will WE play in Peoria?

I texted Bill the following: so far I’ve eaten raw shrimp, trout and now I’m eating pigeon. I wasn’t making it up. I was trying to make him a little jealous. I was texting from the park in town where there was a tasting event outside the hotel’s 2-star restaurant.

It cost 10 Euros for the 5 course tasting meal. (The portions were really small, even for here.) Drinks were, of course, not included. But there was a bar with wine and beer and water.

When you walk in, you get a wristband (like at a concert in the US), a map of the food stands, and a little baggie with a napkin, a piece of bread, a pair of wooden tweezer like things and a wooden spoon.

I, of course, misread the map so we started with the fish course. It was a local trout on some kind of onion sauce. I’m still a little weary about fish but I figured there was probably not a better place to give it a whirl. It was wonderful. I had no idea how much I like trout. At least, the way they made it. I’m still not sure I’d try it anyplace else.

Then we had the entree. (appetizer) It was shrimp and I was all prepared to wrestle with the shrimp in its shell, which is normally how it’s served here. I was not prepared to wrestle with whether or not I was willing to eat a raw shrimp. As we walked up in the line, I saw the tray of grey shrimp and I thought “oh, that’s going to be handed to someone to grill.” But it wasn’t. It was handed to someone to place right on top of the tomato puree and olive oil sorbet. I did try it. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t something I’ll rush out to eat again, but it was ok. I still prefer my shrimp cooked and pink. I did really like the tomato and olive oil sorbet. I could have had seconds. But you don’t do that here.

So we went for the next course: the meat. The meat they served was pigeon. When we came to this one, the friend who was with me said she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to eat it. But we figured we’d at least get our share. And it looked pretty good. So we found a shady spot in the park and sat down to give it a try. And it was good. Really good. Her 20 month old couldn’t get enough of it. Well, really no one could since the portions were so dinky. Samantha just kept sucking on the little bone to try to get any bit of meat off of it that she could.

That ended the main portion of the meal; cheese was next. This is where I really wasn’t sure I could even try it. The cheese course was a St Marcellin — a stinky cheese. Bill likes it. He says it’s really good warm and gooey. I say the warmth just helps radiate the odor. But I thought, hey, I ate trout and raw shrimp and pigeon — how bad could a little stinky cheese be? The portion was very small, only two bites. My only mistake was not stopping to buy another drink in case I needed something to wash it down. I took my first tentative bite and thought “well… only slightly sweat-sock like…” I shared my cheese with little Samantha who thought it looked like cake and when she bit into it and discovered it was cheese, was rather displeased with me. (I told her it was cheese!) I finished it off. I may try St Marcellin again. But I won’t cry if I don’t.

Finally, it was time for dessert. We stood in a long line in the very hot sun with a now cranky toddler for it. There was a spice cake with a cherry in the middle. Excellent, although to me spice cake seems like a fall food. That was with strawberries with some sort of little dab of cream and mint jello lookin’ stuff. That was good, too. There was a second plate you had to juggle for the chocolate. There was a chocolate sauce poured on the plate then something white that I think was lemon then on top a carefully placed crispy wafer of dark chocolate. It was good and with the lemon even refreshing on this super hot day.

I didn’t bother to try to hunt down a cup of coffee in the hotel bar. I’m sure I could have. But it was about 86 degrees and I was fairly certain that my shoulders were burned and it was time to head home.

It was a great, if not large, lunch. Have I mentioned the small portions? Maybe I am just a little bit hungry. But what do you eat after that? Nothing can compare.

Driving home tonight from dinner, I wasn’t surprised to hear Lilly Allen’s song “Fuck You” come on the radio. I was surprised when the chorus started to hear that it was a radio version of the song. They bleep nothing here! As a matter of fact, at first, I thought that it was just impeccable timing of the poor radio reception in my car. So I turned the volume up. And the next time the chorus came on.. the same thing. I was stunned. I was also a little disappointed. The song just isn’t the same when it’s pg-13.

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t discover this sooner.

There’s a cake shop downtown. Yes, in the land of patisseries filled with tartes and chocolate treats, I’m excited about a cake shop. An American style cake shop. With cake pans shaped like soccer balls and cars… candles that look like tools… sprinkles galore. And cupcakes. The case in the window was filled with cupcakes. With frosting.

My friend and I bought one to share. (Share a cupcake? No, that isn’t weird. First… we’re both trying to eat more healthy foods. Second, what if the cupcake was gross?) It was not gross. It had cream filling on the inside. It was quite yummy… although it did ever so slightly taste of lemon to me. You know how I am with lemon…

Anyway if she stays in business I won’t have to serve lopsided cakes at Kaitlyn’s birthday parties anymore! It’s really exciting. Ok, that’s probably not true because I like making Kaitlyn’s birthday cakes. But they do have single-serving cheesecake. Sorta cheesecup cakes. Bill really misses cheesecake. I may spend a small fortune there on cheesecakes. But that’s ok.

School may not be out and the calendar may not have passed June 21st yet, but it’s officially summer. We went to the town pool this afternoon.

For a mere (gag) 7 Euros 90, Kaitlyn and I got to usher in the season of suntan lotion and splashing. We didn’t go till 4 in the afternoon, so I skipped the lotion. My shoulders are now telling me that wasn’t the brightest thing I’ve ever done.

While Kaitlyn soaked up the thrill of the pool… she can easily touch the bottom (I think it’s marked at 120 centimeters deep)… I soaked up the unique experience that is a public pool here.

The thing that struck me the most today wasn’t the bathing suits (more one pieces this year… nice to see modesty make an appearance), or the layout, which last year I found hard to get used to.

No… now it’s the sound of our pool. (yes, I will call it “our” pool.)

I closed my eyes and listened. There’s the kids screaming and playing… lots of “maman!” or “regarde!” (mom! watch!) There’s the hum that French otherwise forms in my head. There was even the occasional bit of English I thought drifted my way. There was the tinkle of the bell behind me. It sits at the desk where you check your clothes (Everyone wears their street clothes to the pool, then changes in a changing room. You hang your clothes on a valet-hanger, put your shoes and other stuff in a basket on the bottom, then take a rubber band with a number on it and wear that around. It’s like a coat check. But not for coats. And it’s free. Should be for the price you pay to get in.) There was the pounding on changing room doors while children and lost husbands looked for people. There was the smack-smack of flip flops passing by. The distant volleyball game. The steady splashing as one after another pre-teens showed off by leaping fearlessly off the high dive into the big pool. Crying. Shouting. Go to a restaurant and everyone speaks in what feels like a whisper, it’s so quiet. There is nothing quiet about the pool. It’s a new kind of familiar that I found weirdly comforting.

Two packages arrived in the mail today. I wonder if our poste lady is appalled at what super-consumers we are. Well, if she is, she’ll just have to get over it.

I’ve been ordering books for the book club and while I’m at Amazon.fr, I go ahead and order other books, too. This time I ordered one for Bill (which he didn’t seem to care about) and two for Kaitlyn: Little House in the Big Woods and a phonics book. We’ve been reading one chapter in the little house book each night. She loves it. I’m glad; I was worried a chapter book like that would be too much for her. Today her phonics book arrived. She told me she’d have really preferred a Polly Pocket. I assured her that practicing reading over the summer will have a far greater impact on her life than Polly Pocket. I do not think she was convinced.

The other box that arrived today is full of coffee. Bill has become obsessed with coffee. Mind you, he didn’t even drink it when I met him. Granted, when I met him his coffee options were Folgers or the bottomless cup at Bob Evans. Now he drinks cup after cup…. comparing the different blends and flavors.

It happened when I brought home a Nespresso machine. Sure, we liked the Tassimo. But when I went to visit friends with the Nespresso, I came home declaring that it really does make better coffee. (Mostly it’s Italian coffee which I vote for the best coffee in the world.) When a friend moved back to the US, she gave us her Nespresso machine. GAVE it to us. Refused money. Wouldn’t so much as let me buy her lunch in exchange for it.

Ever since I brought that machine home and plugged it in (using an extension cord to give it a good spot in the kitchen)… Bill has cranked out one cup of coffee after another. He sometimes opens a drink from the fridge, sets it down, and makes a cup of coffee. Like he is sucked in by its force and cannot consume an alternate beverage. He has bought little espresso spoons for it. He measured out the proper number of ounces of liquid so I could see how much coffee I’m supposed to be putting into my cup. (Our free version doesn’t automatically shut off. Bill is already talking about buying a new one with that feature. I think it’s just fine to stand there and wait the 20 seconds to push the button and shut it off.)

Yes, I use it. I had two cups this morning. And, yes, I do have my favorite kind. (Cosi. Several boxes were in today’s shipment, truth be told.) I’m contemplating having another cup now because I couldn’t sleep last night and today my eyes are burning as I force them to stay open. And Kaitlyn wants to go to the pool. I’m way too tired for that.

Went out to try to rescue my dying collection of plants today and spent quite a while staring up at our roof. For the last two summers, that roof has buzzed with activity. You can’t give it a glance without seeing at least one wasp coming or going apparently home.

For whatever reason, I finally got fed up enough with the invasion this week that I asked a French friend to help me out… and call les pompiers. The firemen. That is who you call if you have a wasp problem. She called… they called her back and said they’d be here Thursday sometime after 5:45. I like how the ambiguity of the arrival time makes it virtually impossible for them to be late.

They arrived and when I opened the door I was holding my French picture dictionary… looking up how to say “roof” when the doorbell rang. I managed to tell them to follow me… pretty much by pointing then walking… to show them the area in question.

I glanced at the book for the word for roof and pointed saying there are “beaucoup” wasps up there. We tried to explain we think they’ve built many nests under the roof tiles. They nodded skeptically and I took refuge back in the house.

One pompier put on a suit complete with a head covering and net over his face and big gloves. The other guy didn’t. Monsieur Protective Suit climbed a ladder up to the roof for a closer look… then scurried down to have his sidekick zip up the protective suit. He had confirmed what we’d told him. It’s a real problem.

The second guy started carting out 5 gallon tubs of poison with a sprayer and Monsieur Protective Suit hauled them up the ladder then walked around the roof spraying. The sidekick would stand far back, pointing and hollering out advice on where else to spray. I was safely inside the house, so I don’t know how many wasps came out of our roof to defend their homes. I really don’t want to know.

A couple of tubs of poison later, the pompiers put their ladder away and left. They said the wasps they didn’t kill would take the poison home and kill off any stragglers. They also said if we see the problem return, just call and they’ll be back.

They did all this and it didn’t cost us a thing. Well, outside of our regular taxes it didn’t. Unless a bill is on the way to us now. But I think it’s part of your taxes. Taxes here are obscenely high, and people expect a lot in return. Understandably.

Which brings me back to today. Looking at the roof. Smiling. Because I didn’t see anything up there at all.

Then I noticed a wasp flying up the metal tube on the frame of our outdoor table…..

I know Bill is in love with his new iphone. He bought it online, picked out the plan online. All to avoid speaking French in the store. He just had to make sense of the website (a challenge, really) and read the French.

I don’t know if it’s the translation. But I just got our cell phone bills. He racked up a 222 Euro bill. In one month. 125 Euros of it is for what appears to be web/data roaming. Which he did a fair amount of in Germany. Well, fair amount isn’t really correct. Costly amount seems more accurate.

I’m not saying he wouldn’t have spent that much in a month using an iphone in the US. But it does make you wonder….

Living here is going to get lonely, I fear. Maybe I’m going to have to make an effort to get to know some of the French moms at the school.

This afternoon I was riding the tram to the park and ride sort of near our house after going downtown for lunch with a friend. She’s leaving for the US Wednesday. She’s excited. Me? Not really so much. It hit me on the tram ride… in a couple of months I won’t have anyone around to go to lunch with. So many of the ISE families are being repatriated. It’s not like I’m friends with everyone who’s leaving. But it feels like everyone I’m friends with is in that group. And it’s not that I want to go home. I’m ok staying. I’m just figuring I won’t have much to do. Maybe I’ll get good at cleaning the house. Scrap that; that isn’t realistic.

By the end of summer, there will be five ISE families left here. And that number could change again.

I feel like a graffiti-ridden building that’s been reclaimed by the neighbors.

I went to the dentist today. It’s been way too long and I knew I was well over-due for a check up and a cleaning. After the check-up and the announcement that my 25 year old fillings are in need of replacement… especially the ones pushing cracks into my teeth…. the dentist said he’d clean my teeth.

This was the strangest cleaning I’ve ever been subjected to. There was something that sounded like a drill…. it seemed to be doing the heavy-duty scraping. He offered to numb my mouth, but that seemed wimpy, so I declined. Although I did keep finding myself completely tensed up from head to toe… so maybe that numbing would have been a good idea. He never used any kind of that horrible gritty polishing toothpaste I’m used to. Nothing minty in the least.

When he finished, I asked him just what he’d done. He explained to me that he’d used high-pressure sand and water on my teeth to get rid of the stains and tartar. So he sand-blasted my mouth.

It is clean.

If I never see another sausage or bowl of sauerkraut or giant pretzel or beer again… it won’t be too soon. We got back last night from 10 days in Bavaria. Germany.

We actually really, really enjoyed ourselves. Except for the part at the Porsche Museum where Kaitlyn said she didn’t feel well and we thought she was just bored and then in the car on the way across town to our hotel and the Mercedes Benz Museum she threw up in the car. Guess she wasn’t just bored. Thank goodness that hotel had room service. Even if it wasn’t the best food…. we’d have starved without it. And at least it wasn’t sausage or sauerkraut. There were big pretzels at the breakfast buffet the next morning.

I think my highlight of the trip was the bike tour we took in Munich. It was completely easy, featured an hour in a giant beer garden drinking those huge mugs of beer. (And eating…. you guessed it…. sausages and sauerkraut.) Or maybe it was the royal residence in Munich. There was a stunning collection of jewels. There was also a freakish fountain covered in seashells. Bill liked the room filled with disgusting religious artifacts. I don’t know how well I managed to explain to Kaitlyn the fancy boxes made to hold human bones. And, yes, you could see the bones in most of them.

Kaitlyn’s favorite day had to be Legoland. That place is entirely made for a 6 year old. She could ride everything. And they were twisty-turny enough for me to pass on nearly all of it.

Bill and I had intended to buy a cookoo clock. We found a couple we liked but none we thought were worth the 800 Euros (or more) price tags. Especially when I admitted that very quickly, I’d be purposely failing to wind the mechanism to make it sing, dance, twirl and, well, cookoo.

Bill didn’t seem phased by the price tags on what he thought were souvenirs in the BMW Museum. He spent a lot of time in the attached showroom. He left with three thick brochures about some of the cars. He cleverly included a convertible to try to suck me into it. Most people buy post cards… maybe a scarf… but not a car. We didn’t buy one. But the seed has been planted now in his mind.

We did spend a lot of time in Munich just hanging around outside the Apple store. They have free wifi. So Bill could take advantage of his new iPhone.

We also managed to find a great Chinese restaurant in Munich. And they didn’t serve pretzels. We skipped the KFC down the street from our hotel… and all the Burger Kings at the rest stops along the autobahn. Although I do think that if they’d had a sign before the last one you pass saying “this is the last Burger King before you cross the border” I’d have probably made Bill stop. Not that it would have been too easy… given how much he enjoyed taking full advantage of the no-speed-limit stretches of the road.

It’s kind of funny. For a long time, we never had any desire to even go to Germany. And it turned out to be one of our favorite places to visit.