Tag: france

Categories
Culture Food France

French Food

MENU

  • French Bread
  • French Fries
  • French Dressing
  • French Toast

Joke aside, French Fries are just called “fries” and anyway they’re originally Belgian. This week I’m writing about restaurants. Nothing specific, just in general. You can get fast food here. within an hour of where I sit, ten minutes in the case of McDonalds, you can find McDo (as it’s called locally), Burger King, and KFC. Unfortunately, it’s not a great McDo, as they rarely do the fries right. But I want to discuss “real” restaurants, which are anything but fast.

One thing an American will notice about a French restaurant is that they do not play background music. I believe that originally this was supposed to calm customers, but I think that these days it may serve to help in turnover. That is, it raises the noise level and makes it less pleasant to sit in the dining room. This is true even in upscale restaurants. In France, restaurants are supposed to be quiet enough for a table to converse without raising their voices. With nobody raising voices, this actually works. However, the noisiest restaurant I’ve been to in Paris was made noisy by a table full of drunken Parisians. So, I’m talking general guidelines here, not hard fast rules. As an American visiting France, be aware that we Americans do talk loudly when dining out and, you know, don’t.

There is a rule to remember: Keep Your Hands Visible above the table. This runs counter to American etiquette, so beware. You can even rest on your elbows, but avoid hiding your hands. If your hands aren’t visible, people will wonder what you’re up to. (Insert joke here.)

Nobody will ever hover around making a fuss and asking you if everything is okay. In fact, if you want service, you have to wave down your server. I’ll be honest, I prefer the French method, although it can be frustrating if your server is out of the room, which they sometimes are, of course. You will be seated normally and given menus, and likely asked what you’d like to drink. There’s nothing unusual about the drinks selection, except there aren’t free refills, which has never been a problem for me, but worth remembering. Your server will bring the drinks and ask if you’re ready to order. (So far the same, huh?) Often the Plat du Jour is worth looking at. We’ve had some great meals with the dish of the day. But, order whatever you want. In touristy areas you’ll probably get a menu in English that you may not even have to ask for. Once you’ve ordered, your server will disappear, maybe dropping off some bread. You may get an entree (starter) then other pre-main course items, depending on what you order. But, it may take a while between courses. We had lunch in a nearby village last week and were there almost two hours. But the food was delicious.

Delicious, but not spicy hot. French people prefer subtle flavors to spicy dishes. We had amazingly bland Mexican one time in Paris. Excellent otherwise, but begging for some Pace Picante. (There are some places to get authentic Indian, Mexican (Qudoba no less), and Middle Eastern food.)

Take your time eating. You’ll be left alone to enjoy your meal. Servers in France are considered professionals and paid a living wage. They have no need to grovel for tips. They’re off doing their job serving others at different phases of their meals, and are available to you any time you call them over. Traditionally, a cheese course follows the main course and precedes dessert. It’s a free country, you don’t have to take the cheese, but there are some excellent ones around and, as a tourist, you might want to try a few. For me, I go straight to dessert, which is usually excellent. Most recently I had a créme brulé, which is custard with sugar sprinkled on top which is then scorched with a small blowtorch. You think I’m kidding? Ask your server. They will have pastry, custards, maybe tartes (pies) all in smaller portions than you may be used to, but usually very good.

Speaking of those smaller portions, you will rarely be given too much food. In the US it’s common to have portions dripping off of the plate, which doesn’t happen in France, in my experience. But the food will be delicious. I’ve had excellent steaks, what are scalloped potatoes, vegetables of various sorts, some wonderful desserts, top-notch entrées (appetizers) and, sad to say, occasionally some lousy food, but that’s rare.

The big difference between eating out in the US and in France is that in France, even in a crowded restaurant, one can usually have a conversation using ones “inside” voice. In fact, that’s generally expected. And, the meal is never rushed. You can, of course, eat in a hurry and rush off, but that will surprise everybody. (If perchance you do have to eat in a hurry, tell your server as you’re seated, and you will be accommodated, at least in my experience.) And the portions will be what you can eat, not set up to appear as massive as possible. Contrary to what I’ve read elsewhere, boxes are provided if you can’t finish it all anyway. So, allow a couple of hours (French people do), use a quiet voice, remember to call your server over if you need service (even to get the bill, or addition.) In tourist-frequented areas (Paris for sure) you can probably get a menu in British English (close enough) and the server will probably know at least enough English to do their job in that language.

And, above all, enjoy the food!
If you liked the service, leave a Euro or two on the table. Forget 20%!

Categories
Culture France

Differences

A view of the village of Bitche

This is a view of the village where my grandfather was born. It’s called Bitche, which is from the Latin for “fort on a hill” and not about dogs.
I still haven’t gotten my copy of WordPress to upload new photos, so I can’t do a picture of my own village, which is smaller.

This is just about a few more differences that I’ve noted. Not social ones this time, rather physical differences between France and the US. First, although I’m sorry I can’t use a photo of my own street, you will note the materials used in the houses in that picture. Stone, tile, and concrete are the usual building materials employed for residential construction. This has implications for how long your house is going to last. For example, portions of our house are over a century old, and aside from a few cracks in plaster from a recent earthquake (nothing serious) is still completely intact. We do, of course, want to upgrade all of the windows, but some of them already are double paned and reasonably good at keeping the outside out.

Something you would notice if I could post a better picture is that the houses sometimes are not up to what you might call “Homeowners’ Association standards.” That’s because there are no such associations. In fact, there is no zoning, and each case for a business is decided by the commune’s council, chaired by the Maire (surely you can translate that word.) Part of our house used to be a Fish and Chips shop, for example. We plan to make it into an en suite bedroom, but the approval for it being a shop came from the commune, not a zoning board. Basically, one can put a business anywhere if one can build a case for it. The local bar is connected to the owners’ house.

Sidewalks. This is an odd one, because while they exist, the sidewalks are mostly narrow and sometimes have light poles right in the middle of them. What to do? Walk in the street, of course! It seems there are also no laws about jaywalking. In fact, in the US, such laws were first promulgated at the urging of the automobile industry. In France, anyone needing to use the street has the right to do so. If someone is walking there, drivers are expected to respect that person’s right to the street and drive accordingly. It is illegal to block a street, though, which makes sense. One thing that is illegal nationwide is parking on the sidewalk. I read that described as the least enforced law in France. I hope so, because I’m parked on the sidewalk out front, as are a number of my neighbors. You can walk past the cars on the building side, usually, so nobody is forced into the street. Usually.

And, of course, those old buildings look old. There is moss and mold growing on them, vines too. In as many as nine centuries a place can accumulate a lot of growth. And the corners don’t stay sharp for the better part of a millennium, either. Add the common roman tile roof, and you get that quaint, sometimes medieval looking, village that tourists like to rave about. Just remember, we do have electricity, high speed Internet, computers, phones, and all that other modern stuff. Mostly inside, of course.

Categories
Culture France Healthcare

Healthcare

Looks healthy to me . . .

Yesterday I had my first experience with French health care. Also, a comment on some French prejudices. Read on.

I have a not especially dangerous (as I take aspirin) heart thing called A-fib. It started in my 30s, and has been off and on ever since, but for the last few months, it’s just here. Sometimes worse than others. So, even though I’m not on French insurance yet (I’ve applied, but this is France, so I’m hoping by May, when my current insurance expires) I checked around and found a doctor taking new patients. Her name looks Spanish, but she’s native French. She’s not far away, down some amazingly rural roads, so it takes over half an hour to get to her. Once there, her office, in a medical complex that looks a lot like 1950s tourist cabins, is modest, but modern and nice. Right on time, she called me into her exam room.

She asked about insurance, and for a while was pretty adamant about why I needed to have some. I told her I did, but she didn’t seem to believe me, until that is I gave her my passport as ID, and she said, “Oh, you are American?” in her good English (one reason I chose her). I said yes and suddenly we were good friends. This is the French prejudice part. Brit? Pouffe! American? Do come in! I do not exaggerate. So anyway, she took down my information, listened to my story, and I was there for a full 1/2 hour. She set me up with an appointment with a cardiologist (in another town, but one down better roads) and gave me some forms for both the cardiologist and to get blood drawn (fasting of course.) None of that is unusual. What came next is, to an American.

She charged me 25€. That was the price, not a copay. In fact, I don’t think my insurance will cover that low a charge, which is okay, because 25€! I don’t know what the cardiologist will charge, but I’ll find out as soon as I get the official appointment (rendez vous) confirmation. Half an hour of a doctor’s time, being listened to, and sent to the appropriate help, for 25€. That is the difference between US healthcare and, I guess, anyplace else. Seriously, the US has some catching up to do in matters pertaining to serving citizens’ needs, doesn’t it?

Categories
France Life

Cool!

This was a restaurant in western Germany in 2016. Maybe it’s still there?

The Canicule has lifted!

And that’s my first peculiarity about France. A heatwave is called a canicule. But, before you give up on that, we (sort of) use the same term in the US. It is the 2000-years later version of caniculare, which is Classicical Latin for “Puppy Days.” Or, I guess, Dog Days. The Romans, most likely of Greek origin themselves according to many sources, took from the Greeks the idea that the reappearance of the Dog Star, Sirius, was responsible for the miserable hot weather common from mid-July through August. In Gaul, it just got to mean any hot miserable weather, and I’m glad it’s over.

Now, for more along the lines of what I had in mind when conceiving this post. France has what they call Hypermarchés. That is, a huge supermarket within a store that sometimes can make a Wal-Mart Superstore look tiny. In those, and other, smaller, supermarkets, when you shop, you will always (always!) have to work your way around employees stocking shelves, or worse, hauling warehouse trucks around piled high with stuff they need to shelve, or empty because they’re going back for more. These stores tend to open at 8 or 9 in the morning, so, naturally, you’d expect that a crew would be coming in at, say, 5 or 6 in the morning to get the place stocked and ready, so that shoppers can find what they’re looking for without fighting employees. Hah! You see, in France, the Customer is Not Always Right! In fact, many times, The Customer is Just In Your Way! Seriously, and this is why you must say bonjour when entering a store, or, in the case of the larger more impersonal ones, to anyone you need to interact with, and certainly to the person who checks you out.

While I’m on stores, you will almost never get anything bagged up for you. If you want it in a bag, you bag it yourself. I’m okay with this, as one can simply put everything back in the cart and wheel it all out to your car, but it can be off-putting at first. If you don’t have any reusable bags, they sell them. I like them. I took one with me to Las Vegas for a year and used it every time I went to the supermarket. I even got a few cents credit for every one of their bags that I didn’t use. The reusable bags can be tough as heck, too, made of jute or hemp, and they last for years. Unless somebody steals one, of course, which is why I now bag as I load the car.

Pharmacies! If it is by any conception some sort of drug, you must buy it at the pharmacy. That goes for Aspirin, Aleve, laxatives, athlete’s foot treatment, and of course prescribed drugs. There are “parapharmacies” that sell vitamins, nutritional supplements, plasters (band-aids) and other non-drug items that you’d normally expect from a supermarket, but if you have a headache, you must go to the pharmacie. They display lit green crosses, so they’re easy to find, and they are everywhere, but to have to go to a pharmacy (spelling deliberate) for ibuprofen? Weird.

Food is food, and in a lot of cases you can buy the same things in France as you can in the US. Except some tasty stuff like good hot sauce, packages of sliced bacon, Heinz Baked Beans (sorry, Who), and pepperoni. In fact, French cooking, while deservedly famous for being well prepared, is remarkably bland for someone used to Southwestern cuisine. If you like some heat in your eggs, bring some sauce with you. I like Cholula.

Primature à droite, that is priority to the right. Many moons ago this was the case in Ohio where I learned to drive, but I doubt that there any intersections left there where it applies. (There could be.) That is, in an unmarked intersection, that is, one with no signage, the vehicle approaching from the right has the right-of-way. This is true even if the intersection is a T-shape. There is a sign in France used to warn you if you’re approaching one. It’s a white triangle, point up, outlined in red (like an inverted Yield sign) with a black X on it. If you’re driving here and see one, be careful, slow down, be ready to stop. Unless you’re on a real road and can see that nobody is coming, but officially do as I say. This is a great way to confuse someone from the UK, where, I’ll admit, there isn’t much call for priority to the right.

There’s more stuff, and I’ll try to list it in the future. There’s more stuff about the US that French people (and Brits*) find strange, too. I sort of make these things up during the preceding week, so I can’t promise exactly when, but keep coming back and you’ll see them in all good time.

* about 5.6 percent of the population of our Commune are from the UK, so I get exposed to British customs and language as a sort of side bonus.

Categories
Culture France Life

America the Odd

US as US Flag Image from Wikipedia

There are a few things that the last few months of living in Europe have made me feel about the US of A. Not that anything is bad, mind you. Different strokes for different folks and all that. But some things that seem normal in America seem odd to someone living abroad. How odd some things must seem to someone who has never been to, or lived in, The United States!

  • American Corporations: All incorporated enterprises exist to make money. That’s not unique to the US. What is unique is the apparent lack of any meaningful controls on corporate behavior. In contrast, what you hear referred to as “the nanny state” in the US seems like normal government regulation in Europe. At the same time, some government interference seen as normal in the US is lacking in France. Different people fear different aspects of modern life, obviously.
  • A Sense of the Primacy of Efficiency: In France, and in much of Europe (not the UK, hoo boy no!) efficiency sometimes takes a back seat to enjoying life. The way it’s put in France is that you “work to live,” whereas in America many people seem to “live to work.” There’s a big difference if you think about it. You think France has a problem due to inefficiency? The French economy is more efficient that the German economy, true story. Most productive in Europe, in fact. Maybe happy people work better? (Everyone gets 30 days of paid vacation per year. If they’re an employee, that is. People typically take August off. If it were me, I’d head for a vacation in Scandinavia, or up in one of the French mountain ranges. Who needs the heat, huh?)
  • Lines at the grocery store. They have them. There is self-checkout too, but it’s generally limited to smaller loads, such as you’d find in the handbasket, not a big old cart. But the lines move pretty quickly and are not nearly so irritating as similar lines in the US. Why? Small talk, or the lack of same. French people don’t engage in a lot of small talk. The reason I prefer self-checkout in the US is that it takes forever for the clerk to check out someone if they’re having a conversation about Mac and Cheese, or the weather, or whatever. French people occasionally indulge in a little small talk, especially in small towns, but normally, the clerk just scans the groceries as quickly as possible, the customer stuffs the order into their own bag, or as I normally do, into a cart and then bag it as I load the car, the customer pays, and that’s it! Bonjour!, load load, payé, and the end. Next customer.
  • Being Polite: I’ve written of this before, but as I observed on my first visit to France in 1976, you get a lot better service when you’re polite. This is true in America, too (try it and see!) Say hello, please, thank-you, acknowledge the clerk as a person, and something like “have a nice day” at the end. I think this goes back to what I call rule number one of human interaction: the way you see the world treating you is the way you’re treating the world!

There are more things I’m sure. Next time I’ll talk about a few things that still seem odd to me after living in France for a total of six months (three of them in 2021.) Oh, yeah, it’ll be seven months by then, almost. Ciao!

Categories
France info

My French Connection

You must admit, this venue has legs!

I thought I’d devote a post to my familial connection to France. This, although my Grandfather, who lived in Paris for five years prior to leaving Le Havre for New York in 1891, was born in Germany. Specifically, the province of Alsace-Lorraine. If he had been born two years earlier he would have been born, as birth records today state, in Moselle. It seems that Louis Napoleon (Napoleon III, he called himself) was no genius. He declared war on Prussia, and the newly united German empire pretty much walked to Paris and occupied the place. Louis Napoleon had left town by then. Part of the peace treaty ending the war ceded Alsace and a chunk of Moselle to Germany. I had a couple of grand uncles (who I never met) who were born French, but grandpa was a German. When he was naturalized, he had to forswear allegiance to the Kaiser of Germany specifically. He did. He pretty much hated the Kaiser of Germany.

That is because, in 1886, his father, my great-grandfather, had been drafted into the German army and died, as grandpa said, “in the war.” I’m not sure what war, but there it is. He, his two older (French born) brothers, and a friend were in line to be drafted next. Instead, they hid under the straw of a farmer’s cart. The farmer drove next to the river, where they slipped out, waded across, and proceeded to walk to Paris. That was 1886. Grandpa arrived in Brooklyn in October of 1891, which means that he was there for the construction of the Eifel Tower, the Grand Exposition of 1889, and other notable events of La belle epoch. I have no idea what he actually did there, outside of learn to make glass, but I have notes for a book in which I combine the things I do know with an imagined set of adventures in Paris during those years. I figure if you couldn’t have an adventure from 1886 to 1891, you couldn’t have an adventure at all, so, as I said, I have notes. The actual subject of the book is, of course, Paris in La belle epoch. If you’re interested in writing at all, check out my writing blog, the link is in the header.

Grandpa was the last to leave for America. I’ve seen the single line of information written by the customs agent at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. He travelled in steerage (deck A), had money in his pocket, a job lined up, and was a glassmaker. He made good stuff, for the Tiffin Glass company (it had various names over the years.) I have some Tiffin crystal, and maybe grandpa made it, maybe not. But, he did speak French at one time, his family was French (his grandfather was named Baltazard!) and now here I am bringing a little bit of him back home, so to speak. It’s kind of odd, really, when I consider that, in a real sense, in Europe, I am an aboriginal. I don’t know if grandpa would approve or not. Probably, he’d wonder why the Hell I moved here. I guess that would be his problem though, and not mine.

Categories
Culture France

Things that Shocked Me When I Moved to France

A View from the Citadel Hill in Bitche, Moselle, France in October 2019

NOTHING

That’s out of the way, then. That’s right, nothing shocked me when I moved to France last May. What? Am I saying that France is just like America? Nope, pardner, I ain’t a gonna try to tell you that! (Read it in a stereotypical Western Movie accent.) That’s because I did do my homework prior to setting out from Reid Airport that morning. In fact, the first time I visited France was in 1976. We took a Laker charter (you may remember them if you’re as old as dirt like me) to London, then a night train/ferry from London to Paris. Got off the boat in Calais and discovered that the French railroad workers were on strike until 6 am. It was now 4:30 am. I was desperate for coffee and hungry. Luckily there was a counter where one could buy food. We had some Francs. Then, SHOCK! Those people selling the food spoke FRENCH! YOIKS! Luckily for me, the person I was with had taken French. Unluckily, they were afraid to use the language because they might do it wrong? Might? If you weren’t born in Paris, that’s a guarantee! But I asked them how to pronounce various menu items, and ordered and received coffee and some sort of food. Lesson one: French people speak French!

In a few hours we got off the train at Gare Du Nord in Paris. We needed more francs. I trotted over to a change booth and started asking to cash a traveler’s check. SHOCK! The soman in the booth did speak English, and she was extremely nice to me in explaining that it was imperative to use a polite form of address in France, and she explained about Bonjour, Au revoir, S’il vous plait, and merci. (Even in French, those words don’t necessarily sound the way the look like they would.) I’ve followed her instructions with every person I’ve interacted with in France since that morning, and boy howdy, people here are almost unfailingly polite, helpful, and friendly. Lesson two: If you’re polite in the French manner, you get treated well in France.

Those were the biggies. Besides them I came to expect that many businesses close for lunch from roughly noon to 2 pm, many more businesses simply close on Sunday, and traditionally and still today, many businesses that are open Sunday (restaurants and such like) are closed on Monday. Lesson three: be adaptable to local customs.

There are a few more unfamiliar things. Buying gas (essence) by the liter, lotsa roundabouts everywhere, a couple of odd traffic rules, but nothing else that I found shocking, even when I first encountered them. France is, amazingly enough if you know the history of the place, a free country, with the biggest difference being that everyone is expected to consider neighbors and others before acting on one’s own behalf. That, and this has caused me problems a few times, is how my mother raised me to act, although I never really started doing it before that morning in Gare du Nord.

So that’s cool, huh? And my advice from this post, wrapped up nicely? If you’re thinking of moving to France, forget all those wonderful notions of France as a hotbed of culture and refinement. France has culture and refinement, but in the end, what you bring with you is what you’ll notice, at least in terms of interpersonal relations. France is a place. A nice place, not without its problems, but then so is every state in the US, when you get right down to it. Visit a lot, get to know the country and the people and their “French” ways. That way you can get all of your shocks out of the way and settle right into living your life in your new home. Hey, worked out for me so far!

Categories
France info

Do French People Like Americans?

Odds are that you know what this is. It is the original, not the one on Las Vegas. Spring 2019 photo by the author.

Short answer: Yes.

Two part longer answer, first as people, then as a country.

More than once I have improved my immediate relationship with a French person by pointing out that I am, in fact, not British, but American. This is not a criticism of British people, but a natural result of the fact that the majority of tourists in France are British, which means that the overwhelming majority of idiot, impolite tourists one encounters are British. The British people I know personally are lovely, and French people will agree with that if you get them to look past the hundred years war years. There are no stereotypical prejudices against Americans that I’ve encountered, although I have met people who really did not appreciate that whole “freedom fries” nonsense twenty years or so ago. (Fries are Belgian in origin, not French at all, which is an indication of what ignorance prior to speaking up can do for you.) French people are very aware of how much American help meant for the outcome of World War II. The only real “complaint” I’ve read (not heard) was the wry comment that “When the Germans invaded, the men went into hiding. When the Americans come we have to hide the women!” Apparently, the liberating GIs were told that French women were desperate for love after the occupation, and also apparently, this was not entirely untrue. They were making love ‘everywhere’ according to accounts from the time.

As a country their attitude is more mixed. All of Europe has viewed the USA as the world leader in security and economic policy since the end of World War Two. NATO is an American invention, after all. America has been seen as providing security for Europe, and as a stable force for good at home. In the past couple of decades, however, this image has suffered greatly. First there was the reaction in the USA to France refusing to back the second gulf war. Freedom Fries? Zut Alors! It didn’t help when it turned out that Saddam had, in fact, no weapons of mass destruction more deadly than his ego. And Europe saw what they interpreted as a bungled effort to resolve remaining issues from that war, including infrastructure repair and installation of a decent government in Iraq.

And then we elected Donald Trump as President. What had been seen as a bastion of security and stability suddenly seemed to fall apart. It would be difficult to overestimate how much damage that administration did to the image of the United States in Europe, including of course France. Well, President Trump said that Europe should handle their own defense, and they are moving to do just that. The talk amongst governments is that Europe is going to have to mind its own house from now own. There is talk of a stronger Union, of a common military, that sort of thing. I recently read that 15% of French citizens trust the US to guide France in dealing with other dations. Twenty years ago a solid majority trusted us. This is not a political column. I’m just reporting, so please no political comments. I’ll just delete them. This is really how France is thinking these days. But the good news is that French people genuinely like, and are grateful to, Americans. France is our oldest ally after all, so that seems well and proper.

Categories
France info

Home Again

This grows in my back yard

I left home on May 9th 2023, and arrived home on May 10th, 2023. I left Paradise Nevada, and arrived in Lizant, Vienne. Different climate, different culture, and I’m lucky my French finally caught hold of my brain, because that’s what they speak around these parts. Faithful readers, both of you (and I’m not kidding) noticed that I’ve been pretty lazy with this blog. I may be about to change that. I’m thinking of making this into a blog about moving to France at 73 years old, the mistakes I’ve made, the good decisions, too. I also may re-activate (start posting to again) my YouTube channel called “A Grumpy American Moves to France.” Along the same thematic lines. You can comment to let me know what you think of those ideas if you want. If you’ve never commented before I have to approve your comments, but once I approve one, you’re free to comment whenever you wish.

That’s this post. All news, not so entertaining. But useful, right? Until next time, my friends!

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info

What Am I Doing?

Took this meself, I did. (You do know what this is, right?)

Last week I told you where I am. Now here is what I’ve been up to. I mean, Blog is short for weB LOG, after all, so here’s a log entry for ya.

I spent three months (almost) in our house in Lizant, France last Spring. Pretty much all Spring, although I was able to enjoy (?) the first of this year’s now famous heat waves. The house retains heat (or cool) pretty well, so with fans, it was okay. Not always great, but okay, so long as I opened all the windows at night and closed them by nine or ten in the morning. There is more I’d like to get done to the place before we move in, from simply painting to overseeing some major remodeling of an old Fish & Chips shop, and a lot of stuff in between. But that will have to wait until the family that has rented it, who are shopping for a house of their own, find and close the deal on said house of their own. It takes about four months to buy a house in France and I don’t think that they have an offer in yet.

This is complicated by the fact that ma bonne mere, mother-in-law, has announced her intention to move back to Phoenix to live with a different daughter this fall. Since her living in our house in Henderson is the reason we couldn’t just up and move to France, well, now we can just up and move to France. Once our house is available, that is. The upside is that they are adding money to our French bank account on a monthly basis. It’s hard to be too upset about that, as our remodeling will probably cost, um rough estimate: a lot!

While I was in France I demonstrated the general rule that breaking any sort of writers’ block may be best accomplished by doing something completely different. I think living in a foreign country (less foreign seeming than it used to be) qualifies. I started a new project, unlike anything I’ve ever done before. I like it. I feel like I must write it, and, amazingly, I don’t really care what the world may think of it. It’s all authentic, all real, and, by cracky, a fantasy. So, I’ve been cranking out a chapter a day (most days) since early June. I’m sure it sucks bigly, which is why I’m looking forward to revising and revising, which probably will start soon. You may see this one for sale yet, folks. As I said, I like it.

And, after years, I’m finally able to do regular runs again. Last week a total of 2.9 blistering miles, with a pace as fast as 12:44. The one-legged man with a bad ankle is having trouble keeping up! And I read, and I watch TV (mostly streamed,) and, well, heck, this is getting long. I’ll post again, maybe even with something funny. ‘Cause I am doing more than I’ve revealed so far. Have a great week, people! Au revoir!