Hey I'm American, Not Stupid

I get tired of constantly being treated like I have an IQ of 78. Yes, I have an accent, and yes, sometimes I don't understand everything people say to me in French. Most of the time though my misunderstandings are based on the fact that I'm living in a new culture and even in the 21st Century there are a surprising amount of differences that permeate European daily life with which I'm simply not familiar. Yesterday on my way from the post office to the Market to buy veggies for the week I poked my head into a little teashop. Tea is a new fad in France, a land of Café, and the craze has resulted in a multitude of tiny, trendy Eastern style tea stores with walls of metal tins containing every imaginable combo of Green, Black, White and Red tea with flowers, herbs and spices. Being a Great Lover of Tea, I enjoy checking them out; most are pretty expensive, but this particular shop had decent prices, considering it was top-notch tea. I thumbed through the book of teas on the counter and then asked the vendor if their Rose Tea was made with Black Tea. Well, he replied, all tea in France is made from the tea plant. Ass, that's not what I asked, and I should hope that he knows that though Green, Black and White teas are all made from the same plant the preparation processes are very different resulting in radically diverse tastes and brewing methods, even within each color category. I had no interest in a Green Rose Tea. Besides, Red Teas are not from the tea plant, which makes them technically not tea, and the same goes for herbal teas, though the French have a separate word for herbal tea. This happens all the time, though I am getting much better at answering rapid-fire customer service questions in French and my overall comprehension is making serious improvement. Still, people talk down to you, and oversimplify explanations like it's the concept, not the word or phrase that you can't understand. I realize that it's mostly the result of ignorance, not malice, but I dislike the feeling of being perceived as fundamentally retarded because my accent is thick or being chewed out by the insurance woman in the hospital because I didn't open my phone line. Guess I should have realized that that would be a fundamental part of my hospital stay, or the grocery store checker that wouldn't sell me carrots because I didn't weigh them myself. Would you like to continue this conversation in English?


That said I'm enjoying France more this week than I have in the past two months. Fall has arrived, most suddenly, and it's crisp, golden, windy and cold. The produce is changing at the market; the pears, squash, Clementines, and Brussels sprouts are emerging in numbers to replace the peaches, berries, and beans of summer. I have spent a couple weekends in Montpellier this past month and it's been wonderful. I've caught up on homework and settled in a bit. It's starting to feel like home now, I enjoy running errands here and am picking up a routine. I finally got around to redecorating my place and my kitchen is slowing filling with staples, making cooking more enjoyable than ever. I even found oatmeal at the market yesterday and treated myself to a big bowl this morning topped with raw cane sugar, cinnamon and apples. I also added two baby basil plants to the cute pink flower in my window next to my tea boxes and fruit bowl. I have been playing with my new kitchen and learning to cook on two hot plates with no oven or microwave. It's bit of a challenge. A really fun challenge though, and just yesterday I made poached eggs, and pan-fried powder milk biscuits, which I ate with butter and local market honey. For lunch I made rustic potato chowder with dill, soymilk and Parmesan. (I just had some leftovers with fresh basil and crunchy whole grain French Bread!) Dinner ended up as red onion, tomato and Dijon chicken stew, which I heaped over couscous.

This morning Marit, Amy, Cate and I checked out la Fête de la Courge, which is a Squash Festival held in a little near-by town every year. It was a little fall market of all things autumn. I tried my first roast chestnut, not going to be a favorite of mine, but a fun treat. We meandered through stands of squash and pumpkins of every kind, local honey, jams and preserves, fresh juices and homemade soup, cookies and other assorted baked goods, fall produce, candles, and booths full of arts and crafts from wood working to painted gourds. My favorite squash are the Fairytale pumpkins, of Cinderella fame, on the right, which they cut and sell in giant pumpkins wedges. I had a piece of pumpkin cake that was rather flan-like in texture and tasted Amy's pumpkin soup and Marit's pumpkin and onion fritter. Yum! I also sampled a tiny goat cheese and squash tart that was surprisingly sweet. I bought a butternut squash to play with in my kitchen this week. I have a feeling it's going to end up steamed with brown sugar butter, and perhaps in my pot of red curry I plan to make later this week.



Joel modeled his creepy Italian glasses, on Friday morning after we all had a late, luxurious Real French French-Toast Breakfast in his garden with maple syrup and bacon. A perfect way to kick off a lazy three day fall weekend!