Should America Institute a VAT? Not If You Like to Eat at Mc Donald's

Consider this a public service announcement. I will try to keep politics out of this diary, but this example is too rich not to discus.

Living in France is expensive. EVERYTHING is more expensive. In fact, here is the very short list of the only, random things I've found thus far to be less expensive here...orchids, eye brow waxing, and wine. That's it.

Now the last time I was in the USA a double cheeseburger from McDonald's was on the "Dollar Menu". Is it still there? I believe it is.

Because here they are billboards everywhere touting the "return" of the double cheeseburger...for 2.50 Euro.

Are you serious, 2.50 Euro??? At today's exchange rates the delicious double cheeseburger becomes $3.31!!! And that's just the burger, no fries or drink included.

Watch out America!!! I'm living in a country with "free" health care and a hefty twenty percent VAT (Value Added Tax) and more rules and regulations than you can imagine. All the talk of becoming more "European" (which somehow everyone equates to being more "cool") makes me want to gag.

Now, if you'll excuse me, this recovering fast food addict must go to the closest drive thru (twenty five minutes away) and spend way too much money to enjoy the simple pleasure of a greasy, salty American classic!

Enjoying All the Smells of Spring

We usually insist Lily walk to or from school one way each day. The school is one mile away, and most days we walk in the morning, because at the end of a seven hour school day the little girl is pretty much a zombie. But I told her this week we're going to walk in the morning and the afternoon because our little route through the "neighborhood" is in full spring bloom. And she and I cannot resist a good show of flowers.

The flowers are so gorgeous we've been taking our eyes off our feet and the sidewalk to look up and enjoy the show. But that's risky behavior in a country where dogs seem to be trained to poo in the middle of the sidewalks and the owners are too chic to pick up the messes. The good news...the wisteria smells so delicious and fills the air with so much natural perfume that it overwhelms the dog-poo-on-the-bottom-of-the-shoe-odor...almost.

Enjoy the pictures of spring and dog poo in the south of France.

I've been calling this street Wisteria Lane all week...interesting fact about the French: They are obsessed with the show "Desperate Housewives". Oh, the lovely American culture we export!

I Graduated, Sort Of

The eight weeks of language school we paid for have come to an end. And I'm very, very sad. Sad for two reasons. The first is pretty obvious...I'm nowhere close to being fluent or proficient in the language (although I am amazed at how much I've learned in eight weeks...I can *kinda* speak in the past, present, and future tenses). But the second reason I'm slightly depressed this week is because now I'm back to being a very lonely, isolated, stay-at-home Mom in a foreign country. And this realization of has hit me very hard.

The language school was fabulous. The half day schedule for me was ideal. It was like a part time job (except, of course, WE paid money for the time I spent there), in the fact that I could interact with other adults, spend time alone without the kids hanging on me, and engage my brain in a serious and stimulating way. And like a job, I was given positive feedback from other adults about how they appreciated my effort and attitude. All this is addictive for me: a stay-at-home-mom who struggles to be satisfied with my job at home...especially because most days I feel only like the eternal maid, cook and kid referee (ps--you don't have to speak French for that job description!).

I had these feelings in the US as well...and went back to work part time for a little bit after Lily was born. But, in the US, when I wasn't working, I had friends, and playgroups and Bible Studies, a gym, and house we owned with plenty of renovations to make. All these things kept me busy and socially connected to others. Here I don't have any of that. And I think the coming days will be lonely and long...now that I don't spend half the day at the school.

On happy note, during the last week I spent at school Phil and I decided to host a party. We invited the other students in my class over for a "American" dinner. They are all very transient...only staying in France for around eight weeks, but we were a close little group of people for the short time we spent learning together. All seven of them came for the party. We had two Swiss, two Brits, two Japanese, and one Canadian. I made meatloaf and mashed potatoes, green beans, and pumpkin pie. The food was hit, and everyone appreciated the time to relax in a home with a family. We spoke French all night (because the Japanese girls don't speak English), and I think I impressed Phil with all that I was able to communicate.

Here are some pictures from the night.

Misoo, the girl I will miss the most...

I'd like to go back to the school someday. The course is expensive so that's an issue, but more of an issue than the money, is the issue of childcare. I'm so, so, so thankful for my mother-in-law who spent three weeks with us, and then my parents who were here for their Spring Break, so I could attend the school, while they helped with the kids. If anyone wants to live in the beautiful south of France and watch my kids in the mornings, just let me know...I'm always looking for help with the kids...and I'll pay you extra if you'll be my friend. I really need a friend!

The Volkswagen or How I Learned to Stop Bike Riding and Learned to Love Rush Hour

Some may remember that I was riding my bike to and from work...uphill in the wind and rain...but luckily, that all changed in early March. In a move of desperation and exasperation we sent out an email to all the English-speaking people that we know in France and asked if anyone had or knew of a car for sale. Later that day, one of our friends told us that she knew of an elderly woman who wanted to sell her late husband's car. The price was right, and it was everything that we were looking for - that is, it had 4 wheels, an engine, and a backseat. So, the elderly lady had the safety inspection done (the Controle Technique - required by law), and we paid for the repairs to the headlights and the exhaust/emissions system. Thirteen hundred Euros later we were thrilled to be the owners of a 1992 Volkswagen Golf with 130,000 km.

Yes, it's been almost 2 months since we became a 2 car family, but since the car is almost 20 years old, we didn't want to jinx it by writing about it too early. Plus, today, I finally accomplished all the administrative hurdles to make it totally legal for us to drive it.

First hurdle - the Prefecture - equivalent of the DMV

I know in the US that the DMV is not anyone's favorite government agency, and it has been, along with the IRS and Post Office, listed as reasons not to have government-run healthcare. Well, let me tell you, that in a nation with government healthcare, the equivalent of the DMV is much worse than any experience that I had in Florida or Ohio.

For starters, the Prefecture is the main government building for the entire Departement, and as far as I know, it is the only place that a person can go within the Departement to register their car. Picture everyone in a large county having to go to only one office. Now, let's say that office is only open from 8:30-11:30 on weekdays minus Thursday (not sure what they do in the afternoons or on Thursday, but...) The result is that when the doors open a 8:00, it's a mad rush to get a number from the machine, and if you happen to show up past 8:45, don't even bother getting a number because your wait time will take you past 11:30.

I know this because I had the pleasure of going there twice. The first time, I waited for 1.5 hrs until I got to the window with the person in it who told me that I needed a copy of my lease to prove my address. The second time, I waited 2 hrs and wasn't ever asked for proof of anything. Both times, I was with Zachary, who thankfully was better behaved than some of the adults in the huge waiting room. (A side note about the waiting room... I was pleasantly surprised when I saw a sign for a kids' play area, and then pretty disappointed when it turned out that the play area had been replaced by more chairs for people waiting. It's a good thing that Zachary doesn't read yet.)

In the end, I turned in the paperwork that I needed, waited in another line to pay the fees and receive a temporary registration. The actual registration would arrive in 10 days. To top off that morning of fun, I got back to the car and found a parking ticket on the windshield. Turns out, I was parked in a self-pay parking lot and didn't know, and the man who was obviously LIVING in his van, parked in front of the Prefecture, didn't even warn me. In his defense, he was eating breakfast and taking out the trash.

Hurdle 2- Don't trust the fuel gauge

Not that this had anything to do with the French legal system, except that the fuel gauge reads just under 1/4 when it is empty, an unfortunate fact that I learned on the highway on the way to work one morning. But a tow truck came, not with gas, but happily towed me to a gas station and charged me 1.5 times the normal price because it was 7:55, and normal rates apply from 8am - 6pm.

Hurdle 3- Safety Re-Inspection

Since there were issues that needed to be resolved after the first safety/emissions inspection, we had 2 months to be re-inspected. I was a little worried about this, so I put it off for probably a little too long. I even bought some magic liquid in a can because it claimed to "enable the passing of the Controle Technique." But finally, this Tuesday afternoon I drove the Golf up to be re-inspected. The car passed the emissions inspection but the headlights were not correctly aligned. No big deal right? Unfortunately, this would have been enough to keep us off the road legally. So, I went back to the repair shop (25 minutes away), had them re-align the headlights, and then drove back to the inspection station to have them verify the work was done, and finally received the stamp on our registration, good for 2 years - hopefully, the car lasts that long.

Sarah looks at the car as a total gift from heaven...we desperately needed another car...we sent out an email and twenty four hours later we owned another car! I am a little more tentative...it HAS been a gift so far... I haven't taken my bike since (or worn my biking pants...in public), but whereas she thinks it practically fell from the sky, I am hoping that I won't want to push it off a cliff for at least a couple years. But for now, I'm enjoying warm, dry commutes and the 80's music on French radio.

School Lunches in France: Nursery-School Gourmets

School Lunches in France: Nursery-School Gourmets

This article from Time was sent to me by another American living here in France (click on the link above to read it). It perfectly describes our thoughts on the subject. Even though the author lives in Paris, it might as well be my next-door neighbor (and since we've never seen our next-door neighbors, who knows?)