tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52867574115775089182024-03-13T04:59:26.495+01:00This Moment in FranceChronicles of Cultivating Mindfulness in the Midst of Cultural ConfusionDianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-22647528890866289552010-06-03T22:20:00.000+02:002010-06-03T22:20:44.591+02:00Today's Moment - Being A Tourist in My Own TownOne of the things I love most about hosting out of town visitors is the opportunity to see my city through their eyes. I just spent a couple days showing some American friends around, and many of the sights I take for granted became new to me again through their exclamations of admiration. I also got to re-visit beautiful places that I tend to forget about until it's time to play tour guide - like the Fourvière Basilica with it's stunning views of the city, and the nearby gallo-roman amphitheater built in 15 BC which blows my mind every time I think about the Romans watching plays there two millenia ago. The theater is partly in ruins, but much of it is in good enough condition to host a concert series every summer: <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/TAgIZ57ZiDI/AAAAAAAAAJM/paczNZqupUQ/s1600/IMG_0354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/TAgIZ57ZiDI/AAAAAAAAAJM/paczNZqupUQ/s320/IMG_0354.JPG" /></a></div><br />
With my friends in tow I also took on a tourist attitude, and allowed myself to do things that tourists do and I don't - like have an ice cream on the Place des Terreaux, or a drink on the barges that dock along the Rhône river. These places are of course way over-priced for what you get, which is why I'm such an infrequent customer. But you're paying for the pleasure of hanging out in one of the most beautiful plazas in France, next to the famous Bartholdi fountain (by the same sculptor who made the statue of liberty) and surrounded by architectural gems like the fine art museum and the ornately gilded city hall. I cut through the plaza on my bike all the time, only sometimes noticing it's loveliness, but I never linger. Same with the barges on the Rhone - I pedal by them quite often on my way to somewhere else, but rarely allow myself the simple pleasure that is having a drink on the deck of a boat while watching the river flow by below. <br />
<br />
Lyon's ornate city hall on the Place des Terreaux:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/TAgJdK5M-_I/AAAAAAAAAJU/tJWdsoQFLgE/s1600/IMG_2197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/TAgJdK5M-_I/AAAAAAAAAJU/tJWdsoQFLgE/s320/IMG_2197.JPG" /></a></div><br />
In fact I realized these past few days that I almost never walk around Lyon, since I'm always on my bike - even more so now because at 8 months pregnant, cycling (albeit slowly) is actually much easier than carrying around the weight of my big belly! But in cycling I miss out on the famous French tradition of 'flânerie.' It's hard to translate directly - the dictionary says to stroll or saunter. But it's more of an attitude - walking slowly, just to enjoy yourself, with no particular destination in mind. It's actually a pretty zen-like way of doing things, the idea being that the journey itself is much more important the the destination. And it's something I have a hard time with. Even with the aforementioned heavy belly, I was still rushing along ahead of my friends, just thinking about what I was going to show them. While they were just sauntering along, appreciating their surroundings in the true French tradition of flânerie. <br />
<br />
So I taught my friends the verb 'flâner' and congratulated them on their mastery of this fine French art. Then I decided that I needed to take a lesson from both the tourists (at least the ones who stroll, since many are in a hurry to see as much as possible) and the French. I'm going to try to slow myself down (yes, even on my bike) and really be mindful about where I am - especially now that I'm on maternity leave and have no reason to rush anymore. I want to notice and appreciate the beauty that is around me, without waiting for visitors to remind me to look around. <br />
<br />
<br />
Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-90528486211062776362010-06-01T23:09:00.005+02:002010-06-01T23:43:46.127+02:00Coming Back to Mindfulness<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I haven't written in a long while, wrapped up in my little pregnancy bubble, focused on acquiring information and just gestating, as it were. I also had the idea that I would start another blog just about pregnancy and parenting issues, since they seemed off-topic for the mindfulness blog I intended this to be. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But I recently came across a couple of books that have helped to remind me that it's all connected. The first is called "Momma Zen: Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood," by a Zen Buddhist priest named <a href="http://www.karenmaezenmiller.com/blog">Karen Maezen Miller</a>. It was truly inspiring, with lots of short, easy-to-read vignettes full of great insights into parenting as an endless series of opportunities for spiritual practice. I also just started "Mindful Motherhood: Practical Tools for Staying Sane During Pregnancy and Childbirth" by <a href="http://www.mindfulmotherhood.org/">Cassandra Vieten</a>. I haven't gotten very far yet, and so far it seems geared more towards people who are new to mindfulness. But her suggestions about incorporating moments of mindfulness into daily life whenever you can will certainly become all the more vital once the baby comes and I'll have a lot less free time. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">More than anything, these books made clear that my spiritual practice is fed by whatever is happening in my life in 'this moment.' For example, I attended my first retreat at Plum Village in large part to deal with <a href="http://thismomentinfrance.blogspot.com/2010/02/anger.html">anger</a>, and have continued to practice in Thich Nhat Hahn's tradition with a local sangha in order to find more calm and clarity. One of the outcomes of my practice was finally being able to take the decision to make a baby, after years of uncertainty and doubt. And we actually conceived after I returned from a 2-day mindfulness retreat, peaceful and present. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So my pregnancy is a direct result of my previous spiritual practice, and has now become my current spiritual practice - though I didn't realize that until recently. I was actually feeling a bit down on myself for not meditating much anymore, since I haven't been attending the Tuesday meditation sessions that are just too late at night for me now. And I haven't sat on my cushion much these past few months either. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But part of what's interesting about pregnancy is that it's so physical, so embodied. At Plum Village they use a mindfulness bell to bring you back to the present moment - each time you hear the bell (or a phone, or a clock chiming) you pause and come back to your breath for a count of 3. While I haven't been using a bell myself, I do have a very active baby inside of me who keeps bringing me back to the here and now with one breathtaking kick in the ribs. I'm not consciously choosing to practice mindfulness with him, but the little guy doesn't let me get away with being elsewhere for very long. When he reminds me of his presence, he brings me back to the present. And the present moment is both wondrous and miraculous, and sometimes even a little bit freaky. Each and every one of his wiggles and kicks is exciting, no matter how uncomfortable; as well as reassuring, since it means he's doing well. And I'm still awestruck (and a bit weirded out) whenever I actually see him undulating under my skin like some kind of alien invader straight out of a sci-fi movie. I never get tired of seeing and feeling him move, which keeps bringing me back over and over again to how crazy and magical it is to be carrying another life inside of me. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">While my recent reads have brought me back to a more conscious form of mindfulness, it's nice to realize that I never really stopped practicing. My practice has just taken a different form, shifting from my meditation cushion to my growing belly. And once baby arrives my practice will certainly shift again in ways that I can't possibly even fathom yet. But I don't want to think too much about that yet, since I still have six more weeks of pregnancy moments to enjoy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Here's a recent picture of the belly at 32 weeks: </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/TAV4iehiJrI/AAAAAAAAAI8/y46IH49mBaw/s1600/P5210008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/TAV4iehiJrI/AAAAAAAAAI8/y46IH49mBaw/s320/P5210008.JPG" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-32889248665970914582010-02-14T17:24:00.000+01:002010-02-14T17:24:26.825+01:00AngerThe reason I was first drawn to following a mindfulness practice in the tradition of Plum Village (see sidebar) was the first Thich Nhat Hahn book I ever read. In French it's simply called "La Colère" (Anger) and the cover shows a picture of a very cranky-looking Buddhist monk. In English the title is "Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames," which aptly describes the book's main message: we need to take care of our anger, understand it, and let it cool down before we enter into communication with others.<br />
<br />
I bought the book in a Tibetan Buddhist center in Lyon that I went to a few times, but never felt quite comfortable in - too ceremonial and religious-feeling, plus not particularly welcoming. I was drawn to the book by its title and unusual cover (how often do we see images of unsmiling Buddhists, after all?), because I was feeling a bit like that monk looked - pretty darn pissed. <br />
<br />
I've long struggled with anger issues, though I may come across as perfectly nice and sweet to most people who meet me (though once they find out I'm a Scorpio they get a little more worried). I'm not necessarily quick to anger, but once I get going, those flames burn hot, steady, and long. I was quite proficient in the silent treatment back in high school (as a few former friends may remember), as well as being a champion grudge-holder and extremely slow to forgive. I've mellowed out over the years, and I'm more conscious of the excesses I am capable of. But the depth and breath of my anger is a big part of what drew me to mindfulness practice, since my occasional fits of fury have created, and continue to create a great deal of suffering in my life. <br />
<br />
I recommend Thich Nhat Hanh's book to anyone who struggles with conflict whatsoever, but won't give you a review of its contents here. Suffice it to say that I found his wisdom inspirational and priceless, so much so that I decided to participate in a week-long retreat at Plum Village, Thich Nhat Hahn's monastic community in Western France. I went during a particularly difficult time in my romantic relationship, when I was seething with resentment and not sure if I could continue on with my partner. I knew the rage was just festering within me and I had to let it go instead of projecting it all onto kevin, but I just couldn't do that work on my own. And since my anger was a huge trigger for kevin's anger, we kept ending up in a painfully vicious cycle. So I went to Plum Village to breathe and 'find myself' and learn to let go. <br />
<br />
Within minutes of my arrival it began to snow, and all of sudden dozens of young Vietnamese nuns came rushing out into the falling flakes, giggling and squealing in utter ecstasy. Thich Nhat Hahn is orginally from Vietnam, and he invites young men and women from his home country to come live in his monastic community in France. For these women it was the first time they had ever seen snow, and their joy was unbounded. <br />
<br />
I had arrived at Plum Village with a heavy heart, but the delight in these young women's faces as they ran around throwing their first snowballs would have rubbed off on even the darkest of souls. I was suddenly filled with wonder at the beauty of the soft snowfall, something which I always take for granted given that I have lived in many cold climates over the years. And I realized how easy it is to forget to see the beauty around us, just because we've seen it so many times before.<br />
<br />
The nun's joyous energy was infectious, and as I stood peacefully basking in the sound of laughter all around me, I felt lighter and happier than I had in a long time. The first person I wanted to share that feeling with was Kevin, as my resentment towards him had completely faded while I was busy being blissful. Funny how joy and anger just can't seem to share the same space. So I called him, told him I loved him, and spent the next week working on my breathing, learning how to be present, and simply enjoying the presence of the nuns, who are just about the smiliest people I've met in my life. <br />
<br />
My week in Plum Village was transforming, because I became vibrantly aware that I was choosing happiness or suffering at any given moment. When I chose to be touched by the nuns' joy, there was no place for anger anymore. And when I chose anger, there was no more room for joy. All too often I made choices (albeit unconsciously) that created suffering for myself and those around me, rather than choosing to be joyful. Realizing that this was a choice was extremely empowering, because it meant I could make different choices with happier results.<br />
<br />
Of course, in real life it's not as easy to choose joy all the time. The benefits of Plum Village lasted about a month or two, but without a strong mindfulness practice, it's all too easy to fall back into old patterns. That's why my bi-weekly meditation session with my Plum Village sangha is so important to me. When I can't go I find it more difficult to make the right choices, since it's hard for me to meditate on my own. So the first trimester of my pregnancy was doubly difficult, since in addition to my constant nausea I was too exhausted for my group's evening meditations.<br />
<br />
Anger is particularly present for me at the moment, since I got into a big fight with kevin this past week. My mindfulness practice has been suffering of late, and I haven't been taking care of myself in general. Last week in particular I hadn't had time to relax at all over the weekend because my mother-in-law was visiting, and things just ended up exploding once she left. <br />
<br />
It's tempting to beat myself up over this and to tell myself that I have a terrible practice and that I suck at being mindful. I KNOW that I need to let myself cool down, perhaps even more than most people because of my grudge-holding tendencies. But against my better judgment I lashed out at kevin the other day, and while he was able to withstand my attacks for a moment, eventually his own anger took hold. That's the bad news. <br />
<br />
The good news is that we fight much less often than before, the peaks don't get quite as high, and the drama doesn't last quite as long. While I'd love to eliminate the fights completely, I don't think that's realistic anytime soon given my stormy scorpio nature; and perhaps that shouldn't even be the goal. But there has been immense progress, and when things go badly it's a wake-up call to take better care of myself. While I used to see fights as a failure, I'm trying to notice instead how far I've come, and how well my mindfulness practice actually works - when I do it. <br />
<br />
At Plum Village we talked about how it's so much easier to feel happy and peaceful in the context of a meditation retreat, and how so many people are tempted by monastic life for that reason. But the real challenge is remaining happy and peaceful in normal hectic life and in relationships with people who may not practice mindfulness themselves. That's the true work, and it is indeed hard work. Retreats help to give us strength to face the outside world, but ultimately it's up to us to wake up every day and make the best choices we can. This past week I made the choice to remain stuck in my anger and lash out at kevin, but then I also made the choice to let it go much faster than I would have a year ago. Knowing that I'm going to be a parent soon is all the more motivation to make sure I continue with and try to deepen my practice, so that I can be as present as possible with my child and provide him/her with as peaceful a context as possible (all the while trying to forgive myself when I stray from perfection...).<br />
<br />
I've always found it ironic that my middle name is Joy given that anger has been such a defining emotion in my life. My mother tells me she gave me the name because she was so happy at my birth. However I spent a long time feeling like the universe was playing a bit of a cruel joke on me, since I seemed doomed instead to unhappiness - in large part self-inflicted because of my own anger. But I'm starting to redefine my relationship to this name, and to see Joy as my birthright, or my path in life - a guiding light of sorts. And above all as I choice I can make each and every day. Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-6795612851942368172010-02-01T20:26:00.001+01:002010-02-01T20:29:24.522+01:00Gratitude<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I haven't been sleeping well lately, perhaps because of the pregnancy, but most likely because of a long-standing difficulty turning off my brain at night. Now matter how tired I am when I get into bed, the minute my head hits the pillow, it's like a switch gets turned on that I just can't turn back off. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Normally I have the most trouble sleeping when there is something on my mind or I'm stressed out. But the insomnia, while recurring, usually comes and goes as issues pop up in my life. Lately, however, it's been almost every night, which is in sharp contrast to my first trimester when just about all I did was sleep - with no trouble whatsoever. So it's a big shift, and all the more frustrating because I otherwise feel so much better than before. Now I'm tired not from the pregnancy, but from the not sleeping. And while some insomnia is to be expected given my complicated relationship with sleep, and the fact that I obviously have lots on my mind planning for baby, it's still difficult to deal with. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I lie in bed for hours almost every night, trying everything possible to sleep (except herbal tea, since I can't drink it now for some odd pregnant reason). I've tried essential oils, sleep balm, even yoga; nothing doing. My brain just won't shut down. I've even been doing the buddhist version of counting sheep: Count each inhale and exhale up to the number 10, starting over each time a thought interrupts. I don't think I've ever made it to 10, and not because I've fallen asleep. Yep, those darn thoughts just take over completely. And eventually I just get angry. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I can't sleep and I'm frustrated that I can't sleep so I toss and turn and feel annoyed at myself and then the anger just builds as sleep further eludes me. So I wake up both exhausted and really pissed off. Not a great way to start the day. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In desperation I started looking through some pregnancy books for guidance, and eventually came across some wise words from Sheila Kitzinger*: "The stillness of the middle of the night provides a marvelous opportunity for practicing relaxation and breathing techniques and for getting in touch with the baby." </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Funny, but despite all my efforts to be more mindful in daytime, I never thought of using those moments of insomnia as an opportunity to connect with the little one. Seems obvious now, but reading that was a huge revelation. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So when the thoughts started to come the other night, I focused instead on my body, my belly, my breath. I redirected the stream of thoughts to the baby who is still so tiny that I can't even feel him/her moving yet, which is perhaps why it didn't occur to me before to spend that time connecting. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And a surprising thing happened: a gentle wave of gratitude just washed over me, sudden and unbidden. As I thought about the baby I just started feeling thankful for the amazing gift of life growing inside of me. As I looked over at Kevin resting peacefully beside me, instead of feeling resentful at his perpetual ease with sleep (or his snores), I felt grateful for his presence in my life, our choice to create this child together, and what a wondeful father I knew he would be. And then I felt grateful for my warm bed, my cozy apartment, the relative material comforts I enjoy when so many others are sleeping out in the cold, or homeless in Haiti. And so on. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And it's strange because at other moments when I've purposefully tried to be thankful, the gratitude often got corrupted by guilt over my privilege and I usually ended up feeling worse. But the other night was different: my heart was full of thanks and appreciation for the simple blessings that I suddenly became aware of as I laid wide-awake, breathing in the quiet darkness. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm wondering if that means I can't force gratitude, as much as I feel I should be thankful at certain moments. Maybe I just need to soften enough to let the gratitude in when it feels welcome, when it has the space to express itself fully and freely. And the idea that I can use this insomniac time to do something healthier than getting angry is in itself a gift. I don't know if I fall asleep sooner (though I suspect I do), but I wake up a lot happier. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I think it's also a good lesson for when the baby comes, since everyone says that new parents don't sleep. Well, if the insomnia continues, it's good training for what comes later. And even if I do manage to start sleeping normally again, I think the idea of being present during a time of unwelcome wakefulness is crucial. Just as I realized that I can choose to be angry about the insomnia, or use that time more peacefully-productively, I hope that I'll be able to appreciate those moments when the baby wakes me as a gift rather than a burden (at least some of the time!). </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Who knows what I'll be capable of in 6 months, but in the meantime it gives me something to work on when I can't sleep at night!<br />
<br />
*from "The Complete Book of Pregnancy and Childbirth" (Knopf 2004). </div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-44806358160359553022010-01-24T17:17:00.000+01:002010-01-24T17:17:08.389+01:00Doing it Myself<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On my way home yesterday I found a discarded 2-liter plastic bottle on the ground, and it was exactly what I needed! I had just bought a bottle of water at the store, and was thinking about where to transfer the water to so that I could use the bottle right away. And then I stumbled onto someone else's trash, which became the serendipitous solution to my immediate problem. <br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Once home I immediately got to work on what I hope will be the first of many do-it-yourself projects to come. I've been thinking about DIY for a while now, have even consulted recipes online from time to time, but I usually just take the easy way out and buy what I need. Yesterday, however, I had a revelation. We have a big humidity problem in our apartment, and one tired and rattling electronic dehumidifier that we lug around to different corners as needed. But after cleaning mold from the damp walls yet again, I decided I needed to find an additional solution. I remembered a kind of crystal absorber I'd had when I lived at the beach one summer, a small plastic tub you could put wherever you needed to. I thought that could be a great (and silent) alternative. The trick was figuring out what it was called, how to translate that into French, and then find out where to order one.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After poking around for a while, I finally found a couple of French websites that carried several versions of what I had in mind, though in bags rather than tubs. One was even in the shape of a penguin, strangely enough, which changes color once it's full of water. The biggest problem is that to re-charge those bags you need to put them in the microwave - and we don't have one. So I kept surfing, until I stumbled across a site giving instructions on a cheap, home-made humidity absorber. What?! And the more I looked, the more I found different variations on the theme. All the DIY suggestions involved cutting a plastic bottle in half, putting a mesh covering over the opening, placing salt (or variant) in the top part, then turning it upside down into the bottom part which captures the moisture absorbed by the salt. So simple! So cheap! So quick! <br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I was so inspired that I spent hours perusing different DIY sites, and I'm now determined to make all sorts of other things instead of buying them. I went shopping yesterday with a big list of ingredients, and though I couldn't find everything in my neighborhood, I can get started on a couple of projects. My humidity absorbers are now in place, so the next priority is to make my own toothpaste, since I have all the ingredients for that and we're almost out. It's going to save me a lot of money even in the short run, since the natural stuff we buy at the organic store is almost 5 euros for a little tube that doesn't last us very long. <br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Doing things myself fits in so perfectly with my goal of mindful consumption and reducing expenses that I can't believe I didn't start sooner. But it's funny to suddenly notice how my reflex to buy things is so established - I have a problem, I look for place to purchase the solution without thinking twice about it. Over the years I've moved more and more to ecological consumption, so that many of the products I do buy are natural and non-toxic. But they are often pretty expensive, and far from essential as I'm just starting to realize. I can just as easily make these products myself, saving myself a lot of money and consuming less packaging in the process. <br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's also really empowering for me to become aware that I can meet my own needs and find solutions to my problems without relying on commercial, packaged solutions. A whole new world of self-sufficiency is opening up to me now that I've opened my eyes to it, and it's incredibly thrilling. It's also a great way for me to practice mindfulness, both in terms of thinking about what I do and don't need to buy, but also being fully present and enjoying the moments when I'm able to make things for myself. <br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Once I'm a bit more organized about it I'll post some links to some DIY sites that I find most useful, but if any of you have any sites to recommend feel free to post them in the comments! <br />
</div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-75213443200660793292010-01-20T19:55:00.002+01:002010-01-21T20:38:48.541+01:00Mindfulness at the MallOn Monday night I accomplished an almost heroic feat of willpower: I spent almost 2 hours in a shopping mall and didn't buy a single thing! All the more impressive since it's the big sales time in France, so faced with up to 70% off all sorts of stuff, the temptation was strong.<br />
<br />
Strangely enough, France only allows shops to use the word 'sale' twice a year for clearly-defined periods in winter and in summer. The exact dates of the sales are dictated for each region, as are the sale conditions and possible discounts offered (so that stores don't artificially inflate their prices before cutting them, for example). The rest of the year shopkeepers can't have what they call sales for fear of being fined. Seems a bit heavy-handed from an American free-market perspective, but the intention is actually to protect small businesses (even more than the consumer). What it means in practice is that the French go wild during the sales, swarming every possible shopping area in impressive numbers. Going to the mall during this time therefore becomes a particularly courageous endeavor if you're as semi-claustrophobic and generally anti-mall as I am.<br />
<br />
Luckily Monday evening does not seem to be the busiest shopping time, because I had a very important project: to figure out how to cover my ever-growing belly. I think I've been in denial about needing maternity clothes until now, but I have to face the fact that as my waistline expands, so must my wardrobe. The mall expedition was actually more of a reconnaissance mission; to see what's available, check out the prices, and mostly figure out what my pregnant size is. In fact, I went to the mall with the explicit intention of not buying anything, because my goal throughout this pregnancy is to spend as little money as possible (as part of my efforts at mindful consumption). And it just seems particularly wasteful to buy something brand-new that I'll only wear for a few months.<br />
<br />
In parallel, I've also started following a blog in which readers were given a challenge to shop only second-hand for the month (see <a href="http://bonzaiaphrodite.com/2010/01/mmm-check-in-some-thoughts-on-shopping-secondhand/">bonzai aphrodite</a>). I already do this for almost all my clothes, but it was helpful to have the extra incentive of the blog project to keep from being tempted by prices so low that you buy stuff just because it's too cheap to resist. It was surprisingly difficult to pass up those bargains, and at a different point in my life I would have exited the mall with my arms full of 'great deals!'. So I had to use all of my mindfulness skills to remind myself of my commitment to shop second-hand. I also I had little mantras of sorts that I kept repeating to myself : "I don't need this...I'm not buying anything...I will not spend any money...," etc. <br />
<br />
When I eventually left the mall empty-handed, I felt victorious - like crossing the finish line of a long and arduous race. I felt very proud of myself, and also relieved. Now I know that I'm not missing anything much, since most of the clothes were horrendous. And I tried on enough stuff to have a sense of my maternity size in a few different brands. My plan now is to comb the thrift shops, and tomorrow I'm even going to try on some maternity clothes that someone advertised online through a local re-selling site.<br />
<br />
If any of you have other ideas on dressing throughout pregnancy, would love to hear them!Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-27117699300204197882010-01-17T12:37:00.002+01:002010-01-17T12:40:46.620+01:00A New Year's Intention<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I don't always make New Year's Resolutions, but I do find it useful to stop and reflect on how I want to live the coming year; whether there are any changes I'd like to make or new projects to undertake. Lately I've noticed that a recurring theme in my life has been the notion of mindful consumption. I wrote a post in the fall about not spending any money for a month in order to replenish my bank account and think about how I consume <a href="http://thismomentinfrance.blogspot.com/2009/09/slow-month.html">(slow month</a>), and I find myself increasingly drawn to blogs and articles that offer Do-it-Yourself recipes or other ways to be more self-sufficient and spend less (I also welcome any links or suggestions you may have!).<br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There is also a component of my mindfulness practice that addresses the idea of consumption quite explicitly, the Fifth Mindfulness Training. The Five Mindfulness Trainings are basically guidelines on how to live your life in a way that will increase your happiness and well-being; not commandments as such, but ideals to strive for and to work on (which is why they are called 'trainings'). Here is an excerpt of the Fifth Training, which I'm particularly drawn to at the moment:<br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful consumption, I am committed to cultivating good health, both physical and mental, for myself, my family, and my society by practicing mindful eating, drinking, and consuming.... I will practice coming back to the present moment to be in touch with the refreshing, healing and nourishing elements in me and around me...I am determined not to try to cover up loneliness, anxiety, or other suffering by losing myself in consumption" (for the full text see <a href="http://www.plumvillage.org/mindfulness-trainings/3-the-five-mindfulness-trainings.html">5 Mindfulness Trainings</a>).<br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I've never been a big consumer or shopaholic, but I've had my share of impulsive buys and I spent a year paying down a hefty credit card balance before moving to France. I don't have a credit card here, which helps cut back on the mindless spending, and in general there's less of a culture of conspicuous consumption here than in the US; that makes things a bit easier (The French are notoriously big savers vs. spenders, though that seems to be changing as buying on credit becomes a little more widespread). Yet I'm still very far from the notion of mindful consumption that I strive for, even as I become increasingly solicited by a new category of consumer goods: Baby stuff. <br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm expecting my first child this summer, so I've been suddenly plunged into a whole new world of 'needs,' fed in no small part by my own mother who has already started buying stuff for her first grandchild and sends me endless links to different products and websites. And of course there are plenty of other people around to tell me what I need or should get, and I find it completely overwhelming. Obviously some baby items are completely necessary, but probably just a fraction of all of the things that are advertized to expecting parents. How then to make the difference between what I need and what I don't, to avoid getting dragged into a consumer frenzy over baby goods?<br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I don't have it all figured out yet, but finding a way to stay mindful through this period is my major intention for the year (other than preparing for the birth and parenthood, of course). All the more so because I plan on cutting back to part-time work once the baby is born, which necessarily means my income will go down. Luckily France offers a fair amount of financial assistance to parents, so we should be able to get by without too much hardship. But I'm making the choice to earn less in order to spend more time with the baby, which gives me even extra motivation to cut out all unnecessary spending in my life, starting now. <br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-41326193279178398562010-01-10T11:32:00.003+01:002010-01-10T11:51:28.464+01:00Slowly in the SnowMy mindfulness practice has been suffering of late. I haven't made it to my evening meditation group in quite a while, and I wasn't able to attend my sangha's day of mindfulness yesterday because the buses were canceled due to 'heavy' snowfall (heavy for Lyon that is, not for a Northerner such as myself!).<br />
<br />
Just to give you an idea, here's a picture of the snow in front of my house. We haven't moved the car all week since our driveway hasn't been and likely won't be plowed, so that's all the snow we've accumulated so far. And it's still coming down! You can just make out my hardy winter cat fraying a path towards the garage:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/S0msRVh9pdI/AAAAAAAAAI0/KjDZ7Fdrg2U/s1600-h/IMG_0392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/S0msRVh9pdI/AAAAAAAAAI0/KjDZ7Fdrg2U/s320/IMG_0392.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>What's funny about snow in places that usually don't get any is that they just don't have the capacity to deal with it - either in terms of equipment or attitude. I'm sure the public works folks are doing all they can, but the roads are still far from clear after less than 6 inches of snowfall. What's even stranger is that they keep canceling the city's bus service. In fact, Friday night ALL the buses were canceled, leaving only the metro and tramway, which obviously don't go everywhere. And yesterday morning, when I wanted to go meditate, only about 6 bus lines were running normally, and the ones I needed not at all.<br />
<br />
But the weirdest part is that they outright canceled the school buses a few times - though they didn't close the schools. So either parents had to bring their kids on roads the buses didn't want to take, or the kids stayed home. Kevin explained that when that happens your absence doesn't really count, but with my memories of hoping for snow days and checking the radio to see if my school was on the list, I can't help wonder why they just don't cancel school outright. What's the fun of a snow day for only some of the kids?<br />
<br />
And if the buses are a bit shy in the snow, then car drivers seem to fall into two basic categories: anxious or oblivious. People either drive comically slow at 10 miles an hour because they're completely freaked out, or they roar along as if nothing has changed - not because they're confident winter drivers, but because nothing slows them down: they try to take off gunning at a green light, wheels spinning; or start skidding and sliding when they turn too quickly. <br />
<br />
It's because of those people that I haven't been riding my bike all week - I think I can handle the roads, but I don't trust the oblivious folks not to come slamming into me because they haven't given themselves enough time to brake. And if the roads are barely clear, then the bicycle paths are completely unnavigable. They're either dangerously slick in sub-zero temps or a slow trudge in slush or powder when it heats up a bit (according to kevin's report, since he's actually been braving the snow-covered city on his bike). <br />
<br />
I've been taking the metro and tram, which is frustrating because it's so much slower than my bike, and it's been really packed because of bus cancellations and anxious drivers who've left their cars at home. But the biggest problem is that sidewalks are downright treacherous and salt or sand seem to be in short supply. Homeowners/residents and shopkeepers are ostensibly responsible for clearing the sidewalks on their turf, but in the big anonymous city in a country of people who often pride themselves on getting around the rules, it just doesn't happen. I remember that one winter when I lived in Western Massachusetts, my roommates and I hadn't gotten around to clearing the sidewalk after a heavy snowfall, and the police actually came to our house (following a neighbor's complaint) and informed us that we would be fined if we didn't shovel the walk immediately! I can't imagine the police here lifting a finger to respond to that kind of complaint...<br />
<br />
So all week I've been picking my way slowly and gingerly over the ice and slush to and from the metro stop, annoyed at Lyon's alternately insufficient or exaggerated response to a bit of snow, and regretting the mild, snowless winters I'd grown accustomed to here.<br />
<br />
Given my frustrating week and lack of practice recently, I could have really used that day of mindfulness with my sangha yesterday. But after cursing the bus service for a while, I finally decided to practice mindfulness on my own. I had some errands to run, so I decided to go forth into town mindfully, which for me meant slowly, fully aware of what I was doing and where I was. One of the nice thing about French cities is that they're typically organized into 'arrondissements,' or administratively distinct neighborhoods with their own city hall and mayor, and all the shops and services you need (bank/post office, bakery, grocery store, pharmacy, etc). I live in the 9th arrondissement, so all I had to do yesterday was just put on my warmest clothes (including my little-used Northern girl super-thick long underwear), my big boots, and hit the snow-covered trail.<br />
<br />
With each step I tried to pay attention to my breathing and to where I was going, noticing what was around me - the softness imparted by the snow; the quiet, the calm. I tried especially (and this was more difficult) to avoid annoyance at the condition of the sidewalk, instead just being as careful as I could, placing my feet mindfully in front of me. I reminded myself I wasn't in a hurry, thinking of one of the gathas (a little poem to help with meditation) from Plum Village: 'Nowhere to go, Nothing to do.' Even though I had a clear destination and a list, the point of mindfulness is to be focused on where we are rather than where we are going.<br />
<br />
So I walked slowly and mostly mindfully into town, appreciating that I could walk and didn't have to brave the roads or the crowded metro. I first returned my books to the library, then spent some leisurely time perusing the shelves and picking out a few books and DVDs. On my way to the restroom before leaving I had the strange experience (in my state of mindfulness, anyway) of having a woman come up behind me so quickly that I thought she was going to push me aside. She didn't actually touch me, but she did rush past me into the bathroom, and when she came out of the stall she was in such a hurry that she didn't dry her hands completely under the hand dryer, shaking her hands and wiping them on her pants instead. As I took the time to thoroughly dry my own hands, breathing mindfully all the while, I laughed to think that I'm usually that impatient myself: rushing from one thing to the next, hating those hand-dryers, annoyed with slower people than myself, overtaking them on sidewalks or wherever they happen to be in my way. But at that moment, I was the slow one annoying others!<br />
<br />
I continued my errands even more mindful of taking my time, relishing the slowness, all the more so because the slippery sidewalks required it. Instead of fighting the snow, I embraced it, enjoying the crunch under my feet, the sparkly beauty of my neighborhood transformed, the laughter of children gleefully throwing powdery snowballs. I took my time in the shops, browsing, happy to be supporting small local businesses and to live in a neighborhood where I can do almost everything I need to on foot. <br />
<br />
As I finally meandered home, back bent under the weight of my overfilled backpack (the consequence of so much browsing!) I felt lighter somehow, even happy despite my heavy load and the thick, roiling snowflakes blowing in my face. I'm not sure how long I took to run my errands - surely much longer then usual, but time didn't matter - I had nowhere to go, nothing to do. And while I was intitally disappointed that I wasn't able to join my sangha for a day of practice, in the end I was with them in spirit, praticing mindfulness in my own slow way.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-27941025937768744102010-01-06T20:49:00.012+01:002010-01-06T21:19:03.963+01:00Christmas in France<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The past couple of months have been a whirlwind, I have no idea how the new year snuck up on me so quickly! I have to admit my mindfulness practice has been suffering of late, and with the holidays things got a little hectic.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">While K and I had originally talked about going to the US for Christmas, in the end I just wasn't feeling up for it, and the tickets were just too expensive anyway.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Instead we stuck pretty close to home for the Holidays. Kevin's sister, who also lives in Lyon, hosted the Christmas Eve dinner at her place (dinner on the 24th is just as important as the Christmas meal for a lot of French families, and many even exchange presents that night so they can sleep in the next day!). And Kevin and I hosted Christmas lunch at our place.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I realized this year that this has only been my second Christmas in France, since I was in the US in 2007, and last year I went to Plum Village on a meditation retreat over Christmas and New Year's. So I had forgotten that the holidays in France are bit different than in the US, as you might expect. And the key word is FOOD. You could even say Slow Food.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">For any given meal, you can be almost certain that your average French person will spend much longer at the table than your average American. This is true for lunch, where many people typically take a 1.5 to 2-hour break and often go to a sit-down restaurant. But it's especially true for dinner, when an invitation for 8 pm means that you won't likely get to dessert before midnight. I still have yet to fully adjust to this schedule, since I'm usually starving by the time our host offers us hors-d'oeuvres. So I stuff myself with the snacks and am totally full by the time the main dish comes around a few hours later. Or if I'm really worried about eating late, I'll sometimes even grab a bite at home before we head out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Other than the later dinner times, the other part of eating in France that I haven't quite adapted to is the famous French moderation. Since there will be many courses and the meal with last for hours and hours, people take their time and eat relatively small quantities. And they drink. Because for every course there is a specific wine to go with it. Kevin claims that the alcohol helps to make room for all the food, which is why it flows so freely. I haven't been able to test that theory myself, because I'm such a lightweight that I would be under the table before the main course if I tried to keep up with the French drinkers! So instead I continue to scarf down the hors-d'oeuvres in a hunger craze, despite knowing full well that there will be more food, and lots of it! And later I just feel stuffed and miserable, because of course you have to eat what the cook has prepared so as not to offend them...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">If a regular dinner with friends can take hours, just imagine a Holiday meal! It's the summum of the gastronomic experience, and French amateur cooks everywhere will pull out all the stops to impress their families. For example, I remember Christmas 2006 at Kevin's grandparent's place, they served foie gras with a lentil sauce and whipped cream in wine glasses. I just had the lentils and cream, and I must admit I felt very chic eating out of a wine glass!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">This year we had the big Christmas meal at our place, with Kevin's mom, k's sister and her partner, k's brother and his partner, plus her mom and sister. Luckily Kevin and I weren't expected to cook everything, so it was a bit of a potluck - which is not typical, since the hosts are usually responsible for most if not all of the food.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I believe we started snacking around 1:30 pm, with Foie Gras, the traditional French Christmas treat (the liver of force-fed geese, which is actually illegal in some parts of the US!). Since I'm a vegetarian I always make something for myself, and went all out American/Tex-Mex: black bean dip with tortilla chips (a friend had brought over the beans from the US since they're hard to find here). Not exactly a traditional x-mas dish, but the French don't know that! It was the first time any of them had tasted it, and they all seemed to enjoy it. Not as much as the foie gras, but what can you do. And Kevin's sister thought of me and made some spinach and goat cheese/ewe's cheese puff pastries that everyone wolfed down (I wasn't the only hungry one....).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">With the snacks, which they call the 'apéro' or 'apéritif,' there was Champagne, of course. While Champagne is obviously much cheaper in France than in the US, it's still somewhat pricey and so considered a drink for special occasions. For a lot of French families, including Kevin's, it's part of their tradition to drink Champagne with the Christmas meal. Unfortunately, I actually hate Champagne, much to the shock of any French person I admit that to. But they get over it quickly, since they realize that it means more for them! Instead I drank an organic bubbly apple and blueberry drink, which I thought tasted much better, but which was much ridiculed!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Here's Kevin's mom getting ready to open the Champagne, in front of our festive table setting (yes there were nine of us squeezed around that tiny table! Luckily the French are not large people as a general rule): <br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/S0JUoF_xjMI/AAAAAAAAAIM/G_Oj2CQe2kg/s1600-h/PC250003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/S0JUoF_xjMI/AAAAAAAAAIM/G_Oj2CQe2kg/s320/PC250003.JPG" /></a></span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And here's me drinking my faux Champagne, while kevin scoffs (or maybe he's just making a goofy face, since he hates pictures):</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/S0TiHADNDpI/AAAAAAAAAIk/C-ptJKe5Xnw/s1600-h/PC250026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/S0TiHADNDpI/AAAAAAAAAIk/C-ptJKe5Xnw/s320/PC250026.JPG" /></a></span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After a Christmas toast and the gift exchange, we finally sat down to lunch around 2:30pm. This was when the 'entrée' was served, but unlike what you find on American restaurant menus, in France the entrée is actually the appetizer or starter. Logical, since it comes from the verb 'entrer,' to enter. So I'm not sure how we manged to adopt that word in English to describe the main dish...</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In this case our first course consisted of an onion pie Kevin made, as well as my all-time favorite grated carrot, beet, garlic and parsley salad. This was another discovery for my French guests, since they typically don't eat beets raw. In fact, it's pretty hard to buy raw beets, since regular grocery stores only sell them cooked and packaged, and even at the farmer's markets most of the beets are cooked as well. I thought this was really odd, but Kevin's theory is that beets stain and the French don't like to get their hands dirty...</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At some point the Champagne was put away and we switched to red wine, but I can't remember when. During the second course (or what Americans call the 'entrée') we definitely had red wine, which was meant to go with the rabbit stew brought by Kevin's brother's girlfriend's mom (got that?). Apparently it was farm-fresh, killed-for-the-occasion, and everyone said it was very tasty. To avoid thinking about the poor bunny I concentrated on my dish, which was the famous 'gratin dauphinois' (basically 'potatoes au gratin' - layers of very thinly sliced potatoes with tons of just about every dairy product imaginable). It's really time-consuming to prepare so people tend to save it for special occasions, and since it supposedly went well with the rabbit I decided to give it a try with a recipe I found. Not sure it was the best gratin ever made, especially since I couldn't help but use soy milk/cream and margarine instead of the full dairy versions which gross me out a bit (I did use real eggs and cheese though). But people ate it all up so I guess it was good enough. And then we also had a yummy carrot puree with herbes de provence. So that part of the meal was pretty traditionally French, with no american oddities thrown in (unless you count the soy products, which are a fairly recent arrival in France, though they do cultivate their own non-gmo soybeans).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">After the main course there is always cheese and bread, and often a salad as well, and then another kind of wine to go with the cheese. But everybody seemed too full for the cheese so they just drank the wine and waited a while to make room for dessert. And that is the key to a French meal. Waiting. Food is eaten slowly, forks and knives are put down while people talk; and they talk a lot. And they eat a little more, and then they talk. And even after the course is finished, they wait a bit for the next round, to work up an appetite. And to talk. And to drink (to make room for more food). And eventually the next course is eaten, slowly. I think it was past 6 by the time we had the dessert, a beautiful black forest cake with gooseberries that Kevin's sister made: </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/S0JbgMrKcfI/AAAAAAAAAIU/_jyirbEv2hc/s1600-h/PC250045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/S0JbgMrKcfI/AAAAAAAAAIU/_jyirbEv2hc/s1600-h/PC250045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/S0JbgMrKcfI/AAAAAAAAAIU/_jyirbEv2hc/s320/PC250045.JPG" /></a></span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">When the cake was served the red wine was removed and another bottle brought out: Clairette de Die, a somewhat sweet sparkling white dessert wine. I didn't like it either, since I'm really just not a big fan of bubbly wines, and I don't much like white wine in general (though I have come to appreciate a few whites that I've tasted here, namely some Alsatian sweet wines and Muscat de Rivesaltes - for those who may know their wines a bit...). There was actually a second dessert as well, the traditional 'bûche de noel' or christmas log, but we were too full so I just cut myself a piece and put it aside for later, since I do love it so. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">So there you go, a French Christmas meal spread out over about 5 hours, with many courses and 4 different varieties of wine. And we managed to get through all that food and drink with no disagreement of any kind, quite the feat for a family gathering! Afterwards we played pictionary and charades for while, and then everyone went on their merry way, bellies full and spirits high. <br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
</div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-76036635759473050662009-11-01T21:51:00.009+01:002009-11-01T22:02:36.616+01:00Halloween in France<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I love Halloween. It's my favorite holiday, probably because there's nothing overtly religious or patriotic about it. It's just all about dressing up and eating lots of candy - both of which I love. <br />
</span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately, I now live in a country that doesn't really celebrate this wonderful night. Apparently some marketing folks thought they could make some serious cash by promoting Halloween in France a few years back, but after a lot of initial interest it turned out to be just a passing fad. Nowadays there are celebrations in clubs and a few parties with a Halloween theme, but few trick-or-treaters going door-to-door. And your average French person doesn't even know when Halloween is exactly, in part because there isn't any outward indication anywhere to remind you - in sharp contrast to the massive media blitz in the US. <br />
</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My students tell me the lack of interest here is partly related to the fact that it just seems completely over-commercialized, and many French people resist the notion of celebrating what they see as a purely American holiday. And there's also the fact that it's around the same time as the Catholic Toussaint ('tous saints', or all saints), on November 1st. It's the day when the French honor loved ones who have passed away by decorating their graves, and I've been told it's the best time to visit a cemetery since they are overflowing with flowers. It's also the busiest travel day of the year, and the most deadly - sadly ironic given the nature of most of the car trips.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Because the significance of Toussaint in France, some of my students were explaining that it also seems a bit indecent to dress up and have parties that revel in the dark side when so many people are commemorating their dearly departed. That makes sense to me, but since I grew up with more American traditions than French, I still can't help loving Halloween and wanting to play dress up. Kevin and I threw a party last year that was so much fun we decided to make it a yearly tradition, and last night's fest didn't disappoint. </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here are this year's costumes: </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Su3WKF5SHDI/AAAAAAAAAHs/_KZWppKumU4/s1600-h/dandkcostume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Su3WKF5SHDI/AAAAAAAAAHs/_KZWppKumU4/s320/dandkcostume.jpg" /></a> </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I told my students I was dressing as a flapper, they protested, "but that's not scary!" The image of Halloween in France is definitely that of 'fright night,' with costumes that are necessarily of witches and vampires and such. In fact, at last year's party almost all of the French partygoers were dressed as something traditionally frightening - I think there were even 4 zombies!</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">So I explained that while scary costumes are still the norm, Americans will dress up as just about anything they like, and the more creative the better. And at this year's party there was much more variety in the costumes - a few skeletons and ghosts, of course, but also pirates, men in drag, and even a tree! </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">But while my costumes usually let me explore my feminine side (and so are more surprising than frightening, since I rarely wear skirts or makeup), I stick pretty close to tradition when it comes to the food and decoration. One of my favorite parts of the day was making a horrific buffet of all sorts of things that either look inedible, or play off the ghoulish theme. Here are a couple of pics of my Halloween spread: </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Su3tdPHU4TI/AAAAAAAAAH0/9DC_K_m4tjM/s1600-h/IMG_0260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Su3tdPHU4TI/AAAAAAAAAH0/9DC_K_m4tjM/s320/IMG_0260.JPG" /></a></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Su3txz8BswI/AAAAAAAAAH8/bIVdHzcVVHo/s1600-h/IMG_0262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Su3txz8BswI/AAAAAAAAAH8/bIVdHzcVVHo/s320/IMG_0262.JPG" /></a></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Su3uMeRDydI/AAAAAAAAAIE/HpRSyXssGr8/s1600-h/IMG_0267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Su3uMeRDydI/AAAAAAAAAIE/HpRSyXssGr8/s320/IMG_0267.JPG" /></a></span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">It took me all day to put the buffet together, and luckily Kevin's sister was around to help. But it was so much fun that it was worth it, and my guests seemed really impressed!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">With all the dancing, games, and frightful food, not to mention the creative costumes, it was a wonderful night among friends, and a really nice multicultural mix. And it's also a great way for me to keep in touch with my American traditions now that I live so far from home. <br />
</span></span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-41341156649174973062009-10-24T14:17:00.000+02:002009-10-24T14:17:21.943+02:00This is how it is<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's been over a month since I've written, despite my goal of posting once a week. But while my first impulse is to berate myself for being a slacker, I'm trying to accept that life gets in the way of my best intentions sometimes. <br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This fall has actually been pretty tough on me so far. I came back from vacation totally broke, and then got stressed about being broke, so I've been working a lot in order to replenish my bank account. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> I didn't think this would be a problem since I enjoy my job most of the time. But teaching takes a lot of energy because I have to be "on" all the time. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The extra hours looked good on paper, but </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I pretty quickly hit a wall as to how much I could actually teach before exhaustion set in</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. <br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Add a sudden cold snap with sub-zero temperatures, and no surpsie: I got sick. A cold, the flu, or perhaps the 'crud' as a friend recently referred to it; surely my body telling me to slow down. I canceled some classes, stayed in bed, read a lot, watched tons of movies and American TV shows online (Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice marathon!). All in all the normal things you do when you get sick. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Unfortunately, somewhere along the line stagnation set in, and I couldn't get past the wanting to stay in bed feeling. A few days of well-deserved bed rest morphed into a deep depression, of the kind I hadn't felt in quite a while. And</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> the worse I felt, the worse I felt - a vicious circle that left me completely stuck, emotionally and physically. My bedroom was both my sanctuary and my prison, and despite kevin's best efforts to get me outside, I persisted in burrowing myself under the covers and feeling alternately angry and sorry for myself. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The reason I started meditating was to help me cope with moments like these, but I was even resiting any kind of mindfulness practice. My zafu sat in the corner untouched, and the timing of my bi-weekly meditation group meant that I went 3 weeks without seeing my sangha*, during a time when I really could have used the support. I normally have a hard time practicing on my own, which is why the meditation group is so useful. Yet I was still furious with myself for my inability to meditate, which made me feel even worse. I couldn't accept that I was having such a hard time because I thought that I should have been past such difficulties. I had mindfulness tools now, why wasn't I using them? The only thing I still seemed to be good at was beating myself up...<br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luckily, my meditation group finally met last week, and I was able to get myself there. I still had a hard time meditating, but it helped to just be with the sangha. However what really got me out of my slump was the mindfulness retreat in the countryside that I attended last weekend. I was still feeling pretty stuck and didn't want to go, but I had already sent in my check for the housing, so I forced myself to prepare my contribution to the vegetarian potluck (a mediterranean rice and lentil salad plus my zucchini brownies). </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Since nothing seems to happen by chance, the theme of the weekend was reconciliation. In between lots of different kinds of meditation and bodywork like Chi Gong, a Dharma** teacher named Marc spoke to us about conflict resolution. While I thought we would learn about resolving conflict with others, and we did, Marc's main lesson was that we must first come back to ourselves. Before we can hope to resolve a conflict with anyone else, he insisted that we must first understand what we are feeling: "Why am I angry...hurt...afraid. What is this about for me?"</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One way this understaning can arise is by coming back to our breathing and observing what comes to the surface when we quiet the mind. And once we recognize how we truly feel, the next step is acceptance. No matter how unpleasant or uncomfortable the feelings may be, we must tell ourselves: "this is how it is right now." Once we can accept that, we can let go of those feelings instead of berating ourselves (like I so often do) or burying the feelings as deep as possible. And finally we must forgive ourselves. Marc's point was that it is only when we are able to reconcile with ourselves that we can think about resolving a conflict with someone else. <br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> In my case, all of my conflict was internal, which meant that I was the one I had to make up with. So during those two days of mindfulness I worked on accepting my anger at my depression and my sense of my own weakness, as well as the underlying sadness itself. And slowly but surely, a huge weight was lifted and I felt like I could breathe more easily again. I let the anger go, and once that went the sadness fluttered away like a bird let out of its cage. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's as easy as that, and just as hard. I'll probably spend my whole life learning this lesson, but I'm lucky to have teachers like Marc to help me along the way. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">* A Sangha is a community of people who practice mindfulness, anything from a Buddhist monastery to a meditation group like the one I participate in. <br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">** Dharma in this sense refers to Buddhist teachings or philosophy</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-21473409654196779492009-09-16T10:00:00.060+02:002009-09-20T16:18:58.149+02:00From Field to Table<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">For anyone who grew up in the countryside or has done any farming or gardening, the following story will surely seem banal to you. But having spent most of my life in and around cities or suburbs, I haven't had much opportunity to dig my hands in the dirt. So I was beyond thrilled during my vacation when I went to the field near <a href="http://thismomentinfrance.blogspot.com/2009/08/la-maison-de-lharmonie.html">Harmony House</a> to harvest my first ever carrots and beets. I felt a lot like the proverbial kid in the candy shop, except that I was drooling over vegetables instead of sweets. Look at how gorgeous they are: </span><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZUzSRMFWI/AAAAAAAAAFU/mpsFdM5kOH0/s1600-h/carrots2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZY4bBn1zI/AAAAAAAAAF8/ktRtRAk3zX0/s1600-h/garden3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
</div><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374576445367260514" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZUzSRMFWI/AAAAAAAAAFU/mpsFdM5kOH0/s400/carrots2.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The beets in particular were the biggest I'd ever seen, though you don't get much perspective in this picture. Charlie, one of the Harmony House residents, explained that he planted them using biodynamic principles, and it seemed to do wonders, at least in terms of size:<br />
<br />
</span></span><br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374575826182941298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZUPPoJKnI/AAAAAAAAAFM/ru1J_YcoSbQ/s400/beet2.JPG" style="display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After digging up my veggies in the garden, I brought them directly to the kitchen and made one of my favorite salads: Grated carrots and beets with fresh garlic, olive oil and lemon juice, and lots of parsley (though I think I used basil instead because that's what the garden offered). </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">From field to table in less than an hour! </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Though I eat this dish all the time at home, something about having just harvested the vegetables myself made it all the more satisfying. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I could barely contain myself I was so excited, much to the amusement of those around me. It just </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">brought me so much pleasure to prepare a salad with vegetables that couldn't possibly be any fresher. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In fact, in the week I spent at Harmony House, almost all the food we ate came directly from their garden or one nearby on loan from Philippe Desbrosses. I gorged myself on gorgeous tomatoes, many of which were </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">ancient varieties </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'd never seen before. I picked berries and yellow plums straight off bountiful mirabella trees dripping with warm fruit that tasted like sunshine: <br />
</span></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Sq6YQ3m-aAI/AAAAAAAAAHc/oZr0jpiRJrY/s1600-h/IMG_0152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Sq6YQ3m-aAI/AAAAAAAAAHc/oZr0jpiRJrY/s400/IMG_0152.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span>I'd certainly picked fruit before, and even spent childhood summers in Michigan going to the family farm to collect blueberries, which my grandmother then made into everything from pies to pancake syrup. And in the last CSA I was a part of in Western Massachusetts, I relished going to the farm to pick up our veggies and gather berries in the 'pick-your-own' part of the field. I even had a little community garden plot for a short time in grad school in Toronto,where I grew basil and squash (though not much else since I started a bit late). </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But I've otherwise been pretty disconnected from where my food comes from for most of my life, and I'd never actually pulled anything edible out of the ground before the Harmony House garden. Perhaps that's why I was so very excited about those carrots and beets, which may be mundane at the market, but seemed magical in my neophyte gardener's hands. That week digging in the dirt really cementing my burgeoning interest in becoming responsible for some of my own food production. Beyond the pleasure of pulling the vegetables out of the ground myself, I was also inspired by our conversations about organic agriculture and the increasing numbers of people cultivating gardens in their yards for both ecological and economic reasons (spurred on in part by the financial crisis, reminding me of the 'victory gardens' that were started in the US as part of the war effort). </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Victory-garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Victory-garden.jpg" width="143" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Living in the city as I do, I sadly have no yard to grow anything in. So I'm limited to spouting seeds, which is actually really fun. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But as much as I love</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> to watch the grains burst open after a few days of watering, it doesn't satisfy my newfound desire to dig. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Ideally I'd love to have a little bit of land to grow things in someday, whether it's my own or part of community plot. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">For now I've done research into community gardens in Lyon, but there is so much more demand than plot availability. So I've been considering container gardening, after visiting a friend in London who grows plants on her balcony. Poking around on the Internet I've come across some really interesting ideas for growing food in small spaces, and I'll devote this fall and winter to gathering information so that I can make a plan for spring production. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In keeping with my aspirations towards mindful consumption, it just makes sense to grow my own food, to be present in every step of the process - from field to table. And in the meantime, I'll try to get my hands dirty as much as possible wherever I can!</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-78189866714336735712009-09-12T23:10:00.006+02:002009-09-13T11:04:39.648+02:00A Slow Month<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This title is inspired by a blog I like called <a href="http://frenchtoastfrance.blogspot.com/">'These Days In French Life'</a>. It's by an American who married a French guy and moved to the countryside, only to quickly embark on a life of non-consumerism which she called 'a slow year ' (which then turned into another - I think she's on her 3rd now). Her goal was to not spend money on anything other than food and basic utilities, and even those costs have gone way down over time. She functions in part by growing her own food, but also by bartering, foraging, </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">dumpster-diving, </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and a whole lot of serendipity. She has a lot of great strategies for reducing both her external and internal consumption (like energy use), and her blog has really inspired me to think about what I need and how I spend my money. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">However, I've always told myself I couldn't live like her because I'm not in the countryside, and I haven't actually altered my consumption habits that much. Yet my post-vacation financial situation has forced me into 'slow' mode, like it or not. I took all of August off since I had few students anyway, but because I'm paid hourly I had no income for the month. My savings should have been enough to get me through August and September, but I had fewer hours in July than I expected so my travel fund was considerably less than I expected. I went over-budget on vacation despite my efforts to be thrifty, so when I got back to Lyon I was just barely able to cover my rent and bills. Now my account is basically at zero until October, since we are only paid once a month in France.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">While Kevin kindly offered to spot me any money I needed (and he's covering most of our food expenses this month), I'm determined not to spend anything until my next paycheck. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I left the US after taking over a year to pay down a huge credit card balance, and resolved to live within my means once I got France<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. It's </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">easier here since a thrifty attitude is part of the general French culture (and I got rid of the credit card). </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> But spending NO money at all is extremely hard, since the city is a constant minefield of temptation. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In fact, just before I'd resolved to live a 'slow month,' I stupidly spent some of my last few euros on low-sugar cookies </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">in the pharmacy</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. I was in there to get some more tape for my broken toe, and because I was hungry I was defenseless in front of the </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">over-priced cookies. They were tasteless, of course (never buy cookies in a French pharmacy) and I kicked myself over how much I paid </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">(almost 5 euros!). But it was a good lesson in noticing how much money I waste on little things here and there. I've been tempted so many times this month to buy something (usually food), and it's only my empty wallet that stops me. In desperation I even took some coins out of our change jar to get a pastry the other day! (I'll be in trouble once Kevin reads this...)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It hasn't been as easy as I thought to buy nothing, even without a credit card. Yet I'm determined to make it through this month of non-consumption not just out of financial necessity, but also as an exercise in mindfulness. In fact, one of the <a href="http://www.plumvillage.org/mindfulness-trainings/3-the-five-mindfulness-trainings.html">Five Mindfulness Trainings</a> that Thich Nhat Hahn teaches relates to mindful consumption: being fully aware of what we ingest and expose ourselves to, and striving to consume only that which is good for ourselves, our community, and the earth. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Seeing how difficult it has been to resist spending money on stupid little things has made me realize how unmindful my consumption is most of the time. I don't spend large amounts as recklessly as I did when I had a credit card, but I do spend small quantities quite thoughtlessly on things I don't need. While the overall impact on my bank account is not that dramatic, it does add up. But it's ultimately my lack of mindfulness that I want to work on, and that's why the word 'slow' feels so important. For cultivating mindfulness is all about slowing down: whether it's slowing my eating in order to appreciate my food, slowing my steps in order to be present where I am, or slowing my thoughts long enough to truly listen to someone else. And this month in particular, slowing my spending in order to be more conscious of how and why I consume. </span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-37713073655373265932009-09-07T21:30:00.007+02:002009-09-07T22:40:10.147+02:00Recipe for Vegan Chocolate Cake (aka Gloubi-Boulga)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Since I've had a few recipe requests for the cake I wrote about last weekend, I thought the easiest thing would be just to post it here. <br />
<br />
It's from my favorite vegetarian cookbook, one of the few that I brought with me from the US, called "Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home: Fast and Easy Recipes for Any Day." It was one of my first cookbooks right out of college, back when I had no idea how to cook at all. If I remember correctly my Grandma is the one that offered it to me, along with some much-needed pots and pans. And it has served me so well over the past 13 years or so that it's now in tatters, in two separate pieces with no cover and tons of food stains all over it. But I hang onto it because it really is the best cookbook ever. <br />
<br />
The recipe is called "Six-Minute Chocolate Cake," but my Grandma, who is very wise about all things culinary, told me that it's actually a "Depression Cake." That is, a cake that was commonly made during the Great Depression back when butter, milk, and eggs were hard to come by. It was vegan by necessity, in fact. If you google chocolate depression cake you can actually find some similar recipes. <br />
<br />
The secret to this cake is that the vinegar reacts with the baking soda to make it rise. Pretty resourceful, I thought. <br />
<br />
Whatever you call it, it's super easy and delicious, whether cooked all the way through or not. I made the cake again last night to bring over to a friend's house, making very sure to put the stove on the right setting. I have to say I prefer it fully-cooked, but if you want the gloubi-glouba version, just bake it for less time than called for, or on grill mode. Good luck! <br />
<br />
Cake: <br />
-1 and 1/2 cups unbleached white flour (I used spelt flour last night, sometimes buckwheat or whole wheat - just to change it up and be a little healthier. If you do this you may want to add a bit more liquid to compensate for the the heavier flour) <br />
-1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder <br />
-1 tsp baking soda <br />
-1/2 tsp salt <br />
-1 cup sugar (I use a bit less usually and always organic unrefined sugar or rapadura) <br />
-1/2 cup vegetable oil (I tend to use canola, but I used unhydrogenated palm oil for another recipe that turned out well. The advantage is that palm oil is tasteless, while canola has a bit of a taste to it.) <br />
-1 cup cold water or brewed coffee <br />
-2 tsp pure vanilla extract <br />
-2 Tablespoons vinegar <br />
<br />
Preheat oven to 375</span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">°</span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">F (190</span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >°</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">C) <br />
<br />
Sift together flour, cocoa, baking soda, salt, and sugar into a mixing bowl or directly into an ungreased 8-inch square or 9-inch round baking pan (I have neither of these so I just improvise with whatever I feel like using). <br />
<br />
In a 2-cup measuring cup, mix together the oil, water or coffee, and vanilla (NOT the vinegar yet). <br />
<br />
Mix wet and dry ingredients with a fork or small whisk, and when the batter is smooth add the vinegar and stir quickly. There will be pale swirls in the batter where the baking soda and the vinegar are reacting. Stir until the vinegar is evenly distributed throughout the batter, and pour into baking dish if you started in a bowl. <br />
<br />
Bake for 25-30 minutes (less if you want a more pudding-like version). Set the cake aside to cool. <br />
<br />
Their suggested glaze: <br />
1/2 pound bittersweet chocolate <br />
3/4 cup hot water or rice or soy milk <br />
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract <br />
<br />
Melt the chocolate in a double boiler and stir in the hot liquid and vanilla until smooth. Pour over the cooled cake and refrigerate for 30 min before serving. <br />
<br />
My emergency glaze: <br />
I spooned some raspberry jelly (though you can use whatever jelly or jam you like, I'm sure) <br />
into a saucepan and mixed it with rice milk over low heat until I got the desired consistency - pourable, but not too runny. I also added a little agave syrup to sweeten since the jelly was pretty tart and the cake had less sugar than they called for. Pour over cooled cake. <br />
<br />
Voilà! The cookbook also suggests other toppings such as powdered sugar, cinnamon sugar, whipped cream, ice cream, fresh fruit, etc. whatever you want, basically. I usually make either the chocolate glaze (which is really rich!) or a fruity one. <br />
<br />
Enjoy! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-75773253014011013382009-09-05T18:28:00.006+02:002009-09-06T10:43:55.920+02:00Today's Moment - A Good Mistake<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Today I participated in a full day mindfulness retreat at a little castle not too far from Lyon. I had planned on bringing a vegan chocolate cake for the lunchtime potluck, but as I started to cut the cake this morning to transfer it from it's baking dish to a tupperware container, I discovered to my dismay that the cake wasn't cooked underneath. A quick glance at the stove revealed the source of the problem: I had toasted garlic bread a few days before, and had never changed the stove's grill setting. So my cake only got cooked on top and was impossible to cut into pieces, leaving me with a big container of mush to deal with. <br /><br />Unfortunately I realized the mistake only minutes before I had to leave, so my options were limited. No time to make a replacement dish or stop by the store, and showing up empty-handed didn't feel like an option for someone who loves potlucks as much as I do (they're actually quite rare in France, so I relish the opportunity to share food with Frenchies). In desperation I concocted a raspberry sauce by mixing a friend's delicious homemade jelly with a bit of rice milk, and I </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">covered the bits of cake bits and goop with it. I then patted the mixture down into a relatively smooth yet unidentifiable mass. "It's a gloubi-boulga," I complained to Kevin, using a French term to describe something strange, mushy and/or unappetizing. The expression comes from a 70s kid's show in France in which a dinosaur named Casimir made called gloubi-boulga that was repulsive to everyone but him, with ingredients such as chocolate and jelly, but also mustard and sausage. And it felt like that's what I had on my hands: a cake only a fictional dinosaur would eat!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Luckily </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">uncooked batter isn't a problem </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">in a vegan cake, and it tasted allright, but it was far from what I had envisioined. I felt a keen sense of diasppointment, particularly because I enjoy exposing french people to vegan baking since it's so out of left field for most folks here. In the country of buttery croissants and over 300 cheeses, it's impossible for most people to imagine life without dairy. And I was pretty sure that this vegan muck was not going to impress anyone. But I clipped my traitorous tupperware onto my bike and trudged dejectedly off to the castle.<br /><br />Once potluck-time arrived, I laid my dish out with an explanatory note, since it looked so strange I imagined people avoiding it entirely. I warned that it was a ruined vegan cake that I turned into a pudding to be eaten with a spoon - but it was all organic, I wrote encouragingly!<br /><br />I watched nervously as people went up to the dessert table, but much to my amazement, everyone tried some. And the folks who had seen me write the note came by to tell me how delicious it was! Little by little word spread that I had made this unusual dessert, and a number of different people came by to ask me questions about the ingredients, wanting to know how I had made it vegan - a good advertisement for vegan baking after all! Everyone insisted that it was too good to be a mistake, or that it was a mistake to be repeated. In the end, the tupperware was scraped completely clean, and I had many requests for the recipe. As it turns out, it worked out well (in the magic way that things often do at potlucks) that my dessert turned out more like a pudding, because someone else had brought a perfectly-baked chocolate cake. So my mystery mush was different and interesting and generated quite a lot of discussion.<br /><br />I was completely blown away, because what had felt just a few hours earlier like a complete catastrophe had turned into a source of delight and discovery for a the retreat's participants - a very good mistake, as it turned out. And a very good lesson for me about letting go of expectations of how things are supposed to turn out, and accepting things as they are. Because that's how life is after all - a bit messy at times, but full of delicious surprises. And what may seem like a disaster at first can actually turn into something quite wonderful.<br /></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-65695065992543253922009-08-27T11:59:00.015+02:002009-09-13T14:56:21.011+02:00La Maison de l'Harmonie<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It was actually much harder than I thought to blog while I was on vacation, so now that I'm back home I'm playing catch up on the past few weeks. The next few posts will chronicle the last part of my trip, starting with my weeklong retreat in the French countryside at a lovely place called </span></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Maison de l'Harmonie (</span></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://weareoneinharmony.wordpress.com/">Harmony House</a>). </span></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Harmony House is an ecological/spiritual community that came into being 6 months ago thanks to a meeting of the minds between a renown French environmental advocate, <a href="http://www.intelligenceverte.org/">Phillipe Desbrosses</a>, and the monastic community of <a href="http://www.plumvillage.org/">Plum Village</a>. Mr. Desbrosses offered up his unused house and land in Sologne (a few hours from Paris) so that </span></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">a group of young laypeople (as opposed to monastics) could live together in the spirit of Plum Village while cultivating the land organically and </span></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">hosting mindfulness retreats.<br />
<br />
There are currently 5 permanent residents at Harmony House, and I met 3 of them during a recent retreat called "Nature and Relaxation" (the other two residents were on vacation).<br />
<br />
Here I am with Phap Liêu, one of the monks from <a href="http://maisondelinspir.over-blog.com/">Maison de l'Inspir</a> (a Plum Village monastic community established in Paris about a year ago) and the fabulous Harmony House 'brothers:' Alain, Charlie, and Manu.<br />
<br />
<br />
</span></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZV5cvNnlI/AAAAAAAAAFc/I2emKv55KWQ/s1600-h/dandharmonieux.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374577650768387666" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZV5cvNnlI/AAAAAAAAAFc/I2emKv55KWQ/s400/dandharmonieux.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 318px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br />
Phap Liêu came with another monk from Paris, Phap Tâp, in order to lead the retreat of about 30 participants. Like any retreat following the teachings of Thich Nhat Hahn, the basic idea is always to cultivate mindfulness</span></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> in a variety of ways: sitting meditation, walking meditation, silent meals, singing, dharma sharing/talks (more on that later), bodywork like qigong or yoga, etc. But given the theme of this particular retreat, we also spent a lot of time outside on long walks in the countryside (which sadly wasn't possible for me because of my broken toe) and doing what they call 'total relaxation.' <span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> It was basically a deep relaxation guided by one of the monks, who sang us some</span> incredibly beautiful lullabies while one of the participant 'played' tibetan bowls. We did this a few times, and it was absolutely amazing - I was so relaxed that I even fell asleep once, which is the first time that's ever happened to me in a relaxation, since I often can't even fall asleep in my own bed much less on the floor in a room full of people, many of whom are snoring<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">!<br />
<br />
</span></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Here's a picture of the altar in the meditation hall, which is in part noteworthy for its absence of a Buddha statue. There was one at first, but one of the monks decided that he didn't want it there since it wasn't a Buddhist retreat - so he took it away! I thought that was pretty funny, because all of us were used to being around Buddha statues and I'm sure it wouldn't have bothered anyone. But the Buddha was gone, so we practiced mindfulness without him. We had beautiful bouquets to inspire us instead, created by a Japanese participant who practices Ikebana, the art of flower arrangement.<br />
<br />
<br />
</span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZasaM50tI/AAAAAAAAAGM/0m2oJE0TWyw/s1600-h/autel.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374582924307452626" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZasaM50tI/AAAAAAAAAGM/0m2oJE0TWyw/s400/autel.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">We did have a Buddhist reminder outside, however, in the form of Tibetan prayer flags (even though Thich Nhat Hahn is Vietnamese and teaches in a completely different tradition - that's Buddhist tolerance for you!). To the right you can see the composting toilets, which were a recent addition in order to accommodate the increasing numbers of participants while limiting water consumption, in keeping with the ecological principles of Harmony House. And I'm sure the compost will go back into their beautiful gardens (more about those in the next post).<br />
<br />
</span></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZajjQVUnI/AAAAAAAAAGE/ZrHZSFRQhWw/s1600-h/latrine.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374582772118934130" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SpZajjQVUnI/AAAAAAAAAGE/ZrHZSFRQhWw/s400/latrine.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br />
With all that fresh country air, delicious organic food from the garden, and wonderful exchanges between the participants (in addition to all the mindfulness practice of course), it was an incredibly relaxing and restorative week. I found it really hard to leave Harmony House, and can't wait to go back!<span style="font-style: italic;"><br />
<br />
For more info on Maison de l'Harmonie and de l'Inspir, you can visit their blogs by clicking on the links embedded in this text or on my blog list to the left.</span><br />
</span></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br />
<br />
<br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br />
</span></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-33353031012408069512009-08-10T10:09:00.008+02:002009-08-10T11:31:05.428+02:00Traveling Mindfully<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My vacations aren't always restful. Usually, they're anything but, especially if they involve any kind of tourism: I have my list of must-sees from the guide book, and it's often a race agaisnt the clock to see as much as possible before I leave.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I love to travel, and thanks to cheap airfares and short distances, I've been fortunate to visit a number of beautiful European cities since I've lived in France: Barcelona, Berlin, Rome, and now Amsterdam (not to mention all the lovely French places I've been to). </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">But lately I've been thinking about how I travel, and wondering what I really see when I visit a place at my usual pressured pace. Am I really any different from the stereotypical harried and hurried sneaker-clad tourist rushing from one site to the next, only stopping long enough to snap a few photos?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I'm not so sure. In fact, I suspect that I'm just as much of a point-and-shoot tourist as the next person; checking off my mental list, consuming rather than experiencing, the camera actually blocking my view. And it's honestly pretty exhausting most of the time. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Since I'm trying to bring more mindfulness into my daily life it certainly seems worth doing the same on vacation. This summer is therefore my experiment mindful traveling.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">So here I am about to leave Amsterdam, and it's been a very different trip already. For starters I gave myself a little more time - 6 days instead of the usual 3 or 4. And when I was tempted to rush, my broken toe soon slowed me back down. While I was initially cursing this injury that took place on the very first day of my vacation, it ocurred to me later that the timing was just right. My injury doesn't keep me from walking, but I'm forced to stroll at a more leisurely pace - flâner as the French say - which is no easy thing for me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I also spent 3 days of this trip with a baby, my friend A.'s 10-month old son J. And I quickly realized that babies don't just slow you down, they actually stop you right in your tracks. No matter what we had planned, we'd periodically need to head back to the apartment for a diaper change, food, sleep, etc. Or J. would just get too heavy for A. to carry in the sling for very long, and his tolerance for the stroller was pretty short-lived. So our time was basically organized around what baby J. could handle. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Luckily we had rented a little studio in the center of town so getting back to the apartment was easy. And since I had expected that the baby would cramp my style, I tacked on a extra few days to my trip so that I could do things the baby made impossible, like riding a bike, going to museums, eating in restaurants. Above all, it was a real pleasure to spend time with my friend and little baby J., so the first part of my trip was great. And the broken toe and the baby both provided me with endless opportunities to work on my patience and mindfulness.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">For example, I've never actually spent that much time in my residence while traveling, which would have been extremely frustrating if I'd had a long list of things to do. But I kept thinking of a <em>gatha</em> (a sort of short poem to meditate on) from Plum Village: "Nowhere to go, nothing to do." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It's a strange, even incongruous gatha for a tourist, but in the end it was perfect: I'm on holiday in a beautiful place, and all I have to do is be here and appreciate where I am - stop and smell the foreign roses, so to speak (which I did a couple of times, actually - they smelled the same :-). </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I saw less of Amsterdam by going more slowly, but I feel like I saw things differently. I never actually sat this much on holiday before, yet here I would spend hours just gazing out of the window of our apartment: watching people whizz by on the bicycle path below; observing the activities of the police station across the street; or spying on the prostitutes leaning out of their red-lit windows, trying to lure in customers. Or I'd sit on a bench in a plaza with an ice cream cone, or sipped a drink at an outdoor café while watching an elderly man in a G-string perform acrobatic feats on a rope above us (seriously - I'll post pictures as soon as I can). And my very favorite: sitting on the edge of a canal to give my toe a rest, feet dangling above the calm waters. Miraculously, I sat without impatience, just absorbing the energy of the water, the atmostphere, the city itself. Observing, eavesdropping, noticing simialrities and differences. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Forced to slow down and even sit, I'm slowly learning to sit and slow down. I'm u</span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">sually terrible at relaxing and doing nothing, but here in Amsterdam I really put the gatha I mentioned into practice: In a place where there are a million things to do, I resolutely enjoyed doing none of them!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-42685242869777076172009-08-08T23:37:00.006+02:002009-08-08T23:47:55.303+02:00Amsterdam<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Here I am, happy in Amsterdam. Will write more as soon as I'm done enjoying this beautiful city!</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367712468349558722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Sn3yDPRpH8I/AAAAAAAAAFE/0KVMYfQboBE/s400/AMSTERDAM+aout+09+013.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367711402094853266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Sn3xFLKtfJI/AAAAAAAAAE0/DaoccVnQYQc/s400/AMSTERDAM+aout+09+041.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-79776079751454362262009-08-02T18:34:00.011+02:002009-08-02T19:39:49.417+02:00My Summer Vacation<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm not much of beach person. I don't enjoy baking in the hot sand (faire la crêpe they call it in French) and I can only spend so much time in the water. So my ideal vacation does not involve going to a super-touristy beach resort, along with almost the entire French population which vacates to one of the three coasts in the summer.<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And yet, here I am in a small Mediterranean town called Leucate, about 40 minutes from the Spanish border. My partner's father lives here, so during the summer Kevin comes down to sell his massages to tourists on the beach. It's actually a pretty sweet set-up:</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SnXJPpcmr4I/AAAAAAAAAEc/ZVWbvlIksFI/s1600-h/015.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SnXJPpcmr4I/AAAAAAAAAEc/ZVWbvlIksFI/s400/015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365415801742864258" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've come here mostly to drop off the cats and hang out with Kevin for a few days before I leave him to his work and start my own vacation. Last year I was here for a week, but frankly the setting was wasted on me. I hardly even went to the beach, and though I fixed up an old bike with the idea of riding around, the sweltering sun quickly sent me back indoors. Besides, the vegetation is almost non-existent; it's so dry and barren that there is not much to see besides the sea. And the heat here is beyond oppressive, the wind intense and chaotic (much to the delight of windsurfers ).</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SnXJ3jGL5lI/AAAAAAAAAEk/L16Oanww_2Q/s1600-h/018.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SnXJ3jGL5lI/AAAAAAAAAEk/L16Oanww_2Q/s400/018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365416487232988754" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But even if you do like the beach, at any given moment the wind can pick up and start whipping around, which makes laying in the sand more than a bit unpleasant. For all these reasons, when I was here last summer I was pretty much glued to the TV watching the Olympics and barely left the house.<br /><br />So let's just say I'm not in my element, and I would much rather head to the Pyrenees mountains which I can gaze at longingly in the distance. Here's the view from Kevin's dad's house - directly in front is a big pond where they cultivate oysters, and the Mediterranean is to the left:<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SnXKtsNw1qI/AAAAAAAAAEs/0mp7rWep0BA/s1600-h/014.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SnXKtsNw1qI/AAAAAAAAAEs/0mp7rWep0BA/s400/014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365417417393624738" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />But despite my lack of enthusiasm, I'm here now; and for only 3 days this time. So I'm trying to make the most of it - I haven't turned the TV on even once! On the first day I played a little with a body board; mostly I watched Kevin repeatedly fall off his skim board in a spectacular and of course comical manner. Then we had a romantic dinner at a restaurant on the beach, where we ate and drank to the sound of waves crashing under a three quarter moon. That's pretty hard to beat.<br /><br />I pretty much stayed in the house yesterday nursing my poor pinkie toe, which I broke on Friday coming out of the shower. But today I went back to beach where Kevin works, and since the wild wind kept the tourists away he had time to give me a massage - my second in two days! Yes, I know, I am a very lucky girl. But I have to say that you if you ever have the opportunity to get a massage on the beach, you shouldn't think twice. It's hard to imagine anything more relaxing than receiving a massage with the sound of surf as a lullaby. Then I took my last swim, and I have to admit there is something pretty magical about the vastness of the sea. Rather than complaining about swallowing salt water, I decided just to roll with it and enjoy what the sea has to offer. I came out invigorated and thankful.<br /><br />Tonight we're having crèpes, and then tomorrow I head back to Lyon before I set off on the next leg of my summer vacation. I think I found the right solution for a beach holiday: short and sweet. Either that or take up windsurfing.<br /></span></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-34305449384234290762009-08-01T17:51:00.008+02:002009-08-02T19:36:00.141+02:00Trains, Trains, and Automobiles<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Before even getting on the train yesterday I was already thinking of writing a post about how great<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> the rail network in France is - only to be delayed for an hour and half with engine trouble. It was the first time I've been on a train more than 5 minutes</span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> off schedule, and I was a bit stressed only because I had my cats with me and I'd deliberately chosen the shortest possible trip to minimize the time they spent in their carrying case. Not the best time for the train to be so late. </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> On the bright side, the staff came around and gave out bottles of water, which I thought was really sweet. But </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I felt so bad for the cats that I let them out of their case once Kevin arrived to pick up us, and Lucky ended up relieving himself both ways in the car. Desperation or revenge? I'll never know.<br /><br />So yesterday's train experience admittedly wasn't ideal. But I still love trains, especially the French ones. </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">They're clean and pretty stylish, almost always on time, go just about everywhere </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">in the country and Europe, and are pretty reasonably priced if you get your tickets early enough.</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> The TGVs (Train Grande Vitesse or high speed train) are also super fast - they set the world speed record in 2007 of 274.9 mph and average speeds are around 186 mph. </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> For example, the distance between Lyon, where I live, and Paris is 285 miles. By car that takes about 5 hours if you don't hit too much traffic. But on the TGV, you go from city center to city center in 2 hours! One of my neighbors actually works in Paris, which is a hell of a commute, but still doable. For me it's just nice to be able to go to Paris for a quick visit, and for many destinations it's actually much quicker than driving. The only drawback: the not-infrequent strikes the French are famous for. But you can't have everything, can you?<br /><br />Here I am on the TGV from Paris to Lyon when my brother came for a visit. You can tell from that huge smile how much I love riding trains, right?<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SnSZ90aQEdI/AAAAAAAAAEU/tyoVGR0SFVY/s1600-h/dtgv.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/SnSZ90aQEdI/AAAAAAAAAEU/tyoVGR0SFVY/s400/dtgv.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365082343424922066" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've always loved trains, I'm not sure why exactly. But since I always request a window seat I think it big part of it is just watching the landscape roll by. Or maybe the freedom of being able to wander around the aisles, or hang out in the dining car for a change of scenery. Once when I was 20 and on an Amtrak from Michigan to Massachusetts, I was seated in the dining car with a very handsome Australian vet who was traveling around the US. We talked (ok, flirted) for hours and he gave me his address in Australia. Not sure if I kept it, but that was a very exciting moment for me - maybe that's where the positive association with trains comes from!<br /><br />Admittedly, I love planes too; for the bird's eye view especially. One of the most breathtaking things I've seen was flying towards Lyon with the Alps </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">so close I felt like I could reach</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> out the window and caress the snow-tipped peaks</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. But my ecological conscience has issues with flying, though it's hard to resist sometimes given the super cheap fares you can find nowadays. I was able to go to Rome and Berlin last summer for outrageously low prices, and to assuage my conscience I checked the box to offset my carbon consumption with a donation to some kind of forest in Ecuador. I felt a little less guilty, and I loved those trips. But in an effort to reduce my carbon footprint I've been trying to take the train whenever possible rather than being seduced by the cheap fares. Besides, flying the low-cost airlines hasn't ever been a great experience, so in the end I'm not sure it's worth the extra hassle and the carbon emissions to save a few bucks.<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm really happy about my summer plans in that sense, because I'm traveling only by train to Amsterdam, London, and several different places in France, with just a little bit of driving. That's part of what's great about Europe: you can go pretty short distances and find yourself in a completely different country and culture. And since they built the tunnel under the English Channel, you can even go to England via Eurostar. I'm a little freaked out at the idea of being underwater, and I definitely won't have much of a view. But I'm excited to be able to ride the train to an island!<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So trains are just another thing to love about France, and I really hope that someday people in the US will know the joys of a fast, efficient, and affordable rail system. I've read that Obama is really interested in the French TGV and will invest lots of dough in rail lines, so perhaps that's in the cards. If you do ever get the TGV in the US, you'll know where to find me!<br /></span></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-32856581948121029772009-07-29T09:37:00.004+02:002009-07-29T10:32:49.415+02:00Funny Things French People Say<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In my work as an English teacher and even in my daily interactions with the French, I'm exposed to a never-ending stream of hilarious malapropisms. I always say that I'll write them down but usually forget. So for the sake of adding a little laughter to your day and mine, I've decided to keep track of some of that funny stuff in this blog.<br /><br />A typical example involves misuse of prepositions: In response to my amusement at one of his English mistakes, my partner says to me, "Stop laughing on me!" Of course that just makes me laugh even harder...<br /><br />Pronunciation also causes some problems: During an activity where my students had to make up lies in order to give a negative response to their partner's questions, one student asked the other, "So I hear you ate children." As if hating children isn't bad enough, she's accusing her of eating them!<br /><br />Of course she meant to say <span style="font-style: italic;">hate</span>, but French people tend to make the h silent when they see it, and to pronounce it when they shouldn't. For example, one of my students couldn't say the word "I"; she would say things like "Hi like pizza, Hi went to the movies," etc. Or they'll say "I hate lunch" instead of "I ate lunch." "I'm very hungry at him" instead of "I'm very angry at him." So I spend a fair bit of my class time working on the h sound, and of course laughing my butt off - luckily my students are pretty good natured about it all!<br /><br />One last anecdote for today comes from another teacher, with of mix of pronunciation issues and general vocabulary confusion: One of his students recently asked him if he was a "cheese gamer." Hunh? After much confusion, they finally realized he meant to say "chess player." Ahhhh.<br /><br />Speaking English with the French can take a fair amount of detective skills to uncover the hidden midden in the incomprehensible stuff they sometimes come up with. But that's part of the fun, and it's true in any foreign language I suppose; I make plenty of mistakes myself when I speak French. And when I lived in Ecuador as a college student, I said so many ridiculous things in Spanish that my host family started calling me "payasa" (clown). The important thing is to have a sense of humor about it all!<br /><br />In that spririt, stay tuned for the next installment of "funny things french people say. " :-)<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-65347409609927685182009-07-27T15:03:00.010+02:002009-07-27T15:56:28.097+02:00Today's Moment<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"trebuchet ms"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I came home for lunch today since I had a long break in between classes, and I took advantage of the gorgeous weather to sit on my “terrace.”<span style=""> </span>I’m using quotation marks because I don’t think it really qualifies as a terrace; it’s just a bit of concrete in between two hydrangea bushes.<span style=""> </span>But the previous tenants left a rusty table and some dirty plastic chairs, which I am very thankful for since I’m sure we never would have bought them ourselves.<span style=""> </span>When you put a tablecloth down it’s actually quite presentable: <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <span style=";font-family:";font-size:85%;" >
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Sm2lvuL6spI/AAAAAAAAADs/dbCKfqbYZSQ/s1600-h/terraceblog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Sm2lvuL6spI/AAAAAAAAADs/dbCKfqbYZSQ/s320/terraceblog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363124970538578578" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >
<br />
<br /></span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The problem, however, is that our mini-terrace gives onto the driveway for all the tenants.<span style=""> </span>So whenever our neighbors return home, they see us eating and always say ‘<i style="">bon appétit</i>!’ and make a random comment about something.<span style=""> </span>(Seriously, this a compulsion among the French; it’s impossible for them to see anyone eating without saying ‘<i style="">bon appétit</i>!’, even if they are just passing by and have nothing to do with your meal).<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">For me this felt a bit weird, almost as if these folks were walking across our dining room to get to their apartments.<span style=""> </span>So for a long time I didn’t think much of our terrace, especially because our view is onto the parking spaces in front of the house.<span style=""> </span>Compared to the neighbors behind us who have an enormous garden all to themselves, our little parking lot terrace seemed a bit lame (<i style="">nul</i> as they say in French).<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size:85%;">Here is our view of the parking lot, our garage is on the far right: </span></p><span style=";font-family:";font-size:85%;" > </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Sm2mErm9gqI/AAAAAAAAAD0/p8vY04lxdfM/s1600-h/garageblog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQqU2qC64ik/Sm2mErm9gqI/AAAAAAAAAD0/p8vY04lxdfM/s320/garageblog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363125330623955618" border="0" /></a></span></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </p><p face="arial" class="MsoNormal"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 89.85pt 72.0pt 89.85pt; mso-header-margin:35.45pt; mso-footer-margin:35.45pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:85%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </p><p face="trebuchet ms" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">But </span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">then I started to wonder why I was so attached to my privacy that I resented my neighbors’ intrusion into my meal.<span style=""> </span>All of them are nice people, so the more I think of it, the more I think it’s actually great that we do interact with our neighbors a bit, considering how isolated most people are these days.<span style=""> </span>And yes, we sit right next to a driveway.<span style=""> </span>But there are only 8 apartments in this house, so it’s not like there is constant traffic.<span style=""> </span>And as you can see in the picture our view is not just of parking spots but also of big beautiful trees, lavender bushes, climbing vines, roses.<span style=""> </span>For living in the city, we’re actually lucky to have a terrace at all, especially one surrounded by such greenery.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Trebuchet MS";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Trebuchet MS";"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">So today my moment of mindfulness came as I was eating my lunch on my little terrace, breathing deeply and gazing at the trees, feeling grateful that I have good food and a beautiful place where I can eat it.<span style=""> </span>And though I didn’t actually see any of my neighbors, I think I would have been happy if I had.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p></p><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >
<br /></span>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286757411577508918.post-31900970217101041442009-07-26T22:16:00.002+02:002009-07-26T22:45:22.171+02:00Dreams Do Come True - And Then What?<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDIANAJ%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tableau Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-size:85%;" >"Are you happier in <st1:country-region st="on">France</st1:country-region>?" a visiting American friend once asked as we strolled along the banks of the <st1:placename st="on">Rhone</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">River</st1:placetype> in <st1:place st="on">Lyon</st1:place>. </span><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >I had to laugh, because my life in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> was anything but dreamy, despite my expectation that I would indeed be happier once settled on French soil. </span><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >"Actually," I replied, "what I've learned is that I'm really good at being unhappy wherever I go!" </span><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >This should have come as no surprise to me; I've moved so many times in my life that I know well that the initial excitement eventually wears off. And yet, I'd continued to cultivate the fantasy that relocating to <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> and moving in with my boyfriend would mark the end to most of my troubles. </span><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >Surprisingly (for me at least), this is not what happened. I did leave some problems behind, but many new ones emerged, as they will.</span><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >At dinner the other night with a few other Anglophone expatriates, we talked about how pervasive that French fantasy is, and how people back home often tell us how lucky we are. Yet we still have to go to work, do the shopping, cook and clean and do all the other mundane things we did back in our own countries, but now in a context that can be quite confusing and alienating. It's no accident that many of my friends are expats, despite my initial determination to seek out French friendships. <span style=""> </span>I think we develop a fellowship over shared trials and tribulations, of constantly dealing with things that make no sense and having to negotiate our cross-cultural relationships.<span style=""> </span>We compare notes about our French partners, and often end up saying “Oh, I thought it was just him, but maybe it’s a French thing!”</span><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >What do you do once the fantasy fades, when your dream comes true but it's not at all what you expected? How do you deal with the reality of daily life in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>, which is frustrating and downright infuriating more often than it is blissful and beautiful?</span><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >We agreed that we do get so caught up in our everyday routine that we take for granted living in a country so many people dream of. And we concluded that we could appreciate where we are a little more, even naming some of the things we liked best about <st1:place st="on">Lyon</st1:place>. In fact, this blog is part of my effort to keep that sense of appreciation going, because it's true there are so many things to love about this city and this country. </span><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >But ultimately, for me it’s not just about appreciating <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>; it's about being in the present moment, wherever I am. I know I have a tendency to search outside of myself for solutions to my dissatisfaction, and to move on when things get either rough or boring.<span style=""> </span>Now that I’ve been in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> for 3 years and the doldrums have set in, it would be so tempting to pine after another fantasy destination. If I were single, I'm sure I would already have left in search of greener pastures. </span><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br />
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >But my partner is here, and needs to be in <st1:place st="on">Lyon</st1:place> for at least 2 more years. So for now my life is here too. What's a restless soul to do?</span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" >This is where my mindfulness practice comes in (see sidebar if you haven't already). I’m beginning to understand that part of living mindfully is also being present <i style="">where </i>I am; seeing the beauty around me instead of fantasizing about other places or getting caught up in all that bothers me here.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>So from now on my goal is to bring my practice to where I live, so that I can learn to love where I am, moment by moment.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09058970910424381429noreply@blogger.com0