So it's sale season in France and I was determined last weekend to find two things: flat black boots and a dress for a friend's wedding. Sounds simple right? Actually it was extremely difficult due to, I think, it's simplicity.
In other words I couldn't find anything simple. If a boot was black it also had buckles, or dangly things, or 4 inch heels, or sparkles (or all of the above). Same with the dresses. I would find something I thought was decent only to pull it out from the rack and there be a giant polka dot bow attached to the shoulder or better yet I would be blinded by the reflective light generated by the vast amount of sequence (sparkles are apparently in this season).
After hitting up my usual go to stores and I realizing that anything classic last season was extinct like dinosaurs I decided to venture into the big department stores.
Normally I avoid department stores because I am overwhelmed by the massive selection. Too many choices and I am lost.
But the department stores are quite famous in Paris so I decided to check it out. As I expected there were indeed a vast seemingly endless selection of luxury goods. However there were a couple of surprises.
The first surprise was the department stores wishing me "Happy New Year". As in a happy Chinese new year.
Or maybe not me but all the Chinese consumers. And there were a lot.
I've heard all about the rapidly growing Chinese economy and even that they had recently surpassed Japan as the world's second largest economy. But that's all been what people have been saying, in the department stores I could actually see this change. There were still a lot of Japanese consumers but there were by far more Chinese. In most of the major luxury brands there was a vendor that spoke Chinese. This means the Chinese were buying very expensive things and enough of it as to have someone assisting them in their native tongue.
The second surprise was how friendly all the vendors was. I only had to glance at a map before someone came asking me if they could help me. And help me they did. In English and with a smile and general pleasant demeanor.
I won't say this doesn't happen in Paris but I will say it doesn't happen often. Usually if you can find someone to help you, it seems a bit like you are bothering them. That's if you can find someone to help you at all. But this was not at all present in the department stores. Everyone was, dare I say it, friendly.
And that's when it struck me. The department store is where the image of Paris as the romantic, luxurious, and friendly city of lights is packaged, gift wrapped, and sold to the rest of the world.
I spent all my Saturday there among the Louie Vuitton bags and Valentino haute couture gowns (just looking of course). In the end I did find my black boots and dress with the help of smiling impeccability well dressed vendors.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
cuc mong nam mo
So this past weekend I went to the 20eme arrondissement of Paris to check out the Chinese New Year parade I read about in the newspaper. And this is what I saw:
Is it just me or do even the dragons look confused? Like, what's going on? Where are we suppose to be? Do YOU know?
It was a hot mess from the minute we got off the metro. Everyone was just standing around with no particular sense of where they should be forming a crowd. Finally somebody must have spotted something and that started the barade towards the dragons.
I too herded but it was too late and all I saw were people's heads or out-streteched hands holding cameras trying to take a picture over said heads.
But it wasn't a big deal for me because the dragons, the lion dance, the drums - this was the same as what you can find in the States. What was different however, was the way they it was organized (or not organized). The laissez faire-ness of it all. I found that to be particularly French (in the States there would have been signs, tape, indication of what what was going on).
One of the great things about living in a foreign country for me is discovering it's culture. Living in France however, I have an added bonus of not only discovering French culture but discovering Asian French culture as well giving me a new perspective on how cultures merge, reconciliation with one another, and form a new unique identity.
After the parade we went to duck noodles. I couldn't finish mine so I asked the bf if he thought it would be ok if I asked for what was left to go. He didn't think so, that just wasn't done in France.
Normally I would agree but between the sound of clanging chopsticks in my ear and the roasted duck dripping grease in the corner of my eye, I decided to ask the waiter anyways.
It was no problem. Asian is Asian.
Is it just me or do even the dragons look confused? Like, what's going on? Where are we suppose to be? Do YOU know?
It was a hot mess from the minute we got off the metro. Everyone was just standing around with no particular sense of where they should be forming a crowd. Finally somebody must have spotted something and that started the barade towards the dragons.
I too herded but it was too late and all I saw were people's heads or out-streteched hands holding cameras trying to take a picture over said heads.
But it wasn't a big deal for me because the dragons, the lion dance, the drums - this was the same as what you can find in the States. What was different however, was the way they it was organized (or not organized). The laissez faire-ness of it all. I found that to be particularly French (in the States there would have been signs, tape, indication of what what was going on).
One of the great things about living in a foreign country for me is discovering it's culture. Living in France however, I have an added bonus of not only discovering French culture but discovering Asian French culture as well giving me a new perspective on how cultures merge, reconciliation with one another, and form a new unique identity.
After the parade we went to duck noodles. I couldn't finish mine so I asked the bf if he thought it would be ok if I asked for what was left to go. He didn't think so, that just wasn't done in France.
Normally I would agree but between the sound of clanging chopsticks in my ear and the roasted duck dripping grease in the corner of my eye, I decided to ask the waiter anyways.
It was no problem. Asian is Asian.
Friday, January 28, 2011
numberblind
So this past week I had a medical visit for work and it was fine except it was plagued with numbers.
Numbers are tricky for me in French. They require a bit of math and my brain just doesn't work that fast. For example I had a standard color-blind test where you have to look at different colored dots and say the number you see. I could see the number fine. What was hard was coming up with the number.
Lady: What number do you see?
Me: [72! Wait that's 60 + 12 in french, sixty is soixante...]
Lady: [staring at me expectantly]
Me: [and what's 12? It's one of those weird ones that doesn't fit the pattern, douce?)
Lady: [staring at me like I'm color blind...]
Me: [No it's douze...]
Lady: [starts to pick up her pencil to note colorblindness]
Me: Soixante douze!
Lady: ok, the next one?
Me: [sigh]
We went through this exercise a couple of times before she was satisfied I wasn't colorblind, just stupid.
But that wasn't the worst part. The worst was when she asked me my address which includes the number 94 which is one of the most complicated numbers in French, nay, in any language known to man.
It's 80 + 14. Not only that 80 is actually 4 * 20. So it's 4 (*) 20 (+) 14. In French.
Lady: You're address?
Me: Quatre...
Lady: [writes down 4]
Me: No, it's quatre vingts...
Lady: [scratches out 4 and writes 80]
Me: No, it's quatre-vingts quatorze.
Lady: [looks at me like, are you done talking?]
Me: [smile of self-satisfaction that I actually got it right]
Numbers are tricky for me in French. They require a bit of math and my brain just doesn't work that fast. For example I had a standard color-blind test where you have to look at different colored dots and say the number you see. I could see the number fine. What was hard was coming up with the number.
Lady: What number do you see?
Me: [72! Wait that's 60 + 12 in french, sixty is soixante...]
Lady: [staring at me expectantly]
Me: [and what's 12? It's one of those weird ones that doesn't fit the pattern, douce?)
Lady: [staring at me like I'm color blind...]
Me: [No it's douze...]
Lady: [starts to pick up her pencil to note colorblindness]
Me: Soixante douze!
Lady: ok, the next one?
Me: [sigh]
We went through this exercise a couple of times before she was satisfied I wasn't colorblind, just stupid.
But that wasn't the worst part. The worst was when she asked me my address which includes the number 94 which is one of the most complicated numbers in French, nay, in any language known to man.
It's 80 + 14. Not only that 80 is actually 4 * 20. So it's 4 (*) 20 (+) 14. In French.
Lady: You're address?
Me: Quatre...
Lady: [writes down 4]
Me: No, it's quatre vingts...
Lady: [scratches out 4 and writes 80]
Me: No, it's quatre-vingts quatorze.
Lady: [looks at me like, are you done talking?]
Me: [smile of self-satisfaction that I actually got it right]
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
all mixed up
So a Japanese teacher friend of mine was in Paris this past weekend and I was meeting him and two other friends for lunch. As I was coming out of the metro and saw him I greeted him appropriately:
"Konichiwa! Ogenki desu ka? Hisashiburi desu ne?"
Or rather that's what I meant to say. What actually came out was:
"Bonjour! Ca va? Ca fait long temps on ne s'est pas vu."
As he looked at me blankly I realized what I was doing and apologized profusely... in French. I could not for the life of me utter a word of Japanese. I felt like switching my brain was like trying to switch the language setting in Windows. Takes ages to figure it out and if you finally manage, it does funny things.
So finally I spoke in English but then felt myself going in for the bisous and realizing, no, stop! The Japanese are uncomfortable with personal contact!
But it was too late. To my surprise he took me by the shoulders and did the bisous. I was greatful. But then he did it three times and I was confused.
See if a French person or person coming from a French speaking country does the bisous I'm ready for anything because it varies quite a bit depending on where the person comes from (even in France). The amount of times you do it varies plus the starting cheek. For example Paris is two times starting with the left cheek. Rouen also does two but starts with the left cheek (this is particularly tricky for me when I give the bf's parents the bisous and could end up kissing someone on the lips).
But where does a Japanese guy get three??? I learned later at lunch that he had lived in Ethiopia for two years and there they do three.
That's what happens when you live in different countries. You end up confusing yourself and everyone around you. For example my friend Alex and I hate it when people ask us any questions related to geographical origins. Why? Because it goes something like this:
Unsuspecting question poser: So how do you guys know each other?
Alex: Japan
UQP: [to me] So you're Japanese?
Me: [dead pan expression] No.
UQP: Haha.
Me: I'm serious.
UQP: [turning away from way too serious Asian girl] So Alex what part of England are you from?
Alex: Actually I'm French.
UQP: So why do you speak English with a British accent?
And so on and so on.
Alex was at the lunch that day along with a British friend (Bears) and his Japanese wife. After the lunch it was decided that I would show Bears and his wife around Paris and we would meet up with Alex later. As we parted ways we said goodbye to Alex.
[At the same time]
Bears: See you later.
Japanese wife: Jya ne!
Me: A plus!
Alex (who speaks all three languages seamlessly) looked confused.
"Konichiwa! Ogenki desu ka? Hisashiburi desu ne?"
Or rather that's what I meant to say. What actually came out was:
"Bonjour! Ca va? Ca fait long temps on ne s'est pas vu."
As he looked at me blankly I realized what I was doing and apologized profusely... in French. I could not for the life of me utter a word of Japanese. I felt like switching my brain was like trying to switch the language setting in Windows. Takes ages to figure it out and if you finally manage, it does funny things.
So finally I spoke in English but then felt myself going in for the bisous and realizing, no, stop! The Japanese are uncomfortable with personal contact!
But it was too late. To my surprise he took me by the shoulders and did the bisous. I was greatful. But then he did it three times and I was confused.
See if a French person or person coming from a French speaking country does the bisous I'm ready for anything because it varies quite a bit depending on where the person comes from (even in France). The amount of times you do it varies plus the starting cheek. For example Paris is two times starting with the left cheek. Rouen also does two but starts with the left cheek (this is particularly tricky for me when I give the bf's parents the bisous and could end up kissing someone on the lips).
But where does a Japanese guy get three??? I learned later at lunch that he had lived in Ethiopia for two years and there they do three.
That's what happens when you live in different countries. You end up confusing yourself and everyone around you. For example my friend Alex and I hate it when people ask us any questions related to geographical origins. Why? Because it goes something like this:
Unsuspecting question poser: So how do you guys know each other?
Alex: Japan
UQP: [to me] So you're Japanese?
Me: [dead pan expression] No.
UQP: Haha.
Me: I'm serious.
UQP: [turning away from way too serious Asian girl] So Alex what part of England are you from?
Alex: Actually I'm French.
UQP: So why do you speak English with a British accent?
And so on and so on.
Alex was at the lunch that day along with a British friend (Bears) and his Japanese wife. After the lunch it was decided that I would show Bears and his wife around Paris and we would meet up with Alex later. As we parted ways we said goodbye to Alex.
[At the same time]
Bears: See you later.
Japanese wife: Jya ne!
Me: A plus!
Alex (who speaks all three languages seamlessly) looked confused.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
what's in a name?
So I wasn't always called Kelly. Until about the age of 11 I had a Vietnamese name that sounds nothing like, but was pronounced "Two Train". I remember when this happened. It was during my first day of kindergarten and during roll call the teacher pronounced my name best she could. In her defense she did ask me if this was correct and I did nod. I didn't speak English at the time.
Did it bother me that people were mispronouncing my name? No. Why? Because I realized quickly there's something worse than having people mispronounce your name and that is trying to correct it. It goes something like this (shortened version):
Them: Two Train?
Me: [correct way]
Them: TWO Train?
Me: [correct way]
Them: Two TRAIN?
Me: [correct way]
Them: TWO TRAIN??? [hopeful and expectant look]
Me: Good! [I am lying]
I think it is very sweet when people try to pronounce my name correctly but I also think people need to accept that it's another language and not pronouncing it correctly is ok (kind of how I have accepted I will never pronounce the the french letter "U" correctly - it's ok!!!!). Let it go and let me move on with my life.
Anywho,when I became a U.S. citizen my mother decided that we would all change our names (I suspect it had something to do with the fact that it was free with the citizenship change). I was 11 at the time and my favorite show was Saved by the Bell so... well, it could have been worse. I almost called myself Adora.
So I was officially Kelly and tucked Train to my middle name and everything was hunky dory. Until I moved to France (of course).
For some reason (which I still regret to this day) I put my middle name on my CV and my company decided to take my middle name and hyphenate it with my last name. I'm not sure why they did this but it's annoying because now at work, to find me in lotus notes or to call me, you have to look under 'T' and now I have to have this conversation over and over:
Them: I can't find your email address/phone number.
Me: Try under T.
Them: But I thought your last name starts with a P.
Me: It does.
Them: So why is it listed under T?
Me: [BECAUSE FRENCH PEOPLE CAN'T HANDLE MIDDLE NAMES!!!!!] Dunno.
And it's not just in my work life. The French social security system decided to use the name on my birth certificate (Two Train) while issuing me a french identity card with the name on my passport (Kelly). What's worse is that the name on my birth certificate has my Vietnamese middle name (Thi) first followed by first name which lead to this conversation:
Bf: I thought your Vietnamese name is Two Train
Me: It is.
Bf: Card says Thi Two Train
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
So the other day, I finally received my supplemental insurance card which is sponsored by my company BUT works also in collaboration with social security so I was curious, which name would they use?
Why all of them!!!! I'm not kidding, the name on the card is:
Thi Two Train Kelly
I just hope they never ask for ID.
Did it bother me that people were mispronouncing my name? No. Why? Because I realized quickly there's something worse than having people mispronounce your name and that is trying to correct it. It goes something like this (shortened version):
Them: Two Train?
Me: [correct way]
Them: TWO Train?
Me: [correct way]
Them: Two TRAIN?
Me: [correct way]
Them: TWO TRAIN??? [hopeful and expectant look]
Me: Good! [I am lying]
I think it is very sweet when people try to pronounce my name correctly but I also think people need to accept that it's another language and not pronouncing it correctly is ok (kind of how I have accepted I will never pronounce the the french letter "U" correctly - it's ok!!!!). Let it go and let me move on with my life.
Anywho,when I became a U.S. citizen my mother decided that we would all change our names (I suspect it had something to do with the fact that it was free with the citizenship change). I was 11 at the time and my favorite show was Saved by the Bell so... well, it could have been worse. I almost called myself Adora.
So I was officially Kelly and tucked Train to my middle name and everything was hunky dory. Until I moved to France (of course).
For some reason (which I still regret to this day) I put my middle name on my CV and my company decided to take my middle name and hyphenate it with my last name. I'm not sure why they did this but it's annoying because now at work, to find me in lotus notes or to call me, you have to look under 'T' and now I have to have this conversation over and over:
Them: I can't find your email address/phone number.
Me: Try under T.
Them: But I thought your last name starts with a P.
Me: It does.
Them: So why is it listed under T?
Me: [BECAUSE FRENCH PEOPLE CAN'T HANDLE MIDDLE NAMES!!!!!] Dunno.
And it's not just in my work life. The French social security system decided to use the name on my birth certificate (Two Train) while issuing me a french identity card with the name on my passport (Kelly). What's worse is that the name on my birth certificate has my Vietnamese middle name (Thi) first followed by first name which lead to this conversation:
Bf: I thought your Vietnamese name is Two Train
Me: It is.
Bf: Card says Thi Two Train
Me: I don't want to talk about it.
So the other day, I finally received my supplemental insurance card which is sponsored by my company BUT works also in collaboration with social security so I was curious, which name would they use?
Why all of them!!!! I'm not kidding, the name on the card is:
Thi Two Train Kelly
I just hope they never ask for ID.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
carbonara
So I don't really cook. In university my roommate always came back to the apartment with smoke coming out from under the door (this is not an exaggeration). One time I mixed up whipped cream for whipping cream thinking they were the same thing (they are not). In Japan, whenever we had group dinners my contribution was always corn (boiled).
So yesterday I was feeling ambitious (and hungry) so I looked in my fridge and thought I recognized the ingredients for carbonara. Since I have never actually made carbonara before I looked up the recipe online. It all looked fine until I read the warning that, if the raw egg bit was not done properly, you could end up with a lumpy sauce. In all my eating experience I have never had a lumpy carbonara and it didn't sound appealing. I looked the cooking level for the recipe. Medium. I started to think I was in over my head.
I went on gchat for guidance. One of my friends was very encouraging and believed in me: "You can do it! (Followed by: It's so easy!). One gave me a recipe (with step by step picture instructions).
So I guess I owe them an update and here it is: The carabonara turned out great (The bf made it).
So yesterday I was feeling ambitious (and hungry) so I looked in my fridge and thought I recognized the ingredients for carbonara. Since I have never actually made carbonara before I looked up the recipe online. It all looked fine until I read the warning that, if the raw egg bit was not done properly, you could end up with a lumpy sauce. In all my eating experience I have never had a lumpy carbonara and it didn't sound appealing. I looked the cooking level for the recipe. Medium. I started to think I was in over my head.
I went on gchat for guidance. One of my friends was very encouraging and believed in me: "You can do it! (Followed by: It's so easy!). One gave me a recipe (with step by step picture instructions).
So I guess I owe them an update and here it is: The carabonara turned out great (The bf made it).
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