French Milk

French Milk is a lightning fast read as it is a comic memoir, a new format for me. Lucky Knisley was 21 at the end of 2006 when she was lucky enough to go to Paris for a month. She shared an apartment with her mother on a trip to celebrate two birthdays. Her mother was turning 50, and Lucy herself would turn 22 while she was away. Lucy had already been to Paris when backpacking as a 17 year old with friends. What an amazing thing to have your second trip to Paris and only be 21.

Lucy is coming towards a bit of a crossroads in her young life. She will be finishing college in a few months and embarking on her adult life. She seems rather distressed about all this and caught up with anxiety about these upcoming changes. So much so that they get in the way of her enjoyment of Paris, and my enjoyment of her month in Paris. Too much near teenage angst for this reader at times. I suspect that many readers looking for a nice Paris memoir don't want this much angst and self loathing.

Paris does win her over at times, but she is still quite self-absorbed. The book is at it's best when Lucy describes her wanderings in words and pictures. I've never been to the Grand Mosquee, and didn't know that you could have lunch there, but it sounds a rather fascinating thing to do. She is somewhat obsessed with Oscar Wilde (as am I), and visits his very famous grave, and then has a drink at the hotel where he died.

Being an art student Lucy is keen to immerse herself in the myriad art and cultural activities available to the visitor to Paris. I was surprised at the length of the queues that she struck visiting Parisian monuments in the dead of winter. Lucy and her mother also watched movies with a Paris flavour, including Funny Face. They were very brave and went to the cinema in Paris, again something I'd never thought of doing. Perhaps it is possible?

I liked French Milk most when Lucy was describing and drawing her meals and excursions into Paris. A tagine at the Grande Mosquee, the hot chocolate at Angelina's (surely the best hot chocolate in the world), simple meals of cheese and wine in the aparment, or bistro fare. Although she did drive me a bit crazy by constantly referring to macarons as cookies.

The French Milk of the title comes indeed from Lucy's love of actual French milk. She gushes over it several times. I don't believe I've ever tried it myself, although I have done my best with other French milk products- yoghurt, cheese and butter. All are magnificent, but ooooh, the butter, the glorious, glorious butter. Pale. Sweet. Heavenly. Perhaps I can call my "I travelled to France and ate a lot of butter" memoir French Butter?

Paris in July is cohosted by Karen at BookBath 

and Tamara at Thyme for Tea 

Wondrous Words Wednesday 11/7/12

Wondrous Words Wednesday is a fabulous weekly meme hosted by Bermuda Onion, where we share new (to us) words that we’ve encountered in our weekly reading.  

Keeping with the Paris in July theme this month here are some words from my recent reading of Paris in Love.

1. Reliquary (Noun)


In an art gallery: tiny, ornate reliquary boxes, the kind that house a saint's finger bone. 


A receptacle or repository for relics, esp relics of saints. The Free Dictionary. 


2. Chasuble (Noun)


Back in New Jersey, Father Mahoney wore a black cassock over his majestic stomach, occasionally adding a purple chasuble. 


A long sleeveless vestment worn over the alb by a priest during services. The Free Dictionary. Hmmm, alb. 


3. Polly Pockets (Noun)


My favourite item at Musee Lambinet were two 'surprise' Easter eggs, given to Princess Victoire, daughter of Louis XV. They are essentially, Polly Pockets, but made with real heans' eggs. 


It took me a while to work this out. I think the picture needs to tell the story here. I'm sure the real thing at the Musee is amazing. 

Picture source

4. Curlicue (Noun)


At least three usages.


We found a furniture store in the Marais that features curlicues: lampshades with elaborate cutouts; a cabinet with wrought iron overlay; a sofa whose arms spiral around and around, like a snail's shell. 


A fancy twist, or curl, composed usually from a series of concentric circles. It is a recurring motif in architecture, calligraphy and in general scrollwork. Wiki

Picture source

5. Louche (Adj)


Today, Carrie, Charlotte, Anna and I tumbled into Le Dome, a cafe on rue de Rivoli, and were driven by loud music into the back room, which turned out to be fascinating: a louche setting of velvet couches and low tables with metal lanterns that sent out twinkling spills of light. 


Shady, shifty, disreputable. From the French word for squinting. 

Paris in July is cohosted by Karen at BookBath and Tamara atThyme for Tea 

Paris in Love

Paris in Love seems to be the must read Paris title of 2012. For some reason we Paris fanciers in Australia got to have this rather awful cover, instead of the more stylish cover available elsewhere. 

Eloisa James has written a nice, jaunty memoir about living in Paris for a year. A dream that I'm sure many of us share. Written in little snippets, filled with often small observations of Parisian life- how someone is dressed on the street, how they act. The pages just seem to turn themselves.  

I love how her wine seller needs to know what she's eating for dinner, how she's planning to cook it and the size of the potatoes that she'll be having before recommending a wine to match. She includes a handful of recipes in the book, her Lemon Barley Chicken Soup sounds quite delicious actually. I loved how she still reads outloud to her 11 year old (as I read to my 11 year old) because she can't bear to think that there may be a last book. 

The French walk slowly. They amble down the street, meet friends and spend two minutes kissing, then plant themselves, chatting as if the day were created for this moment. 

I loved her passion for the small, lesser-known museums of Paris. There are so many it seems. I described my love for Musee Victor Hugo and Musee Rodin for Paris in July 2011. I have so many more to visit next time already. And now can add even more to the Musee wishlist..... Musee Carnavalet, Musee Jacquemart-Andre and Musee Nissim de Camondo. James likes these museums so much that she's included a short guide to some of them at the back of the book. She also has a guide to some of her favourite food sources- a salmon shop with 10 types of salmon, confisseries, chocolatiers and salons de the. All of these would be worth a visit. 

I was somewhat disappointed to learn in the introduction that this is basically her facebook updates from the year. Some had been rejigged or lengthened for the book. Noone wants to publish my facebook updates. Perhaps I'm just jealous. I did enjoy the writing, her writing experience shines through, and her academic background peeks through in the usage of words such as happenstance.

And then there's the whole living in Paris for a year thing. I've only managed to spend three weeks of my life in Paris- so far. Do people really have a life that they can just transport to Paris? Are people really Professors of Shakespeare, and romance writers of note on the side, with a portable husband and children? Sure Eloisa James had some troubles in life before she up and left to spend a year in Paris- her mother died, and she battled breast cancer herself. These are big life-changing events. No doubt about it. 

Perhaps lots of my enjoyment of this book came about because I want to live in Paris for a year too. I want to see the seasons change. To see it snow in Paris. To welcome each new season, to buy a bunch of lilly of the valley on May 1st, to buy the first peach of the season. I've been to Paris in May, June and July, and so have seen her early spring blossomed beauty, and felt the heat of her summer. But I long to see her other moods too. The silver skies, to feel the chill of a Parisian winter enter my bones, to see her streets covered in snow. To eat the chevre only produced for Christmas. I certainly dreamed that dream as I read this book, and that's not a bad thing. 

Paris in July is cohosted by Karen at BookBath and Tamara atThyme for Tea 

Birds of Paris

When I last journeyed to Paris in 2010 I was a novice birdwatcher. Two years later I still am really. But I was very excited to think that I would see lots of amazing French birds. I had no idea what they would be.

Turns out

they were

pigeons

Big pigeons it must be said. But pigeons nonetheless. 

The first two pictures are Common Wood Pigeons (Columba palumbus). And the third what we informally call pigeons are actually Rock Doves (Columbra livia)

and sparrows

People don't get to walk on the grass in Paris

Pigeons do though

They snooze away undisturbed by the tread of human feet nearby.
Parisian pigeons must be some of the most chilled out pigeons in the world! 

Although it turns out pigeons have made a nuisance of themselves. It's illegal to feed them, and pigeon fanciers furtively feed them under the cover of darkness. 

I did actually get to see two non-sparrow, non-pigeons! I didn't know what they are, but due to the magic of Google.... I think I have identified the first one. 

Bonaparte's Gull/Mouette de Bonaparte
Named after Napoleon's nephew
I now think this must be a Black-Headed Gull (Larus ridibundus)
Bonaparte's Gull is American

A female blackbird?

Sadly the most exotic birds of the trip

Saturday Snapshot, is a wonderful weekly meme from at home with books

Paris in July is cohosted by Karen at BookBath and Tamara at Thyme for Tea 

Chocolate Rainbow Magic Slice

My son goes to a small school, too small to have a canteen. So each week four families supply a treat for Cake Day. Naturally Cake Day is highly anticipated by the kids. It's a great tradition.

I find slices easier to make as I can do them the night before, and it doesn't take too much time. I had been planning to try the fabulous Fancypants Magic Slice on the kiddies, but I couldn't work out how to adapt it to suit kids. My son reckoned the pumpkin seeds would put them all off. And then I found a slice with essentially the same method, but Smarties instead of pumpkin seeds. Winner.

Chocolate Rainbow Magic Slice

250gm packet chocolate biscuits (I used Arnott's Chocolate Ripple biscuits)
100gm butter, melted
1 cup dessicated coconut
250gm smarties
2/3 tin condensed milk

Line a 20cm square tin with baking paper.

Blitz biscuits in a food processor. Add melted butter, blend gently until well combined.

Press biscuit mixture into base of prepared tin.

Chill base in fridge for 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 160 degrees.

Spread coconut over base. Sprinkle Smarties evenly over the coconut.  Cover with condensed milk.

Bake, covered with aluminium foil, in oven for 45 minutes or until done.

Note
Adapted from a recipe in The Australian Women's Weekly Quick Mix Biscuits and Slices. I used coconut instead of peanuts (naturally banned in Australian schools these days), and decreased the amount of butter and condensed milk- which leaves "leftover" condensed milk. Perfect.

Fascinating to see what colours Smarties used to be in 1994

Wondrous Words Wednesday 4/7/12

Wondrous Words Wednesday is a fabulous weekly meme hosted by Bermuda Onion, where we share new (to us) words that we’ve encountered in our weekly reading.  

I read Zazie in the Metro a few months ago. Zazie in the Metro is a French classic, said to be a children's book. Check out my review here. It didn't bowl me over actually. There were lots of words I didn't know. The vocabulary was complex, and there were many, many neologisms, which I find irritating. But I thought it would be fun to match up Wondrous Words with Paris in July. 

1. Alexandrine (Noun)

The first that came into his head was an alexandrine:

i) A line of English verse composed in iambic hexameter, usually with a caesura after the third foot. 

ii) A line of French verse consisting of 12 syllables with a caesura usually falling after the sixth syllable. 

It's terrible if you need to look up a word to understand the definition isn't it? I have no idea what a caesura is either. Turns out it's a pause in a line of verse dictated by sense or natural speech rhythm rather than by metrics. I don't really understand what is meant by third foot either. 

The gorgeous but unrelated Alexandrine parrot

2. Muscadet (Noun)

'I'll have a muscadet with two lumps of sugar."

A French white wine, from the western end of the Loire Valley. Wiki

3. Lamellibranchia (Noun)

The lamellibranchia that have resisted the process of cooking are forced out of their shells with merovingian ferocity.

An earlier name for the class of Mollusca including all those that have bivalve shells, as the clams, oysters, mussels, etc, now called Pelecypoda or Bivalvia.

4. Merovingian (Adjective)

The lamellibranchia that have resisted the process of cooking are forced out of their shells with merovingian ferocity.

Of or relating to a Frankish dynasty founded by Clovis I, which ruled Gaul and W Germany from about 500 to 751 AD. The Free Dictionary. 

5. Mephistophelian (Adjective)

'No but really, you don't seem to realize what's hanging over your head,' says the chap, getting more and more bloodily mephistophelian: 'white-slavery, poncing, homosessuality, eonism, balanoid hypospadias, that little lot'll earn you some ten years hard.'

Showing the cunning or ingenuity or wickedness typical of a devil. The Free Dictionary. 

Mephistopheles is the devil in the Faust legend to whom Faust sold his soul. 

6. Eonism (Noun)

The adoption of female dress and behaviour by a male. Named after Charles Eon de Beaumont (died 1810), French transvestite.

Paris in July hosted by BookBath and Thyme for Tea

Invisible

It's probably not fair to say that I'd never heard of this book. I had heard of it somehow, a newspaper reivew most likely. I had seen it once in a bookshop, had read the first few pages and been quite entranced. And then I'd completely forgotten about it. Until I found it for sale in a All Books $5 booksale in Katoomba on the weekend. And I had to have it. And then I had to consume it. Straight away.

Actually it's pretty easy to consume. A mere 125 pages. With lots of it written in short busts and lots of space on the page. The words that are there, though, are very powerful. And so beautifully written. Hugues made me pause to contemplate on pretty much every page.

I don't read all that many memoirs but I always enjoy them when I get the chance. Other people's lives are fascinating, aren't they? Their trials and tribulations. Their experience. Their philosophy. Hugues de Montalembert (and what a fabulous name that is!) has certainly had his share of trials and tribulations. At 35 he was an artist and documentary film-maker living in New York. He was attacked during a robbery, and had paint thinner thrown in his face. Overnight he became blind.

My life was based on seeing. 

Overnight his life changed dramatically. Catastrophically. 

I am between death and birth. Dead to my past life and not yet reborn to this new one.

Hugues spends three months in hospital. He makes extraordinary progress, and somewhat incredibly he triumphs. He walks alone through the streets of New York at 3am. He travels -alone- to Indonesia and India. He dives into a pool. He rides a horse. Things that are difficult with or without sight. He wrote a book by hand, but couldn't tell when the pen had run out of ink. And yet "I had to learn to be helped... To accept being helped is probably the hardest thing."   


Invisible is ultimately an uplifting and inspirational read. 

What matters is not to be submissive, not to be negative, not to be beaten no matter what happens, to always find inside yourself the way out. 

When you are exhausted and you cannot reach

what you want, you become depressed. 

And then you have to be careful.

Clear your mind of all negative thinking, it's too dangerous. 

Like all particularly fascinating memoirs Invisible has quite a broad sweep. Hugues talks about the nature of vision and sensation. All rather fascinating, and it tied very nicely to my current in-car listening- The Brain that Changes Itself. He talks about the Rothko Chapel in Houston- I visited there last year! I was surprised to hear Hugues call the Chapel in Houston enlightening. But not surprised that during his black period Rothko was in the midst of drinking himself to death. I found the Rothko Chapel disturbing, not enlightening, and only stayed very briefly. And best of all I learnt that there is a Disco Bay in Greenland! How can you not want to go there? I want to go there. It looks amazing. And it's called Disco Bay....