Back in 1495 Henry the 8th of England used rolls of cotton cloth made in the city of Gênes, France (pronounced ”jeans” and “France” – ha) to decorate his castle. “Jeans” now became the common word for heavy cotton cloth. 100 years later, the cloth was used to make work clothes in the City of Nîmes, France. This gave rise to the term “de Nî mes” for these clothes and thus the word denim was born. In the 1850s Levi Strauss dyed these heavy cotton pants blue resulting in “denim blue-jeans.” I don’t know where the term Levis “501 Relaxed Fit” came from. I think it stands for American big butt, since they don’t sell “relaxed fit” jeans in France. People aren’t fat in here.

The TGV travels at 180 miles per hour. Click below to see how fast 180 mph is from the train.

This is a video of a TGV shooting through a station at 180 mph.

There is nothing better than a good ol’ wedgie. I thought that old trick I used to play on my brother was classic until I saw this lace wedgie in the train station in Aix en Provence. I’ll never think of pulling a wedgie on anyone again. This proves that any good youthful prank can be improved upon. Can you imagine this ad appearing in the United States?

How to Pull A Wedgie: Pull high and tight until buns separate – then run like hell.

Batman and his nemesis are alive and well in Gotham City – okay okay, the South of France. The usual characters in the rogues gallery – the Joker, Catwoman, the Penguin, Two-Face, the Riddler, the Mad Hatter, Scarecrow, and Clayface, have added a new pal who is masquerading as a pizza maker – The Dribbler. I can only imagine what his evil talent is. Come on Police Commissioner Gordon, shine the light tonight and call Batman out of his lair to protect us from this evil purveyor of pepperoni. Until then, I will eat no pizza with the name Dribbler on it.

The TGV (train à grande vitesse, French for “high-speed train”) is the most sophisticated way to travel around France and many places in Europe. The train travels on special tracks and has no crossing gates or intersections with cars or people. It is specially designed for the long-haul trip. Shorter trips use trains that have the usual road crossings etc.

There are no security lines or check points. I got dropped off and walked thirty steps to the train platform. No shoe removal and no probing by a “governmental official.” The ride at 180 miles per hour is smooth and quiet. The train stops at the station for less than 3 minutes – so boarding is quick. Once it takes off the countryside whirls past and a usual 8 hour car trip is reduced to 2 1/2.

The coolest thing about the TGV is it takes you from the center of one city to the center of another. For example try taking the TGV from Paris to London via the Chunnel under the English Channel. In less than 3 hours your train travels from the center of one culture to the center of another. No long rides in from the airport and no luggage problems (you haul your own on the train).

The greatest thrill is standing on the station platform and having and express TGV fly through the at 190 miles per hour just a few feet from you. The sound and the pressure wave are all worth it. Here are a few photos from the Gare de Lyon station in Paris.

The station is an open shed and the trains come right in.

Inside the terminal – Gare de Lyon, Paris.

You can walk up and touch the trains.

Ready to take off to another planet – it would seem.

I don’t know what these trees are, but I thought they were pretty cool. They are indigenous to the south of France. They trim them back during the winter so I expect them to be large and leafy during the spring.

Interesting trees.

I was in the mall and again noticed they allow dogs. A woman was walking through with this dog not on a leash. It slowly tagged along behind her as if it were a small child. It wasn’t interested in anything in particular except to be out with her master. When the women went into the large department store at the end of the mall she told the dog to lay down and wait for her. The dog looked around, laid down, and waited. People walked around the dog and basically didn’t pay any attention. Can you see trying to take a large beast like this into Macys? The police would be there in minutes.

“Should I buy the red or the blue dress? Good doggie, both.”

The French are very conformable with the human body. Naked men and women are often seen on television and especially in the movies. Billboards with bare-breasted women are not uncommon. But this situation caught my attention. I was recently in the mall and needed to relieve myself. Here are the men’s and women’s bathrooms. No one seems too concerned about closing the door.

Peek-a-boo. I see you.

For those of you who have never taken a French course in school (me included) I want to give you a little primer on the crazy counting system here in France.

The numbers 0 – 16 have a unique name (easy to memorize).

But when you get to 17 the trouble begins. You have to add two number names together to get the name. The name for 17 is dix-sept. It obtained by adding 10 + 7. “Dix” being the name for 10 and “sept” being a the name for seven.

The same applies for 18 which is “dix-huit” = 10 + 8.

The number 19 is “dix-neuf” = 10 + 9.

The number 20 has it’s own name “vingt.” The 20s are pretty simple. The name for 22 is “vingt-deux” = 20 + 2 and so on through 29 which is “vingt-neuf” = 20 + 9.

The name for the number 30 is “trente” and works the same way as the 20s. 33 is “trente-trois” = 30 + 3.

40s, 50s, and 60s all work the same way as the 20s. 40 is “quarante,” 50 is “cinquante,” and 60 is “soixante.” So 44 = “quarente-quatre” which is 40 + 4, 57 = “cinquante-sept” which is 50 + 7, and 69 = “soixante-neuf” which is 60 + 9. Now are you getting it?

But, 70 does not have it’s own name. It has to be calculated as 60 + 10 “soixante-dix.” To get the name for 71 it is “soixante-onze” which is 60 + 11. This goes all the same way through 76. 76 is “soixante-seize” which is 60 + 16.

Now, it gets even more tricky. You have to add three numbers together to obtain the name of 77. The name for 77 is “soixante-dix-sept” which is 60 + 10 + 7. This same naming order goes through 79. The name for 79 is “soixante-dix-neuf” which is 60 + 10 + 9. This only works for the 77 – 79.

The 80s are all new. You have to use multiplication to get the name of the number. 80 is “quatre-vingt” which is 4 x 20. With 81 you have to multiply and then add. 81 is “quatre-vingt-un” which is 4 x 20 + 1. Now let’s get to the 90s. The name for the number 92 is “quatre-vingt-douze” which is 4 x 20 + 12. Is your brain starting to explode by now?

Let’s get to the 100s. This is easy. The name for 100 is “cent.” The name for 102 is “cent-deux” which is 100 + 2. This method works for all of the 100s using any of the two-digit naming conditions previous illustrated. Thus, 157 is “cent-cinquante-sept” which is 100 + 50 + 7.

The name for the number 200 is “deux-cent” which is 2 x 100.

This works the same all of the way through 900 which is “neuf cent” Use any of the single numbers before the word "cent" to get the name.

With all of that in mind, the name for the number 888 is “huit cent quatre-vingt-huit” which is (8 x 100) + (4 x 20) + 8.

If your brain hasn’t had a seizure by now you should try being at the checkout counter and having the cashier rattle off these numbers mondo fasto. I just smile and give them large bills and hope the correct change comes back.

I was in the mall today and realized that dogs are allowed. All of these dogs are well mannered and walk quietly with their masters. One dog would pass another without even looking, or without the desire to sniff the other’s butt. Dogs are also allowed in restaurants. At lunch time, a women walked in with a large beast and it sat under her chair like a good doggie. No one seemed to know what would happen if one of the dogs decided to take a pee on the leg of a mannequin. I didn’t want to be around for that.

Doggies in the mall.

I also saw something that made me laugh out loud. One mall store had a display of clothes emblazoned with “Deep Sea Fishing Club of Hampton Beach, NH. I wonder how many people in France know where New Hampshire is let alone Hampton Beach. It’s no place they would ever want to go. I know, I have been there too many times when I lived in New Hampshire for seven years. I guess it sounded far away and exotic. In reality, it’s a toilet of a town that’s disgusting during the summer.

Deep Sea Fishing Club – Hampton Beach, NH.

Finally, it was a little disconcerting walking in one store and having to listen to Billy Joel sing “Uptown Girl.” But, it was better than all the loud techno house music played in the other shops. In these shops I kept thinking I was in a gay disco (like I’ve ever been in one) and was afraid to go back into the changing room to try on anything – ha ha. The mall is an American invention and I guess the music automatically comes along with it.

I needed to return a piece of electronic gear that I previously purchased with sign language (see earlier post). Courtney asked me if I wanted to go in alone and I said no. I wanted to make sure I got my money back and not get pushed around because of my weak language skills. Courtney warned me that everything in France is difficult and that we would probably have to make a scene to get my money back. She told me that this store (like a Circuit City) was the best for customer service (I will write on that another time) and that they give your money back.

We took in the item and went to the return desk and the clerk checked over the item and signed the receipt and then I attempted to give him my credit card for the return. He informed Courtney that we needed to go to the front desk and that I would get cash back.

We went to the front desk where the clerk told Courtney that I could only get a store credit. Courtney got right in her face and told her what the previous clerk had said, but the clerk said it was store policy. Courtney got louder and louder until the manager came over and told the clerk to just do it. I received the cash and we left the store.

On the way back to the car Courtney said “I told you I would have to make a scene.” For no reason in the world French people will push at you until you stand up and eye ball them and say NO! Then they back down and you get what you want.

Milk is sold here in a box and is called a brick. It doesn’t need refrigeration and can last unopened for six to nine months. In France milk drinking is primarily for children. Apparently the french dairy association is not as strong as the dairy association in the states and thus no subsidies are paid to advertise the milk mustache to French adults.

A brick of French milk.	That’s no French mustache.

Snow is not nice on the Mediterranean.

I have yet to see a huge American car here. First of all many of the streets are so narrow that an American car would not fit. I have seen many times cars head into each other at a narrow spot and one of them has to back up. I was told that there is a Hummer in Marseille. It is strictly a status symbol. After going through many of the streets in Marseille, I really don’t know where this person is going to drive that huge thing.

The real issue is the price of gas. Translated into gallons (since they are on the metric system and us liters) it is $4.55 per gallon. Diesel is $3.02 per gallon. It costs more than $90.00 to fill up a car with a 20 gallon tank. Think if you had a 40 gallon Ford Explorer that got 8 miles to the gallon and had to fill it every week. That’s more than $180.00 per week and that’s for the low test gas.

Most of the cars are very small 4-cylinder Diesel engines that get upwards of 30 – 40 miles per gallon. Most are very stylish and zip around quite well. Here is a look as some different styles.

Peugeot.

Peugeot.

Smart Car.

And yes, some of these are still on the road.

There are no credit cards in France. The concept of credit doesn’t exist here. Everything is paid with a check book or a debit card. Unlike other countries, the French apparently live within their means. It they ain’t got it, they can’t get it. The only caveat is if you make a larger purchase at a store, you can get a few months to pay it off from that store. To get this opportunity, you have to show three months pay stubs, verification of your address by showing bills, etc. and have a bank account they can debit. Instead of taking forever to pay something off, a larger purchase price is divided up into say, three months – three payments that are automatically debited from your bank account. The concept of credit in other countries, is apparently is based trust. You sign your name for a purchase and “promise” to pay for it sometime in the future. Many cultures in Europe are not based on trust. It appears credit is a Western concept based on “I want it NOW, and will eventually declare bankruptcy anyway.”

In France if you purchase a home over 400,000 Euros, you have to take a major physical and fill out piles of paper on your health, medications, drinking habits, etc. If you are over weight or too thin, they assume you are unhealthy and will probably die and not pay off your debt and thus your don’t qualify. This means that fat people can’t have an expensive house. How many Americans would be tossed out on the street if they got weighed to get a mortgage?

If only more people could heed this sign.

Here are a few photos of the sky in the South of France.

Crisp winter day.

Sunrise.

A little closer.

Here are some photos of where I am staying. It is freezing cold today after an amazing storm last night.

Along the street.

Towards the house over the empty pool.

From the balcony towards Marseille.

I will try almost any food at least once and tonight was one of those times. I was invited to come along to a birthday party for a child of one of Mohammed’s friends. Everyone there was either from Tunisia or Algeria. There were many family members of all ages. The old grandmothers were in traditional Muslim garb and everyone was extremely nice and invited me to experience their culture. I sat down and the first thing they did was put a plate of food in front of me. I was told it was a traditional meal after the celebration of Ramadan. During this time a lamb is slaughtered and the best meat cuts are used. Nothing is wasted of the lamb, so a few days later all of the remaining parts (and I mean all of the remaining parts) are ground up and mixed with couscous and spices and inserted into the stomach of the lamb and baked. It comes out about the size of a slow pitch softball. You cut it open and the couscous and other things fallout. The entire thing is eaten – stomach sack and all. I asked not to be told what was inside until I had finished my plate. It had a very unique taste and consistency. I would not order it at a restaurant, but would eat it again if it was offered. I think I will be celebrating the lamb many times while I am here.

As a teacher I have spent many years communicating new concepts and ideas to people. But nothing prepared me for the experience of being on another planet where the people look like me, but the sounds coming out of there mouths make no sense. I expected my education and years of communication skills would be an asset to getting my thoughts and ideas across – not so. The people on this planet move their mouths in a similar manner, but what comes out sounds like jabber. And when I move my mouth I apparently sound like jabber – and thus no one has a clue on the communication trail. Growing up as a self-centered egotistical American I expected the rest of the world to be able to communicate with me since I spoke the “master language” – English. Not so Obi won Kenobi.

I was in the French equivalent of a Circuit City store and had to resort to sign language to get what I wanted. The store clerk had to call the manager who spoke as much English as I spoke French. It was quite a site watching two grown men from different planets figure out which power source I needed for my new tricorder. Mon Capitan Picard would have been proud.

In France you have to know when particular stores are open. Most stores close everyday between 12:00 and 2:00 PM for lunch. Lunch is a critical event and nothing gets in the way of a French person’s lunch. On Wednesdays most of the stores are closed. On Sunday everything is closed, but if it’s open it will be closed on Monday. If it closes on Monday it will only be open in the morning on Tuesday. If it’s open on one particular day or that day, it may only be open on Saturdays in the morning. They have a legislated 35 hour work week so you have to know what day it is and if your particular store is open on which day and at what times. It sound crazy, but they have different priorities here.

I am getting around on public transportation – the bus. A couple of days ago I needed to go to the large shopping area and no one here had ever done it before on the bus. So I went to the bus stop anyway with my trusty mini-dictionary and the name of the mall. When the bus came I asked the driver in French if he was going to this particular mall. He said no and jabbered some fast French to me and we took off. At one of the stops he turned and jabbered more in fast French and pointed to the bus stop across the street and held up one finger and said in fast French, “Bus un.” This happened two more times with different drivers and bus stops. It took over an hour and three bus changes to eventually get there. Everyone was extremely helpful. As long as you tried to speak French and were pleasant, bus drivers, passengers, store clerks, managers, and restaurant people all went out of their way to help. One bus driver actually took my mini-dictionary from me and looked up the word I needed to understand him. This was more than I expected.

Well, I am here in the South of France (just north of Marseille) for a while staying with my niece Courtney and her husband Mohammed and their two little girls ages four and two. I had to get out of New Orleans. I just couldn’t take the filth, crime, incompetence, stupidity, and general moronic behavior of the general populace anymore. Yes, I am going to miss my friends, Mardi Gras, and all of the fun that New Orleans can offer, but the killings were getting too close to the house for my taste and I was going crazy.

This will be my web site where you can come to read what I am doing concerning my experiences in France and other places. Send me a note if you get a chance. It will be good to hear from a familiar voice.