Today the Fnac, which is a French chain of stores that sell multimedia, books and music, held a “photo marathon” in Nice. I signed up a few weeks ago, thinking it would be nice to get some challenging ideas, plus registration was free. The day started at 9am, and we were given three themes on which to shoot photos, one every two hours. There were three hundred of us in all, and we had to turn in two photos per team (I was a one-person team, most were two-person) after the two hours. The prizes were some Canon cameras; I forget which since I didn’t participate with winning in mind (plus I’ve always preferred Nikon). All participants got a free cinema ticket, which is nice with movies so expensive to see nowadays. The themes were “le reflet dans tous ses états” (“reflection every which way”), “de haut en bas, de bas en haut” (“from top to bottom, from bottom to top,” which I translated to keep puns on “haut”, up, and “bas”, down, also being able to mean items of clothing), and “politiquement incorrect”. I was a little disappointed that they were so generic, since I’d been hoping for topics specific to Nice, but it was fun nonetheless.

The photo above is not one submitted to the contest, but is similar to one that I used for a theme. I took other non-theme-related photos as well, since it was a beautiful day today. At the Villa Arson, which is a museum on a hill in the north of Nice, there were two huge, ancient olive trees; I photographed one of them. Olive trees can live for more than a thousand years, and considering the size of that one’s trunk, it’s likely to be at least a few hundred years old. A bit younger and livelier, a friendly kitty let me photograph her/him after I introduced myself. After leaving the Villa Arson, I noticed two neat homes nearby.

Of his own accord, he also pointed out that the process had gone surprisingly fast. Indeed, I had applied around the start of November last year, and received notice of my interview at the end of January. The préfet’s representative explained that it was because the police investigation had gone quickly. “I can’t remember the last time I got a police report so soon after requesting one,” he laughed, then he asked me, “did the police ever contact you or visit you?” I answered “no, but I’m often in contact with them, ha! I have a dangerous neighbor, so I call them a lot.” Continuing with the joke, the man pulled out the police report and chuckled, “well, they say they have no idea who you are!” In French legalese, “ne pas être connu”, “to not be known” by the police means that you have no criminal record. The man interviewing me even added another layer of word play when he saw that I’d understood the joke, saying “et bien, on peut rajouter que le français ne vous est pas étranger !” In English, “well, I can add that French isn’t foreign to you!” It was nice to have met with someone easy-going.

That said, I’ve almost always dealt with easy-going public employees in France. At the tax office, train station (SNCF), post office (which is where I’ve met the grumpy ones), prefecture, city police, national police — they’ve nearly all been helpful and even funny. I’ll never forget the towering gendarme (national policeman) in my living room who, after he’d recognized my violent neighbor was indeed a danger to others, and after I’d showed photos of excrement she kept putting on my patio, said in his booming, authoritative voice, totally deadpan, “En effet. Mademoiselle, on peut dire que vous êtes dans la merde.” “Indeed. Miss, it could be said that you’re in a shitty situation.”

In addition to having a new home country, my home apartment became much more welcoming this weekend, with the addition of a sofa and two matching chairs, shown in this entry’s photo. On Saturday, I went to my favorite brocante, secondhand shop, to look for a small end table. In the window was a gorgeous forest green leather Chesterfield, but well out of my budget range. Further inside, I noticed a sofa and chairs set with oddly-styled arms; curved wood over an upholstered arm, but the wood “floated” over the upholstery. I love clean, curved lines on furniture. Furthermore, it looked like the pieces were narrow enough to fit through my living room door frame, which is just 75cm/30 inches wide. I checked their price, expecting something in the 300-500 euro range. 50 euros — fifty! “Oh dear, something must be terribly wrong with them,” I thought, and so I looked around the rest of the store. Finding no end tables I liked, I returned to the living room set. “At that price, I might as well try them out and check them over,” I told myself. They were in perfect condition, and incredibly comfortable, with firm springs. They were in such good condition, in fact, that I had no idea what period they could possibly be from, since they obviously weren’t contemporary, but not antique, either. I measured their depth: 70 centimeters (27″). Perfect. I bought them. Delivery cost as much as they did, and in another stroke of luck, I’d bought them ten minutes before the delivery van arrived for its afternoon round — they kindly delivered them the very same day!

Once home, I photographed the sofa and the two chairs, and submitted a question to one of my favorite sites, ApartmentTherapy. “What style are these chairs and sofa? Commenters all agreed: 1940s French Art Deco! My apartment building is Art Deco too, and was built in 1953. My living area truly is d’époque, period, and I didn’t even do it on purpose! I am very glad to finally have a couch after two years without, and the kitties are happy too.

Thursday morning, I woke up to 4°C (39°F) and rain. I decided to try for the bus, and put on my nice hiking boots, wool socks, a turtleneck, and a wool knit cap, as well as taking along a pair of gloves just in case. I figured that if the bus came, it meant the weather was fine at our offices in Sophia Antipolis, some 28 kilometers (17 miles) to the west of Nice. The bus did indeed come; when we arrived in Sophia an hour later, it was raining there too.

Until just before 11am, that is. Snow began to fall, but it was still above freezing, so it wasn’t really sticking. Then the temperature began to dip, and the snow started picking up. By 11:30, the snow had built up noticeably. Roads quickly became blocked. The buses were no longer running. Not long afterwards, our prefect formally forbade drivers from going on the roads, and the highways were closed. Weather reports said that the worst was still to come in the evening! At 4:30pm I took the photo above, as well as a few others (full photoset here), and then my reflex’s battery died.

With roads still closed, buses not running and the news continuing to report a larger storm front about to roll in, I realized I was probably going to spend the night at the office. When I joked about camping in front of my office radiator with another colleague, he mentioned that he lived 8 kilometers (about 5 miles) away and was going to walk home — he offered to let me eat and sleep at his place. His children were with their grandparents, so there would be a spot for me without a problem. I took him up on his offer. In addition to working together, we often cross each other’s paths on the trails at lunch time — he goes running, and I go mountain biking. So we both knew we’d be fine with the 8-kilometer hike through snow.

It turned out to be one of the most beautiful hikes in my life. We passed the Mougins golf course, Fontmerle lagoon, and Picasso’s former home. Just as we passed the sign pointing to Picasso’s home, the setting sun set afire the Estérel coastal range beneath the grey storm clouds. I took these photos with my mobile phone, since it was the only camera we had available. A few minutes later, we looked behind us and had our breath taken away again, this time by the all-encompassing ink blue that was enveloping the Pré-Alpes just to the north of us. To the south, the sunset skies had transformed into pinks, purples and blues.

The next morning, it was below freezing, so we set out to walk the 8 kilometers back. It was more dangerous than on Thursday, since melting snow had frozen. We both had to catch ourselves from slipping a few times, but thanks to our trusty hiking shoes, we made it to the offices safely. Along the way, I took more photos (reminder, full photoset) and shot two videos:
o Etang de Fontmerle in the snow and morning sun
o Trail after the Mougins golf course, about a kilometer from Sophia Antipolis

Luckily the weather warmed up on Friday and I was finally able to get home by bus. There’s no more snow in Nice, but it is still falling heavily in the back country! And today I made sure to get some nice chocolates for my kind colleague.

Today I gave Grey a shower! Being the sweet cat he is, he complained merely by wailing pitifully and trying to get away from the shower head, but he would still purr when I lathered him and petted him. He never tried to scratch me.

I’ve noticed a real difference in temperament in these two cats that I’ve raised on my own. With unbroken consistency — having a cat with someone who doesn’t understand the importance of consistency can ruin that — and only positive reinforcement (though I do occasionally yell when they do something dangerous), they’ve both become very happy, well-behaved and trusting cats. They’ve never reacted in fear to me. Kanoko has the bad habit of dashing around underfoot, but even when I accidentally step on or kick him (oh, the guilt when that happens!), he won’t claw at my legs like other cats have. He just flips his ears back and puts himself out of harm’s way. Minus a bit of fur that’s stuck under my feet sometimes…

Grey’s coat had never quite recovered from his month or so on the streets; it was stringy, greasy and dandruffy. Although he’s eaten excellent food (Acana and Orijen) ever since arriving, and has regular brushings, his fur didn’t show much improvement. Thus his shower today. Grey’s fur looked much better even when it was damp, as in this photo, and now that it’s dry, it’s definitely nicer!

When you learn French, you’re usually taught that “vous” is used to address groups, or, when applied to just one person, someone who’s older, an authority figure (for instance your manager, senator, president, etc.), or someone you don’t know well. And “tu” is used with a person you do know well: relative, friend, colleague, child, and so forth. When it comes to children under the age of 17, I’ve never heard anyone call them “vous”; it’s always “tu”.

Then there are the more subtle implications that come with these pronouns. In my own, now ten-year experience, I would characterize “vous” as the “respectful pronoun”, and “tu” as the “friendly pronoun”. While these meanings go along with the “formal” and “informal” descriptions, “respectful” and “friendly” are closer to the true sensation given when they’re used. That said, although an authority figure may call you “tu”, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re friends and can address them with “tu”! The general rule of thumb is to call an authority figure, such as your manager, “vous” until they say “on peut se tutoyer !” which means “let’s address each other with ‘tu’!” and is the polite way to, basically, let you know that you can use “tu” as well, since they’ve probably been using it all along.

This is where the complications come in. Rule number one: Use “vous” with clients. Even if/when they tell you that you can use “tu” with them. Even when they insist that, really, they feel uncomfortable with you saying “vous” while they’re calling you “tu”, and you get along with them famously. Always. Address. Clients. With “vous”. Except when you use “tu”. Now you’re saying, “what?? But you made it rule number one and said ‘always’!” Yes, but I live in France, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this country, it’s that when someone says “always” in France, it means “most of the time, except for the times when it’s okay, which you just sort of have to intuit, and if you’re mistaken, it’s your fault, but if you’re right, it makes things go much more smoothly.”

Example: When chatting about how things in general are going, if you know a client well and they’ve been using “tu” to address you (and, I would add, they’re not a Chief Head Director Manager), you can slip in a “tu” and see how they react. If they tense up, pretend that you didn’t really mean it by switching back to “vous” immediately, and don’t do “tu” again for a while, unless perhaps they invite you to. If, on the other hand, the person relaxes and talks to you more openly, congratulations! You can use “tu” safely whenever you’re not chatting about work. In any case, always use “vous” when discussing business matters. Why? “Vous” is a sign of respect, and also a sign of distance. In a professional context, it says, “you don’t need to take what I say personally, this is business.” “Tu” is always personal.

This can also protect you in professional life. Imagine, hypothetically speaking, that a client goes ballistic on you, using “tu” and calling you names that have nothing to do with your work, but are, instead, of a personal nature. If you respond angrily, but use “vous” and choose your comments with basic respect in mind, you’ll be fine. But if you use “tu”, even with essentially respectful responses? You can be written up or even fired with cause. Remember: “vous” is respectful, “tu” is personal. Practically anything (except clear insults) you say when using “vous” is tinged with respectful restraint. This is especially true in a professional context. (However, if you were to use “vous” with a friend, it would still be seen as distancing, and rude, since true friends always use “tu”.) On the other side of the coin, I’ve rarely seen anything good come out of fights that degrade into pointed “tu”s shot like arrows (the French have a peculiar way of pronouncing “tu” and “toi” when they’re really pissed off that makes it clear how little they think of the person they’re aiming it at). There are middle-of-the-road disagreements with “tu” just as there are in English, mainly between friends, but a civilized duel between people using “vous” will never attain the same unrestrained, in-the-dirt depth of brawls that only “tu” can reach.

In everyday life I’ve had to deal with a few difficult neighbors, and using “vous” with them has been instrumental: it can calm them down to simply point out, “moi, je vous vouvoie, alors vous voyez qu’il y a du respect, quand même !” which means “I’m calling you ‘vous’, so you can tell there’s respect, okay!” This almost always worked on a loud upstairs neighbor I had in my previous apartment. He would get drunk, turn on football (soccer) matches at two in the morning, throw around furniture, and inevitably I’d open my window and say, “baissez le son, s’il vous plaît !” (“Turn it down, please!” using “vous”.) He’d usually reply, “comment tu me parles, toi !!!” (Literally, “how are you talking to me!!!” but it has rather aggressive undertones in French; it’s more like asking “just who do you think you’re talking to!!!”) To which I’d respond with the “I’m calling you ‘vous’.” He’d calm down and say, “oh. Excusez-moi, madame,” which is the “vous” form, see!

As regards “vous” among relatives, it’s rare to see people still address family members with “vous”, but I have experienced it. My ex-grandfather-in-law was an exceptionally neat person, who, among other things, had been clarinettist in the Lyon National Orchestra and had fought in WWII as part of the French Resistance. (He would get terribly sad when telling stories about it, never proud; he’d always seen it as his moral duty to be a résistant.) When I first met him, I called him “vous”, as is the norm. Although he later said I could call him “tu”, I never could bring myself to do it; I felt too much respect for him. He had earned his “vous”. There are some families where grandchildren will vouvoyer (use vous with) their grandparents, so it wasn’t entirely unusual, but that is changing.

That is, until my foot slid on the sidewalk and I thought to myself, “these soles are really wearing out,” put down my second boot, thinking it would stabilize me, then, as both slipped out from under me, I promptly found myself seated on my now-freezing rear end. “What??” I put my hand on the sidewalk. What should have been gummy, rough asphalt was instead icy smooth. I ran my hand over it inquisitively, and finally the memory returned: “oh, ice! What?! Here?!”

I picked myself up and paid more attention while I finished walking from the bus station to our offices. Fifteen minutes after settling in at my desk, my lower back began to ache. I soon realized I wouldn’t make it through the day without painkillers, and so called up a doctor. I was able to get an appointment an hour later. By then I was nearly unable to walk from the pain, much less stay seated for very long. The doctor prescribed x-rays of my lower back, an anti-inflammatory (ketoprofen) and painkiller (paracetamol), and sent me home for two days of rest. Since the accident had been on my way to work, our office assistant filled out an accident de travail form, which is the first time I’d ever seen one. It’s roughly equivalent to workers’ compensation in the US.

It turns out that having an accident de travail makes everything even simpler than health care already is in France. I don’t have to pay for anything that is prescribed as a result of my accident. Not even the usually-mandatory base fees that, otherwise, would later be reimbursed. As a result, the five x-rays of my back (only two are shown there) were free, and my regular physician prescribed 15 physical therapy sessions, which are also entirely free. My spine, sacrum and coccyx are fine; the doctor who did my x-rays even pointed out that I have “particularly well-spaced vertebrae”. Way to go, vertebrae. The muscles, however, are a different story; it’s only today that I’ve been able to go without using much pain medication.

I was able to find a great physical therapist with offices five minutes from where I work. Few things are better than a deep, full-back massage right after a long day.

He said there’d been a problem at the airport. “Radio, boom!” he said. “Ah,” I nodded, puzzled. “I have been in Nice for three days. I am a fashion director for Armani in Milano,” he said with some confidence. I looked at him: hair shaved at the same length all over, no-name watch, nondescript beige V-neck sweater over a nondescript white dress shirt, black canvas man-purse. Hmmm. He continued, “I have been staying at the Negresco, giving a fashion exhibition. And after the exhibition, you know, we give away the clothes! Because we can’t keep them! And now I have to go back to Rome. Would you like free clothes?” Hm. Milano, he claims, but then he says “go back” to Rome? Milan and Rome are not exactly close to each other. In Nice he’d been at the Negresco? That’s only a couple kilometers from the airport, what was he doing on the opposite side of Nice, and what on earth had been the original story about the railway station? Plus, an international fashion director who doesn’t speak French, only English and Italian? Yeah right. I smelled a rat. Ever the curious cat, I pretended to be interested, just to see where his scam went. There was no one else on the street, it was my own street, the shop behind me is owned by someone who knows me, and I was safely ensconced between two parked cars on his passenger side; even at the worst, he couldn’t open the door and nab me.

He once again brought up my nationality. “You’re really American! Wow!” Idiot, I thought, you take me for a tourist who won’t see through your bullshit story and who wouldn’t know who to contact before it’s too late. “Would you like a leather jacket?” Oh, sure, I pretended. He flashed his plasticised “business card”, his thumb placed directly over the company name, then showed me photos of models wearing crappy box-cut leather jackets. “I give you this one, all right? But, I explain you my problem!” Ah, we finally get to the point, I thought. He continued: “So, haha, you know what it is like, you go to the casino, you gamble, and, eh, you lose. Five thousand euros I lost yesterday! Ah!” Uh-huh, sure. He went on, “and so, my problem is I have no gas to get to the airport and no money to pay for it. I’m very happy to give you a leather jacket!” as he set a cheap, no-name plastic bag on the passenger seat, then added, “I just need some money for gas.” “There’s a gas station a kilometer down the street,” I said matter-of-factly. “Yes, but, I have no money to pay for it! Haha! I lose everything yesterday! Five thousand euros, can you imagine!” “Yeah, that was irresponsible of you, wasn’t it,” I backed off. “You have no money you can give me? But I give you free leather jacket! Not even a few euro to get to airport?” he insisted. “No! Ciao ciao!” I walked off.

I called the city police as soon as I was home, two minutes later. However, the city police told me that they don’t handle scams like this; the national police (gendarmes) do, so I phoned them. The officer asked me to describe the scam, and if I had the guy’s license plate. Unfortunately I hadn’t thought to memorize it, but I did know which rental company his car was from, and what kind of car he was driving. Normally it’s the license plate that matters, but when I told the gendarme that the guy was still driving around my part of the city, the gendarme took what I had for a description and thanked me.

If you are approached by someone telling a story like this, do not give them any money. Even if it were true, someone who works for a company and who’s on a business trip, would be able to contact their management and get emergency funds. (Or, y’know, he could have sold his leather jackets, if it were true he didn’t need them and so urgently needed cash.) Besides that, if someone is so foolish and irresponsible as to blow everything they have at a casino, including their gas money, well, quite frankly, they can walk to the airport, for all I care. Take down their license plate number, but don’t make a scene of it, and phone the French national police once you’re somewhere secure. Scams and rackets here can and do get violent, there’s no point risking your personal safety. That’s precisely why I checked that the guy didn’t have associates somewhere, that there was at least one witness who knew me, and, obviously, I was on my own street. Anywhere else, I would have just walked away.

2. Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don’t make resolutions.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yes, several colleagues had babies! They’re all adorable and healthy.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Last year was one of the first years I can remember in which no one close to me passed away.

5. What countries did you visit?
Italy and Switzerland

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
Better physical shape: I didn’t bike as much as I wanted to, and am starting a simple upper-body strength program (push ups and sit ups).

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
It was an eventful year, I could name many things; but seeing kabuki performed by highly talented actors and musicians was incredible.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Restoring the beautiful original “tomettes” floor in my apartment, on my own.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Not managing to get my bathroom water damage repaired

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I came down with swine flu, which was the worst illness I’ve had since my childhood

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Paint for my walls

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
My brother’s. He’s awesome.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
I plead the Fifth

14. Where did most of your money go?
Mortgage and food

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Coming home every evening to my dear, sweet kitties and a comfy bed. Simple pleasures are often the best.

16. What song will always remind you of 2009?
None in particular

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? Happier
b) thinner or fatter? Same, but in a bit worse shape
c) richer or poorer? Less in debt, so “richer” :)

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Seeing friends, sewing, writing, biking

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Reading websites (even if they are informative)

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
Spent it at home with Kanoko, Grey, and a delicious home-cooked meal

21. Did you fall in love in 2009?
No, but friendships deepened, which was great

22. How many one-night stands?
My reading lamp is on the same one nightstand I’ve had for a while now. (Yeah, I’ve never had a one-night stand and never will.)

23. What was your favorite TV program?
Mad Men

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
I don’t do hate. Such a pointless waste of energy.

25. What was the best book you read?
Ise Monogatari

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Old university friends sharing videos from when we were in marching band 14-16 years ago. (For instance, Oregon Marching Band at the 1995 Rose Bowl!)

27. What did you want and get?
Adopted a second cat, earned a raise, and got a small oven

28. What did you want and not get?
I’d have liked to find someone neat with whom to start a relationship.

29. What was your favorite film of this year?
Up

30. What did you do on your birthday?
I forget

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Can’t really say

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
Chic French hippy business

33. What kept you sane?
Getting home every evening and opening my front door to the sight of my two cats, purring and excited to see me

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Eh. I’ve never really fancied famous people, because I know that I don’t know who they really are.

35. What political issue stirred you the most?
Health care for the US, the ridiculous “identité nationale” so-called “debate” in France

36. Who did you miss?
My brother and my cousins!

37. Who was the best new person you met?
I didn’t get to know any new people very well

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009:
One I’ve long known, that keeps getting confirmed as life goes on: sincerity and integrity, along with compassion, earn respect, and even when overlooked, give you an inner strength that keeps you going during the worst of times.

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
Encore un matin, ami, ennemi (Another morning, friend, enemy)
Entre la raison et l’envie (Between reason and desire)
Matin pour agir ou attendre la chance (Morning to act or to wait for luck)
Ou bousculer les évidences (Or to shake up things taken for granted)
Matin innocence, matin intelligence (Morning innocence, morning intelligence)
C’est toi qui décide du sens (You’re the one who chooses the meaning)
- Jean-Jacques Goldman, Encore un matin

Also tempting were the rows and rows of bottles of champagne. This year, however, I’m eschewing my usual bottle of holiday champagne for other wines: Sauternes to go with foie gras (and because I love Sauternes), Blanquette de Limoux brute, Crémant de Loire rosé (pink), and a Côtes du Rhône red. I’ve already had the blanquette, which was delicious. I found it to be smoother and with a better body than champagnes, which are more ethereal.

Living in France, it’s hard to avoid getting to know wines. Over the years I’ve discovered that I like fuller-bodied, earthier wines, which is interesting since my home state of Oregon produces one of the best examples of that taste: Willamette Valley wineries make gorgeous pinot noirs! As for French wines, my favorites are from Burgundy, Rhône, and Patrimonio (in Corsica). While there are Bordeaux wines that I enjoy, generally I like them less; there are several Bordeaux I dislike that other people find very good. As a result, when TV shows or movies have a scene where someone orders a Bordeaux to admiring oohs and aahs, I’m left cold! (Give me a Châteauneuf-du-Pape any day. Or an Eyrie Vineyards or Domaine Drouhin Oregon pinot noir. Help, I’ve become a wine nerd.)

Family chipped in to help me purchase a laptop so that I could get back to earning money. I found the cheap furnished hotel that offered long-term stays (these types of hotels are called meublés here). And three months after that snow, I got an email from two men — fellow freelance translators — who would soon become my landlords, mentioning they were readers of my blog and they had an apartment free to rent. In a joyous coincidence, Malo was returned to me at the same time, since his recipient had had enough of his fur. Six months after that, I was offered a job. With an income that bankers could verify as regular on paper, I was finally able to purchase an apartment a year and a half ago. Slowly but surely, I built a new life.

I was surprised by the strong memories that seeing snow outside my patio evoked. Five years ago, seeing the snow at such a dark time in my life felt cold and hopeless. Seeing the snow today cued those feelings, even while I felt happy to see plants and my patio roof covered in white. I realized how far I’ve come; the cold weather is merely cold weather now. My life is filled with wonderful colleagues, dear friends, fluffy kitties who are always waiting impatiently for me at the door, and of course a home of my own. I hadn’t thought of those difficult times in a while, my life being filled with, well, life now!