Date night

When we lived in the U.S., Josh and I didn't go out on dates very often. We were lucky to have Nana as a regular babysitter, but usually during the day while Josh was at work. Our neighborhood babysitter Morgan was great, as were a couple of others we found through friends, but our routine didn't include regular nights out until maybe six months before we left South Carolina for France. But in our "cultural training" class at Michelin - and can we talk about how useless a generic 'cultural training' class is, when you haven't bothered to train the expats first about the day to day realities of living in the specific country you're sending them? Ugh - we learned that previously expatriated kids almost all report that the move is hardest on their mom. And we knew from living in Japan for a year how hard expatriating is on a marriage, so we decided early on to prioritize time together as a couple.

And then we failed miserably, of course. The daily realities of moving into an apartment, helping the kids adjust, and just managing the thousands of little issues that crop up after a transition like this meant that we kept putting off finding a babysitter and going out together. Josh's accident limited his mobility, and by September, two to three months into our expatriation, we'd gone out to dinner together without the kids exactly twice. 

Last weekend we made good on our promise to change that. After six weeks of near-constant togetherness thanks to Josh's working from home, we had avoided having the real, personal conversations we needed to have in order to process everything that's happened. So we found another new babysitter, the son of Josh's colleague (and our first male babysitter - yay!), and headed to a new restaurant.

Le Bistrot d'à Côté is a new place in Clermont, having taken over the space vacated by Emily's Diner, a cartoonish impression of an American burger joint that really didn't fit into the culture of the city center. The new place is a cocktail bar whose cuisine verges on fine dining, but at really reasonable prices - 28 Euros per person gets you a gorgeous appetizer, main dish, and dessert, plus a lovely amuse bouche. We ordered a bottle of wine and settled in. 

The amuse bouche was a tough one to photograph, but it tasted amazing: an under salted (in a good way) cauliflower soup with cardamom and tarragon. Rich, creamy, and so full of cauliflower flavor - it really hit the spot.

No one looks dignified drinking from a tiny
straw. He's a good sport!

Might've taken a better picture if I hadn't drunk up half of it first.

Next up were our appetizers. I deeply regret not taking a picture of the menu, because it's hard to describe these exactly given how intricate they both were. But Josh's was a calamari dish with a squid ink sauce and some lovely, foamy cream surrounding. Fish usually isn't his favorite, but this was so delicate and tasty that we both adored it. Mine, on the right below, was a room-temperature barely-cooked egg in another foamy cream sauce, with little hazelnut pieces in it, bacon-like crumbles on top, and brioche with bleu d'Auvergne cheese baked right in. I'm going to run out of superlatives to describe this food.

Over the course of this incredible meal, we had a really overdue talk about the past few months, our schedules, and a few things that need to change in order for us to be happier here. Those kind of talks just don't seem possible in the apartment, after a long day followed by cooking dinner, putting the kids to bed, cleaning the kitchen, and staring down every chore that still needs doing. Granted, a restaurant like this one is still a damned fancy backdrop for an ordinary marital rundown, but hey: gotta make the most of this opportunity while we have it! I'm sure a meal like this would cost three or four times as much in the States, if we could even find one.

Allons-y! To the main course!

 Roasted leg of duckling, stuffed with ground duck and liver, surrounded by these incredible roasted root vegetables and a couple trickles of bright, herbaceous sauces. One or two of the roots I couldn't even identify, but I loved them all! Duck is very popular here, and I can see why. I always want more.

 Josh ordered the steak, true to form, and that roasted onion on top was jammy and flavorful and amazing. And those fries? Those aren't fries. They're potato churros, the kind of side dish that doesn't need salt or a sauce or anything at all. They were perfect.

Dessert was, unsurprisingly, delicious. We wound up switching plates - I absolutely loved the apple cookie bowl with yet another creamy sauce dotted with hazelnuts, which Josh had ordered. And he devoured my chocolate cream puff with smoked vanilla cream inside and vanilla ice cream. The cream puff itself wasn't sweet at all, just toasty and warm and intricate. If you can imagine a s'more without the sugar or stickiness, punctuated by little tastes of sweet ice cream, you'll see why we're hoping to come back to this place soon.

 Oh, and the decor was "American."

Just a quick mention of the wine: a 2014 Côtes-du-Roussillon recommended by our waiter for 30 Euros. It's about 13€ in the store, which again is more than we used to spend. But it was so flavorful and delicious and perfectly accompanied all of our dishes. When in France, drink the good wine. Oh, and the lovely, naturally carbonated Chateldon mineral water, which is collected and bottled near here. We are so classy now.

So there you have it: date night downtown! The only thing that's missing from our life here is visits from friends and family to share it with. And those are coming soon!

Kindness, everyday

I really want to tell y'all about our little date night at a new bistro in Clermont - a bistro that took over the former home of a burger joint called Emily's Diner - but I don't want to forget what a regular day feels like here. So let me tell you a bit about today, and a little bit about the day-to-day realities of trying to learn a new language.

It's a Wednesday, but the kids have had a cold for a few days, so it was Lincoln's first day of school for the week. (Remember, there's no school on Wednesdays until second grade). Luckily his cold is all but gone, while Sylvia's is still pretty bad, so Josh worked from home while I took the big kid to class. She's feeling pretty good, considering.

Dino feet!

 Since I was on my own, I brought my little wheeled grocery cart and took the bus from the school toward the local supermarket. When your fridge is 1/3 the size of the typical U.S. one, a couple of sick days means there's no food left in the house! And for some indecipherable reason, my bus stopped two stops before the one I needed and kicked us all off. So I walked through the park. It did not disappoint.

 Irises are my favorite, and whatever this variety or cousin of irises these are, they're incredible. Taller than I am, and so striking with the purple leaves - anyone care to identify them?

I made my way to Casino Supermarché and stocked up on crackers, such as they are, zucchini, bananas, apples, duck sausage - it was on sale and I needed fresh sausage for dinner tonight - and a bunch more random things. I was delighted to come across a display for "La Nuit Halloween!" Apparently American influence is growing, especially when creepy costumes and candy are involved.

It was a momentous trip in that I finally remembered that in France, one has to weigh and price one's own produce. If you bring it to the register without a sticker from the scale, you can't have it, and I allllllllways forget. Yay me! I came home, did a ton of chores while chatting with Sylvia about the Uno games and time outs she'd had while I was gone, and then she came along with me to pick up her brother. 

Back on the B bus! She charmed someone into giving up their seat, as usual, and we enjoyed the warm weather on the walk to Massillon. Lincoln, fortunately, had had a GREAT English class and was given a stack of Pokemon cards from a kind and generous older expat kid in the courtyard. We basically danced our way back to the bus stop, pausing only for the kids to beg for candy from the corner shop. Whoever decided to put a candy/doughnut booth on the corner between the college and the primary school is an evil genius.

Lunch was quick and uneventful, and the kids spent the afternoon drawing and stickering on paper while I put dinner in the crock pot, ironed a bunch of clothes I'd been ignoring, and did a few other household chores. Josh emerged from his home office, i.e. our room, a couple of times to talk or grab a bite, and before we knew it it was time to leave for karate class. 

The 9 bus this time! It's a fast ride but only comes every fifteen minutes or so, so we had to leave early with Uno cards, snacks, and water bottles in tow. Lincoln looks so cute in his gi, and a neighbor we've never met said "Good luck, Mr. Judo-kan" in English as we walked by. Then as we got off the bus at Bughes, a young girl struck up a conversation in French with me - she loves the U.S., helped me learn to pronounce "Bughes" correctly, and let us know when our stop was coming up. On our walk from the stop to the karate class at Maison des Sports, a woman bringing her own kids to class told me that her daughter overheard us, and she (the little daughter) loves America as well. The woman is from Tanzania and lived in the U.K. for a long time, so her English and French were perfect. 

I was so engrossed in conversation that I didn't notice Lincoln watching his feet as he walked directly into a wall-mounted mailbox. WHACK. He smacked his head hard, poor kid! He was ok so I made him go to class anyway, but he was benched for most of it. When he was done, he told me "It's ok. I needed to be there to watch and learn, even if I couldn't do the class." So mature. 

Meanwhile, since parents are strictly forbidden from watching the classes, Sylvia and I had an hour to kill. We busted out our Uno cards on a little table in the lobby and soon collected three more kids who were bored and waiting for parents or siblings. 

This is the part that's all about learning a new language. The most common advice I've gotten from my few French teachers has been "listen to as much French as you can." Whether it's TV, radio, podcasts, or actual in-person conversations, the more French I'm exposed to and/or using, the easier the learning will be. So Sylvia and I spent a good 45 minutes speaking in French to kids around 5 years old, naming colors for Uno when someone played a wildcard, asking whose turn it was, and celebrating whoever had won the last round. It was a special, unique moment in what can be a boring and tedious part of the week, waiting for Lincoln's class to end. 

We missed the 5:07 bus home and had to wait for the 5:22, so at the stop I once again struck up a conversation, this time with an older woman who is originally from Portugal and sympathized with my French struggles! The reputation France has for being unfriendly to Americans is, in my experience, 100% undeserved. People regularly go out of their way to speak to me, help us find our way, aid me in improving my terrible French. 

The kids and I walked home from the bus stop and had a delicious dinner from the crock pot - which they both refused to eat. Le sigh. Josh and I loved it, even with duck sausage and zucchini instead of pork and chard.

The little, boring, everyday days of this life are the ones I don't want to forget as time goes by. Irises and Pokemon cards, sniffly noses and a hundred small kindnesses. That's what I want to remember from this time of our lives.

Debacle d'Automne

What a weekend! Last time I wrote it was almost lunchtime on Friday, and my dishes for the school's annual autumn buffet were simmering away in the crock pot. Friday Fours - five hours with three expat four year old girls, traded off among we their three stay at home parents - was a great success, with only one injury (a fat lip) and about a thousand chestnuts collected and distributed into the backpacks. Many of those were collected on our way to one of our favorite parks, Montjoly. It has two playgrounds and a little hill with exercise equipment that the kids love.

We were on the bigger of the playgrounds when an older man arrived with his grandson. Chloe, one of the girls, pointed to the boy and said that he was in her class at Massillon! That's unusual in our little community of Chamaliéres, so I said Bonjour to the grandpa and started up a little conversation. Turns out that this grandson is the fourth generation of his family to attend our little school, and the grandpa lives right around the corner from the park.

I'll pause here to note that I am, in case you didn't know this, a history enthusiast and a huge fan of the musical Hamilton. After memorizing the cast recording thanks to a good friend who lent it to me in February 2016, I started reading several books of Revolutionary War history, and my personal favorite was "Lafayette in the Somewhat United States," by Sarah Vowell. The Marquis de Lafayette was born not far from Clermont-Ferrand, and at 19 he defied his King to bring supplies and chutzpah to the colonial uprising in North America. Without his courage and diplomacy, it's likely the British would have prevailed and the United States would never have existed at all. And he's an incredibly charming and compelling figure - as is his fictionalized personage in the musical, a role originated by Daveed Diggs. 

SO. The playground. The old man told me, in very slow and patient French, that he'd been to a funeral earlier that week, and that the wife of the deceased is a direct descendant of Lafayette himself! You should've seen me, twisting my brain into a knot as I tried to explain a rap-based history musical and "Somewhat United States" in a language I barely speak. But we had a nice moment. 

After a bunch more chestnut collecting and a quick stop home for potty and snacks, the four of us rode the bus back to school at 4:30 to collect the older kids and reunite the little ones with their parents. A couple of young men stood up when we got on the bus so that the three girls could sit across two seats. The men laughed and flirted with the girls in English, and then asked me "So they are your twins?" I laughed - no, no, these are not my three triplet preschoolers. I'm pretty sure I'd have grey hair if I had three all the time! The two non-Sylvie girls were happy to see their parents and siblings, and Sylvia asked if they can all come over for lunch every day. That's a no, but I'm looking forward to the next play date!

The kids and I rushed home to clean ourselves up and collect Josh, then headed back to school for the Fall Buffet. What an event! There were dozens of primary school families, dishes of food from all over the world of which the Scotch Eggs and Chinese rice and red bean balls were my favorites. At least a hundred kids running wild all over the enormous courtyard in near-darkness, while parents sit and stand and mingle about, drinking cassis- or peach-enriched white wine and switching around among a bunch of languages. We early-eating Americans jumped into the kids' buffet early, feeding our little ones at 7:00 LIKE ANIMALS. (Somehow the French children manage to eat at 7:30 or 8:00 and still get enough sleep at night). I reconnected with some families I hadn't seen much of since the pre-rentrée open house, and had a chance to talk with some closer friends while the kids occupied themselves.

Now for the debacle: My husband does not enjoy crowds, and after Lincoln's playground accident earlier in the week, he was really nervous about all the running around on concrete. So by 8:00 he was more than ready to leave, while the kids and I were having fun. I relented by about 8:30 and we walked toward the bus stop. The electronic sign said our B bus would be there in 8 minutes, but flashed "Pert" occasionally. When a C bus came - one that stops very near our house, but not as near as the B line - we let it go by since the B would be along so soon.

Then we realized that "Pert" stands for "Perturbation," or disturbance, and the B bus wasn't coming at all.

So it was 9:00, an hour past bedtime, and we were stuck at a bus stop with two exhausted kids, one crabby husband, and a certain blogger who had had about enough of the lot of them. I managed to call us a taxi and we took a ten minute ride with no car seats for the kids, punctuated by whines and gripes from the kid who didn't get a window, the one whose seatbelt hurts, etc etc etc. When we finally got home I fairly held the kids down to brush their teeth, then tossed them in bed and huffed and puffed myself into a restless sleep.

Luckily for everyone, Saturday was all about delicious food! I can't wait to tell you about it.