Topless at the Immigration Office

NOTE:  As of January 17, 2012, I have moved my blog to my new website:  www.onegirlsadventures.com

I will still be doing duplicate posts on this website for the next 6 months or so, but plan to close it down after that.  Please go to my new website and subscribe!!

MERCI BEAUCOUP!

****

It is official! I am official!

Yep, as of 10am yesterday the French Government declared me healthy and said I am allowed to stay here to continue eating baguettes, wandering the Rues of Paris and spending Euro…they emphasized the spending Euro part J. 

The visa process here in France has been two fold.  First I had to trek to San Francisco from Seattle to apply for my year long visitor visa at the only French consulate on the western side of the USA that issues visas (I believe the only other one is in NYC).  Second I had to register my “permanent” address with the OFII (Office Francias de l'Immigration et de l'Integration) and wait for a letter back from them with a time for me to come in for a medical check-up.  True of governments around the world, both steps involved an appointment at a sterile government office in an obscure location and a tax. 

Here she is...the lovely OFII office in central Paris.

My original appointment with the OFII was August 24 at 9am.  The letter detailed where to go and what I must bring…including a 340 Euro timbre (stamp) that I could purchase online.  Shocking! And an important detail that the French Consulate of San Francisco’s website seemed to leave out.  Looks like I won’t be eating as much fromage this month.  That was trauma #1.  Trauma #2 was that the appointment fell during my trip to St. Tropez (which I am on the train heading towards RIGHT NOW!).  “Uh, where is the website or instructions to change the appointment time?” I kept repeating to myself as I scoured the 5 page letter, “Surely they can’t expect everyone to make appointments assigned without regard to schedule or availability.”  There were no instructions, no website…but there was a phone #. Trouble.  I knew enough from trying to contact the consulate in the USA that getting a French bureaucrat on the phone was akin to finding a French person who likes their first lady, Carla Bruni.  Near impossible. True to form NO ONE EVER answered the phone for 2 weeks.  I even had some French friends calling on my behalf but no luck…for none of us.  So with 2 business days left before my trip and definitively missing my appointment, I walked to the OFII office near the Bastille in the 11 arrondisement. 

When I got there the office was open! Perfect!  However I noticed the receptionist being incredibly unsympathetic to the man in front of me.  I don’t know what he was asking for, but he got the classic French shoulder shrug paired with the raised eyebrows and the corners of the lips turned down…the one that always means, “Nothing I can do about it.”   Great.  My turn.  I started in French, but she got impatient and started speaking English.  Better for me.

 “Why!?” was the only thing she asked when I told her I would like to change my appointment time.  Heart beating, I explained that I had a trip planned and I had received the letter after…blah, blah, blah.  She abruptly took my letter with the appointment time and picked up the phone.  The next words out of her mouth were, “Can you come Monday at 9am?” Oui, Oui, Oui!! 

Yesterday morning I was greeted by the same receptionist. Well, greeted may not be the right description.  I walked in and she looked up at me and told me to go up one floor and turn left.  I did, and found myself at another receptionist’s desk. This one was much more patient with me and my French.  She confirmed I had all the proper documents including the 340 Euro stamp, and then escorted me to medical check-up waiting room.  I had read on some websites that people had waited for 2 – 3 hours in this room…I decided to get comfortable. However, after a few minutes I heard, “Madame Jedda, Jennifer.” 

At the first stop I learned I weigh 52 kilos and am 67 centimeters high.  The nurse learned I have perfect eyesight as I read the smallest letters on the eye chart while wondering if I should really be saying the letters in French.  However, I did get to practice my French reading skills when she continued the eye exam by asking me to read French text  while covering one eye.  Good thing the French government doesn’t deny visas based on pronunciation skills J.  After I assured her I had health insurance from my home country, she escorted me into a little closet with a bench and mirror and told me to get undressed for my xray.  Uh, okay…all the way undressed??

“No, No,” she said, “Just top off and bra.”

Oh…got it. Thirty seconds later I was topless in my little closet looking around for the nice open backed hospital robe that I fully expected to find since I am now vulnerably naked in a cold, concrete, public service building.  Nope, no matter how many times I turn the 360 degrees on my heels in the one meter squared space, no robe appeared.  Clearly I don’t come from a culture where topless bathing is as common as baguettes at meal times.  I took a big breath and looked in the mirror. “Not a big deal, Jen.  You can do this…and you look pretty good naked. J”

After the pep talk, I got the knock on the door.  The opposite side of the closet opened up to a big, blue room with a large x-ray machine at the opposite side.  A heavier nurse completely covered from neck to ankles in a white robe greeted me with a warm smile and directed me and all my nakedness to the furthest part of the room.  I pressed my body up against a white screen, breathed in, held it and waited for the click of the button indicating my chest x-ray was complete.  I strutted my stuff back to the closet and slid my top back on. That wasn't SO bad. I survived! And it was good practice for beach time in Saint Tropez, I guess. J

My appointment ended with a final stop with another nurse who looked at my x-ray and took my blood pressure.  No problems. Then I and my chest x-ray were walked to a little glassed in office. The upstairs receptionist who spoke French with me was sitting behind a computer.  Almost done!  I got to practice my French a bit more by asking if I was eligible for the French government to send me to French classes…nope, not with a visitor visa… for that I would have to apply for the “carte sejour.” L  But I did learn that if I want to extend my visa it will be entirely possible!  I will just have to meet with the Prefecture about 3 months prior to the expiration of my current visa.  I let out a little squeal of excitement.  She then took my passport and adhered my OFFICIAL OFFICIAL visa stamp (apparently the one that SF consulate used a page for was just official)…I am going to have to get more pages for my passport.

This is the new visa stamp in my passport...and I am quite proud of it.

I used the metro ticket to cover my address...don't need a stalker :)

I walked out of the OFII office with a certificate of my health, a new stamp in my passport, and an x-ray of my chest.  However, I didn’t walk out with any new found confidence that I would be doing anything topless anytime soon.  I guess I am not that French yet.  Perhaps I will need to extend my visa.

Walking home, I got a text from a French friend of mine that read, “It is my pleasure to welcome you to France.”  Ah, it is nice to be welcomed, and I am still loving every second I spend here.

NOW the pool at my St. Tropez hotel and the clubs brimming with beautiful people await....gotta maximize this visa now that I have it!

The pool at our hotel in St. Tropez...actually I am posting this blog as I sit next to it.

The sun is perfect...J'adore France!

Experimental Post - One Hour at Fouquet's

NOTE:  As of January 17, 2012, I have moved my blog to my new website:  www.onegirlsadventures.com

I will still be doing duplicate posts on this website for the next 6 months or so, but plan to close it down after that.  Please go to my new website and subscribe!!

MERCI BEAUCOUP!

****

I have decided to do something a little different today... as an experiment. I thought instead of sharing a week’s worth of experiences in one sitting, I would instead chose a café in Paris, have a drink, observe and record all that I see in one hour. The joy of life in Paris is really in the details, and I am hoping to capture just a glimpse of that today.  We will see how this goes...

I have chosen the "see-and-be-seen at" Fouquet's café on the one and only Avenue des Champs-Élysées. Fouquet's is a premier Parisian brasserie that is seen in EVERY movie that features Paris. :) It was founded in 1901 and has been a celebrity favorite ever since.  Jackie O and Churchill liked to go here! Sarkozy came here to have a coffee when he won the last election…which was reason enough for my last French teacher, Celine, to tell us never to darken the door of this famous establishment.  Clearly that didn't stop me.

Fouquet's at 99 Avenue des Champs-Élysées.



The time is officially 4:54pm on Tuesday, August 16.  My one hour starts now!

Since it is August, Paris is empty of all Parisians and the city is left to the tourists. Walking through my neighborhood the streets were quiet and all the volers were shut tight while the apartments' occupants are still vacationing.  However, the minute I approached the Seine the energy level rose as I started walking along the river and then to the Champs-Élysées.  I became part of a sea  of tourists clad mostly in shorts, brightly colored shirts, backpacks and all with cameras around their necks or dangling from their wrists.  The line to get into the new Abercombie and Fitch store on the Champs Elysee was snaking back and forth as always. Europeans LOVE and CAN’T GET ENOUGH of A&F, and God Bless them for it.  It is nice to see that they still love all things American…even if they are supporting a company that promotes push-up bras for tweens. Puhff.

My outside café table is right next to a  plexy glass wall lined with flower pots that separates us, Fouquet café goers, from the pietons walking the avenue. As I sit here, Asians, Africans, Europeans and Americans walk by me.  Not a one looks like they live in the city.

My set-up during this experimental blog.

Note the business man in the white suite...he will be referred to later.

Also note the bowl of nuts...they too will be referred to later.

Ah, the waiter has brought me my glass of 13 Euro Chablis…now I can really concentrate.  As I take my first sip I am overhearing a kinda cute American business man in front of me.  He was talking telecom, but now wants to know how to get to the Eiffel tower…huh!?  I must have heard that wrong. I have a German couple to my right drinking beer like good Germans, and behind me there is another single table…a man who has his map of Paris out and his backpack at his side…oh wait, he isn’t alone his wife just came back from the bathroom.  But I am not the only one sitting alone, there are 2 other tables around me.  In fact both of them are occupied by bald men.  One just lit up a cigar and is now reading a French newspaper.  The other just put a Madeliene cookie in his mouth. I am sure they both appreciate me staring at them.  Okay, the cigar man just got a glass of whiskey or bourbon or something strong…oh, and he has these hot white leather shoes on…uh oh, I am developing a little crush.  I must stop looking…he has now caught me several times…and probably sees me grinning right now as I write this. Hmm, perhaps a little café flirting is okay. I will try to get a picture, but it may be difficult.

Okay, back to business!  Fouquet’s is next to the gargantuan Louis Vuitton store, but I have yet to see someone walk by with one of their bags.  Also incredibly absent from the Champs-Élysées today are the abundance of Arabs.  Now that is Ramadan all the Saudis, UAE, and citizens from other rich oil producing middle eastern countries are no longer lining the streets with their black Mercedes motorcades, filling the cafes or spending thousands of euros in a single outing at one of the many designer shops. The hijabs that these rich arab women wear are quite beautiful.  They are usually colorful and poofed-up a bit in the back so it looks incredibly fashionable and a little bit sexy, if I can say that.  I honestly don’t know if they all went back to their home countries, or if perhaps they come back out after sundown.  C'est un mystère.

Got it!  Cigar Man!

By cleverly pretending I was looking at my photos in my camera, I slyly caught his image.

In the picture, he kinda loses some of his je ne sais quois...oh well...you get a glimpse of his hot shoes though.

I need to take a break to stretch.  My fingers are a little tired. FYI – the kinda cute American business man in front of me just said “50 basis points” ….seems like such an odd thing to hear right now.  Oh, just saw my fist Louis Vutton bag!  He also had a Chanel bag! Lucky!

OH MY GOD! A PIGEON just landed at my table…horrible! I think he wanted my plate of nuts! No worries though, I swooshed him away.  I don’t think I have ever had a pigeon that close to my face. But the good news is that the cute guy with the cigar looked over J….but so did every table around me L.

So get this, I have inspired others to open their laptops.  Honestly I have never seen anyone on their laptop in a café in Paris…but a guy just came back from his room (yes, Fouquet’s also has hotel rooms) with his Mac.  I would like to think I influenced him. 

Of course, the good Germans next to me speak perfect French!  Argh! Bollocks to all these Europeans who grew up speaking 10 languages.  I am sure too if they were in Kenya they would easily slide into their perfect Swahili!

Interesting development, the kinda cute American business man just said good-by to his drink companion and now is just like me, sitting all alone.  He ordered a glass of red wine and is randomly looking around.  At least I look busy with my cool netbook! Oh, but now he looks busy too cuz he just pulled out his iPhone 4.  What the heck did we all do before these electronic devices!?  The man with the cigar lost his fire so he had to relight the cigar…he is still looking very yummy over there.

LORD! The pigeons are back! And again landed on my table…in fact, the kinda cute American business man just said into his iPhone, “Sorry, I am being attacked by birds.” Which is sort of a false statement because it was my table that was really attacked, he just felt the wind of all their wing flaps as I tried to scare 6 of them away!

Only 5 more minutes left …uh oh, just had another pigeon attack that made me scream out a bit which prompted my singing waiter (I have heard him sing Abba's "Money, Money, Money" and Debarge's "Rhythm of the Night" as he passes me) to take my nuts away.  Brilliant! However, before leaving he threw a few out for the pigeons!!! WHAT!!  Is he trying to sabatoge me!!!!  I think my outburst has totally ruined it for me with the cigar man…it is hard to look cute and composed when being attacked by flying rats. 

TIME!  Experiment complete!  This was kinda fun…for me J.  Next time I will chose a place where there are more Parisians and less tourists (and less pigeons).  I didn’t see one person with a baquette walk by me so I know I am not surrounded by Frenchies J.

Now I am going to finish my glass of wine…and enjoy this lovely day in this city that I am so lucky to live in.  A Prochain! Bisous a tout!

***Addendum**** After I finished typing and was enjoying my glass of wine, the kinda cute American business man struck up conversation with me.  Turns out that his name is Clint. He is from Oklahoma but has lived and worked in Germany for the past 2 years.  He was here in Paris on business. Clint has been to Paris about 7 times but he had never seen the city!!! So we spent the rest of the evening walking the heart of Paris.  I showed him all I loved about the City of Light and he took me to dinner.  We talked literature, art, travel experiences, politics and country music while walking Place de Concorde, Jardin Tuileries, Rue Rivoli and the Seine.  At the end of the evening after he had seen the Eiffel Tower sparkle at midnight, I escorted him to a metro stop and gave him a metro ticket so he wouldn't have to buy one. We exchanged hugs, but nothing more…no phone #s, emails , last names, nothing.  I will never see Clint again …but I will never forget him.  As he started into the metro he turned to me and said, “I hope you find what you are looking for in Paris, Jen. And tonight has been one of my favorite travel experiences ever…you made me fall in love with Paris.”

I think this experimental blog has been a complete success.

The view Clint and I ended our night with.

My Italian Beach Holiday and Dottor Fish!

NOTE:  As of January 17, 2012, I have moved my blog to my new website:  www.onegirlsadventures.com

I will still be doing duplicate posts on this website for the next 6 months or so, but plan to close it down after that.  Please go to my new website and subscribe!!

MERCI BEAUCOUP!

****

I put on fuzzy socks to write this post. Yep, it is August 6...some would even say summertime....but apparently summer skipped Paris this year.  In fact, it is raining yet again outside...I hear the light drops of the rain on my bedroom window...maddening.

Paris has this crazy August tradition called "Paris-Plages"...where a beach, complete with sand and umbrellas, is created on the left and right banks of the Seine for all the Parisians stuck in a hot, humid, sticky city while their fellow city-dwellers are sun-bathing topless and happy seaside.  Well, this year it has been an absolute bust...I think the city has started handed out scarves and mittens and had the sand hauled away....ah, my Dad told me a million times not to exaggerate.

BUT I was able to escape all these sad clouds, if only for 7 days, and had one of the best European beach holidays I could ever imagine. My Italian family has a beach home in Finale Ligure, Liguria, Italy and graciously invited me to join them this year...an offer that I could absolutely not refuse! 

My first stop in route to Italian Riviera was the French Riviera...Nice! along the perfect Cote d'Azur.  The last time I was here, was on my honeymoon....so my time there was awash in a sea of memories.  So much can happen in 7 years....and has.

This is a view of all of Nice from the Parc Castel des deux Rois.

I took the petit train touristique up here...which have come a long way since my last tour through Cote d'Azur.  The train was complete with an audio guide in 10 languages. 

 I sat next to a little Italian girl and her father.  At the beginning of the tour I peaked over to see which language she had selected...to my surprise she selected #2 (English!) versus #4 (Italian!).  I love how multi-lingual everyone is here!

A few scenes from Nice's flower market...oh, how I wanted to buy a bouquet!

They actually were reasonable priced here (3Euro50 versus 25Euro in Paris!...the price you pay for sleeping with the Eiffel Tower...well, that is what they keep telling me).

Candied, dried fruit.

Fresh veggies!

...each morning in Nice I would enjoy a cappuccino at one of the outside cafes and then head to the market for a basket of fresh strawberries.  I would eat the strawberries as I walked the market, smelled all the lavender soaps, admired the baked goods and sampled jams.

During my one full day in Nice, I decided to head up to a magical, midieval village that I fell in love with 7 years before, Èze.  The bus up there was only 1 Euro...but whatever I saved on transportation costs, I quickly made-up for after my 4 course lunch at a one Michelin star restaurant with panoramic views of the Baie des Anges.

These are all the civilized patrons that I lunched with at the Château Eza on a near perfect Thursday afternoon.

My amuse bouche paired with the most lovely Chablis I have ever had.

This was my first duck in France!

I had been holding out for a place that I knew could make a statement with their canard...the flavors of fig, balsamic and gorgonzola with the duck were parfait.

I even ate that pretty little flower.

Absolutely content...

The wait staff could barely remove me from that balcony....I was completely and unmovably in love with the view and the little town.

A nice English man took this photo...he was at the table next to me with his French lover. :)

We all got on quite well.

An unobstructed shot of the majestic view....

The little winding pathways of the old village were beautifully and gracefully painted with bougainvillieas and other lush flowers and trees.

Pathway in Èze 

Decorative detail in the walls.

This is how Eze looks from a distance...I hope it doesn't take me another 7 years to get back.

Oh BTW, I waited for my 1 Euro bus ride back to Nice for over an hour....apparently schedules don't mean much on the ole French Riviera.

Nice in the evening!

This evening I took one last stroll along the Promenade des Anglais before heading back to my 16 chambres boutique hotel where my room had a shower...but no toilette :).  Don't worry, the community bathroom was quite clean and behind a pretty stained glass door.

The life of a girl on a fixed income :)...

Next stop Italy to spend some quality beach time with my Italian cousins!  I took 2 short train rides from Nice to Finale Ligure.  My first transfer was in Ventimiglia, Italy...oh, how big my smile was when I walked off the train to nothing but the melodic hums of the Italian language.  I was feeling so much joy to be there that I decided to grab a quick gelato at a little stand near the station.  At the counter I asked for a "coppa (Italian) avec (French) chocolate (Spanish)"...uh oh...the perils of learning multiple languages.

When I got off the train in Finale, I was greeted by the big smile of my 18 year old cousin, Susanna! She looked entirely beach-ready in her little pink, strapless terry-cloth dress over her swimsuit and perfect golden tan.  With luggage in tow, we walked the lungomare along the beach front to their 2 bedroom, 3rd floor (4th floor to me!) beach getaway.  At the apartment I was greeted by my other cousin, Cristina, who had just arrived from Torino to start her 4 week holiday!  Girls' week at the beach had began!

So although I can't keep my languages straight like a good European, I did learn within the 5 days with my cousins how to holiday like a good European.  We, Americans, have much to learn from this important tradition of rest and relaxation.

This was my view from our rented umbrella at the "Palm Beach" beach in Finale. 

My family rents this spot all summer...and every morning and afternoon they are out either sunbathing, Med- bathing or talking with friends under different umbrellas. 

Umbrellas and tanned bodies as far as the eye could see!

I loved our beach routine every day....

It went a bit like this: 

 9am-ish - wake up then have coffee and biscuits.  Put on swimsuit, grab sunscreen, a book and keys to unlock the bike.

10am-ish - hop on bikes, stop at the bakery where Cristina would put in the order for bread, stop at the news stand where Cristina would pick up the news paper, maneuver through the pedestrian walks and streets to get to the beach.

10:30-ish to 12:45-ish - Sunbathe, read and cool off in the sea when you got too hot!

1:00pm-ish - hop back on bikes to head home for lunch (as a note, the entire beach did this...as we walked out all were saying "ciao" and "bon appetito")

1:30 - 3:30pm - lunch was usually cured meats with fresh bread, fruit and salad...one day Susanna even made hot dogs!!  :) She was a bit nervous to make them for her American cousin (being the connoisseur I am!), but they turned out perfect.   Lunch followed by rest time at the apartment (well, for the two older women :)....Susanna would usually go meet friends right after lunch).  I would shower and Cristina would watch her favorite Italian soap.

3:30pm - 6:30pm - Back to the beach for Cristina to meet friends for coffee and general gossiping (the most important sport in Finale during the summer months!) and I would head to explore the town, beaches and shops...always returning to the umbrella around 6:30pm with some new treasure I had found.

Susanna putting her culinary skills to work!

The first 3 nights we did dinner in....this was a delicious meal of cheese and prociutto tortolini with homemade tomato sauce.  Italian food is so simple, but so delicious.

The last 2 nights we did meals out in the little villages in the hills around Finale (the perks of having the Fiat 500).

This evening Cristina, Susanna and I went to a little trattoria known for regional cuisine.

I had pesto and pasta, Cristina had raviolis in butter and sage sauce and Susanna had a beautiful meat dish with about 5 different meats and sausages.

After dinner Cristina would usually take me to explore some of the Riviera towns by night.

This one is Allasio.  We walked its popular bordella, drooled over shop windows (usually shoes) and enjoyed the parade of absolutely gorgeous people.  

Yes, the women in Paris are très chic and lovely, but frankly I haven't seen any as beautiful or as stylish as the majority of women I saw in Italy.  I am so happy to have some of the blood in me....even if it is a few generations back!

Me on one of my walks in Finale...I probably had to put down a shopping bag to take this shot.

Ahead is a little wine bar owned by a couple who moved permanently from Milan to Finale to pursue their passion of wine and seafood.  The serve Prosecco on tap and the proprieter offered me to try an "unforgettable" glass of one of the local wines, Vermentino....unforgettable, indeed.

The unbrellas everywhere were right out of a turn of the century travel poster.

This is one of about 5 churches I saw in Liguria...it is in Finale.

On this trip I decided definitively that Italy has the most beautiful church interiors...even in the little towns my jaw would drop walking into the chiesa

Yikes!  I woke up one morning to this huge moth STUCK to my swimsuit ...it took Cristina much probing with a 6 foot broom to wedge that thing loose. Thankfully Susanna was not awake for the excitement....she has a fear of birds, and since this thing was a size of a sparrow we counted our blessing that she was still sleeping.

(CRISTINA - you may want to warn Susanna to skip this picture!!)

DOTTOR FISH!

This was incredible!  At our beach were 4 aquariums below benches with little special freshwater fish called Garra Rufa. Their gift is that attach themselves to your immersed feet and legs and gentley massage your legs while basically eating away at the dead skin making everything a bit softer and smoother.  It is a pedicure by fish!

Here is the link so you can read all about it...in Italian: 

 http://www.dottorfish.com/ITA/fishpedicure.aspx

Oh, how it tickled...these little guys took their jobs very seriously and would even get between my toes.

I asked the "Dottor Fish" guy why, if the fish ate all day the tasty dead skin cells of people's feet, they weren't more fat :).... it was definitely one of those lost in translation moments.

Sometimes they would focus more on one foot more than another...looks like they are preferring my left foot in this picture.  The guys near the surface would be so engrossed with their job that they would even at times have their heads outside as they worked their way up my leg.

The union contract the fish signed only allows them to work for 15 minutes before needing a break...

When it was time to withdraw my feet from the tank, I had to slowly pull out one foot and then another otherwise there still may have been G.R.s (Garra Rufas) stuck to me.  Susanna did a spot check after I had my feet out.  None, Phew!

I think my feet were a bit softer...nice work guys!

Ah, my beautiful cousins!

Thanks for the perfect week!

Wish I was with you right now enjoying more beach time!

Viva Bene, Spesso L'Amore, Di Risata Molto! (live well, love much, laugh often)