Chapitre 6 - Joyeux Thanksgiving!

The following is an e-mail I sent out... just like the five former have been... I promise original content in the future!

Greetings readers,

This is actually going to be a short entry for once! I know I don’t usually send out two in week, but with all that has happened this week, I figure you deserve another mailing.

Happy Turkey Day, all. The crazy British teacher that I adore so much is making me a Thanksgiving lunch today, so I won’t be without a feast. And of course I am making dinner with my friends Emily Ann and David in Paris on Saturday! I am covered for the holiday except I don’t get to see my loved ones or listen to Alice’s Restaurant.

I finally got to the bottom of my work visa. I redid all the stupid paperwork and made three copies of it all and killed a few trees doing it and bought new ID photos and went to the mayors office and sat down and said “look, I don’t want to bug you, but I have two weeks left on my American visa and I am getting worried that I won’t be able to come back into the country when I leave for Christmas and I can’t get my insurance or social security without the French work visa and…” and the woman stopped me in the middle of my run-on sentence and told me it was in the mail.

Figures.

But at least she was at work. I can’t say the same for scores of people across the country. Ah, la belle France et ses grèves… The whole country has been gripped by strikes. Seems to be the en vogue thing to do, eh? The Writers Guild in the States, the German train workers, French train workers, French teachers, French postal workers, French judges, French university students and now… French high school students. (French dogs are still at work, pooping on the sidewalk.)

Yes, right now it is 9:30AM and I am looking at a crush of students outside of the school gates. They refuse to come in. I do not know why as of yet, but I will get to the bottom of it. The gendarmerie is out there, keeping watch on things to make sure stuff doesn’t go all St. Dizier. (High school students in that town set fire to a bunch of trucks two months ago.) They’re out there cheering and demonstrating against something. THAT should give you an idea of the teen culture in France. I can’t imagine ever striking at school - refusing to go in and learn, yet still showing up to chant and cheer. (Who am I kidding, I would SO have been all about that in high school.) Anyway, I don’t even know if anyone will be in my classes today. Crazy, huh?

Ok. It is now a good nine hours later, around 6:15PM I got to the bottom of the strike - they were striking because Sarkozy is planning to privatize universities or something to that effect. So high school students decided to join the ranks of the university students... by standing outside of their high school and yelling. The closest university is 30 minutes away in Troyes. I don't think they heard them. I mean, I give the students credit for wanting to stand up for themselves and their future, but I have a feeling that most of them just felt like skipping school.

Thanksgiving dinner at Margaret's house wasn't HOME, but it was amazing nonetheless. It was also Margaret's husband, Francois', birthday. Their friends, Margaret (yes, another British woman named Margaret) and her boyfriend-type-husband-partner man, Jean-Pierre, joined us. Margaret 2 and Jean-Pierre used to be pen pals in grade school and visited each other from time to time, but then lost track of each other, grew up, got married, had kids, etc. But then their respective spouses died, they found each other again and are living out their days together. How cute is that? So I was entertained all night with stories about the war and kids and all sorts of goodies. Nothing like good conversation with some 70-yr-olds, haha.

Anyway, dinner. I gave Margaret 1 a menu that I made for my classes and a list of recipes, so she did her best, haha. We started with an aperitif of roasted pumpkin seeds (naturally I thought of Kevin and Kylefsmtih and your affinity for pumpkin seeds), rice wrapped in grape leaves and port. Then we moved on to a raw veggie tray with cauliflower, beets, red cabbage, fresh greens and leeks with a vinaigrette dressing or a sesame seed dressing that she hoped tasted a bit like peanut butter. (It didn't, but A for effort!) Then we had stuffed guinea fowl (the closest thing to a whole turkey that she could find) turkey legs, mashed potatoes and gravy, turnips and carrots, with champagne and red wine. (Naturally I went for seconds on the food. What is Thanksgiving without wanton gluttony?) This was followed by cheese and nuts, then by pumpkin pie and cherry pie. Then by chocolate and coffee. Ugggggg, so full!

All the vegetables came from that commune of formerly homeless organic farmers and they are quite possibly the best veggies on Earth. NEVER have I tasted a carrot so divine. Perfectly sweet with nary a bitter spot. The cherries for the cherry pie came from Margaret 1's orchard in their backyard. Margaret 2 made the pumpkin pie... she used chunks of pumpkin insead of a pureed mash and she covered it with a top layer of pastry, making it an enclosed pie like an apple pie instead of an open tarte like it is usually prepared. It was still good and I didn't have the heart to tell her she got it all wrong. After all, she is English and she is living in France, so pumpkin pie is a foreign notion to her no matter what. She DID apologize for her ancestors kicking the Pilgrims out of England though, so all was rectified haha. (Not that it matters. The Pilgrims aren't my ancestors... pretty sure my ancestors did the kicking, haha.)

Ok, I am going to go digest and call all of my family members.
Gros bisous,
Mere