Everything Else

So we've finally finished the story of summer holidays, which brings us up to what - mid September? Only four more months to go. Those four months are certainly not without there own stories, but let's be realistic - I'll never catch up. So instead, I offer you a summary:

Pierre and Samantha Were Married
The day after we returned from our holiday, we passed the afternoon (after a big sleep-in) washing laundry and convincing the cat that we still love him. Then the next we repacked a smaller bag and hopped into the C2 to leave again. We drove a few short hours to Lille, in northern France, for the wedding of my friend and colleague Pierre.

Pierre's fiancee (now wife) is half English, so the ceremony was held in a branch of the Church of England in Lille. I imagine this was a bit of a surprise for the mostly French crowd, who squirmed a bit uncomfortably as the minister made cute little jokes and carried on with her sermon in English. I rather enjoyed this bit of squirming.

The next day before returning to Paris we paid a visit to the local art museum, the Palais de Beaux Arts, recently renovated and very nice.

I Went to the Midlands of England
Just a day after returning to the office from vacation, I was off on a business trip to Fradley, England, which isn't far from Birmingham. Upon landing I went directly to the Avis counter, relieved to not have to struggle in another language, until a very nice man asked me "Dyacahboh?"

Huh?

After a few more tries I realized that he was saying:

"Do you have a car booked?"

My head was spinning - did we not speak the same language? The blank stares I was giving him were usually reserved for French conversations.

Anyway, it was a nice week in the Fradley office. My English colleagues were friendly and cheerful and even took me on a small tour to see the famous canals of the area. One girl brought me a box of Canterbury chocolates because a factory was located nearby. I planned to save it to bring home for David, but I soon learned that having a box of chocolates on hand makes a training presentation go much smoother.

For lunches I went out with other visiting colleagues from the Meru office. Here I enjoyed the squirming again as I comfortably ordered my meals and drinks and my companions had to stutter through bad English to order their fish and chips.

Revenge is a dish best served fried.

France Caught the Swine Flu
Before we left on holidays, rumors abound that the swine flu was going to hit France hard at back to school time.

When I got back into the office after England, they were saying that anywhere from 30 to 80 percent of us would be struck down. Managers sauntered around to check that everyone had remote internet access so we could work from home if needed (how thoughtful). I had to attend a mandatory meeting where a nurse from the infirmary taught us how to sneeze properly and we watched a 30-second video on how to wash our hands.

Side note: I thought the hand washing video was insulting until I told this story to Dave's aunt and uncle in London. They said they had to watch the same video. And they're surgeons.

The zippy new hand dryers that were installed in the bathrooms the previous spring were unplugged and replaced with paper towel rolls so we could protect ourselves from every possible surface.

And perhaps the strangest thing to get used to was the "no touching" rule. Specifically, no morning handshakes or kisses hello. In France? Were they kidding?

We all did our best to not shake hands for the first few weeks, but it got kind of awkward with those who didn't get the memo. Finally, when it became clear that the swine flu wasn't raging through the office, we went back to our morning habits.

One day we heard that a guy in our office in India had been diagnosed with H1N1. We have hundreds of colleagues in India, but my mind wandered to my own small team of two: why hadn't I heard from Ranjan lately? Vinay told me that Ranjan had "unexpectedly extended
his holiday". Didn't that sound suspicious?

I picked up the phone and dialed the Pune office. Vinay answered directly and I cut to the chase: "Vinay. I need you to be honest with me. Where exactly is Ranjan?"

"Oh. He's sitting here next to me!"

In the background I heard a chipper "Hi Chi!"

Maybe I have my mother's worrying habit of thinking that if someone's going to get sick, it's going to be one of mine.

* * *

Finally, one guy in the Meru office did come down with H1N1. The management came downstairs to not shake our hands and check our internet connections again. They wouldn't tell us exactly who was sick to protect the privacy of the ill, I guess.

Unluckily for the ill, a newsletter came out the next day with a feature article about his work, which helped the rumors take off. One of the designers near my desk held up the newsletter and jabbed a finger at his photo: "This is the guy who's sick!"

Anyway, I saw the guy just yesterday. He's fine. A little embarrassed, maybe.

We Went to Hagenbach
In October I had to take another standard trip to Hagenbach, Germany. Due to reasons explained below, David had some time off of work, so he decided to come. I rented a car through the company and we drove - a good five hour haul.

We spent three days in the region. Every morning David dropped me off at the office and continued on to a new place to see and photograph - Baden Baden, Heidleburg, and Karlsruhe. In the evening he would return to pick me up and we would go out to a brauhaus for a hearty German meal. Having David with me made the trip so much more fun and relaxing.

On the way back to Paris we stopped in Strasbourg to see the famous cathedral and walk around a bit. Unfortunately, a cold rain settled in shortly after we arrived, so our visit was short. But we are both very fond of Strasbourg, and I'll be looking for an excuse for us to go back when the weather warms up again.
David Started a New Job
Did I mention that David quit his job right before our vacation? No? Well that's because I remember perfectly well what it felt like to not have a job, and I remember the discomfort of having people constantly ask "Did you find a job yet?"

Well, it turns out I didn't have to keep quiet for long.

First, how David came to quit his job.

Sometime in mid-summer David's company announced voluntary buyouts. The package was attractive, and David was interested in leaving the automotive industry anyway, so the timing fit. He arranged for his last day to be just before our vacation, and started full-time job hunting the day we got back.

And it was certainly a full time job. He rose with me every morning and spent the days tweaking his resume, returning phone calls, and setting up interviews. Not only that, he managed a pile of French administration work that we had on backlog, and did a few chores for me here and there - picking up food for dinner, running to the post office, etc. I loved it.

Only short few weeks later, he was in serious interview mode and I was losing track of all of the contract companies that were calling the apartment. How does this guy have such luck during a financial crisis? Amazing.

By the middle of October he'd signed on for a contract position with a major French train company, working on their signaling systems. The office is located just outside of Paris, so he takes the train to work - appropriately. He's really happy with this new opportunity, and I'm really happy for him. Everyone is happy.

I Took up Salsa Dancing
Well, not so much "took up" as "took a few classes". One day in mid September I called our friend Hector to see if he wanted to come by for dinner. He answered that he couldn't, because he's going to a salsa class, and did we want to go with him? When I asked David, his answer was a very serious "Please don't do this to me".

So I elected to go anyway, and a few nights later found myself in a group of 30 or so people who were just as awkward and pensive as Hector and I were.

We started by learning a few basic steps, then learned how to pass. Learning how to pass to another partner wasn't something that any of us were expecting. I showed up with Hector and expected to learn to make a fool out of myself with my friend. However, after thirty seconds of dancing like trees together, the teacher yelled out for a pass. Hector lifted my arm, stepped to my right, and suddenly I was facing a new partner.

Oh no.

And this is how salsa lessons work. We meet every other week, pair off in a big circle around the room, learn a few new steps, then start rotating through each partner. Hector gets a kick out of it - he gets to dance with a different woman every half minute or so. They're always soft and friendly and say a polite "good evening" to him.

For me, it's a little less delightful. After the room heats up a little bit the men start to sweat, and I find myself facing roughly 15 different scents a night. Some are really good dancers, some are uncomfortable, some hold me too closely (hey now), and some hold me at the waist instead of the shoulder blade like they should. One guy consistently smells of stale beer and always misses his steps, ugh.

I still have fun, though, and in the end it's good practice to dance with all of the different partners. We've all started to know each other by appearance now, and some guys know when I need a little push in one direction or another, and some have even started muttering to me in bad English. And of course, once per rotation, I come back to Hector and he grins and tells me how much better we've gotten since the last round.

Once I got over myself and the silliness of wriggling around with 30 strangers, I really started enjoying it. Even if I'm not a salsa natural, it's a good bit of of stress release and laughter, with the bonus of a pinch of much-needed exercise.

We Had Some Brunches
Ok, so going to brunch is something fairly common now and normally not worth mentioning. However, we've had some dramatic brunches these past months.

In September we met Wally and a handful of his friends for a brunch at Cafe d'Enfer (Cafe of Hell...spooky) in Paris. We made a reservation but had to wait about 20 minutes for the table to be ready, and maybe for that reason the waitress felt bad. Obviously she was not French. In fact, she was Polish.

The fact that she was Polish became of interest after the meal was done and she swanned up to the table with six shot glasses and three bottles of home-made flavored vodka. Much to my trepidation, she poured a round and handed them out. Then another round, then she left the bottles on the table and wandered off.

Five minutes later, she returned with another bottle.

And this is how our afternoon went. A cool and gray Sunday afternoon in a nearly empty restuarant, getting silly drunk with the waitstaff. I reached my limit at about 3, and Wally had to forcefully intervene on my behalf to stop the waitress from pressuring me into taking more.
Finally when we left in the late hours of the afternoon, the bill reflected only 6 brunches with no mention of the countless shots of vodka. Needless to say, we left generous tips.

And then in late October I invited my friend Julien and his very-pregnant wife Olivia for brunch. I made a great baked French toast recipe, along with the usual package of scrambled eggs, bacon, and potatoes. As I walked them back to their car supporting Olivia with one arm and holding an umbrella over her with the other, I gave her encouragement and said something to the effect of, "well, if the baby came tonight - for example - it wouldn't be so bad". She nodded and smiled wistfully.

The next afternoon I got a birth annoucement email from Julien.

Of course, I credited my killer French toast. Unless, of course, the baby didn't like the French toast and decided to get the heck out of there?

Thanksgiving in London
Almost on a whim, my family decided to spend Thanksgiving together in London this year. Grant rented us an apartment on the Thames River across from the O2 arena. The weather was especially English, but the great thing is, so was the language.
Contrary to custom, my mom did not smuggle turkey into London (although she swears that no one would have caught her). She did, however, bring cream of mushroom soup, friend onions, and stuffing. Our first afternoon there we went to the Borough Market, where she bought the rest of the food - vegetables and chickens - and we shared another great Thanksgiving dinner together.

We spent almost one entire day at the Tower of London, where we had a chilly Yoeman's tour and saw the crown jewels. Another day we visited the Camden market, which is absolutely enormous. I could have spent another two full days there, but of course David was much less interested.
David and I went to the Tate Modern art museum one afternoon. At first we had planned to visit the National Gallery, but David had in mind to see some surrealism. So we saw Dali. We saw Magritte, we saw Bacon. We saw some really bizarre modern art that made us scratch our heads and wander back to Dali for something understandable.

One night we met up with one of the Gadling writers, the pilot Kent Wien, who happened to be in town at the same time. I always like visiting with Kent, and the rest of the family was just as charmed.

And so...
This brings us to December or so, where I'm going to slow down to draw out the stories of the last dramatic weeks of the year. I hope that I can keep up the momentum in 2010, because I hate having the blog so behind.

More to come...