Mosquito -- Part II

According to the news, France's big social cause this year is Organ Donation. Although a very important cause, I'd like to discuss BLOOD DONATION. Last night I had a very rewarding experience -- donating blood to a helpful French mosquito. The mosquitos here are much smaller, and even rarer, than back in Boston or Chicago; so when they appear, you are really taken by surprise (especially at 2am). My starving mosquito friend was in such need that he took it upon himself to buzz around me to let me know that he was about to attack my ankle. The above 90 degree temperature without air conditioning or a fan were already presenting a challenge in terms of comfort -- this was definitely the straw that broke the camel's back. Luckily for me I have a perfectly comfortable couch in the living room... which is where I relocated to promptly.

Mosquitos

Tonight I watched the most riveting news story on mosquitos. The segment covered all the ways one could protect him/herself from the pesky insects. The conclusion of the story was that the mosquito net was the most efficient method of protection. So now I ask -- why haven't the French taken this conclusion and put it to good use? Mosquito screens on the doors and windows are the way to go! The one obstacle over here is the shutters...That's the only thing I can see preventing a screen installation. 

Table Manners

One of my biggest obstacles with the assimilation process into French culture is related to table manners. It would not be that big of a deal if it weren't for the fact that there are sooo many rules and my job involves lots of formal lunches and dinners with clients and vendors. You've heard people say that business happens on the golf course, well in Bordeaux business happens at the dining table...

One big difference that few Americans know about is the hand rule. In the US, it is acceptable and seen as proper to keep the hand not being used to stay on ones lap (their own lap -- not their neighbors). However, in France one should NEVER have their hand on their lap. If not using their hand to hold a knife, folk or spoon, the hand should stay on the table next to the plate -- just hanging out there...NO LAP. Okay, so this is an easy rule to follow.

BREAD: it is okay to place your bread on the table cloth. Yes, I am not exaggerating. Forget using mini plates that confuse you anyway cause you don't know which one belongs to you (FYI the left plate is your bread plate -- make a b with your thumb and finger with your left hand -- notice that you can only make a d with your right hand -- as a result, b is for bread on your left and d is for drink on your right).

Here is one that I have TONS of problems with and need some clarification. You can't just start eating when your food is served...NOPE. First, you have to wait for everyone to be served. Second, you need to have the mystery person start eating before you can eat. So usually the hostess has to start eating before you start eating. But sometimes when I am the hostess I've started eating, and no one else starts eating. THIS TOTALLY STRESSES ME OUT. Cause this happens a lot and I still don't know who was suppose to start eating if not me... So this is one rule that I still don't get and can't share my knowledge to protect you from weird and potentially offensive table moves. Consider this next time you are at a dinner and think of me breaking out into sweat and trying to get my uncles attention from across the table to help me out -- but don't count of him cause he just keeps on talking and not noticing the weird moment at the table when everyone is looking at everyone...Nope, he'll just keep on talking...

New blog name

I don't think I can change it officially -- as in with a change to the link (unless I create a new blog) -- but I'd like to unofficially change my blog title to : Whining About Wine AND FRANCE.

Spitting

Let me assure you that my spitting skills have much improved...This is a picture from my first summer in Bordeaux when I was an intern in Pauillac. But here I am at a tasting in St. Emilion.

Roland Garros!

Finally official proof that I was at Roland Garros...

The Car Doctor

A couple weeks ago my beautiful yellow (yes, yellow) mini cooper found itself in a tight spot and lots its left side mirror. How it found itself in the tight sport is completely irrelevant -- all I can say that it was a typical Aline incident. In addition to a broken mirror (oh goodness, will I be victim of 7 bad years???), the antenna was stolen; the only downside to this is absolutely no reception beyond the city -- unlike a missing mirror, making every left turn dangerous.

So after a couple weeks of procrastination I finally found an auto mechanic to order the necessary parts. The parts arrived on Friday so I went by to have them installed. First off, I had to wait after lunch cause no respectable French person works during lunch (my number 2 pet peeve, right behind no store opened on Sunday). 

After pulling up my car to the "atelier," the auto mechanic got right to business -- only acknowledging my presence by pointing out that of course I'd have an automatic (it's a small town, he knows that I am really an American). Then all of a sudden, he stands up pulls his cigarettes out and starts interrogating about my choice for a foreign car... Mmm, I fear that I cannot contribute much in this type of discourse (beyond, I liked the shape of the car)... So I make a brief comment explaining my lack of expertise. Now we have reached a point in our conversation where we realize we've got nothing to talk about...But this does not bother me cause I am here to get my car fixed therefore I am waiting for him to get back to my car (maybe he needed to stretch his back or something). Soon I become aware that my car is no longer the focus of the car mechanic's attention. Rather, he is on a cigarette break and no amount of me staring at my now completely dissembled  side mirror is going to make him get back to work. He wants to stand around and small talk! Even though his customer looks (and is) rushed -- the cigarette must be smoked. 

Alright, at this point I realize that if I can't fight the cigarette then I must accept it. Breath in, breath out. I got all excited when I saw him nearing the bud's filter...I should have known that the cigarette break would not be complete without a coffee with an unexpected neighbor dropping in...

I did eventually make it out of there with my car completely fixed. And I thought now here is a completely French moment I had to share immediately...