This whole Paris deal is Bill's fault. He was offered a new position within his company and forever the risk taker, he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. I mean living in Paris for three years sounds so intriguing. As I have said before living in a foreign city and being a tourist in a foreign city are very different things. To matriculate into the environs, Bill bought snazzy new European styled glasses, outfitted himself with European cut shirts and suits and adopted the European trend of wearing sober colors...lots of black, brown and grey. He sports a lovely full length black wool overcoat, a grey, black and red scarf, worn in the Euro-style and un chapeau... a little black driving cap. He wanted a beret, but I talked him out of it! He really looks the Parisian, so much so that almost daily, he gets stopped and asked for directions...I do too, but the difference being, that in most cases I understand and can offer a simple response to the query. Bill starts talking and the poor folks move on to find real help.
When we left Boston, our friends and Bill's colleagues were worried about Bill. What was he going to do without American Sports? Really, for Bill there are four seasons, baseball, football, basketball and hockey...with a healthy side of golf to round things out. In short order, upon arriving to Paris, we found a Canadian Pub called The Moose that has direct satellite feeds from ESPN, NBC Sports and Canadian broadcasting. We were in France for less than a day when we were watching the Bruins in the Frozen Classic at Fenway. And we only missed one Sunday of football before subscribing to NFL Gametime via the internet. Bill will be fine sports fans.
My husband truly is the world's biggest risk taker. He'll hop on a para-sail, jet ski into shark infested waters, walk a little to close to the edge of the quai along the Seinne and cross against the red light...ugh. I, on the other hand, am a nervous Nellie and an obsessive planner. I would rather walk five miles than try to understand the bus or metro system (that can get old fast though). I have notes to write notes. I know well in advance what I am going to say to the nice shop keeper when I walk to the market. Heck, I have already planned the route to and from the market before I even leave the flat. I am a bit of a perfectionist too. I hate to make mistakes, especially ones that I think might make people think less of me. A little conceited, I know, but it is who I am. Bill, on the other hand, walks in to an intersting store we've never been in before and points and blurts out what he thinks is the right word and still manages to get what he wants...of course he turns to me all the time and says, "Huh? What did he say?" "Do you want a receipt or a bag or anything else?"...is often my reply.
I have learned that if nothing else, s'il vous plait and merci are essential in communicating with our French voisins. Bill, here and often at home, forgets to use the magic words. I am forever, interjecting...please or thank you for him, and he looks at me like I am a pushover or something. Perhaps I will adopt the practice of saying, "What's the magic word?", just like I did when teaching our daughters manners when they were little. Manners will help you go far here.
My husband is a gentleman. He just gets enthusiatic and the enthusiasm shadows the refinements one expects. I guess that's my job; keep the polish on his shining armour. The bright side is, Bill is always pleasant and jovial when dealing with the people we encounter, so they tend to let his informality slide. I am pleasant too, but a bit reserved. I am way more cautious before approaching new people and new situations. For example, when Reilly, American Ambassador extraordinaire, and I walk in the Luxembourg Gardens, I always keep a wary eye on other dogs and owners. People are naturally drawn to her...elle est tres mignon! If I see folks who are calm and the dogs well mannered, we either approach or welcome the approach of these fellow promeneurs. Bill walks right up and lets Reilly and the other dogs sniff each other out and on occasion, duke it out. I am far less confrontational! Although as my family will tell you, I am blessed and cursed with a face that, no matter where I am, people stop me and ask me for help, directions or to take their picture. I am everyone's faithful assistant in any grocery store in the world...its the face.
I am a bit overprotective when it comes to Reilly. When we walk, she wears a harness and her foul weather gear if needed. I like the harness on her because if on the very busy streets of Paris, it becomes necessary to extricate her from harm's way, I can just hoist her up by the leash into my arms...if she is leashed by the collar, she would slip out or choke! I have trained her to wait on the correct side of the white, bumpy strip at the cross walks and we always cross when the nice little green man appears on the traffic light. We always look left for busses, taxis and bikes...cuz they don't always stop for little dogs and traffic lights. Bill's approach is cross when he thinks it is safe. Many's a time Reilly and I are on one side of the street and Bill on the other with the echo of a car horn honking in our ears.
True story: Day before yesterday, it was a cold, miserable day...surprise, surprise...and Reilly needed to go out for her afternoon consitutional. Bill gallantly volunteered to take her while I finished my most recent addition to my new cookbook. As I was preoccupied, I failed to notice that Bill did not put the harness or raincoat on the dog...add ominous, forshadowing music here...Out they went. On his way back from Reilly's favorite statue, a nice man, rather frantically ooh, oohed at Bill, pointed and took Bill a bit off guard. Not understanding what the man was saying, he tried to hurry around him, but thank goodness, the nice man was persistantly pointing down, for there on Bill's right side attached to the leash was Reilly's collar, dragging on the ground and to Bill's left, was Reilly at his heel...as we say, naked as a jay bird! She is such a good little dog, she stayed right with him for who knows how long. He thinks the whole thing is hysterically funny...I was just plain hysterical. She always wears the harness!
Yesterday, Bill had to take the train to Lyon for a business meeting. Bill is quite experienced at taking the trains. We love the European rail system...when it is working or there are no strikes. As we were walking back with Reilly after her morning visit to the park, he told me that when we got home he needed to head right out to Gare du Nord to catch his train. I said, "You mean Gare du Lyon...you are going to Lyon, right?" "Yah...but the train station is Gare du Nord.." I told him Gare du Nord (North) takes you to the North of France, Belgium, Germany and Gare du Lyon trains head to...Lyon! It was like the clouds parted and angels started singing..."OOOh, Gare du LYON, I get it." he said. He made it to his meeting and back again...starting and stopping at Gare du Lyon.
I have to cut Bill some slack here. We balance each other out. He takes risks which forces me to take more risks. I make plans and do the reseach which often helps us get out of what could be sticky situations. And, we have only been here for 7 weeks. In that time, Bill has had to create a whole new position, develop business contacts, etc as well as work with our many transistion contacts to get us established here. I have had the time to use Rosetta Stone for French language lessons and the internet, books and guides for information. Together we are making it work. But he has got to remember to say the magic words!!!
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