THE GAME IS A-FOOT

The game is a-foot...football that is. For those Americans not in the know, to the rest of the planet, football means soccer. Soccer may not be the sport of choice within our borders, but leap anywhere outside and you will see children playing in the streets with their soccer balls in tow while adults scream cheers or jeers at television screens in various languages around the world.

Sure movies like Bend it Like Beckham and its namesake David Beckham himself along with former Spice Girl wife, Victoria, may have brought to the U.S. a little glam to the sport, but even the good looks of this hip couple can not spring forward the intensity that soccer fans everywhere else have.

One might think, what is she talking about? We have our own football and we are fans of our teams! Yes, we may have American football and given a good Monday night game or most especially when the Super Bowl rolls around, fans can be found at BBQs and bars around the country cheering for their favorite team, but our fans do not hold a candle to the "fan"atic behavior that soccer conjures up on all other continents.

I remember the first time I traveled to Europe. After my university days were over, I decided to embark on the mandatory backpacking tour of each country with my then boyfriend. We happened to be here during the World Cup. I didn't know what the World Cup was at the time, but I quickly learned it was the biggest tournament in the world. As we traveled through each country I found that entire countries were rooting for a team. I mean as a Bay Arean, us locals root for the 49ers or the Raiders, but here it's everyone everywhere following their national team.

And boy is this game taken seriously. While leaving Italy on that first trip, the train was suddenly silent for the rest of the journey. Radios in every car announced that the Italians had just lost. I don't know about you, but it is my experience that Italians are the most expressive people in the universe. So, to hear the sound of silence there of all places was quite an oddity.

I then found myself in Germany during the final round and guess what? The Germans won. I would like to think it was our presence that gave the Germans the good luck card, but don't tell them I said that. Singing and general partying in the streets until the wee hours of the night was a requirement, even to us Americans who had just seen our first game and had no idea why it was so fascinating to everyone else. At least the partying was a good time.

Fast forward to last night, some cup or another was being fed to local Parisian TVs. It wasn't the World Cup, but maybe the African Cup. The game was clearly over at 11pm. I knew this because at exactly that time fans began their cheering and horn honking for the rest of the night. Nearly 19 years have passed since my first soccer experience. Then I was completely game to party along side the fans. These days, however, all I could think about was "Don't these people have kids or at least jobs? I need my sleep!"

After an hour of listening to screams outside my window, I decided to either get used to it or put some plugs in my ears. Soccer is here (or should I say "hear") to stay.

Thank you for reading and bonne journee!

IT'S TEA TIME!

If you are walking through the streets of Paris during the cold months of winter, you will want to take a break to get warm. If you happen to be visiting the column in the heart of the Bastille, why not saunter off a few blocks to toast your tootsies with a cup of tea. Le Bar a The will tempt your palette with an array of herbal concoctions from around the world. Choose from a seemingly never-ending assorted menu of teas and infusions (decaffeinated herbal teas) this cafe has to offer.

On my last excursion, I chose a sweet infusion called Zen Family. The server informed me that the tea needed to steep for ten minutes before consuming. Well, I can honestly say the tea was worth the wait. I enjoyed it so much, after finishing the last drop, I asked her to boil more water for me so I could savor the tea a little longer.

While this cafe's primary function is to serve tea, it also can alleviate any growlings your stomach may make. A refrigerated section contains pre-made sandwiches and the like. So, don't despair, your tummy can be filled up with something more than liquid yumminess.

I took my two hour sojourn during January when it was too cold to eat (or drink) at the outdoor tables. Not to worry, the ambience indoors is as impressive as the tea. Comfortable chairs and dark wooden tables with artwork highlighting the walls is reminiscent of any cafe in my San Francisco hometown. This place could have been swooped right out of Fillmore Street and plopped here in France.

The service, like anywhere in Paris, is a little hit or miss. The first time I tested the waters, the server was kind and generous with her time. On the second visit, a different waitress practically threw the tea on the table. Maybe she didn't like my garbled up Americanized French? I could have taken the revenge road, screaming profanities in English (or French for that matter) to her, but I have learned the high road is a whole lot brighter. What is best in these cases is to become superwoman (or superman) in the nice department. Eventually, the meanies will turn their stone faces into smiles, even if it takes a few times.

If you are tired of the same old coffee joints, give Le Bar a The a whirl. Your taste buds will be happy you did.

Le Bar a The
9 rue Antoine Vollon
12eme
Metro: Ledru Rollin, line 8

Thank you for reading and bonne journee!

Les Toilettes

When I came to Europe for the first time twenty years ago, I was forewarned about having to bring my own toilet paper when using public restrooms and that the public restrooms may consist solely of a hole in the floor that you simply had to straddle, doing your very best not to splatter all over yourself. I visited many restrooms in many restaurants and cafes that fit this description to a tea. Fortunately, the facilities have done some improving over the course of the last couple of decades. I still may run into a forlorn hole in the floor on occasion, but it is more a rarity then the norm.

That being said the toilets here are, simply put, wierd. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for indoor plumbing, but coming from the U.S. my perception of how things "should" be is skewed by my cultural upbringing.

So, what's so different about the toilets here? Well they all have a different way of flushing. Some toilets are like our w.c.'s of a 100 years ago with a chain that you must pull down. Some may have something on the lid that you have to pull up. But more commonly, they have flushing-buttons which are either on the top lid of the toilet or in public restrooms they may be on the wall. There are usually two choices to make. A big button, perhaps in the shape of a large crescent moon and another one in a smaller crescent shaped moon. The big button is for "big" needs and the little button is for smaller needs.

That's all well and good. Save the environment and all that, but that little button gives me a headache. I push it down in order for the toilet to suck up the few pieces of toilet paper and it can not handle that much work. Oh, you can press it several times, without much luck. Or you can hold it down, wasting just as much water that you would have had you used the big button...mon Dieu!

A few weeks ago, while washing my hands in a public restroom a family of Australians queued up in line and were perplexed. They weren't sure how to open the door. In this establishment along with many others in Paris, there is a fee of 50 centimes to open the door. Some places will actually give you a blank coin to use, but you need to be 'in the know' to ask for one. After explaining this, they got their coin and were able to take care of their business. I saved their day...or at least that moment. Just call me Superwoman.

On another occasion, last summer, I had been walking the streets of Paris, consuming bottled water along the way to quench my thirst from the heat. Well, water doing what it does needed to come out. I scouted out the first cafe available and explained my predicament to the woman. She emphatically expressed, "Ce n'est pas possible!" (It is not possible!) She told me I had to buy a coffee in order to not explode. I turned to the bartender and handed him a 5 and asked him to not make me a coffee as I detested coffee. This action nearly caused World War III. They would not permit me to get away with that either. I had to buy and take something. Luckily, I discovered they sold bottled water. Evian to the rescue! Thankfully, I never have this problem with male servers. So, I have taken a mental note, when in shear desperation, bat my eyelashes and ask a man.

Now, if you decide to live in Paris, just a word about cleanliness. Toilet bowls are shaped differently here and many of them need to be cleaned after each use. No further description will be given here, just remember to have a toilet bowl brush nearby at all times.

Also you should keep in mind, there are those higher-end public restrooms that will actually have someone posted in the restroom for your convenience. What that convenience is I am not exactly sure, but hey when in Rome do as the Romans do and when in Paris...Well, you get the point. You will be expected to pay them a fee and maybe a tip. The fees range from 50 centimes on up to maybe 5 euros. At least the restrooms you have to pay a pretty sum for are usually clean. The 50 centime joints, like at the train stations, not so much. Just pay the fee, plug your nose and squat!

Another thing that might be a bit shocking is that quite often men and women share restrooms. Men will be standing at the urinal, doing there thing while you wait in line for an available toilet. The French don't give it a second thought. I am still at the point where I am giving it a second thought and admittedly I may have sneaked a peak or two...Shh, don't tell anyone!

All this talk about toilets, and I haven't even gotten to the bidets yet. Well, I will let you figure that one out on your own. The good news is, gone are the days of me having to lug my own toilet paper around as I visit the sites. Hail to Les Toilettes!

Thank you for reading and bonne journee!

THE FIRST NOEL

It's my first Christmas in Paris. Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire...Ok, maybe not an open fire. More like chestnuts roasting on a silver aluminum platter resting over hot coals in a metal garbage can, but who cares? The chestnuts are still warm and roasted. And they are certainly everywhere, especially at the metro entrances. Nat King Cole would be thrilled.

And what does the City of Light have to offer in the light department? Let's just say, A LOT! Ok, if you are in the primarily Muslim area of the 10th you are not going to find too much in the way of holiday lighting, but walk down the Champs-Elysees during this time of year and you will get a big dose of Christmas. Every tree aligning the street has streams of blueish-white lights running down the branches. Many of the shops have lights outside on the buildings, as well. I was trying to determine if I liked it or if it was too gauche. I decided to lean on the side of liking it. If they put up just one more light, however, it would look like Las Vegas.

While in the U.S., avid light stringers align doors, windows and rooftops with flickering lights. Here in Paris, strands of lights are hung either vertically or in lace-like designs covering windows and even walls. It's as though banners of strung lights are hanging from the rooftops of both private residences and many public buildings. Check out l'Hotel de Ville (city hall) and the le Marie de Paris (mayor's office of Paris: please note that each arrondissement has their own mayor too, but I am talking about THE mayor of Paris here). Two words: "simply lovely."

Notre Dame gets into the Christmas game, as well. Of course, Christmas IS their game. Blue ornaments highlight the beautifully lit tree in the Plaza. Inside the church the creche, of course, has special significance. This is not like the table top creche you have at home. This one would surely take up one of your small rooms. Unfortunately, when I was there the baby Jesus was missing. Mary, Joseph and all the rest looked adoringly at an empty crib. Where was Jesus? Was he stolen? No, it turns out that they don't put the baby Jesus out until December 25th, since that was the date of his birth. So, don't get discouraged if you are seeing loads of creches minus the most important element. He will show up in just a few days!

While at Notre Dame make sure to check out some of their musical programs. The choir of Vespers and the organ concerts bring to life the holiday season all the more. Go to www.notredamedeparis.fr for more details.

While you are in Paris during the month of December, take a walk, get lost and see what you find. Various streets have themed holiday lighting and decor. There is plenty to see and who knows, maybe you will run into a caroler or two.

Thank you for reading and Joyeux Noel!

The English are Coming!

You’ve been in Paris for weeks and the one thing you miss is going to the theater. You long to see one of the many plays in town, but your French isn’t exactly up to par. Sitting in a room for two hours listening to actors in a language you don’t understand isn’t what you had in mind. You long for the days of English theater, but you are at a loss at what to do. Don’t despair. You can still get your theater fix at Le Pavé d’Orsay on the second Thursday of every month…in English!

Don’t expect a full production with sets, however. What you will get are professional actors doing a reading of a classic play. Très magnifique!

Last night I saw A Long Day's Journey into Night by Eugene O'Neill. Yes, the actors were reading their parts, but these people are professionals. They are still performing. Think back to the day when our grandparents only had radio. Actors carried their performances with their voices. Here we get the added bonus of seeing what the actor’s look like too.

There is no admission fee, though donations are gladly accepted. Wine, non-alcoholic beverages and light fare are available during the intermission.

Located just a hop, skip and a jump away from the Musee d’Orsay at 48, rue de Lille in the 7th arrondissement. Shows are generally from 7:30-9:30, with a discussion afterwards. Last night’s play was over three hours, so they changed the time to accommodate the length. Check their website for details at http://lepavedorsay.blogspot.com/. Use Google Translate to change the page into English.

And one more thing to note, Le Pavé is an art gallery. You may just be lucky enough to enjoy looking at a few contemporary pieces while you are there. Theater and art…who could ask for anything more?!

Thank you for reading and bon journée!

STRIKE 1, STRIKE 2, STRIKE 5,987,432...YOU'RE OUT!

On any given day, one is bound to find some group of Parisians striking or marching against the government. The French take the act of striking to a whole new level. In the U.S. when Major League baseball players went on strike in the mid-90's it almost cost them the game. If players didn't want to play and support their fans interest, then so be it, we would no longer support them when they came back. It took much canoodling on the League's part to get people to come back to the game. In France, on the other hand, going on strike IS a national sport. It's almost as though each union is racing against the clock to accumulate as many strike days as possible. And the French put up with it. C'est la vie.

After being here for nearly a year, I have decided to make light of how many strikes there are here, that is until now. My God, the museums are on strike! Now my 'upset' barometer just went off. I mean what will they do next? I think the only thing worse could be turning off all the public restrooms. Perhaps I should not have mentioned it either, because maybe they will do it!

First the Pompidou and some smaller museums leaped for the opportunity to go on strike last week and now the Louvre may join in on the quest for truth, justice and the French way, starting tomorrow, December 2nd. Yikes, there goes my free Sunday, not to mention how many hundreds of thousands of euros to all the tourist venues, including the museum itself. Strikes don't just affect the employees of the strike, it affects the restaurants, the souvenier shops and other local businesses. Since tourism is a major contributor the city's economy, shutting down public venues like this really hurts everyone's pocketbooks.

Yes, the museum's workers have their reasons. Apparently, management only wants to offer half the people retirement. I get it, people are mad. Blah blah blah. But seriously folks how much anger is there in Paris to have so many greves (strikes)?

I am sure that management will inevitably give in to the employees demands. They seem to always have to. In the meantime, make sure to check the latest scoop online to see if your museum of choice is closed.

Thank you for reading and bonne journee!

OY VAY!

You haven't really visited Paris if you haven't taken a sojourn through its wonderful nooks and crannies. Rue de Rosiers is one of those spots. Embedded in the heart of the 4th arrondissement, or Le Marais, this little piece of Israel is a must see.

From the small shops where window's display Menorahs and various other forms of Judaica to men in yamakas or even the full traditional garb of the Hasidics, you will be surrounded by a big dose of Jewish spirituality.

And if religion isn't your thing, not to worry, there are plenty of delicious kosher restaurants here. Authentic delicatessens, not to mention the ubiquitous falafel joints which are practically screaming at you to eat there. And why not? They are worth the small price of a long wait and a low fee. 5-7 euors is a typical price for a falafel sandwich.

Just a note that some of these places have men outside taking your money in advance. No need to panic that it might be a scam. It's just how they do it here. You pay the guy, he hands you a ticket with your order and then you give it to the person in the window. Your meal will be made to order in just a few minutes.

The falafel places take fast-food dining to a whole new level. Who needs McDonald's when you can eat fresh veggies, sauteed eggplant and yummy falafel wrapped in a pita bread and made right in front of you! Your eyes and more importantly your stomach will surely be tantalized by all the goodies!

My personal favorite is Chez Hanna, a small hole in the wall near the end of the street. It's red exterior calls to pedestrians walking by. With it's painted declaration that it has "the best falafels in the world," they probably are not too far off from the truth.

Order at the window a emporter (to go) or get lucky enough to sit inside at one of the tables. For the best availability for a table, arrive promptly at noon during the week when the restaurant opens.

If you have a hankering for a bit of kosher food or need a dose of spirituality, this charming street and area surrounding it won't want to be missed.

Thank you for reading and bonne journee!

Chez Hannah is located at 54 rue de Rosiers.