Immigrant in Paris (1)

 It’s been +5 years since my last post, despite that I had been back to Paris every Year during the summer vacation. Well, “I summer in Paris”-!As some very chic travelled would say casually in an off handed way. It is an obligation for me to be in the city of light and luster, literally- spending weeks on the neighborhood situated between the Eiffel Tower and arc du triumph. That is where my husband’s families are and where we used to live before relocating to Tahiti. 

This summer, we checked into hotel Victor Hugo as usual. A little boutique hotel conveniently nested on a little high rise street called “corpenic” that intersects avenue Kléber and Place Victor Hugo. The rooms are standardized-TINY, as svelte as the Parisienne ladies sashaying amongst the cafes and boutiques nearby. Nobody is staying in their rooms when you are right here in this particular spot of the WORLD. You want to be out there losing yourself walking everyone cobblestoned road and photographing as many landmarks as possible. 

But Not I…

My son and I played chess for hours in the lobby dotted with quaint ornaments, with some sofas and decorative travel books lying about. Here. we met Paul. A 57-yo Sri Lankan who had served breakfast at this very hotel for 23 years. There is no cook to speak of since the breakfast fare is 100% not homemade, with the exception of Paul’s apple cake!!!  We got talking because I was unashamedly transferring slices of the cake from the serving dish to my plate to bring to the room. « My husband said this is really good », I had to make some small talk with the waiter standing right behind me to enjoliver my hoarding. « Make sure you tell the chef ». 

« It’s me. I make the cake » 

i turned around. 

« Look, « , he pointed to the etiquette on which « Paul’s Cake » was written by hand. « I am Paul ». 

A huge smile surfaced on his face. 

I regretted not having  taken a photo with him. That would’ve been the best Parisien snapshot of the day. 

Learning French (Part I)

I started learning French at the tender age of 35. I was the oldest student in that class (the only one already married, with a child and was expecting another one). Imagine a class with 25 1st or 2nd year university students from US/UK (mostly girls) who were in Paris/France/Europe for the first time, and there was "moi". I decided to stick to the professor and be her BFF (best friend forever) - mind you, the first time I was a teacher's pet.

The first dictation I got 'nothing".

"No mark?" I questioned myself. Looked around the classroom, 90% of my classmates had the same puzzled look on their face.

"Why did we not get any grade?" a brave one raised her hand. The same brave one who dared going to the toilet despite the professor's protest ("If I don't go, nobody goes".)

"Only 3 out of 25 have grades. The highest mark is 6 out of 20. If you have too many mistakes, I don't even bother to give grades" OOOOOLAAAALAAAA!!!! This was nothing compared with what my daughter's classmate had to get through - he had his papers ripped into pieces by the teacher in class and that was the 3rd grade class.........

French is easy. Believe me, it is EASY. It is the people who are not easy and make it look horrendous and difficult!!! It is the gesticulations and the facial expressions that are disturbing to beginners in French learning. It is the depth of culture and history in most texts that is inevitable in most ancient civilisations that put us off in the first place.

I used to walk around the Latin quarter to browse the 'windows' of the second hand bookstore (didn't even dare going inside!) to admire the "allure" and "ambiance" and imagined, one day, just one day, I could read Balzac and Zola in French. (Naturally, I already read all their books in English and sometimes Chinese -- yes, a nerd/geek like me:)

So there I was, one day, after six months in Paris attending my French lessons everyday, sitting on the same metro connecting right and left bank of the Seine, I found myself with tears streaming down my cheeks....literally.

it was the same old speech of the Polish man playing his guitar while recounting his life of political imprisonment, traversing the frontiers as refugee. made his way to France eventually after losing his wife and one child to destitute and now left with five kids to take care of.......

Holly molly!!! I understood every word he said, I could speak French, I could understand French spoken with a foreign accent, I was francophone, I was delirious and as a result, I reached into my purse for a five euro bill and handed over to the man.

"That's enough course you are taking...." my husband was very concerned, instead of congratulating me. "If you are going to hand out money to whoever tells you a compelling story, we will soon be like them".

Not long after that, I saw the same "polish refugee" having a glass of wine chatting with his mates on a terrace cafe, on a sunny day.

"Of course he wants to enjoy the sun like everyone else", my husband the skeptic, giving me the "i told you so" look, "being in a metro all the time gets quite boring".

Him, A Butcher, is in Paris

The walk around the neighborhood was to let out the steam, you know those marital steam that got to get cooled off, by having a nice stroll in Paris. As if one needs an excuse to have a nice stroll in Paris in late summer evening.

Curiously,a buthery that was still opened at 8pm. The butcher was at his door chatting with the neighbors/customers.

"Dnt hesitate, the butcher is still here at your service." One of the guys noticed our interest in the shop. he pointed at the smily butcher.

The shop was one of those very ancient type that you hardly see in Paris now. The chopping board was forming a bowl.

"When are you going to change that chopping board?" I couldnt resist. The wooden board was the shape of my contact lense. My husband was a bit embarrassed by my upfront question.

"Come, come around this side."

There, at the back of his shop, three new boards were ready to be installed. "A matter of days"

"Then how does one know when a board is used up?" He was obviously very attached to this set.

"One says tht in the lifetime of a butcher, three set of chopping boards" ever so proud was this one, "me, this will be my 9th set".

He could not help but recounting his life story of a butcher. Started at 13 (but his boss lied on the paperwork, as legal age was, and still is, 14). He had worked for 43 years as butcher.

"I used to have 4 employees here, but now i am the only one". Apparently, the number of butcheries in 16eme alone was reduced by more than 50% in the past 10 years due to the growing number of supermarkets. He was lucky to be around still.

He was excited now to show us his set-ups, how ancient and yet fully-functional they were.

"This work bench here is more than 100 years old and still just as good as the day it was made" (honestly, everything made in France is pretty good. ) "someone offered me Euro10,000 to buy this bench and I refused". He gave an intriguing smile. a good story teller, he was waiting for us to ask him why.

"why?"

" it was an American. I could not bear to see this piece of history being taken away from france".

My next question. "So, you are saying that In the past 40 or so years, the way of cutting and preparing / curing the meat has not changed at all?"

"For more than 150 years it has been the same way".

"So you guys are behind the preservation of the culinary art- had the butchers started the cut or prepare the meats differently, people would be obliged to come up with new dishes and new recipes."

My husband understood where i was coming from. But the butcher was puzzled, "why would anyone want to change?"

To ease the butcher's mind so that he didnt think i was some nutty culinary revolutionay, my husband said " oh, my wife is Asian with Australian background. You know they cut their meat differently."

"I know, i know, my wife is From cameron." So, he was not that much of a traditionist after all. "Mixed marriage is a difficult thing, but when it works, it works magic".

With our piece of steak in hand. We both agreed the evening promenade was a good idea.

P.s. apparently. There are 800 names for different parts of a cow - in a good butcher's terminology which does not exist anymore in supermarket.

名模當鄰居 Supermodels of Paris

我被打敗了。這次回來巴黎，我下定決心拌貴婦，下列步驟依據：
1 出門化妝。不管是帶孩子去學校，提菜籃買菜，去郵局，到樓下找門房，只要出了自己的們，一定有化妝，ok, ok, 我時常在電梯裏化，還好電梯很慢，粉底擦上，從電梯到大門口有鏡子，化口紅還有時間。（我不懂為什麼有那麼長的走廊）。
2 看人家怎麼穿，就怎麼穿。決不能很土的全身一個顏色。圍巾很重要，天氣一冷就大方穿上皮靴（我以前以為她們很厲害，怎麼穿這麼高的鞋還能走這麼久，原來藥房賣很多貼腳跟的，愛美是要付出代價的。） 絲質的和牛仔褲搭配今年流行就趕緊跟
3頭髮剪短-沒有特別原因，因為不知道長髮怎麼處理
4. 墨鏡戴上。
5 手提包也換了＂有點＂新的樣，

沒過一星期，發現Lancome的法國代言人住我們頂樓。和我年紀一樣，一個兒子也七歲。天生麗質。唉，＂既生俞，何生亮？＂ 我放棄了。

可我女兒才剛發現這花都的巧妙。她們班上的女生大多穿短裙，褲襪和靴子上學。

＂怎麼跑步？＂
＂不跑步，上體育課才要穿步鞋＂
為什麼不乾脆指定校服要短皮夾客，長靴，褲襪，圍巾，等？

＂那多沒勁，要自己給孩子打扮才有趣，不是嗎？＂。一個媽媽很認真的回答。

女兒第一次有小朋友來玩，那孩子一看到我就低頭和我女兒說悄悄話。

＂What was it that your friend was saying to you?"

"She says she likes your shoes." WHAT!!!! 才八歲孩子就有慧眼！佩服，佩服！

stars of Paris

Remember i talked about how I didnt recognise the stars in Paris? Well, i decided to make an effort this time.....

Coming out of a meeint on the famous, sexy avenue called "montaigne" where channel and dior juxtopose one another, waiting fpr my husband to pick me up, i saw a star coming towards me. Yes, i recognised him from the big screens. He was obviously used to having the stares from strangers on the streets. He smiled and stopped in front of me. I couldnt put a name to his face, but he extended his hands to me all the same. he was surprisingly short, but charming. "yes, i am Richard". He even took off his sunglasses so that i could have a close look.....the smile was perfect for a mildly sunny Paris 2 days before autumn....."You are Daniel d'auteuil!". "No, that was the other one." Oooops! See how argumentative i am? I was trying to convince a famous french actor that he was not who he thought he was. there you go, My first encounter with a star ended very quickly as he put his glasses back on and said good-bye- though with the same charming smile.

"Who is the actor who Looks like Daniel d'Auteuil but is not Daniel d'Auteuil? " as soon as i got in the car, I asked my husband.

"you mean Richard Anconica?" See, you have to be married for ten years and watch every film together to come to this kind of Q&A.
A


If ever i come across Richard again, here is what i will say, " you are way better looking than daniel, who cares if you are not as famous!"

French Are What they Eat

I found half a packet of low salt, sweet potato chips in the fridge and was shocked at such finding.(1) We never consume food that is not cooked or prepared by humans who are still breathing and alive and with certified skills in such domain.(2) such fancy packaging for chips was the first i had ever seen, it was a healthy choice, french brand and expensive (as far as price for this kind of food is concerned) looking. Given that it was next to a packet of low salt, low fat cheese and a bottle of yogurt, i worked out that it was the left over lunch of the removalists who were working all day at my place. Interesting to see that the french workers, despite their (like their counterparts around the world), their baggy jeans, shaved heads, sparingly exposed tatoos, ocassional coarse language when the corrider was too narrow for the table, they keep up the good practice of consuming correctly, nourishing with balanced diet (one apple, one bread stick, cheese, yogurt and, surprisingly, chose the healthier type of all chips for snack. They are what they eat, they are better looking, trim and , at this time of the year, very tanned. (No, i had no fantasies over workers moving my furniture. Was simply awed by how French manage to keep slim and good looking, regardless of income, employment or age. Another contributing factor is the long lunch hour which allows everyone the luxury to choose whst is best for them).



I can understand that women can do all kinds of tricks like make up to improve their looks, as in other parts of the world. As for men, tricks are limited, and one way of keeping up the appearance is diet and sport. dont forget, your largest organ is the skin on your body. your complexion shows your state of health and , in the case od men, this cannot be masked by cosmestics. Fastfood chains do not survive well here, on the other hand, sushi and sushi delivery is becoming a trend. I have discovered a great new place filled with Stark deco and furnitures and every dish comes with an enormous portion of salad without the sauce. It is currently the hip place with orange and black theme, in these last few days of summer, its terrace is fulled of the tanned, the rich, the dress-to-kill, too-sexy-it-hurts type. they gobble down carrots, lettuce, beans, spinach, tomatos, beetroots and all, as seriously as their working on the tan.

年輕的巴黎

這個城市和人之間的互動需要時間培養默契。法國最長青歌手johnny holiday （七十歲有了，還在唱，說今年要退休了）以前有個搭檔兼老婆Sylvie varton,像madanna或kylie這種唱了十五二十年法國排名第一的巨星，退休後 幾年前領養一個羅馬尼亞的女兒，和我女兒三年級時同班，我先生一次去接女兒從同學家玩回來，看到sylvie 來開門，真是驚心動魄的一刻。他從中學到當兵都掛她的名星海報在牆上。我則是帶我女兒去同學家，看這房子這麼大以為裏面一定是好幾戶，沒想那麼多。看到sylvie很多次站在學校們口，（不事做黑色車子等在門口，門口不讓停車的）， 我以為是某時髦姥姥來接孩子。我前面講過,在巴黎，沒有人特去看看她或照她的相。

我們去年参加新加坡的法商協會的年度晚宴，席間fann wong 范文芳（成龍的shanghai knights電影演成龍的妹妹）上台，主持人訪問她聊了三十分鐘，五百多來賓大概只有兩三十個知道她是誰，新加坡的國際名星大概也就她一個，怎麼會沒聽過？我的理論是：必需要在年輕（單身）的時候去認識一個城市，年輕才有時間精神看電影，唱歌，出去玩，跟流行，錯過年輕的時代，和城市的互動就有間隔。在新加坡和任何大都會，都有expatriates的生活圈，真的有人可老死不和當地人來往，不是互相討厭，就是走不到一塊兒。要是沒興趣，擺在你面前你都不會去看一眼。巴黎有二十區，白和晚上的街景完全不同，就有四十區可看。
我在巴黎住的時候只有參加過私人宴會把羅浮宮整個包下來的，確從來沒去過buddha bar或任和disco，現在要再搬回去住，更不可能晚上在外遊蕩（年紀更大了）。新加坡的clarke quay 我也沒去過。所以要玩是趁年輕，才有精神和力氣去發掘新的事物，認識新朋友，一天當兩天用。說到這兒，巴黎年度的大減價和la nuit de musique 這月底開始了。la nuit de musique 是整晚到處都有露天音樂會。 我到現在還沒有在那天出門過，因為人多，不好停車，沒人帶孩子，（藉口一堆）， 唉，我要是年輕時有在巴黎住就好了。

三月下雪的巴黎

二月抵三月初巴黎還下雪。我早上七點抵到旅館外看路旁一團三色冰淇淋，想是哪個孩子那麼早吃冰還把整盤掉到地上，正要和他說，他搖頭嘆息這城市還沒變，美，髒，亂，迷人，活潑，懶散，全混一起，＂歐，原來是狗屎，一圈綠，一圈褐，外加一層透明的冰塊，還以為是一班餐廳那dessert du jour (pistache, vanille and chocolate). You get what i mean....


衣服帶不夠。我出門從不帶傘，也不多帶衣服，（在海關被擋住幾次因為我沒行李，海關以為我是作奇怪的工作的人 ＂為什麼沒有行李？＂＂出國就沒帶，到處都買得到衣服，有規定一定要帶行李嗎？＂ 連機場都買得到內衣褲ㄌㄜ˙，帶一堆衣服做什麼？） 還有就是冷乾脆不出戶外，在博物院可以獃一天。最後還是被我先生押解到旅館付近買厚的長褲。

＂妳的腰幾寸？＂那老闆五十好幾，身材像bardot年輕的樣子，棕髮飄逸，流海加很深的眼影，嘴脣膏只有亮彩，自己也是很貼身的jeans armani。

＂28＂
＂好，試這一件。＂
＂對不起，這是xs.應該是26的吧？＂
＂當然買小一號的，妳沒買過jeans嗎？＂ 被瞪白眼。乖乖進去試衣間換。
只有問我的腰，沒確認大腿，一公分一公分得把大腿像灌香腸一樣塞進這＂容器＂。（沒錯，我姥姥民國前出生，我以前小時在台北有看過她灌香腸，印象深刻。法文也是叫肥人穿緊身褲＂boudin" . Boudin 是肉腸的意思。

真的擠不進去了，更怕是硬擠進去，出不來，一輩子卡在裏面，

＂怎麼樣？＂ bardot來問。

＂穿不下，太小了。＂

＂不可能，我來幫忙。＂ 她也是28腰。

她叫我深吸一口氣，她幫我拉上來，就viola!

那我怎麼呼吸呢？ 拜託，別鬧了。＂這樣妳就自然會吃少點，走路也不會像鴨子一樣，＂她很認真的。難怪巴黎美女上街都是這樣。

＂好好好，我買這件，給我女兒穿。＂
＂妳女兒幾歲？＂
＂7歲。＂
＂跟我孫女一樣大。＂

最後還是乾脆去買厚的褲襪，一雙過膝長靴。反正才幾天救回去熱帶新加坡。那長靴一穿上，走路很自然成一直線。

Paris and Breakfast

Next to Carton, the forever statement of 16eme chic, is a new resto showcasing bio, bio and more bio. Instead of little delicate chairs and round tables, the new bio girl in town has wooden squqre Jenga looking tables with one long bench that is meant for convives to share - strangers alert!!! How to NOT talk/smile/exchange regards/toughing elbows/reading neighbor's newspaper or ibook is whole new chapter for 16eme of Paris. That wss why i had never seen anyone sitting on that bench except for one old person who was obviously quite smitten with one of the waitresses and wanted to close to the counter.....

It was a wistro, i guess it means wifi plus bistro. It is where you can have all day breakfast...not that they propose nothing else, but their dishes all have the wholesome breakfast look. Greens, bio salmon, grilled vegies, no fat cheese, the works. It was so un-Parisien and so ME. This simple/agreeable/down to earth new kid in town is here to stay I hope.

Mais, non, there was no lifestyle changes. Only some young looking couples, hipster singles with hangover to fix (multi-vegie-fruit juice is the cure), young family with kids, and me the iPad /wifi maniac were in sight. Once I went to one of their branches in the Marais with an American lawyer (single, female in early 30's). Within 30 minutes, she chatted up the guy at the next table. Yes, you read me correctly, SHE chatted up the guy, not the other way round. Well, anything goes in the Marais and that is why it is the singles' paradise.

By the way, for the first time in my life, I sat on a stool by the bar in a cafe for breakfast. I was not alone. My teenage daughter was with me and we were on her way to her school. She was so surprised that the customer takes the croissants by themselves and then pay for how many he consumes. Apparently a famous writer some 100 years ago used to sit at one of those cafe and finished a whole basket of croissants and lied to the waiter that he only ate 1. The young poor writer got away thanks to the generosity of the cafe owner and he got to live and write amasing short stories. Just as we were talking about how everyone could come in to this kind of cafe for a coffee and croissant, a group of green-uniformed rubbish cleaner came in. Only in Paris you sit next to street cleaners for breakfast and man, i was so glad that they dont eat at Macdonald's across the road. Vive le petit dejeuner francais. It is so republican. Still, next time I should go to Dallouyou just down the road.....

明星的巴黎？

我一次在街上走，一個女生很矮很瘦胸很突襲，金髮簡單，飄揚，嘴唇很是剛做手術過的，走過旁邊，我看那麼面熟,是在法文課見過的同學嗎？她看我在看她，微笑一下，啊，是阿湯哥的不可能任務裏那個壞女間諜emmanuelle beart. 原來她住這付近，穿的很樸素，她一路走，沒人多看她一眼，要嘛是大都習慣ㄌ喔或是認不出來。我女兒前週末和人去一間中餐廳吃，鄰座是齊瓦哥醫生，阿拉伯的勞倫斯那個奧馬雪瑞夫 （沒聽過是嗎？恭喜你，還年輕，這種老牌名星不知道沒關係）。我女兒也說沒聽過說到年紀，我在place vendome 的hyatt中庭餐廳用餐，鄰座說是日本導演加最有名的女星和男主角，我怎麼都看也認不出來，好像從真田廣之候我對日本的印象就只有東京迪士尼了。一個美國媽媽朋友喜歡往第五區的盧森保花園轉，說看過一次Johnny Depp在那推嬰兒車（是推他自己孩子）。我以前住的房子對面的小餐廳只有十張桌子，牆壁上有一個亞蘭德倫的簽名，生意作了幾十年不衰。（再恭喜你，如果你也沒聽過亞蘭德倫。啊！年輕真好！）

我問住家付近的人看明星來來去去有什麼看法。

＂長比她們漂亮的滿街都是，我找其他平民百姓搭訕還比較有機會，不用太多去理她們。＂

＂我住了二十五年在這街上，從孩子初生到現在，妳說什麼明星我從沒打過照面，我忙的要死，上全天班，趁鐘點佣人下班前趕回家煮飯，給孩子作功課，那有時間去注意路人甲路人乙。＂ 她斜視看我好像我很閒似的，趕快轉話題，免得化傳到婆婆那兒。（婆婆住兩條街外）。

太酷，難過聽人說sex and the city那四尊在香榭大道拍照，連保安都不用找，像她們這樣的還真滿接都是。 （這裏我先生差一句，沒有三兩三別想上梁山之類的俏皮話，意就是沒好炫的就別隨便出去逛大街。）（真是一個對女人殘酷的城市啊！）

＂老實說，我這街上，百多年前，東邊是雨果出來喝咖啡，西邊是巴爾札客和貴婦坐馬車出遊，三不五十那avenue foch還有當代畫家像monet 之類的出沒...."
"So...?"
＂So和，當年我祖先在這兒看過得風光，簡直不是這先小牌明星可比的吧。還有近代的楚浮trufault ,goddard 等新浪導演就住在longchamp路那兒。唉，，，，，，＂

我不敢想像如果我在路上買菜，看到雨果迎面走來，會不會雞蛋，乳酪，蕃薯，麵包連孩子都掉到地上。衝過去抱住他，說我讀悲慘世界中，英，法文版各讀三十五遍，百讀不厭，昨天在新航看好萊塢歌劇版空服員還貼心拿了整盒面紙給我擦眼淚。可是，想像第一次看到會很激動，但如果每天帶孩子出門都看到他，而且我趕時間，孩子又吵，他老爺還排在我前面買poulet roti，我肯定沒一個禮拜就心寒，管他是誰，我自個過日子重要。

我公公說他以前沒事到ritz 喝一杯，看到海明威自個坐在那喝酒，沒人特別去注意他。

＂他喝他的，我們喝我們的不相關。＂

也是，我上個月在巴黎的shangri-la hotel 吃晚餐，IMF世界金融的主席christian lagarde 和她兒子也在那兒吃，從他們近來到出去，沒半個人看她-除了我以外：）

我女兒小讀一所十五區的私立學校雙語的。一次班上媽媽全體約在某人家聚會喝茶，我正和另一媽媽撈叨某老師功課給不夠多少（華人虎媽精神！），忽然一個遲來的被佣人帶進salon，全體都安靜下來，只有我繼續滔滔不絕，然後忽然發決這位剛進來的媽媽打扮穿著神態頭髮都和其他法國媽媽不一樣，啊！是不是老師來了？
＂，是charlotte gainsbourg !" 一個美國媽媽輕輕地在我耳邊說。
Charlotte 是法國的神話故事的公主。父親是serge gainsberg，母親是jane birkin。愛瑪士一款birkin bag 就是為她媽媽設計的。她自己也是歌手，作曲，演員。原來她孩子在我女兒班上，我都不知道。

我要是名星，應該也許會住巴黎這一區，因為沒人會理我。

Order Smartly, Eat Elegantly, Spend Wisely

We've all heard that the French women don't get fat. No, they don't. To prepare a meal, there is always a 5 kilometres of walking to do in order to gather all the right ingredients. There is considerable amount of preparation before the meal. we are not talking only the cooking, but the setting of the table ("jolie table"), arranging the flowers, and to dress up for this meal.

How about when eating out? Well, there were those who smoke to reduce appetite, but there are more of those who eat smartly when dining out.

"Plat du jour" - do not be shy to ask the waiter how it was cooked. A smart French woman will ask the question, with a gentle smile (not flirtatious, oh, no), whether the meat/fish was wrapped in flour before pan-fried, if it is not indicated clearly on the menu or on the blackboard meticulously hand-written by the head waiter at around 10H30 that morning. (Note that only one of the waiters have the honour of doing the writing, normally the head waiter or one who is designated by the head waiter). She would not be ashamed to ask if it is possible to have the "creme" on the side so she can have that extra 30 seconds to review her decision before taking a dollop of calories before it is too late. A friend had asked the waiter charmingly to have the steak saute lightly, and leave the mashed potatoes out. "When you don't see it, you are less likely to have the desire for it, non?" she winked at me in complicity. I automatically said to the waiter, "meme chose pour moi". No need to re-invest the wheels. These women don't get where they are without knowing what they are doing, so just watch and learn. soon you will be able to skip about on the cobblestones, wearing cute lether boots, black stockings, A-line dress (like Birken in "Slogan"), and feeling trim and lean without missing out on the diners, l'aperos and scrumptious sunday brunches.

And dont forget, except for the executives and those in the business, NOT EVERYONE eats EVERYDAY in fancy restaurants. A smart diner will plan the week well, knowing in advance how many time she is dining out, she will keep the home made meals simple and low in fat. Simple does not mean "boring". A salad wit pine nuts, leafy greens, light olive oil, some tin tuna (without the sauce), baguette, nuts, fruit and yoghurt with honey. Actually, they start learning how to cook in grade 2. Te first real homework my daughter came home with was a recipe for crepe. She was 8.

In terms of value cor money, there are places one can hang out in Paris for a very reasonble price. Crillon's Bar was once a great place for me to have a glass of good Bourgogne for €15, with finely roasted almonds, walnuts, cashew (never too salty like the packaged ones), most comfortable lounge, perfect deco and background music, with no one to disturb me while I read my newspaper on a quiet afternoon. Unfortunately, it is closed for five years.....

香水的法國

我很久沒聞到香水味了。 要有時間再機場免稅店晃，沒事拿一瓶聞看看才聞到香水的味道。

＂那妳不是住法國不然都和法國人在一起他門不都最會噴香水的嗎？＂

沒錯，但香水一沾到他們身上就和他的身上的味道融和了，我聞到的已不是單純的香水味到了。

我女兒才剛出生，婆婆送來的一盒寶寶用品，有梳子兩種，毛巾，圍在脖子吃飯的那種毛巾，奶瓶等等還有一瓶香水，是一整套的。

＂香水是擦哪兒？＂小寶貝最香不就是臭奶味嗎？

＂洗完藻給她噴一下，養成習慣＂ 洗完澡不就很香了嗎？寶寶用的清潔用品都有加香精的，不是嗎？

再問會糟白眼。

我自己有兩瓶香水是我先生送的，十年了還用不到一半。

每次去人家家裏，最可怕的是女主人的洗手間，香水平均有十瓶以上，最多看過二十五瓶，都不同牌子，都是名牌的。都是打開正在用的。最沒經濟能力的，房子只有四十平方米單身的也有五六瓶香水，從Dior, chanel 到kenzo,armani, hermes. 我大女兒十二歲生日，兩個同學送香水，mui'mui 的。 她說全班女生上完體育課都有噴香水的。

我認識一個調香水師。他是專業的"nez", 能分辯超過一百種香味，他很坦白說，他爸爸是很鄉下地方的麵包師父，從小教他手藝，訓練他辨別香味，他則發誓不要每天清晨四點起床作工，巧遇伯樂帶他入香水行業。

＂為什麼法國人一定都噴香水？＂

＂哈哈，如果我們沒噴妳就不會問這問題了！＂

上次在巴黎乾洗店，店主向我們推銷衣服的香水，不是除蟲那種，是香水，向衣櫃裏噴。

這其實也是很巴黎的現象，鄉下沒人這樣用香水的。

一次真的問個女生為什麼需要那麼多香水？
＂像皮包一樣，每次出門前又不確定要用那一個，最好多點備用，不是嗎？＂
對促進法國經濟倒視覺對有供獻，目前我知道這些香水都還是本國製造的。

Snow in Paris

Have you ever been to a reasonably fancy restaurnt, (by reasonably fancy, i mean simply paying more than €60 for three courses, entree, plat snd dessert at a brasserie type restaurant with the names of the dishes hand writtne in cursive on a black board)? If so, you might have had the usual choice of three scoops of home-made sorbet with a thin slice of almond-based wafer on the side (those born in taiwan and grew up in australia tend to use the wafer as spoon to deliver the sorbet into one's month, but dont try this technique unless you have similar pedigree...). Anyways, if you have had the good fortune of choosing chocolate (usually belgium), pistachio, and vanilla, at the end of the curse, you would have seen the three scoops of sorbet danced into one another, creating a melange of of brownish creamy canvas caressed by rays of green, some icicles dandily visible in this celebration of culinary joy.

That was the image that came into my mind when I saw my first pile of dog shit caught with melting snow on the sidewalk in the morning we arrived in Paris some weeks ago.

I was too out of touch with Paris that I first thought someone had dropped sorbet on the sidewalk at this wee hour of the day.....

Cold. Freezing. Indeed. The coldest february day in 50 years. What a good excuse to go shopping for warm clothes.

How could one possbily look elegant and casually chic in a minus five degree C where it is dark at 7am?

"You hole yur breah, now pull your zip", the boutique owner was coaching me how to put on a pair of pants that was obviously two size too small for me. "You want me to help you?"

I was holding my breath and gathering the fat around my thighs one centimetre at a time to pile them into the pants/jeans/torture machine made by very thick fabric with strong elastic named after an italian person.

"It is her size", She-Torturer, the boutique owner herself wrapped in one pair of same style, said to my husband with supreme authority, "madame is just not habitude to it".

The pants were a few centimetres from where they should be sitting "comfortably" to attract admirative looks from all males between 10 and 90 in public. But my thighs were too stubborn to give in.


I was so afraid that I could not take them off and would be forever stuck with this machine when i am sixty, which i thought must have been the case for the boutique owner at one stage.

Finally. To be polite. "They will be perfect for my daugher". Eventually took them off without fearing breaking the zipper as determined to purchase them.

"How old is yr daughter?" Everyone was relieved to see me out of the change room.

"7".

The cheaper and more human way to go about it is to wear thick stockings under any pants. Less humiliating.

And, not to forget the leather boots. The essence of Paris winter. They have to be solid enough to walk the pavement and elegant enough to walk the barraserie floor when travering from the curtained door to your table to allow the fellow diners to pay respect to your style.

Believe me, you will walk with dignity once you out them on. The solid leather ones (not cheap, almost unreasonably pricy given that they are survival kits for women in paris and should really be covered by social security) have thr same effect as "horse shoes". Whether they are comfortable is an individual question, but they will dame your feet in no time and you will prance/skip/stride/glide like a princess. Yes, it works on anyone and everyone. The basic instinct of availing yourself from falling/hazard prevention somehow keeps you walking in a straight line with an invisible pot of milk on top of yur head.

Little snow flakes were coming down. DO You feel perpetually hungry in Paris? (well, i do). Parisien hangouts like "Stella" was always full house. It is opposite the building where Victor Hugo used to live. To my utter amazement, the sculptured face on top of the metal gate was modeled after the GREAT writer! The postman could never get it wrong. Normally it was a Greek person's face with no or little relation to the actual residents of the dwelling.

"And That, was the best discovery so far in Paris", thought to myself, while enjoying the steak tartare and frites with gratitudes towards my good senses of not surrendering to the thigh-hugging/fat-sculpturing jeans, and waiting impatiently for my three-flavoured sorbet.

From Singapore to Bordeaux via Paris

I am writing about Bordeaux, our thee day get away in the revamped port of wine and refined old world charm. I put singapore in the title to drive more traffic......yes, sneaky, more and more viewers are coming into my site through their curiosity about the lion city.

We arrived in bordeaux by train from Paris. The first destination was a bistrot operated by a 2star michelin chef. (Naturally the chef also operates a restaurant located right above the bistrot, but we thought the bistrot was good enough for us....). The menu was a most pleasant surprise. Not that i remember what we had, as these chef pride themselves for outdoing each other everyday by combining/marrying the ingredients that seem incompatible with one another until you tasted it and go "wow! How is it possible? I would have never thought of using x and y together". Indeed, that was why i would have never been a michelin star chef. The name is "Gabriel". The damage was "€35". The pleasure was a full paragraph in my blog. Here's a photo and link for those who are keen to chase the stars. (Ok. I was fully aware what I was eating at the time, but my memory was rather blurred by the feasts we had during the three following days).

I hate to say it, but Hemingway was right. This movable feast called "Paris" had been following me everywhere- even to Bordeaux. I looked at everything through the Parisien microscopic lenses. Bordeaux was a distinguished lady without the Parisien chic and quirkiness. And that was exactly the problem. In Paris, I found it difficult to keep up with the Parisien way of life and once in Bordeaux, I became a Parisien myself. I overtook other pedestrians for no apparent reasons- we had no appointments, no particular sight to visit, no fixed destination.  I cloutched my bag when a passer-by smiled at me, when in fact he was simply excusing himself for invading my space or the slightest inconvenience that he thought he may have caused. I could not wait for my interlocutor to finish his sentence as i found them using one subjective too many. It will take one week to settle into the provincial mode for a born again Parisien like me. But then i didnt have the luxury of time.

The streets were charmingly clean. No shit. There was no shit. Cigarette butts, yes. Dog shit, no. Dog owners did picked up the shit and their dogs were twice the size of the big city ones. I mean, they were real dogs, not ones who wore coats, bonnets and gloves and had their manicure done. The city centre was full of students as Bordeaux is famous for its law schools and med schools. The quai alone the Garone river were done up nicely with trendy bars and restaurants. Bordeaux friends kept telling us how it was not like this before. I am sure. The fact that she sistered with Wuhan (an industril city in China famed for automobile manufacturing. The Detroit of Middle Kingdom) tells us what she was like before. Personally, I think Bordeaux deserves Hangzhou or at least Suzhou as sister city. Hope my Francophonic friends in China would agree with me for it has been a lifetime since i last visted Hangzhou.

Those with family and considered themselves Uppercrust lived in these really quaint town houses outside the city centre. There are usually four levels if you count the basement. There is usually a descent size garden, some even with a heated pool in it. These were dated back one to two hundred years older than the Haussmanian buildings in

Paris hence the antique parquet, columns, painted glass windows and huge chimneys. The Bordeaulais are an unique specie in France. They are envied by the other French for their access to world's best wines at very
affordable price. To me, an outsider with a pair of attentively observing eyes, they are no different from their compatriots in other parts of the country, meaning, they are just being themselves, like, being Bordeaulais. Be proud, and stand for what they believe in. And in the case of Bordaulais, it's the good wine, good food and the good life. The rest don't matter, not even the Parisiens. Like a woman who is confident enough about herself.

Drageur or Latin Lover? 拉丁情人或騷擾客

Inspired by a comment on a Taiwanese backpaker's blog, I am doing a more in depth analysis of "drageur". There is no direct translation in English or Chinese. "Drager" as a verb can be translated into "to flirt" or "to pick up". The closest you get to "drageur" is "someone who is flirting" or "someone who picks up a member of opposite sex", etc. Perhaps in either Anglophone or Chinese speaking world, there has not been a sufficiently large members of the public who have mastered such flirting skills to warrant a word specifically dedicated to "the one who flirts". Imagine one day there is a word for "iPad user who uses iPad so regularly and intensively" that a word like "iPader" is used to describe them. A "drageur" is pretty much "a person who has persistently, systematically flirted and has mastered such art formidably".

Here's a lit of the translation into different languages: (which I copy from on-line dictionary)


Arabic: مُغَازِلحركة خاطفةBrazilian Portuguese: paqueradorpaqueradoraChinese: 调情的人Croatian: zavodnik zavodnicaCzech: flirtující muž koketaDanish: flirtDutch: flirtEuropean Spanish: ligón ligonaFinnish: flirttailijaFrench: dragueur dragueuseGerman: flirtende PersonGreek: φλερτItalian: flirtJapanese: 浮気者Korean: 바람둥이Norwegian: flørtPolish: flirtPortuguese: flirtRomanian: nestatornic nestatornic, nestatornică, nestatornici, nestatorniceRussian: кокеткаSpanish: coqueto coquetaSwedish: flörtThai: คนเจ้าชู้Turkish: flörtUkrainian: фліртVietnamese: người hay tán tỉnh


It is quite an achievement how they manage to say the things they say to a total stranger without (a) blushing (b) burst into laughs (c) choke by their words (d) hanging their head down trying to hide the eventual burst of laughs and (e) all of the above.

Examples are:
(1) Hi, just want to say how you make my day.

(2) You are a phenomenon.

(3) Says nothing but hold a person's gaze without moving in a jam packed train compartment.

(4) Once I stopped to look at the movie posters outside a cinema at Champs Elysee, an innocent act as the movie was something quite alternative/intellectual (but with Brat Pitt quand meme...). A man in a suit came out of the cinema and asked me if I want to see that film. I thought that the cinema industry must be quite desperate as the next session did not start in 6 hours. "Yes, it looks interesting to me, but..." I thought he wanted to sell me tickets in advance. "Then see it with me". He said it in a way as if we had known each other for years that he had prepared a weekend dinner with my mom in her kitchen. I literally ran away.

(5) Some are so silly that you would think there is a hidden camera somewhere. e.g. a man jumped up from his seat at a road-side cafe and did a flamengo pose when I walked past with my bright red coat ("Red, color of my country Spain"). His face was so close to me I could smell the espresso. Did they really think that was going to work or that it was just to make fun of me.

My husband enjoyed stories of my adventures ("adventure" in the English sense, not the French "aventure" which means "love affairs", "unfortunately, I could never use these techniques I learned through you".

"However, do be careful". Advise strongly by our teacher at a language institute near my house where 99% students are gap-year students, mid-life crisisers, tourists and baby-sitters from South America or former Eastern Block. "Some American students were picked up on the main thoroughfares by these drageurs. They pretended to be having their coffee break from their office nearby. After a nice chat where the woman was flattered, the dashing, charming casanova would unfortunately have to return to his work, but "promise me that you will meet me at xxx restaurant tonight".

The wait kept the woman in suspense. It is what the French call "mijote". Roughly translated to "turning one's guts inside out with emotions, pain and passion". In culinary terms, it simply means "leave it on slow fire and turn the ingredients regularly to ensure that all flavors mixed well".

The dinner would be everything the woman had dreamed about Paris and Latin lover. It would end with the man having to return an important phone call and left her with the hefty bill.


Contrary to what most believe, most games of seductions happen in bookshops, libraries, hospitals, museums, government administration offices, rather than coffee shops.

"Maybe because we have more time than inside a coffee shop".

"Coffee shops are for tourists".

"There is a common ground if you are already have similar taste in books, art (or have similar medical conditions)".

"I vouch for the waiting area at municipal offices, the queue is so long you end up chatting with whoever is next to you and eventually go for a drink when you eventually get your paperwork done".

Now, some cross-cultural comparison:
In Singapore, apparently for a man to show his interest in a girl at a bar/lounge, the correct gesture is to send the object of desire the waiter.
"Hi, Miss, (usually Miss, not Ma'am) the gentleman over there (pointing at the gentleman politely with the thumb, not forefinger) would like to offer you a drink?"

(The man would, if he's courageous and quite used to this game, look at the girl, raise his glass or smile. If he is shy, he would not look at all at the girl but his friends would make sure that all the gesticulations are employed to ensure that his face is identified).

(The girl, according to those who confide me in, would decide upon her first impression of the man).

"I don't drink alcohol" - she likes him already. even wants to save him money.

"What can I order?" - a more daring, flirtatious one would ask the waiter. If the waiter didn't have a carte blanche, he would go back to the patron.

(Then it is a test to friendship if his friends are ready to chip in to help him get the girl).

"Miss, the gentleman says anything you like".

Now, if she doesn't like him at all. She would not order anything expensive. Nothing comes for free. Order a beer without looking twice. Game over.

There are those who would pretend to be super "innocent" and not look in the direction of the suitor. (But it doesn't mean that her girlfriends were not looking and use sign languages to rate the guy's looks).

If she is daring, flirtatious and indeed interested. "A bottle of whisky".

Upon that kind of order, the guy and his friends were granted the right to join the girl and her friends.

Ha, it's nice to be young, isn't it?

Balzac Museum

I've never asked anything from you. You are welcome to read my articles at any time, have a chuckle, shake your head if you don't agree, take notes if you learn something new, forward to a friend to say "hey, look what I found it's awesome". You never feel obliged to date a Russian girl, download and print out some coupon to redeem a sushi pack at your nearest 7-11 before next Thursday, take up a free trial of English/French/Chinese lessons, trade in Forex, apply for a loan and get instant approval, etc, I'm determined not to have ads, as I'm a most vulnerable consumer and am terrified at the prospects that I will be the one clicking on the blinking/shining icon and end up with a loan, a Forex in exotic currencies, outdated sushi coupons, and even dating a foreigner.......

But, exceptionally, under the most unusual circumstances, I am asking you for one favour. Please see the photo of "uncle" below.

Isn't he the, or at least one of the most influential writers in French history? Balzac's novels had been studied, read, played, researched for centuries now. Characters of his novels are becoming part of the French language: "belle amie" to describe a social climber, "Mr. Grandit" to describe a miser, etc. Balzac's Paris is still the Paris of today. He was a talented writer but a lousy manager of his own finance/love affairs. His life was filled with romantic liaisons, (failed) start-ups, writing, and running from the creditors. One of his residences, the one in Passy in the 16th arrondisement of Paris, has been made a museum to house a great collection of his work and to recount his colorful life. This house sat on a lop-sided block of land with an exit at the back leading to the Seine so that he could run off when the creditors were at the front door. (Imagine the fun in that: catching a boat across the River with his manuscript and continued writing at a friend's house somewhere! Pity that he was not so much an actor, otherwise he could have disguised himself quickly as his own mistress, servant or an angry neighbor to fool the creditors....)

Now the Paris municipal government is going to sell this museum (Maison de Balzachttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maison_de_Balzac) to raise fund for the city.

Now, whether you have read/heard of/cared about Balzac, do it as a favor, sign the petition via the site below. You will not get any junk mail from Balzac claiming that he's stuck in a hotel in London with his passport and all possession stolen and needs you to wire transfer him funds..... He'd been there and done that at his (glorious) time! (Amazing how some great artists manage to churn out fantastic works under extreme financial burden. If it is any incentive to write better/think faster/get wittier, I would click on that "trade forex" button NOW).

here's the petition to save this museum. http://www.mairie16.paris.fr/mairie16/jsp/site/Portal.jsp?page_id=378

Naturally, an even better idea is to visit this museum - if you can't think of other reason to go to Paris.

Speaking of museums in Paris, I must say that it is almost free considering the quality you are getting. For a price cheaper than a cup of coffee in a crowded terrace cafe where you are squeezed between two chain smokers, you get to be marinated in culture and history for hours. Many museum guides are now prepared to speak in English seeing the rising demands of non-Francophone visitors. Personally, I had followed a guide en clandisdine at Louvre who spoke in fluent Mandarin to a group of Chinese tourists. (She was AWESOME). Every museum offers workshop for adults, teenagers, children between 3-6 and children between 7-12 on topics relevant to the exhibition. Musee d'Art Modern houses the largest work of Matisse. I bet you will sit in awe like I did and, yes, just sit there thinking how it was possible to paint something this dimension. It's like making a macarron the size of a house.... if you know what I mean.

Musee Carnevalet specialises in history of Paris city and there are lots to discover (it is wise to have some foundations of French history). Musee des Art Decoratif is an annex of Louvre with a focus on fashion (clothes and accessories), design (interior). Yes, I know you also want to have your lunch and coffee in style, here's Musee Jacquement Andre (see photo below) where you can have your break. Musee d'Architecture and Patrimoine showcases the models of landmark French architectural works and the best view of the Tracadero from their coffee shop.

Yes, I am a nerd and I hang out in museums. What a coming-out.

誰是法國人？

如果depardieu 大鼻子電影名星從70年代成名至今已自動放棄法籍，變成蘇聯人，艷星bridget bardo 也嗆聲說要有樣學樣，不當法人要當蘇聯人，那我真不知道誰是法國人誰不是法國人，或者是，哪國人都不重要了。想像法國影展能不請大鼻佬到場嗎？難道所有關於他大爺的文宣要寫他是蘇聯影星既使他不會說蘇聯話。 暫不討論蘇聯這地方倒底是不是比法國好，可能我們都得思考國籍是不是一個人的身份，或只是一個像會員卡一樣的可以用來旅遊和註冊一個號碼，和各人文化，出生，語言，信仰，價值觀，生活態度，理念，已沒有多大觀係了。 (因為好像是我的case......)

一個希臘裔的法國女孩和我說她一個從文革前逃到法國的中國朋友經過四十年後迴到家鄉，進到蘇州城看到那河就癱在地上哭到沒力，和身旁的人重複說著她當初不該離開。我聽了有點不解，四十年住法國真的那麼差嗎？我這朋友呢說他父親在希臘戰亂時跟人跳上往美國的船，只想著離開沒想到目的地是什麼樣子，船在馬賽港加油時，他聽到人家說現在在馬賽想到家族有個朋友在馬賽，就跳下船，把美國丟在腦後，一輩子留在法國成家立業，沒再回去希臘。

＂那妳會想去看嗎？＂我問。

＂我是法國出生的法國人，會去觀光但不是＂回去＂＂她倒是保有先人的精神，在亞洲闖天下，到那都不怕。

很多人看到我長這樣 英文流暢但夾雜法語詞句 法語聽起來流暢但文法千瘡百孔可是手勢卻又大方正確 中文流利但用語過時和人對話不搭調 不論說什麼語言都是有口音 猜我是蘇格蘭的印尼華僑 或是南美洲的法國和越南混血 也有說我是瑞士和菲律賓混血的美國人 什麼希奇古怪的組合 都有 這些人想像力真豐富啊 然後我發現他們在猜我的身份的過程中透露了他們自己的身份和背景 他們猜我的身份的原因是為了和他們自己作一個聯結 畢竟和一個外星人共處一室很沒有安
全感吧 所以很想找些共同點來製造一個溝通的平台

(一次一個基金的坐談會 主席介紹每位在場的人的公司行號和名稱 坐在我旁邊的男生聽到我是一個法國的公司來著 就說他時常去巴黎呀 很喜歡我的法國口音 等等　其實我說英文是沒有法國口音 那天只是感冒鼻塞罷了 平常發不出的[n] 都出來了 我老實和他說如果你和一個法國男人同床十年後講話也會變成這樣的 (他後來都沒有和我說話了))

我前面說過在巴黎我有時會被誤認為女佣或難民　（所以出門就算是買個麵包也得穿戴整齊）　在雞尾酒會打扮一下是貴婦　(還好目前都還沒有人找我要添香檳或問洗手間在那 注意一定不要穿黑配白 在亞洲大中國區也不要穿長旗袍 不過現在年紀大了應該不會被當成是服務員吧?) 一說是澳大利亞人就會有人問我會不會衝浪 (我連在海裏游泳都不很安全) 說到法國就有前面那男生的壯況 說到台灣 要嘛問我"夜市人生" 的大結局 或是什麼時候和中國和解 (哈哈以前還會有人問何時反攻大陸 可見我在國外流浪多久了)

一次很奇怪的經驗 我當時環孕七的月了 熱的不得了 走不到下個計程車站　就在路上攔計程車 (ˊ這是不合法的) 沒發現前面一個西方人穿西裝打領帶的在我前面也是想路旁攔車 那司機停在我們旁邊 沒停他那兒 (我想全世界看到大肚子孕婦在路邊攔車應該都會停的吧 而且不是計程車站) 那為先生很生氣衝過來說這是新加坡 要讓先等的先上車) 我不想動了胎氣在Clark Quai 生把孩子生出來 趕快進車 我先生說你沒看到孕婦嗎？　這為先生一聽我先生的口音就很生氣說　＂Ｉ　see, you are French, that's why". 他是想用這種方式順便汙辱所有的法國人不排對不守規矩　我先生到是一點都不解　進了車還說＂你看剛剛那個一定是ˇ德國人　他們都很知道我們法國人的名聲是都和漂亮女生在一起的＂　

我個人經驗是加拿大人最沒有包袱 無論你說你是台北 火星 還是冰島來的 他們眼睛都不會眨一下 你說你是跨國公司老板或是剛從監獄逃出的　Jean Valjean 他也不會換語氣和你說話　法國人到是很少會問你是哪裏來的因為這不是很禮貌　但是會拐彎抹角的用不同的方式　從談話中自然會發現你是誰　華人最容易　一見面就交換名片　有生意做的就多聊幾句 沒有生意做就找下的目標 很現實但有效率 我以前也有名片的 也是很超有效率的那種 現在的真正身份是護士　太太　褓母　佣人　心理資訊顧問　孩子的社交秘書　司機　家庭課輔教師　家庭理財專家　廚子　和　志工　部落格主　這要寫在一張名片上寫不下的　但是和所有的媽媽都有共同點　從冰島到火星的媽媽應該都一樣吧　　（我真的認識一個冰島的人　是一個飛行員要準備考法國律師職照的）　老實說　所有的人都差不多　下次你試試看不要問人那裏來的　你會更了解他因為不會因為他的身份背景而對他有偏見　那要聊什麼最好? 聊吃的肯定受歡迎 從吃的方面去下手 應該會產生共鳴



＂最美的花是蘭花　最美的蘭花是沒有根的＂- Guava (Blogger, 1970 - ) 　　　　　　

無所不在的法國 人

有一個很爆笑的短片叫cliche 講外國人對法國的誤解 譬如說法國人都吃馬肉和蝸牛 法國人全都要嘛住巴黎要嘛住在尼斯一帶 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCIAyHEFTrQ 然後呢，住在巴黎的人全都打開窗戶就有面向鐵塔的景觀，等等，等等。

說到法人都住巴黎，決對錯誤。法國領土 五十五萬平方公理 是台灣二十倍大 臨國除了有名的西班牙，安道尔，摩纳哥，比利时，卢森堡，德国，瑞士，意大利 比利时之外 還有加拿大 澳大利亞 馬達加斯加島 為什麼? 因為她有11海外屬地 包括中南美洲加勒比海的瓜地洛普（Guadeloupe）、馬丁尼克（Martinique）、法屬圭亞那（la Guyane）、非洲印度洋的留尼旺島（La Réunion）、馬約特島（Mayotte）；還有太平洋的靠近夏威夷的法屬玻里尼西亞（包含大溪地）（Polynésie française）、瓦利斯群島和富圖納群島（Wallis et Fortuna）、聖皮埃與密克隆群島（Saint-Pierre et Miquelon）、聖巴瑟米（Saint-Barthélemy）、聖馬丁（Saint-Martin）及特別行政區新喀里多尼亞（Nouvelle Calédonie）。別忘了和澳大利亞近鄰法屬南極領地（French Southern and Antarctic Lands）。 這些島也是法國　都屬歐盟 和雨果左拉　蘇菲瑪索一樣都是法國人 法國人比華人還無所不在

這些島自然環境保護非常好　旅遊業不很發達　除法國人外很少外國人會去，他們說的法話你一定聽不懂，沒關係，你說的他們也聽不懂。那口音很重外，參雜一堆土話。而且他們對外來的觀光客沒啥興趣。

像這圖片裏 嘿　兩個人坐了船要去哪?　

有一年我們一家兩大兩小坐了六小時的飛機從巴到瓜地洛普（Guadeloupe）　然後換個小飛機　到Marie Galante 　在機場等了三十分鐘ㄎ　工作人員來對我們評頭論足　本來不知道為什麼我們比路其他早來的人先上飛機　後來才晃然大悟　是秤重的！　只能坐十個人但我們做了七個半　　因為另外兩個乘客是一對夫婦各150公斤　（我五十公斤　我先生六十多　我們小孩兩個加起來不到三十公斤）　加上機長也一般正常　就差不多了　　從飛機上看下　是電影上才有的美景　幾百公里無人的自然海岸　純白沙灘　　　海天一線　　椰子樹林間幾個矮屋　水泥建築物除了機場外沒有幾個　大多數是木屋　最高不會超過兩層樓　這地方好像被世人遺忘　記得八零年代那部電影　＂上帝也瘋狂嗎＂？　就是那種感覺　　下了飛機　機場有一輛車等我們　路上也沒半個人　我們的民宿是法國大陸的退休老夫婦來開的　非常的貴　因為當地消費和巴黎有的比　可是供應者有限　所以菜市場只開早上九點到十點　　一串香蕉　五個或七個一串都一樣五歐元　一個鳳梨也五歐元　你要講價她乾脆跟你算八元　要買不買隨你　圖片上那兩為先生是漁夫　船出海不用一公里就買載而歸　買載的定義因人而異　他們的定義是五至十條大小不拘　種類隨意　一上岸　大的賣十歐元小的賣五歐元　十分鐘內賣完　一天的工作就結束了　不用擔心捕太多魚　他們ˇ根本　懶得捕超過十條　反正明天再捕一定還有魚非常環保　超有經濟效益　是烏托邦似的天堂　我是全島身材最苗條的　但不是最好的　因為苗條對他們　來說是很醜陋的形象　看他們每個人都平均一兩百公斤　那女生又很喜歡穿很緊的褲子　像Operah Winfrey 最胖的時候再加兩倍是很標準的當地＂俏麗女孩＂的樣子　

餐廳呢　是椰子樹葉和芭焦葉加木板搭建的沒門沒窗的客棧　幾個長條桌子　　板凳　吃的很辣　是很小很小的紅辣椒　生吃很猛我辣到尖叫　跳來跳去　越喝水越辣　要吃白飯才可以　當地菜是非洲和法國的混合　香料和印度加理很相近　用內臟煮整鍋的辣湯像豬肚豬腸加些香菜配硬硬的飯　還有豬血腸還不錯吃　魚肉作成肉丸裹麵粉炸著吃　反正敢吃辣的你就加那壹點點就很有勁　當地人都喝ＲＵＭ　加檸檬汁和一點蜂蜜　一小杯就會醉　不知道當地人怎麼有辦法這樣喝　　　

喜歡大自然的　就是這裏了　我們是聖誕節和過年期間呆了近二十天　海邊幾乎是無人　風平浪靜 也沒有wifi 沒有人賣飲料 (有工作的早上十點半就結束了 其他人根本沒有心情工作 別忘了除了少數白人家族 是以前殖民地時期留下來至今都是經營超商和酒廠商糖廠 其他的當地人都是當初從非洲抓來作苦工的奴隸的後代，現在他們能不做工就不做，家裡後院養幾隻雞，豬，勤勞點的有幾隻牛，渴了椰子打一顆下來破開取汁，香蕉整串當飯吃，海裏的魚產豐富，難怪個個福態福態地）沙灘非常乾淨　海水清澈見底，不用浮淺，魚也不怕人在身邊和你游泳。有一次忽然來了十來個天體營的老先生老太太　（五十到七十歲都有）　看起來都是德國人或瑞典人　身材是不堪入目　皮膚是那種白皮硬曬到褐色 全是曬斑 皺到不行 離我們大約近一公里吧就獃著不走了　我看了覺得太驚奇了　我先生說別管人家也別去看他們　見怪不怪　說著呢　其中一個老頭走過來想下水　旁邊　一個ＢＯＢ MARLEY 樣的當地年輕男人，滿頭的DREADLOCKS 身高體狀 肌肉凸凹很有秩序 (他來天體還差不多.....) 走過去開罵了 把我們笑到不行 "這裏是法國領地 有法國的法律管制 你們快把褲子穿起來 這是違法的行為" (想像幾百年前白人殖民地主義者和宗教人士也是這麼"感化" 當地人的吧) 這群老不羞們見状況不對 此處不留人自有留人處 衣服穿上 打道回府 　

我們一次看到一家餐廳 在前不搭村後不扎店的地方，真的是 in the middle of nowhere. (Believe me, i have lived in Australia, I know what it means by that and this one beats all the "cul de sac") 就想給他光顧一下，能夠有這勇氣在椰子欉林中開出一片空地撘個蓬子真是難得，而且還是個老闆娘一個人。原來年輕時離開家鄉到巴黎闖天下，現在五十好幾，不能再混了，學了點廚藝，回老家過生活吧。但這沒啥生意怎過活呢？
我先生瞪我白眼，（我又太好奇了）。老闆娘笑開滿嘴黃牙，＂反正有政府津貼一個月也有千多歐元可領，作這生意是打發時間，結交朋友罷了。＂


我們回乘的小飛機延班，到弟二天才有飛，我們趕緊搭船到大島坐飛機回巴黎，到了機場，因為機場人員罷工，班機減至二分之一，亂成一團，大家叫苦連天，說下次不來了。旁邊一個當地的工作人員說，＂你們來渡假，不是很開心嗎？是因為你們想離開回本島，才這麼多麻煩，自尋苦惱，不是嗎？＂我們聽了他的邏輯，真不懂他是開玩笑還是有慧根。

Travel Tips

It is the holiday and festive seasons, everyone is flying to opposite end of the earth and getting busy giving each other tips on visiting country X, place Y and historic monument Z.

"Oh, after you come out from the temple turn to your right, the noddle shop at the corner  is a MUST!"

"The mixologist at @#!bar is gorgeous" (as to what to drink there, no idea.)

"You must do the spa in Zelmat in winter, the best part is the Krug"

A friend posted on his facebook photo of the Cantonese delicacies that he tried on his last trip to the Pearl of the East - 5 joints within three hours following a foody's guide. Man, did he eat his way between Honkong and Kowloong and back.

Or, the "donts":

"Avoid Nasadua altogether, the only place worth going now is Lombok"

 "Don't catch taxis at Hanoi airport, we got ripped off so bad next time we will get hotel car".

(Speaking of taxis, my husband and I were thrown off by three tuk-tuk in New Delhi because we refused to go to shops, well, we simply wanted to visit a palace and would like to pay for such a trip accordingly, but there was never a meeting of minds. After 30 minutes and three tuktuks later, we were only 50 metres from our hotel where we started).  

(Ok, you really want to know if we ended up in shops. The answer is "no". The third tuktuk driver "sold" us to one who was genuinely interested in driving us to this palace but did not know his way at all. The journey took one hour longer than expected).

My cousin told me that to cross the road in Beijing, you just cross, don't look at the cars, the more you look, the less chance you have of crossing. He didn't really telling me it in those words, he just crossed the road while continuing speaking with me, without even giving so much as a glance at the traffic.

As for Singapore, you don't cross the famous Orchard road. No, you don't. Not even a chicken would do it.

You are supposed to go underground and be completely lost in this maze of wonderland/enfer of shops where you can walk for literally 2 km or more without resurfacing and breath. It has been my one and only nightmare in Singapore. A week ago, the nightmare came true. I came out of the specialists' centre with my daughter after her dental treatment. When the lift door open, we found ourselves in a shopping mall with long stretches of outlets but no sign of exit. We went back "hiding" in the lift and tried the "lobby" button, but ended up in long corridors with a stretch of cosmetic surgery/botox treatment outlets. We saw one taxi sign and followed the directions...ended up walking across the sky bridge to the adjoining hotel which was designed by the same guys as the hospital across the street and the main purpose of which was for friends and families of patients on medical tourism to stay and shop.....eventually we found a taxi, freed at last to blog about it....

While I'm writing this, I'm texting a friend who is going to Tasmania for family vacation. (Tasmania is the island between Australia and New Zealand. The island where a Dutchman stumbled across and thought it was the Australian continent.) I was trying to explain how the crows there can be very dangerous - they would fly into your car if you have any kind of food in possession. Don't pat the kangaroos either as it might be a pregnant "she-garoo" and an aggressive male companion nearby may get upset.

I have given some tips about Paris in this blog - in Mandarin though - on how not to look at anyone in the eyes, not to speak to anyone in the Metro, look only on the ground you are walking on in case you step on dog poo and how to clean your shoe soles when it is stained, etc, etc.....these are not real advice, or tips, just passing random delirious dribbles ....

The only advice....

.....about traveling to Paris....

....is....

...."to fall in love".....

(Note: If you can't find anyone, there is always Paris itself to fall in love with).

我是人，在巴黎

從十月開始寫這部落格以來，都有人問我怎麼上google找＂台灣人在巴黎＂都會看到那個要在法國路上和一千個男人親吻的另一個部落格主。我反正笑笑，（註：不是真的笑，是打兩個分號一個括號那種笑）不是我吧，但最近我先生有空，竟然想看我的部落，進入google打taiwanese in paris,出現的全是另外這一位的新聞，他嚴重聲明最好改一下網路標題，我想也是對的吧，這年紀加上一路走來的經歷教育都很八股也蠻傳統的又三個孩子父母年紀都大了，我也絕對絕對想不到比這走在巴黎街頭和一千個男生親吻的更有新聞價值的主意---我連被一個陌生人搭訕都可以寫兩千字，想像我如果作出類似的舉動可以寫幾百萬頁了。

所以我改名了。我不能去掉巴黎只好去掉台灣。我試過了，只要有台灣一字，加上法國或巴黎，一定是親吻一千個陌生人的消息。反正我就是我，反正我現在人在新加坡，也不在巴黎，反正海明威說過巴黎是可以帶得走打包的一頓美食，不論你人在那兒，只要住過巴黎就永遠和她結緣了。我說不但結緣，爾且愛恨交織，糾纏不清，越陷越深都有可能。這方面的問題請參考＂茶花女＂一書。

而且還是一個問題 讓我思考我是誰。 不寫我是澳洲人，因為沒人會對澳洲人在巴黎有興趣，連澳洲人都不會看，我的意思不是說他們對法國沒興趣，是說只要和運動沒多大關係的澳洲人就沒什麼興趣，寫我是巴黎人，說巴黎人在巴黎那更沒人看，你巴黎人不在巴黎那你在那裡？

所以就簡單一點，我這個人，在巴黎，句點。