La bise

I have been spending many hours in French goverment offices, reminiscent of none other than the UN itself. Surprisingly, I have not been irritated by the shuffling from one obscure acronymed edifice to another, waiting in stuffy hallways with despondent receptionists and irate citizens - on the contrary, like most everything I have been experiencing upon my return to France, I have been enjoying the daily scenes with refreshed amusement (I've only been here one month). One of the most entertaining scenes in my opinion is the daily ritual of "la bise," wherein friends, colleagues, and sometimes acquaintances, kiss each other on the cheek as a form of greeting. I would like to know how much time is actually spent on this and wonder if any stats were ever made.
It reminded me of high school at the Lycee Francais on 95th St, going through it every morning and every evening - somehow in the morning it was more striking; perhaps because of the overnight separation, or the newness of the day, or simply the fact that arrivals were more synchronized than departures? In any case, many minutes were spent indulging in this display of French culture and civilization. It almost gave you a little forecast for the day, perhaps confirmed alliances formed the previous day, or grievances unresolved. You would hear so and so wondering why such and such did not kiss him or her. Or on the contrary, it could be your first time to greet this or that person, maybe from another class, as such.
Ours was a small school, and it made me wonder about French school kids in large schools, do they spend an hour greeting everyone? Or perhaps the mode of greeting is changing?
This morning I took my daughter to school, (a rare treat for me of late, since her father has been taking her for the past year) and sure enough all the parents were kissing each other on the cheek. If you were not kissed, then there was a bit of a problem. The same codes were there (this form of greeting is not practiced in grade school, perhaps because of cooties?). After dropping the kids off, a bunch of parents all went to the cafe and a round of espressos was served. More cheek-kissing ensued...

Bouillabaisse

What are the first two things that come to mind when Marseille is mentioned? L'Olympique de Marseille, or OM for short, the soccer team (which didn't do very well against Spartak last night) and of course Bouillabaisse.
As any self-respecting geek would do, I have done a bit of research on both. I am in no hurry to uncover the mysteries of either, au contraire, I am relishing the extended fore... er, discovery process.
In an effort to mingle with the locals I joined a group of travelers online and have been attending their weekly beach parties; last night was my second, and both times have been quite enjoyable, the fine sand, the sunset, the rosé (forget about Pastis), the apps (edible, not iphone), and the company. I started talking to these two ladies, one of which was older and seemed like she was on the verge of revealing her secret Bouillabaisse recipe. You can just imagine my excitement and anticipation at this point. She proceeded to explain how she bought a bottle of fish soup and added frozen fish filets in it, and her guests always enjoyed it tremendously. I almost spat out my leek tart in astonishment. I didn't know what to say, and out of politeness, ventured "Oh, is there a particular brand of bottled fish soup you recommend?"

tourist stuff

I couldn't lure Sara into a boat trip around the bay but we did reach a compromise and took the little tourist train around town instead, which is not as horrible and embarrassing as it sounds (okay it is). I found out a lot of things about the city (I don't think Sara was listening), such as the fact that it was founded as a result of a marriage of love... the Greek princess chose her mate and founded Massalia (or Massilia) with him. Apparently the city is also twice the size of Paris, and is home to the country's oldest Abbey, which dates back to 5 c. BC and is conveniently located fifteen minutes from my house.
Last week I also discovered two new neighborhoods, la Plaine/cours St Julien which has the best home-made cantaloupe sorbet I have ever tasted (had to have some before and after my meal), and le Pharo/plage du Pharo, with this huge boardwalk which reminded me of this beach in L.A. (I forget the name).

Greve generale, topless beach

So today tuesday the country is on strike. My first national strike since I moved back here and so far no big deal, except for the fact that Sara's school was closed (her father planned a playdate for her). Of course the Catholic school downstairs from my building was in session (privately owned) and I observed the kids play during recess, the girls learning a choreography reminiscent of Shakira's in She-Wolf (I'm a bit embarrassed to even know this and I blame it entirely on Frank), while the guys ran and threw punches at each other.
Having planned on going for a swim last night, I ended up just reading more Walter Benjamin instead and was once again surprised by what I should now consider a natural beach occurance now: the topless bathers and the parents screaming at their kids. No wonder French kids grow up to be the highest consumers of anti-depressants in the world. The parents pretty much expect their toddlers to behave like... adults? Was I like that? I remmber the Terrible Twos as being terrible indeed... was it because I made unreasonable demands? Anyway, difficult to relax with a book when the parents are swearing at the kids nearby.
As for topless sun/bathing, even if it is common practice, the men (and women!) do not tire from staring... I witness this old guy just gawking at this older lady as she was getting dressed; next thing you know his wife asked this other person to take a picture of them (husband and wife), which I thought was comical. I also witness the first Asian topless bather - most of the Asians I see are more likely to be overdressed at the beach.

Of coffee and homeless pervs

I have fallen under the city's spell. I never imagined it would be so beautiful. The ocean surrounding my neighborhood reminds me vaguely of El Nido, Palawan. I can walk to the city center in twenty minutes by the port or through the city. I am discovering new parts of it every day, cafes, restaurants, shops filled with colorful treasures. And everywhere, sunlight, bright and authoritative. A Marseille native told me that the city is blessed with 360 days of sunlight per year, and though the Marseillais is typically known to exaggerate, I believe him.
Yesterday was a day of discovery for me. I found a little coffee shop called Green Bear Coffee with free wifi and when I asked the barista - who happened to also be the owner - where the name of the place came from, he finally admitted that it was inspired by the Grey Dog coffee shop with Greenwhich Village, which I have visited once and passed by numerous times.
A little later that day I made a shocking discovery - a Starbucks, tucked into the Panier neighborhood! I had to check it out but was out of there as soon as I went in, not the type of place I would want to spend my time or money on here.
Then, an incident that could have easily turned me off from Marseille but didn't... At sunset I went down to to beach by my house and was sitting on a bench trying to capture the view on my phone, when a homeless guy sat next to me and asked me for my name. As I was taken by surprised, I gave him my name, which I immediately regretted. As he was behaving a little sketchy and intoxicated, I got up to leave and walked along the boardwalk. On my way back I bumped into him again, and he turned around to follow me. I had to stop at a stop light, at which he caught up with me and asked me if I wanted to see "the place he used as a toilet." I said "non merci" and dashed home! Fortunately the evening did not end on a bad note...

Le dimanche

Okay, we've been jealously eyeing the beach from the window of our new pad, but the wind started howling so strong that Sara and I preferred to wait till it died down a bit before venturing too near the sand. So, after endless running errands (internet, bank, landlord, etc) and dodging poo on the sidewalk, we decided to take it easy and chill out at home, fully admiring the cerulean sky and ocean while keeping out eyeballs safe.
I have to say that I am somewhat traumatized by Sundays in Europe; more than once have I been caught with a diaper or other emergency necessitating a purchase (or maybe a craving for sushi) only to be faced with frustration at streets of shuttered shop facades. Today was no exception - Sara and I ventured downtown to try to change American currency to no avail. Tonight (since we are not equipped in the kitchen) I wanted to try one of the restaurants recommended by Alexander Lobrano (NY Times magazine, 7 July 2010) and they are all closed!

First impressions

It's almost been a week since I landed in Marseille. The sun has shone bright trough and through, except for a refreshing thunderstorm overnight last week. Marseille seems bigger than I expected it to feel. Even though it is the second largest city in France (arguably Lyon is the third), I just assumed that it would feel rather provincial, especially after Manhattan. On the contrary, I was surprised by a vibrancy and urbanity that immediately appealed to my city girl predilections.
There seems to be a lot of things going on in this town, a lot of people coming through, a mobile and worldly population which is what makes me the most comfortable. What's more, the people I have met, with few exceptions, namely at the hip Colette store in Aix-en-Provence, have been exceptionally warm and helpful.
Sara and I have been occupying a two-bedroom apartment left vacant by the friend of my ex-husband's friend. The apartment is in apparently a nicer part of town, meaning to say more residential, with less night-time riff-raff and better public schools. That is why I proceeded to look for an apartment in the same neighborhood. We are walking distance from the beach and a lovely edge of water park. Downtown, where most of the action takes place, is about a 5 minute bus ride away or fifteen minute walk, not unlike the distance from Tudor City Place to Union Square for example (if there is no traffic and you are a brisk walker).
The one thing that's gotten to me is the dog shit on the sidewalks. Sadly, the French do not scoop after their canine friends. So far I have had no unpleasant incidents but it is a bit of an added stress to have to look out for every step as well as that of your child's.
I had also forgotten how much the French love to sunbathe topless. I had to confirm to Sara that there was nothing wrong with it and was relieved when she didn't ask me why I didn't remove my bikini top.