After a mild setback with the original color I’d chosen, which turned out to be several shades darker than its sample showed, I bought more expensive paint for my living room. It turned out perfectly! I’d wanted a cloud-like lavender for the main walls, which are coming along nicely. This is only half of the long wall; I still need to wash and paint the other half. It’s taken forever due to our weather this summer — we’ve had 80-90% humidity and temperatures hovering between 86-100°F (30-38°C), even at night. It’s only cooled off since last weekend, which is when I was finally able to get back to working on my place.

I also returned to something else I’d left many years ago — cheese! I’m one of the many people who have a lactose intolerance, but decided to try “cooked” cheeses, which are usually aged and so have much less lactose than soft cheeses. After starting on Comté, which I’ve always enjoyed, and Emmental, both made from organic raw (unpasteurized) milk last week, I was happy to notice that I actually felt better. Probably in large part because I was so happy to be eating cheese again; in any case, I didn’t notice any ill effects. This week I decided to try another of my favorites, tomme de Savoie. I went to a local market seller called Lou Froumaï, which is Niçois for “Cheese”, quite simply. Along with a tasty-looking tomme de Savoie, they also had an aged Comté with beautiful colors that I decided to try. Aged for 24 months rather than the usual 4-18, it has an exquisitely complex taste. A single, small bite is enough for several minutes of strong, fruity, tart joy. (If you like Comté, of course — one thing you quickly learn in France is that everyone has their particular preferences and dislikes with regard to cheese!) I’d bought an organic red Côtes du Rhône Villages to go with it, which was perfect… I may never be able to pass up the experience again.

If all that sounds expensive: the 24-month-old Comté was sold for 24 euros/kg, and I bought 200g, or about 5 euros’ worth, which is enough to last me a week. I only cut centimeter-thick slices — it’s such a deliciously complex cheese that a few bites are enough. The tomme de Savoie was 22 euros/kg, I bought 225g, again, about 5 euros’ worth. That also lasts me a week. The organic red Côtes du Rhône Villages cost 5.75€ for a bottle. Living in France is a real treat, literally and figuratively.

A few weeks ago I took my camera to Boulevard Garnier, an east-west street north of Nice’s city center. I walk it occasionally to go to the Libération open-air market, and had noticed some beautiful mosaics on apartment entries. The one shown above is a closeup of this mosaic, leading to beautiful wooden doors. It was done by the mosaic cutter and setter Zanussi, as well as this scrolling vine mosaic just down the street.

There’s a more modest art deco mosaic in my building’s entrance, and back on Boulevard Garnier, this “Provence” mosaic, done in a very different style:

The last few weeks, I’ve been busy scraping off the textured paint in my living room to make way for a new color (of regular, non-textured paint). Luckily the textured paint had been put over white paint, which I then had to wash. That last photo may look relatively white, but in reality, it’s quite yellowish — the cleaned walls look much better. This means I won’t have to use primer, which is nice.

About a year ago, Nice started a “city bike” program called Vélo Bleu. I took a 15-euro yearly subscription, which lets you borrow bikes as you want, with the first 30 minutes free on each bike. While it is very cheap, it’s not so practical when, in reality, I’ve only been able to find a bike to use about 10% of the time, plus they’re very heavy and only have 3 speeds. I enjoyed riding them anyway, which helped me realize that I’d be happy with a cheap bike of my own for riding around town. I wouldn’t have to lose any time looking for a Vélo Bleu, and would save the money spent all those times I ended up paying for a bus or tram ticket when a bike couldn’t be found. The downsides are the probability it could be stolen, and having to maintain it myself. But even needing to do maintenance has its upsides: you know what you’re getting into with your own bike.

I didn’t plan on shopping for one until my yearly subscription ran out. I visited one of my favorite secondhand shops today, as I often do because they’re so much fun to browse, then went upstairs to check their used bikes, just in case. I’d seen decent ones in their store over the years, but nothing that ever caught my eye… until today. A charming old Peugeot in orange, with bright green decals, touring handlebars, a chrome rack on the back, front and rear lights, and a mixte (unisex) frame. I could hardly believe my eyes, and figured something must be wrong with it. I spun the wheels to check for wobble: they turned straight and true. I looked at the rims: no divots, cracks, or any other problems. I checked the rear derailleur: a bit gunky, but in fine working condition, which surprised me for a bike its age. The teeth on the chain wheels looked good; the bike pedalled smoothly. I sat on it: surprisingly, the seat was already at the right height for me, and the frame a comfortable fit for head-up city riding, though I would need to turn up the handlebars to level. There was no rust around the bike’s various bolts, which meant adjustments would be feasible. “If the brakes still work, it’s mine,” I thought — not only did the caliper brakes still clamp onto the rims, the pads were in good enough shape that the bike braked without a problem. The only reservations I had were for the shifter and number of speeds: it’s an old lever shifter, and there’s no front derailleur, so the bike’s 5 rear chain wheels meant it only had 5 speeds. “It is just for riding around town, and 5 speeds are still better than 3, plus this is a lot lighter than the city bikes,” I pondered. Then I bought it. 50 euros, and all I need to replace are the tires and inner tubes.

According to its decal styles and serial number, which starts with Y904, it’s a 1979 touring model. Everything on it but the seat and tires is original. 1979 Peugeot Cyclotourisme set with all the photos I took today. As a kid my brother and I would ride steel-frame Takara road bikes, which also had lever shifters. We often had to finagle their caliper brakes and derailleurs, so having another bike with a lever shifter brings back fond childhood memories. I’ll have to re-learn how to ride with one hand while shifting, and memorize the sweet spots for each of the 5 speeds! It will also be fun to have a mechanically simple bike to work on again. I do love my mountain bike, but with disc brakes, and front and rear suspension, it’s not one I can repair entirely on my own.

What’s your reaction to this ad? It will depend on several factors: your sensitivity to animals, for instance, but also how much you know about other cultures, as well as a much less obvious factor. I’m willing to bet that many English speakers are thinking “chicken with its head cut off.” What does that saying conjure up? Someone running around frantically. But this chicken isn’t running around.

“Like a chicken with its head cut off” has no literal equivalent in French. An equivalent in panicky meaning would be “être aux cents coups”. This ad appeared in the major French newspaper Libération, and though the text is hard to make out, it has translations in French, namely “Partie terminée” for “Game Over”. So what is a chicken with its head cut off doing in a French ad, when there is no literal equivalent of the English saying?

For one, to French eyes, it’s clearly posed as one of the emblems of France: the Gallic rooster, scientific name Gallus gallus — indeed, it’s an emblem of France in part because of the Latin play on words for “Gallus”, which can mean “Gaul” or “rooster”. The French also like to joke, referring to national pride, that “the cock crows even when standing in its own merde.” The question then becomes, why is a beheaded rooster posed as a symbol of France on a Sony ad with the text “Game Over”?

Well, it appeared in Libération the day after France’s defeat against South Africa in the World Cup. In case anyone doubts the purposeful resemblance, here’s the logo of the French Football Federation (remember, “football” is the word used for “soccer” in Europe):

On this day in 1860, the French flag replaced the duchy of Savoy flag for the first time in Nice. Today that event was celebrated with parachutists and a performance by the Patrouille de France, one of the world’s oldest aerobatic demonstration teams, formed in 1931. I grew up watching air shows at our local airport, and once saw the Blue Angels perform, so I was very much looking forward to today’s festivities. My expectations were far exceeded — the Patrouille de France, led by Virginie Guyot, the first woman ever (in the world) to lead an aerobatic demonstration team, was breathtaking, especially over the background of a particularly beautiful Mediterranean.

Despite there being quite the crowd, I was able to find a spot near the beach and Place Albert 1er, which was where the performances were set to take place. First, a group of 35 parachutists dropped into a formation supposed to be “150″, though we spectators had a hard time making it out in the blazing sun. They landed not far from where I was. Then it was time for the Patrouille de France’s performance.

They took off from Nice’s airport, their smoke trails on, and impressed us all with their first crowd fly-by. I ended up taking loads of photos, which you can browse in this set. My favorite is above, and the following are pretty nice too:
o Smoke trails over the Baie des Anges, showing the beautiful blues the Mediterranean decided to wear today. She doesn’t often look like this!
o Landing approach simulation also shows the gorgeous blues in the sea, and one of the Patrouille de France’s Alpha Jets flying with its landing gear down.
o Concorde formation!
o Threading the needle, although the literal translation of the description given by the announcer would be “flying through the center of a triangle”.
o This formation was neat as well, since the planes were constantly changing position.
o A star for the final formation.

Today’s festivities began with the removal of the bell cast yesterday night. While we waited for Estrosi, mayor of Nice (and also minister of industry), the clamps were removed from the mold, and we watched flags being thrown over a background of drum and fife music. Once Estrosi arrived, the mold removal could begin. The manager of Paccard explained that to help the bell dislodge from its mold, the casing needed to be hammered. He presented the hammer to Estrosi for “a first few strikes,” but once Estrosi had started, he kept going, despite polite requests from Paccard workers to let them take over. After a few minutes of hammering, the bell was finially dislodged and it came out of its mold. It was covered in residue, which Paccard workers began to remove. Estrosi posed for another photo, then workers sandblasted and polished the bell.The finished bell will resemble its two sisters, also cast for the 150th anniversary of Nice joining France.

While the bell was being sandblasted and polished, a large group of chefs were cooking for all who dared approach. It was less chaotic than I had expected, but there was still plenty of jostling as people tried their best to get at the free food on offer. I managed to get three dishes: a socca salad, then “Niçois sushi”, and finally a mango sorbet with chopped strawberries and basil, with a strawberry coulis. One of the many other dishes prepared was stockfish, which, of course, originates from Norway. How did it become a specialty in Nice? Norwegian sailors would bring stockfish to Nice and exchange it for olive oil, quite simply! After most of the food had been given out, techno was put on the speakers and our chefs danced onstage.

Tomorrow, the bell that was finished today will be formally presented to the City of Nice and blessed by a church representative, since it’s for Notre Dame. (“Notre Dame” simply means “our lady”, so there are several churches and cathedrals named Notre Dame throughout France.)

To start the festivities surrounding the 150th anniversary of Nice joining France, Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” was performed, followed by a traditional church bell casting. The bell shall be for Nice’s Notre Dame church, and was cast by the Fonderie Paccard. Paccard is from Sévrier, on the Lac d’Annecy in Savoy, the duchy of which Nice had been a member. Their bells were, and still are, so well-known that before Savoy joined France, Paccard exported bells to France, as well as to many other countries, including the USA.

The oven was turned on at 5 this morning, with a 78% copper and 12% tin mix (to make bronze), with some phosphorous added while we watched the casting this evening at 10. The finished bell will weigh 225 kilos and ring a C#, or “do dièse” since they refer to musical notes using solfege in French, and have a fixed “do”. The head of Paccard mentioned that the largest bell they ever made weighed 33 metric tonnes, and can be found in an American church. After adding the phosphorous and waiting a few minutes, the caster took the temperature of the heated alloy: 1100 degrees Celsius (or about 2012 degrees Fahrenheit), “perfect for a bell this size,” said the manager. Then a sample was taken and cooled. The first one didn’t look, feel or sound right, giving a tinny, weak buzz when tapped, so a second sample was taken a few minutes later. We could all hear the difference when the manager tapped on it: this sample rang a clear note. Then the caster began to pour the molten alloy into the mold below, which only lasted a few seconds, but was quite the sight to behold! Once it was over, the manager invited us to return tomorrow for the bell’s removal and polishing tomorrow at noon. I’m looking forward to hearing what this bell sounds like.

300-odd years ago, Nice was not part of France, but part of the Duchy of Savoy, and later the Kingdom of Sardinia-Piedmont. Duchy of Savoy territories were the last to join France, their annexation in the 1860 Treaty of Turin ratified by a hotly-contested vote that is still the subject of debate today. Calls for secession from France continue, by authors such as Alain Roullier and groups like Liberà Nissa and the harder-right Nissa Rebela, which I photographed for a “politically incorrect” topic in a recent competition here. (The winner was a photograph of someone using a French flag as toilet paper, to put it politely. When that caused an uproar, the winner was stripped of their prize, which was then given to a photograph of a pregnant woman holding a burning cigarette in front of her stomach. All I can say is that if those were the types of photos they were looking for, I’m glad I didn’t win.)

Amidst this debate, celebrations for Nice’s 150th year as part of France are set for this weekend, beginning Friday evening with a traditional bell-casting for the Notre Dame church here. Festivities will end with a flyover by the Patrouille de France on Monday, the day the French flag was raised over the Palais des Ducs de Savoie, today known as the Palais de la Préfecture in Vieux Nice (Old Nice). I’m going to try to make it to all the events and hope to blog them every day from this Friday to next Monday.

A month ago was my birthday. Around the same time, random browsing on the Internet brought me to information about Molnija watches, and I was able to find a beautiful older one, cleaned and in good working order, at a reasonable price. I’ve always had an interest in Russia, first from literature (Pushkin, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky especially) and, soon after, thanks to a then-Soviet pen pal from Novosibirsk. We corresponded for several years, up until the 1990s, and I took a year of Russian at university. This pocket watch makes a nice memento and a lovely way to look at the time.

As Fate would have it, the watch has engraving that shows it was a birthday present for its original owner as well! I was born in the same month (April) and nearly the same year as “Sasha”, who was given the watch in 1977. Its embossed case design is the same as on the more modern Molnija Tune of the Orient, though the face and hands are quite different. The Roman numerals, delicate hands and violet-blue face on my watch are the main reason I chose it. I also love that it’s mechanical; needing to wind a watch every day has a symbolic quality.

As for a link with Nice, we have the largest Russian Orthodox cathedral outside of Russia. The église Russe, as it’s known here, is also a beautiful work of art.

Spring has finally begun here, with the arrival of cherry and wisteria blossoms. I took photos of the pink and purple flowers near my home just an hour ago.

In photo-related news, recently a picture I took of the reimbursement statements we get for health care here was linked in a Wired article, which was soon after taken up by The Guardian, in a writeup aptly titled “Stories of healthcare heartbreak hidden away on Flickr”. As a reminder, my photo was part of a post I wrote here on French health care basics.