Someone Else is Living Your Parisian Dream

Hmmm….It began with some cosmetic surgery. Then we decided to perform a minor, outpatient surgery on our back end. The current state, as you can see…A botched face job and major operation required.

I hate user error. Especially when I’m the user.

Be back.

At “The Real McCoy” American goods store this morning, I found the fresh cranberries that I was searching for, at €5 per 350g bag. I’ve never purchased cranberries before, and this seemed reasonable, since they’re not too easy to find in their pure form. Besides, I couldn’t grow them on my balcony in this weather. I sidestepped through the tiny store, taking mental notes, just in case I get the hankerin’ for American munchies. And behold…I found Jell-O at €3 per box. Though it’s a bit steep for gelatin, I was excited to know that a viable back up plan does indeed exist, for those times when my American suppliers are unavailable. As it turns out, my belle-soeur didn’t get to the Jell-O part of her run before coming to Paris, because she was bustling about with work hand offs and fulfilling my various requests of baby slings and multiple 16oz cans of See’s Candies. So these €3 boxes of jiggling and slurping fun? A Very valuable third trimester find. Jell-O access doesn’t have to be just a yearning or a distant memory anymore. The following in the list below were also found in the store, albeit fairly pricier than their much larger siblings in the states.

• Jalapenos: €7/jar. I’ve looked high and low for marinated jalapenos and this is the first place I’ve seen them in France.
• Oceanspray Cranberry Sauce: €4.50/can
• Marshmallows: Mini and large
  
• Jiffy Peanut Butter: ~ €6/small jar (half the size of a regular American sized plastic jar)
• Reeses Peanut Butter Cups: €2.50/3 regular sized, individual cups
• Hunt’s BBQ Sauce: ~ €7
• Microwave Popcorn: €5
• Pecan Pie: €30/Thanksgiving special…I needed a pie for a dinner tonight with three other 1/2 Americaine couples, but at €30, I had to pass and will cheat by buying a tarte.
• Graham Cracker Crust: ~ €7.50/small bag
• Pecans: €7.50/small bag
• Oreos: €6/small box, probably containing 16 cookies total. The same can be purchased at Monoprix for ~€3
• Pepperidge Farm Cookies:€6. Same at Monoprix for €3.50. These are The Husband’s favorite dessert.
• Lifesavers
• Brown Sugar
• Different Sodas
• Pink Fluff spread: Even I don’t know what this is, but it’s pink and fluffy and I wanted to try it even though I doubt I’d like it…
• Turkey, Unbaked. Seasonal: (Overheard) €9.XX/lbs. Someone asked the price of the last large turkey. It weighed 8.XXlbs, and total cost was €77.XX

….and other various food items.

The English speaking staff (1 young lady) seemed helpful, patiently answering questions and willing to call customers when items arrived.

Around the corner from The Real McCoy store, is also ‘The Real McCoy Cafe Americain’ where they make sandwiches and sell more of the same goods.

Another American imports store is, ‘The Thanksgiving Store’, but I’ve never been there.
——

The Real McCoy, 194 rue de Grenelle 75007 Tel. (0)1 45 56 98 82

My Husband and I often have a very short conversation that goes like this, when I see large blocks of words in French.

“I can’t read it. You look at it and tell me.”

“You can read it.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

And then he ignores me, I don’t get my synopsis, and my brain immediately moves on to admire the plants out on the balcony. Tough love? ADD?

The truth is, I’ve been able to read a little bit for quite a while, but my brain struggles to relieve itself of the duty. Each time I send threatening waves that hint at, “We’re about to try to read French….” it rolls over and instead, occupies itself with the all the fun apartment cleaning that could be achieved in half the time that it takes to read one page.

As I’ve mentioned in old posts, I’ve read/comprehended well enough to understand basics for quite some time, including movie subtitles, particularly when they are foreign movies. When the verbal language of the movie is not French, English or Chinese, but a language altogether different than that which I recognize, I almost understand the entire written dialogue. The reason for this is that if I understand/recognize the spoken language, my ears take over. Korean movies, or the many parts of Babel that were not in English but Japanese or Arabic for example, I follow by reading.

I finally ‘fessed up to myself this evening as I looked for pictures of the hotel at which my belle-doche and her sister will stay. I looked for pictures because, initially, it didn’t occur to me that I should try reading the text. I clicked on the “Amenities” link, and found no pictures. In looking for buzz words that I may recognize, I found myself reading and understanding the majority of it, with the exception of a few words, which is normal.

I’m one of the annoying people who end your sentence in my mind as you speak, and begin forming my response before you’ve finished speaking. Likewise, I read quickly in English. In learning a new language that I am unable to feel, I lose the ability to think ahead and all forms of communication slow to a molasses drip. My inability to read quickly and skim pages agitates my impatience and I become distracted. Therefore, to simply say, “I can’t read it” is my escape from the inevitable laboring and internal struggle between an adult and a small child who is just learning to read.

So now that I’ve acknowledged my real problem (laziness) publicly, I resolve to spend my third trimester by getting in the habit of reading, in French, more efficiently.

The moral of this story: Find someone who doesn’t ignore me when I want to be read to.

I’m excited to see my belle-doche soeur * here in Paris tomorrow, even if it’s just for a few days. This is the short time baker who lovingly, and with an artist’s eye, baked all the goods at my baby shower, then decided that she’s over it. Almost equal to seeing family/friend and having her take my tired and heavier body for walks in the Paris chill, I look forward to the goodies that she’ll bring, including:

Almond Royal and Toffettes. from See’s Candies. Yes. This is a scandal that I was reluctant to admit on the Internet, considering the great chocolate in France. However, I am neither sweet tooth or purist, so almost anything will do when I have that chocolate craving. On a stroll through Stonestown Galleria for maternity everythings during my recent return San Francisco, one of my best friends (who is also pregnant and due in 2 weeks) and I made a quick stop in See’s Candies just for one cup of toffee-ettes for me. We both exited with content smiles plastered across our faces, and small, white bags worth a fortune of our candy cluthched in our hands, and snarfed the goods as we browsed through The Children’s Place. There’s no better word for the consumption, and somewhere out there, a baby is wearing a onesie with a chocolate thumbprint smeared across his ass.

Cheetos. I have no excuse and there is no rhyme or reason except that, as a child, I was a fan of cheese flavored snacks long before I learned to like real cheese.

Jell-O. A few boxes. The Husband was converted by my 420 friendly, former upstairs neighbor in San Francisco who plies all and sundry with multiple shots of Jack Daniels (or your preferred alcohol of choice), and dinner or various snacks (for the 420 friendly, I guess). Amy recently brought back a couple of boxes at my request, and I finally brought myself to make one, considering that my new supplier would arrive with a stash tomorrow. From the mold that I just made, I spent some time teaching The Husband to suck the cherry Jell-O through his front teeth. The skill continues to elude him, as fork and knife are not involved, and he ended the lesson by opening his mouth wide and shoving in a spoonful. So adorable, but wrong. Wrong like eating a burger with a fork and knife and cutting into your one slice of tomato and lettuce as if they were a side salad. Jell-O was a favorite food of my childhood and brings back memories of a mini-me spending each day opening and closing the fridge for this wonderful 0-calorie, 0-fat, ALL SUGAR gelatin treat that was reserved all for me. The Husband isn’t aware that the handful of websites I found, regarding Jell-O, reference God and the US flag, indicating a culture akin to that which holds Spam “luncheon meat” with gourmet-regard (not that I haven’t eaten it more than a handful of times and liked it, by the way). I kept looking though, until I found art in Jell-O and all is right by me. Jell-O is edible art.

Strangely, the junk foods being smuggled in-country for me are not those which I normally crave. I can’t remember the last time I had cheetos, and it was easily a decade between the Jell-O of my childhood, and that of my neighbor. In many ways, these cravings are like an American connection. A bad inside joke, unknown to France and will be rejected for years as an oddity, because even I’m aware….really now…..Jell-O? Milk chocolate vs 70% cocao? They’re solid like Mac n’ Cheese, though and like Mac n’ Cheese, Cheetos are a bit phosphorous. All of these foods, however, they’re so uncool that one day in the world of global products, they’ll become very cool. Cool like McDo’s et an Coca’.

…..Nor am I much of a soda drinker, but since I’m confessing to those trashy once in a long while indulgences that even I’m not proud of…..I really want a root-beer. I mentioned this to The Husband once at the grocery stoe, and his face screwed itself up in horror that the woman who he kisses, she has wet her lips with a so nasty a thing. “ROOT-BEER? That’s DISGUSTING.” “Why do you say that?” I asked, though I’ve heard this many times, especially from a childhood friend whom I regularly tricked into eating root beer Bottlecaps by telling her that it was Cola flavored. The Husband replied, “Because it’s not natural!” With genuine amusement, I asked, “But Coke is?” recalling the many Coke bottles I’ve seen on the little tables of French cafes, alongside a pack of Marlboro’s. I laughed at the reasoning, that root beer is disgusting because it doesn’t taste natural…….

* Belle-doche = belle mere. I meant belle-soeur.