Yurtdışında YaşamI'm finally satisfying a long-held dream of living abroad. I started with six months in France followed by two and half years in the Czech Republic. Now, I'm giving Turkey a try.
It’s worth pointing out that, to date, I have not once heard that fatal phrase, "My, what good French you speak, for an American".
I don’t know if I’ve changed, or the French have. The most likely explanation, actually, is that I’m living in a residential neighborhood with a substantial immigrant population, so my French is not particularly noteworthy one way or another.
I went to this show at Notre Dame cathedral this evening.
Described as
Opéra d’images pour découvrir ou redécouvrir les "Mystères de la Nativité", sous-titré en anglais, projeté sur écran géant transparent, suspendu dans le Chœur de la Cathédrale, destiné aux petits et grands. Une heure d’un récit imagé, mêlant textes bibliques, narration, musique & projection de chefs-d’œuvre de l’Art chrétien.
(An opera of images to discover or rediscover the "Mysteries of the Nativity", subtitled in English, projected onto a giant transparent screen suspended in the choir of the Cathedral, designed for children and adults alike. A one hour illustrated story, mixing biblical texts, narration, music, and projection of masterpieces of Christian art.)
It was a very prettily done show, and wove its different pieces together quite nicely. The English subtitling, however, was distinctly amateurish.
I went to the movies this evening for the first time in Paris (and my first time in several weeks!), and saw The Holiday. It was entirely predictable, but mostly charming, although I really wanted to slap Cameron Diaz’ Amanda around a few times.
American movies are very popular in Paris, and most movies can count on a Parisian release. Unfortunately, the release dates are different. While usually this means that they’re later, so I now have another chance to catch Hollywoodland, sometimes it means that they’re earlier. In particular, it looks as though I’ve missed Children of Men: it opened in France in November, and right now, it doesn’t appear to be playing anywhere closer than Marseilles.
The movie listings for American, or other foreign language films, include a notation “VO” (version originale) or “VF” (version Française) to indicate whether it’s subtitled (VO) or dubbed (VF). Sometimes the same theater will offer both versions.
To see two policemen riding by on their bicycles. They weren’t pedalling all that quickly, so I gather they were just making their usual patrol.
Given traffic and parking (and it’s amazing to see the way that the French will wedge their cars into any little teeny, tiny space, even straddling corners), I suppose bike patrols make a lot of sense. It was, nonetheless, a surprising sight.
I may just try eating my way through the menu.
My first visit, I had the salade aux boudin noir (salad served with four croûtes of black sausage), brick auvergnate (a sort of gratin with potatoes, cheese, and ham), and lemon sorbet.
This second visit, I had the salade de cabécou au miel (salad with chèvre drizzled with honey), poisson au sauce beurre nantes (fish with a *very* buttery sauce studded with baby shrimp), and tarte belle Hèlene (a tarte with a filling of chocolate mousse studded with poached pear).
I have to say that the desserts are the weak spot: the lemon sorbet featured too much rind, making it bitter, and the tarte was okay, but boring.
My initial impression of Table d’Eugene as a neighborhood spot has been confirmed, though.
