FIVE ATTRIBUTES, A RAINOUT...

AND A SIDE OF ENTITLEMENT

Mar 29, 2024

FIVE KEY ATTRIBUTES — AND COUNTING

Simon had a conference in Deauville this week. He invited me to tag along so that I could see this part of France. (Sidebar: One of Simon’s friends asked me the other night, at another of his best friend’s birthday parties… “What’s your favorite thing about France?” After the howling laughter that erupted after this question – Simon teased him endlessly about how silly of a question that was coming from such an intellectual and high powered man – I can answer now. It’s moments like these that I love the best about France. When I get to hop on a train with my beau and see a different city, people, culture all together… yet within the confines of the same beautiful country. J’adore ça!)

En route on the train Simon told me that Deauville had three main attributes… 1. The horse races. 2. The apple orchards. 3. The architecture.

A few minutes later he said… wait! There are four. 4. Camembert. A few minutes after that… Oh wait! I mean, five 5. The farms – they’re separated by the hedge, not fences.

We arrived on Monday afternoon – hungry and ready to explore. We stopped first at Les Vapeurs for lunch. We have decided lately to be as American as we can … code for eating earlier!!!! So, we decided, since it was close to 4pm, we would just eat this one meal today. And to make up for missing dinner… We ordered it all! Bulot to start, Saint-Jacques (scallops) pour mio, sole pour Simon, and une petite bouteille de vin. We both had desserts. Ooop! These were the 6th and 7th attributes, actually. Simon said they are known for the tarte aux pommes and crêpes suzette au grand marnier… So we had them both. And finally, we ended with calvados. Double oooop! This, he said, makes the 8th attribute that is connected with Deauville – apple orchards, therefore … calvados!

After that feast – we took a tour. We biked along the harbor, the plage, through the quartier - where I’ll have you know that we BOTH chose the same house (unbeknownst to each other) as our favorite. The architecture is really unlike any in the world! He showed me the straw roofs (adding the 9th attribute!) and explained to me how they weave them together. Truly – this little town is a fairytale. I was waiting for the seven dwarfs to come out whistling at any minute! They never did.

We arrived at the hotel, where we unloaded, changed, and went back out for aother spin. It was such a moody day – yet no rain (yet) – so we were taking advantage.

We stopped off, after our tour du Deauville, for a drink at The Normandy. This town, and more specifically, this particular hotel, is famous for, and home to, Festival du Cinéma Américain de Deauville. A film festival devoted solely to American films AND the only festival in the world to offer film screenings 24 hours a day over the ten days. I mean… can we PLEASE arrange the conference during this time next year, Simon?!!!

Those of you who know me best – know that I live to go to the cinema. I even had a cinema club in NYC – shoutout to the EMC (Exclusive Movie Club). Where only enthusiasts were welcome. Which, as it turned out, were just Steven and moi! Ha! Steven would bring the teas – I would bring the snacks. We would meet at a number of independent cinemas once a month and give reviews to each other at the end. Excuse me as I push up my (only made for 3d movie nerd) glasses up as I type.

Needless to say – This would be a dream and way better than my favorite thing to do ever… Sneaking in a double feature! Full day movie marathon??! I mean someone pass the milk duds and buttered popcorn quick. I’m camping out!

I had a beer and Simon had cocktails (frozen margarita (his favorite drink) and a negroni next (a close second favorite for him)). They served a tray of goodies with each drink ordered. Gougères, herb cashews, and a mix of salted and sweet almonds with raisins. Since we weren’t having dinner – we both pretended not to notice each other scarfing down every morsel that they put in front of us. What?! Bar snacks are calorie free. Right?

Here, we ran into a few fellow attendees of the conference - who Simon knew well. We made small talk with them, and I’m proud to say that I understood next to most of it. My ears especially perked up when I heard… à mon avis and je pense que. Phrases that I had JUST been reviewing on the train. The frequency illusion was at play — hard for me.

RAIN RAIN GO AWAY

The next day’s theme song was “rain rain go away!! Come again another day!!” We woke up to a steady sprinkle with random downpours. I was expecting this honestly. It’s how it is when you’re close to any seaside during cold months. Bring on the moodiness!

He set out for his conference and I set out for Les Franciscaines. I loved this museum. The exhibits were eh, not worth the €16 I spent, but, it was such a nice space! I like to purchase something when I go to a free museum, which this was. I was the only sucker who did though apparently. Ha! Truly – I was the ONLY one in both ticketed exhibits.

The space was so chic and simple. In the middle of the museum a private reception was being held. Elegant, clean, and lite. I wanted in!! When Simon called on his break I begged him to sneak me in… thinking this was his conference. He laughed and reminded me that he was on the other side of town (not his). He suggested that we meet at Le Hibouville restaurant instead.

I so enjoyed this moment (another favorite thing about France – meeting my boyfriend in the middle of the day for lunch in the cutest place that happened to smell of cigarette with a side of seafood. All my favorites. Yummy!)

After, I walked him back to his conference. It was now raining hard, so we snuggled under the same umbrella. I dropped him off and then did another little touch down on the sandy beach, read all the names of actors and actresses who have won in the film festival on the painted rails outside of the beach stalls, and then I stopped back off at The Normandy for an afternoon coffee and WhatsApp call with my mama. The best!

She told me that my stepbrother’s girlfriend had just had their first baby boy and that the verdict was still out on what his sweet little name would be. (I learned just last night that it’s Cully. Named after his daddy. Precious!). We talked about family events and things that were happening there and here, and then we cranked up the volume and talked about all things FRANCE. They get here April 1st!! So excited.

LEAD ME TO MY HAPPY PLACE

I arrived back at the hotel just in time to slip into a robe and slip into the final appointment of the day for the spa. It was the rainiest day, as I’ve mentioned, and before I left for Deauville, two of my friends had told me that this town is known for their spas… dare I say… this is a 10th attribute?!

Rest assured. I did my negotiation best the night before in trying to arrange a place for me at The Normandy Spa – alas, to no avail. They wrote me back the next morning with the most polite, yet direct, “NO” I have ever received. It was A OK with me though … because …in my hotel spa — the space was all mine! I had the sauna, steam, massage bed, then… cherry on top… a jacuzzi all to myself. They told me I had only one hour to be down there. So I hurriedly said “au revoir!!!,” stripped down and got to my activities.

At the end, I played the part of a dumb American and pretended to forget what time I was due to be out. I went over by 20 mins. Cami though, the most precious employee (who only patiently spoke French with me) came to retrieve me. I think, because she loved me, she too pretended to forget to watch the clock … therefore letting me have longer in the bubbles. When she came in, I was as pruned as a raisin. And ready to meet Simon for dinner.

TABLE TALK

We went back to Les Vapeur for this night too. Before Simon got there, I had asked the waitress what the men were having across the restaurant (en français), ordered my wine (en français), and spoke to the hostess (en français). Simon arrived soaking wet. Poor him. He has hurt his foot and had just walked 30 mins in the downpour without an umbrella, in dress shoes, and after a long networking day without a snack.

When he sat I started telling him about my day en français. He wasn’t having it. He asked that we switch to English. It’s easier for us to speak in English, of course, and since he was exhausted from the all-day conference, and being cold and wet – I abided. A little. I mean, I did still demand to do the ordering for us en français. (Practice makes perfect after all. Raie au beurre noisette pour moi (the BEST thing I have ever eaten) and filet au poivre pour Simon (the BEST thing he had ever eaten).)

He bragged on me to the America’s sitting beside us — that I had made big progress when they asked if I spoke French. This made me proud. He’s proud of me too!

People give us a hard time that we don’t speak with each other all the time en français. But - as tiring as it is for moi to learn it, remember it, consider how to pronounce it before I speak, consider the structure of the phrase before I speak, remember the masculine and feminie etc. It's just as tiring for Simon to correct me over and over… and over and over and over and over. We take the pressure off when together and just enjoy our conversations. Speaking whatever we want!! No need to be in a rush. I will get it. Slowly but surely.

As (me and) my fellow natives like to do, the American’s sitting beside us chatted us up. The were from Texas and Simon shared his funny tale about how his parents thought it would be a good idea for him to go THERE to learn both English and Spanish. Knock it out in one trip. We all laughed. Because, as they even admitted... “We don’t even speak English. We speak Texan.” It’s true. Simon said he couldn’t understand anything when he lived there – and was still having trouble understanding them here. You can take the people out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the people!

Politics were brought up. Ahhh… don’t they know better? In the south we are all (South Carolinians and Texans alike) raised that politics, religion, money (anything that isn’t polite) are not to be discussed… especially at the dinner table. It was a wild conversation and one that I think (despite their very best efforts to sway their audience) was making me all the happier not to be living in the US right now.

At one point. To lighten the tone. Simon made a joke about me “being here since October, yet still lost in France.” He was trying to be funny. He calls this 1st degree comedy. (Sarcasm. Which I have learned, is his way of flirting.) They looked at me shocked. Because, as sarcasm goes in the US, it comes across as rude. I had to tell them that he was joking. And yet they still were not smiling. No matter how many times I have explained this to Simon – one of the biggest differences of our cultures is the humor. American’s are taught that sarcasm is impolite, not funny. Whereas here — en France – sarcasm is the best thing since sliced bread! They all do it! They all pick on each other endlessly with no sign of joking, yet it’s like a country-wide inside joke! Because they all (even the one getting picked on) knee-slap laughs at the different degree of sarcasm. I don’t know the difference between all the degrees yet – I just know sarcasm when I hear it and I’m doing my best to change the way I understand it. So that I can join the inside party and laugh too! Not be offended as these Texans were.

They were as nice as they could be. Alas, as they left, they practically yelled Make America Great Again. This time… the French were in shock! Sarcasm is one thing… MAGA? A whole different can of worms.

FINAL CHECKOUT DAY

I met Jérôme at the apartment at 11am. He was issuing my final inventory check out for my furnished apartment. I had been there since 9am cleaning and enjoying my final Chausson aux Pommes from Sain Boulangerie — the boulangerie that I will miss most!

I went early with Simon to work today because I needed to print a shipping code for my tv + internet equipment. (One thing I don’t love about France? That nothing is convenient. I have two boxes - yet they only will give me one shipping code. I went to my internet provider to retrieve a box from them – so as to fit it all in one, and they told me they don’t have any. That I should just tape the two together. Then, they told me that I have to deliver it to a dropoff location, as opposed to conveniently bringing it to their location. I mean… are they different???!! INCONVENIENT. One is for purchasing and the other is for drop offs they told me. Huh?? Whatever! All I can say is that I am thankful for my stepfather’s packing stills. He worked for UPS for umpteen years – and therefore we all, in his family, know a thing or two about a thing or two when it comes to getting a package together. He’d be proud of me. Package is taped with a whole roll! All could have been solved and convenient if I could have just walked the two boxes across the street. Mais, non. C'est la vie en France!)

All is complete now though for 14 Rue Portefoin. No more living in Le Marais.

I will have the agency hand over the keys to Cyndee.. Who is indeed taking it! YAY!! (and I will sneak her the basement key that took me weeks to get. I wasn’t writing my En Route during that time – But I remember thinking the tales that happened in retrieving this key would have been so entertaining! I won’t go into length – but let’s just say I wouldn’t put another person through that debacle. So, as Jérôme was taking all the keys I quickly fibbed and said “actually, I’m not 100% certain what that key is for. I better keep it.” He was none the wiser. “As you wish.”

After the rendezvous I popped over to Île Saint Louis to check that the keys I received last night for my friend’s apt would work. This will be home to my mama and Joe in the coming week. When I arrived – I saw that the interior was under construction. Let’s all have a moment of silence for the elevator to be back up and running by the time they arrive. Eeek!! That was the whole reason I booked this place for them. Well, that, and let me be honest, Le Boulangerie de la Tour that is located just across the Seine from them. Actually, as I type that. Maybe that will be good for them if the elevator doesn’t work. So they can stairmaster off those croissants that will most certainly be eaten - daily!

QU’EST-CE QUE ENTITLED?

Yesterday I taught Simon a new word. Entitled. He didn’t know it. And if you don’t either, consider reading this story for a pretty good definition…

I finally met a friend of a friend this week who I have been trying to schedule a date with for months. She used to live in NYC, as I did. She is southern by birth, as I am. And now, she lives in Paris, as I do. I’m talking match made in heaven. So you would think…

Her text responses were something to the tune of only “sure.” “fine.” and “I need to push it 30 mins. You can go to the cafe and wait.” HUMMMMMMM. What ?!

I told Simon… “This sweetheart. This, is entitlement. When you think you’re more important than the others.”

She wasn’t doing me a favor. We were both introduced by a friend in common. One was no more important than the next in this particular situation – yet… when you’re entitled you think you have license over the other.

I arrived 10 mins after our new set time. Honestly, I took a wrong turn and was feeling bad initially for the set back. I mean typically, when I’m on time, I’m late. When I’m early, I’m on time. But I didn’t feel too bad given what I was up against.

I park my bike, walk into the cafe, and see her at her computer. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t get up, she just looks at me and says “AC?” I didn’t know what to do. I usually hug in these situations. But that didn’t feel right. So instead, I reached out my hand. She hesitated to grab it and then followed with “I need to finish this email to my lawyer.” I sat. She proceeded to type and act as if I was a huge inconvenience for her. May I remind her… ummmmmm… we are on this “date” to be FRIENDS. I laughed and smirked with irritation (a verbal eyeball) which I immediately regretted. It was beyond rude of me. But Jesus! I mean – what am I? Some second class citizen? I mean HELLO!!!

Once she looked up from her very important email (now it was 4:50pm) – I decided to change my mind. Stop being upset. She is who she is and I am who I am. I would have never behaved that way – but she wasn’t me. I’m here now and need to enjoy this moment. To get the conversation started, I said, “so what all are you working on over here?” This is when my “changing” reverted instantly back — because, brace yourself. Her response: “Didn’t X tell you what I did?” with this look of “you idiot!”

I’m like… again… What. In. The. Wild $#%& is your problem?!?!! It’s called smalltalk you___ fill in the blank. My response: “Well, I’m here now. So why don’t you tell me yourself.” She calmed down after that. It was like she needed push back so she could feel ease to communicate with me.

She proceeded to tell me all that she has done in life and therefore, trying to relate to her, as any normal human would when meeting someone for the first time. (It’s usually something like this… “Oh, you’re from X place? Do you know so and so?” … “Yes, I know so and so. Did you go to that wedding? … “Wow! That wedding?! Ummm indeed I did. You too?” Yada yada yada.) So, to make a commonality, I started to tell her that I too took the first flight out from SC to NYC after I graduated college, that I too worked in fashion, I too worked for Condé Nast… and I too worked in PR. It was THEN… When I had meant to say another PR firm that I worked for … but instead another one came out. When I said the name of this particular PR firm, she interrupted me and said.. without ANY expression…. “I’m having dinner with X and X (can’t write their names out – X will have to do) tonight!” These are the OWNERS of said PR firm! Can. You. Handle?!

I am so thrilled she said this before I had time to rant about my time there. Because I didn’t like working for them one bit. It was the WORST. Alas, I didn’t say it - thank god! Because she’s friends with them. Which also cranks up the alert volume with me.

And as I typed earlier. As we humans do – we all want to relate to each other. Therefore, just like that. She let down her wall. Relating to me. I was given the stamp of approval since I had worked for her friend’s agency. Turned me off even more. I hate, with a capital H A T E, having to prove my rank to people. I would rather you just like me if you like me or move on if you don’t. I don’t like playing this other exhausting game of who do you know so I can decide if you’re cool enough to be my pal. Nah! Not for moi!

We talked for another twenty minutes until she had to go. This may not be a rendezvous that I repeat often, but we actually did leave smiling and saying that we’ll get together again with our common friend. And maybe we will. Or, maybe, as I have written in a previous En Routes... I just simply know crazy when I see it. I may keep my distance.

Hate to leave on a negative note – but thought it was worth the tale. Blew my mind!

This morning, Simon and I are off to Alain Passard’s L’Arpège restaurant for one of Simon’s dear friend, Roba’s, birthday lunch. It’s going to be incredible! There are talks about a stroll in his vegetable garden before and then a 10ish course meal. I can’t WAIT!

(… and if it’s anything like the first dinner Simon made us for our first night together in chez nous… I will be wildly impressed. I mean… Who needs an Alain Passard when you live with a Simon Quiret!? Chef de Cuisine!!)

I am sending this before the epic meal… but rest assured. I will give full details in the next EN ROUTE. AND I will also be sharing about my mother and step father’s trip to PARIS. Until then. Xxo ac