.

Speaking of perspective! Families posing with literally everything they own. As an accidental minimalist myself, this isn’t just fascinating, it’s also eye opening. How much junk and clutter and stuff do you think the average American family has?

My love for pineapples is well documented, so it should be no surprise that I’m flirting outrageously with the idea of adding this charmer to my desk.

Friend and friend of the blog Caitlin Kelly is back from her work with WaterAid in Nicaragua, the second poorest country in the West. Her post on some of her reflections is well worth a read.

Oh for the love of…people, really?

Gloria Steinem turned 80 this week. I love her sum up from this piece in the New York Times: “When asked whether she has any regrets, Steinem says: ‘Well, actually it’s not so much what I would have done differently. It’s that I would have done it much faster.’”

Words can’t express how much I want to see this (by the way, the This American Life live show from last year, which was wonderful and everyone should watch, is a great place to start learning about this enigmatic woman. It’s how I first heard about her).

Small Dog Syndrome

Category: Expat

Friday Links (Expat Buddy System)

Paris Snapshot