A ride a day | Un tour par jour

Found in DC

2012-01-26T13:14:00.005+01:00

I found a few dozen of these business cards in the area behind our apartment. I will let you draw your own conclusions. I'm just wondering how to pronounce "MoneyE?"

Oscar on the move

2012-01-23T16:04:00.002+01:00

Working Hard...

2012-01-20T16:41:00.004+01:00

Rebecca and Oscar looking for OSHA safety hazards

For those who want to know, we've compiled a list of OSHA safety hazards depicted in the book (pending additions by Rebecca)...

Sunday at the MLK Library

2012-01-08T22:09:00.001+01:00

CETMA cargo bike review

2011-12-28T17:45:00.017+01:00

Now that I've been riding the CETMA cargo bike for awhile with and without Oscar, I'll share a full review of it's various pros and cons. I'll try and stick to just reviewing the frame, without getting too much into the components that I chose to put on it.

Besides reviewing the frame, I feel compelled to add a note about the creator of the frame: Lane Kagay. I purchased a small front rack for another bike a few years ago when his racks were one of the few options available. After paying via google checkout, it arrived a while later. I don't remember exactly how long it took, but I do remember that he never sent an email with an ETA or saying that it had been shipped. I was just about to contact him to check on its status when it arrived.

When I was first researching baby-friendly bikes, I contacted Lane to get a quote and it took him 6 months to reply to the initial email (he said it got lost in his inbox among various inquiries). Given this, and my previous experience with his lack of communication, I should have looked elsewhere. Omitting most of the details, I will say that he lacks any kind of professionalism one would expect when paying $2000 for fabricated equipment. There were numerous delays, and Lane always put the blame elsewhere. It ended up taking twice as long (3 months instead of 6 weeks) as it was supposed to and only arrived after I disputed the Paypal charge (which froze his Paypal account and motivated him to get his act together).

The Frame/fork:

The pieces consist of: front fork, rear half of frame (similar to the rear triangle of a regular bike), front half of frame (including cargo area), rear steering column (where handlebars are attached), steering linkage (which goes under cargo area), seatpost shim allowing one to use a standard 27.2mm seatpost, and two steering column clamps (one for front fork, and one for rear steerer tube), cargo platform consisting of plywood covered with weather/slip resistant coating, and eccentric bottom bracket insert.

Assembly

The installation of the rear steerer tube and associated headset was a little tricky since the tube is too long to use a traditional headset press. After assembling the bike and riding it, I found the steering difficult and found that the inside of the rear headtube had some excess metal from welding that was interfering with the steerer tube turning freely. I had to remove the headset cups and ream the rear headtube which solved the problem (I'm glad I worked at a bike shop at the time).

I also found that the rear dropout spacing was 130mm, which seems an odd choice for a cargo bike. Most people will probably be using heavy duty mountain bike components which use 135mm spacing. Since the rear dropouts are so thick and well braced, it makes installing any hub that is wider than 130mm very difficult. Normally, this wouldn't be such an issue on a steel frame. The rear end could simply be bent slightly to make the spacing appropriate, but the heavy duty reinforcement makes this virtually impossible.

Cargo hauling

I found the cargo area to be one of the more versatile of all the cargo bikes I looked at. There are plenty of attachment points for bungees and straps.

Carrying cargo like this would be a lot more difficult to do with a Bakfiets.nl cargo bike

The cargo platform can be removed and custom pieces attached to the mounting points normally used for attaching the platform. I had planned to make a rack to hold multiple bikes in the cargo area, but ran out of time between the arrival of the bike and the arrival of Oscar.

I have carried adults and other heavy loads on a couple occasions and find the handling to be less than ideal for loads over 150 lbs. It is serviceable, but I would be reluctant to carry that much weight on a regular basis or in areas which require precise maneuvering.

Other considerations

The only other complaint that causes me consistent irritation is the extremely wide rear end. The frame tubes which brace the rear dropouts flare out considerably, forcing me to use cranks and a bottom bracket that place the pedals extremely far apart (this is called the Q factor or Tread). I realize that this is probably nitpicking to most people, but the pedals are far enough apart to make pedaling uphill noticeably less comfortable than on my other bikes.

The outside of the crankarms are about 165mm apart (the Q Factor). The outside of the frame tubes are about 5 inches apart. There is plenty of clearance for the tire (a 2" wide tire), enough that the frame tubes could me moved in 1/2" on each side and still have room for a 2.3" wide tire.

The mounting points for the rear rack are also a little clumsy. But to be fair, there are very few bikes with disc brakes where the rear rack attaches easily since the caliper is often in the way of the rack strut (there are disc-specific racks that basically have a L-joint to clear the caliper, but this cantilevers the weight away from the mounting point--not ideal). On the other hand, I feel that this being a cargo bike a rear rack would be an obvious accessory and since the frame is custom-made it shouldn't have added that much work to make a rack mount that was more accessible. This is another case where roller or drum brakes would have made things easier since the brakes don't get in the way of the rack struts.

Component considerations:

It can be a little tricky choosing components for a cargo bike. Most bike shops don't have a lot of experience with them and many heavy duty components that come on European cargo bikes aren't available in the United States.

Brakes: For flat terrain the ideal brakes would be roller or drum brakes. They stop consistently in all kinds of weather, they are well sealed from the elements and they don't require a finicky alignment between the frame and the wheel like disc brakes or rim brakes. The downside is they lack the braking power of rim or disc brakes. They would be ok on the smaller front wheel. Since the drum is large relative to the small wheel, the braking power is not as diminished as it would be on a larger diameter wheel.

There is also the matter of the distance from the lever to the caliper. With nearly 8 feet of cable, there is a lot of friction making the lever harder to pull and making a smooth application of increasing braking force impossible. The high performance Larry vs. Harry cargo bikes use hydraulic brakes which eliminate this problem. I opted to forgo this because of the increased cost and maintenance of hydraulic systems.

Verdict

There are a couple reasons you might choose a CETMA cargo bike over a bakfiets.nl bike. The primary reason is the customization. You can use derailleurs for especially hilly areas, disc brakes for tons of stopping power, or you can put custom-made attachments in the cargo area. If it is hilly enough to need derailleurs, you'll probably going to want electric assist as well. Even in mostly-flat DC the small hills can get tiresome quickly.

If you are primarily hauling children around, you'll want rain covers. There are rain covers that are made to fit the bakfiets.nl bikes. With a CETMA, you would either have to make the box the same dimensions as the bakfiets.nl bikes (which I did, and it wasn't easy) or you have to have someone custom make rain covers.

I would say that for most people a bakfiets.nl bike would be the way to go if there is a dealer within a reasonable distance (within driving distance of Seattle, NY, or Portland). Once you factor in things that are included in the bakfiets.nl bike (box, full chaincase, rear rack, dynamo lights), the CETMA bike is going to cost quite a bit more.

Oscar@Work

2011-11-19T03:39:00.002+01:00

Oscar as The Incredible Hulk for Holloween...

And holiday picture time at the Dept of Labor...

Oscarcizing

2011-11-06T13:47:00.002+01:00

Snow Day!

2011-10-29T18:18:00.000+02:00

Brining & Dining

2011-10-09T19:04:00.008+02:00

We don't eat out much here, partly because Oscar goes to bed at 7pm, and partly 'cause we're such awesome cooks that it's hard to justify the expense. But as with the craft fair, it's hard to put a price on inspiration. So when Rebecca's parents were in town for Oscar-sitting privilege, they were generous enough to stay a few extra hours so we could go out to dinner together two days before our anniversary.

After some Yelp.com research, we decided on Corduroy for some new American cuisine (also because it's Oscar's favorite book). We set off from home on our bikes all dressed up. Jefe doesn't get a chance to dress up as much as Rebecca does, so this was a treat in itself.

A quick ride later and we were soon seated. The menu is simple, with an emphasis on seafood starters with a mix of surf and turf mains. The wine list is enormous when it comes to bottles, but a little sparse when it comes to wine by the glass. Luckily, they have a decent selection of half-bottles; something we haven't seen available outside of France. So, one half-bottle for starters (white) and another for mains (red) works out very well for two people.

The reason that this restaurant merits so much background in this post is Rebecca's choice of main course: a roast breast of capon (castrated rooster) with braised Napa cabbage, which was, according to the waitress, brined over night (the rooster, not the cabbage). I've always been a little wary of chicken in restaurants, partly because I've gotten food poisoning from chicken at a disreputable bar/restaurant. Even when the sauce that they put on the meat is interesting, or the sides are interesting, how novel can a chicken breast be?

Pretty novel, it turns out. This rooster breast was falling-apart-tender, could be easily cut with a fork, was oozing juice, and was incredibly delicious by itself. A revelation to be sure.

What did I do as soon as we got home? Tried to figure out the very next dish that would be suitable for home brining. Pork loin chops, of course.

Recipe in hand (or on computer at least), the method was fairly straightforward, and can be done in under 10 minutes (not including storage time of course).

Salt, sugar, bay leaf and chicken glace (homemade chicken stock concentrate, which Rebecca likes to call "Meat Honey") waiting for 1c hot water. Two center cut pork loin chops, and a pumpkin (for the accompanying pumpkin polenta).

Once the hot water is added and solids are dissolved, add ice (1c) to cool liquid to room temp so it doesn't cook the pork. Refrigerate for at least a couple hours (much more with larger cuts or roasts, up to 30 hours).

Nice and juicy in the middle, and still a little pink since the FDA lowered the recommended cooking temp for pork from 160 to 145.

Ta Da...add a little box wine and you're all set...

Update: The pork chops turned out great, but I over-brined some chicken thighs leaving them in the brine overnight. This page provides some more technical directions for brining. I did a whole chicken for 4 hours and it turned out great, and later did some thighs for 20 minutes, and they also turned out great.

Hold Me Closer Crafty Dancer

2011-10-02T18:34:00.012+02:00

When the Crafty Bastard Art Fair rolled around we couldn't pass it up. We'd like to think we're pretty handy people, but inspiration can be a little elusive. Perhaps we could find some interesting things that we could make at home to spruce up our new abode.

Needless to say, Oscar was very excited. He's getting bigger and more adept at grabbing (along with lots of other things) and feels he is mature enough for some new toys. Not necessarily for a new skill set, but perhaps some new textures would be in order.

We dug around in his closet until we found some suitably warm clothes for the cold, windy, rainy ride to Adams Morgan.

Oscar bundled up for October's rainy, windy weather in DC

I'm not sure whose idea it was to have an outdoor craft fair in October, perhaps they are from Raleigh as well (like Rebecca). But there were plenty of people none the less.

Oscar was well protected on the way there...

There were plenty of interesting vendors and lots of baby friendly stuff for sale. We decided not to get any clothes since we have plenty already and he is growing too fast to wear anything for very long. There were some especially cute baby toys and stuffed animals.

Diane Koss' "Cutesy But Not Cutesy" booth was our favorite:

It even matches the color scheme of all the paintings that everyone did for him.

We didn't buy anything (yet), but we'll check out her Etsy store and find something for Oscar.

On the way home, we stopped by Whole Foods for fancy pork chops and box wine.

Having done some research, Whole Foods has the best selection of box wine in the District.

Box wine is much better than it used to be, with advances in material and packaging technology, wine can taste good and stay fresh in a bag-in-a-box for a few weeks. That means higher end winemakers are opting for the much less expensive bag/box packaging for mid-priced wines. Yeah for us!!!

Available for the equivalent of $5/bottle.

When we got home, it was just about time for Oscar's book/bath/massage bedtime routine. I think the bath is his favorite part, he's so excited, he has to do a dance when he gets out...

E-quakes

2011-08-24T13:35:00.010+02:00

I never thought I'd be able to say "Yeah, I know what an earthquake feels like, I lived in Illinois."

Soon after it hit (and Rebecca and I verified the other was ok), Oscar and I headed off to Whole Foods to pick up some seafood for Paella. We also hung out on the Whole Foods terrace so Oscar could have a snack.

Seafood in hand, we headed home. Within a block, at 14th St., it was apparent something was up. Traffic was backed up in the southbound lanes as far as I could see.

No matter, we were taking side streets. Some of the major streets were difficult to cross because the traffic lights were broken. In some cases, the sensors were broken, so they just stayed green for one direction of traffic. Or (and this is common here), one direction was blinking red (=stop sign) and the other direction was blinking yellow (=yield sign). This is extremely confusing, everywhere else I've been, it blinks red in both directions when there is a malfunction. The people who see a blinking red, assume the other direction is also seeing blinking red, and lots of honking and near misses ensue. To add to the confusion, the direction with the blinking yellow is often the lesser of the two streets.

By the time we reached 1st and P st NW, even the side streets were clogged. A drive behind me helpfully offered "Use the sidewalk, you shouldn't be riding with a baby in this shit." So, I did. And combined with a few alleyways, was able to get home quickly.

Most buildings downtown were evacuated, and it was little surreal for Rebecca watching so many people in business dress just standing around.

The Metro was still running, but only at 15 mph while they did inspections and the buses were stuck in the traffic snarl. So what did people do to get home? Ride a bike. Here's a snapshot of the Capital Bikeshare system 2 hours after the quake (taken from TheWashCycle).

All the gray markers near downtown are empty bikeshare stations.
Apparently, many of the people who left work early chose to take bikes instead of the metro or buses. Rebecca could see a near-constant stream of them out her window after her building was un-evacuated.

By the time Rebecca took the bus home a few hours after the quake, the buses were running in a timely manner again.

This morning, lots of government offices were closed, but we didn't know that. She went to work early (so she could leave early) and the office was locked. After coming home and making a few calls, it turned out that employees had the option of taking a leave day (she hasn't accrued any yet) or telecommuting (she doesn't have the right software on her computer yet). So she ended going back to the office where there were a handful of people working.

One day...one ride

2011-08-21T17:17:00.007+02:00

The baby bike outfitted for an afternoon downtown, stroller and raincover strapped to the side. Diaper bag pannier on the left and misc pannier on the right.

We went on a downtown shopping trip yesterday and decided to take Oscar along. He expressed interested in the children's department of Zara. The clothes are a little big for him now, but he wants something to look forward to when he's outgrown some of his second-hand 80's era clothes.

It was sunny and 83 degrees, so Oscar got in his Car Seat of Adventure outfitted with appropriate sun blocking gear: a hat to keep the sun out of his eyes when the cover doesn't cut it, and a towel over his legs.

We ride a few blocks and hop onto the R street bike lane.

Our first stop is The Bike Rack at 14th and Q NW, which is one the few bike shops that still has DC Bike Maps. Yeah! A few people out front and one of the mechanics admired the baby toting bike, but were really just checking out Oscar's unstoppable cuteness.

Then we're off to downtown for some shopping. While Rebecca is trying on some clothes Oscar checks out the surround mirrors at one of the clothing stores.

Once he starts getting a little cranky, Jefe and Oscar head over to a Starbucks two blocks away so Oscar can get swaddled and take a nap.

Once he wakes up, it's off to Zara. Oscar does a quick tour of the children's department and then heads up the street to Cowgirl Creamery to try and find some fancy cheese for mom and dad. Oscar forgot his wallet and wasn't able to get any cheese. Luckily, we've still got some in the fridge from our last trip to the DuPont Circle farmer's market.

Next, it's dinner at McCormick & Schmick's. Oscar starts getting cranky again. So he's gets swaddled on the bench of a nearby booth and rocked to sleep by Jefe while he (Jefe) gets fed his calamari appetizer by Rebecca. Oscar sleeps through the rest of the meal, and wakes in time go back in the Car Seat of Adventure for the ride home.

We take E street to Capitol to First street NE, to L street back to the Met Branch trail. We get home just in time to Skype with Bob and Kristi. Another eventful day in the District.

The Met Branch Trail just south of R street.

We're back

2011-08-18T15:00:00.004+02:00

A lot has happened in recent months, but if you're reading this, you probably know that. So I'll just stick to the most recent stuff.

We're pretty settled in our new apartment. There are still a few things laying around on the floor waiting for a nice place to be put. But all the boxes are unpacked and we've got a sort-of routine going.

You really just want to hear about Oscar...

Now that he's 3 months old he's started sleeping a little more regularly, with a little help from his parents. In the past few weeks his daytime naps have usually only lasted 45 minutes, which is one REM/non-REM sleep cycle. Now, instead of letting him wake up, we're trying to immediately put him back to sleep for a second cycle. Since this practice is only a day or two old, he's needs a little help to extend the sleep to the second cycle (rocking, pacifier, etc.).

We're trying to do something similar for his nighttime sleeps, extending them from two hours to four hours by immediately putting him back to sleep instead of feeding him. We know he doesn't have a problem sleeping for four hours because he often does it during his first sleep at night and when we have fed him after a 2 hour sleep he doesn't eat very much and generally falls asleep mid-feed.

Since this is called "A ride a day"

Yes, we've been riding our bikes. Oscar's baby transport bike is working out well. He's seems to like it most of the time and will even fall asleep will riding if he's tired. I put extra fat tires (Schwalbe Big Apples) at low pressure (15 psi) to help smooth out the bumps.

The bike is giving me (Jefe) a serious workout, my legs have been sore for the past few days. When pedaling a 90 lb bike, even moderate hills and bike-path on-ramps get the heart going. And carrying a car seat, baby, pannier, and diaper bag up two flights of stairs in 90+ degree weather is nice cool-down after riding for 20 minutes.

We've visited the Dupont Circle farmer's market, where we picked up aged sheep and goat cheese along with some vegetables.

And the reason we're all here...

Rebecca's job at the Dept. of Labor Office of Communications started on Monday. Everyone is nice to work with and she has already been given some interesting projects that will allow her to use her skills in interesting ways. I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to write about. Getting almost any job requires security clearance, and every building downtown has metal detectors and sometimes surly security ("Put your belt back on here...'cause I said so.") But the whole goal of the Rebecca's department is to tell people about all the workplace hazards that can be easily avoided, so more publicity should be welcome (and compensated...).

Have fun in Chicago

2010-09-29T01:31:00.007+02:00

We'll see you all in just a few days. Whether you're coming early, staying late, or just going to be in Chicago for a few hours, here are a few things to do in case you find yourself bored.

Get your pollution while you still can...
Not far from Lincoln Park is the industrial corridor flanking the North Branch of the Chicago River. A Lot of it is just warehouses, but along Cortland between Clybourne and the river is A. Finkl & Sons, a steel mill that still operates in the heart of the city. If you ride, walk, or drive by at night, you may catch them in the middle of the smelting process.

While it's really cool to see once in a while, it's not all rose-colored metal. They are one of the worst polluters in the city, accounting for nearly one third of the city’s total health risk from factory emissions.

High Laughs, Low Prices...

Among all the usual big-city distractions, Chicago's improv comedy scene is impressive for its diversity, quality, relatively low prices. There are nearly 60 improv events this weekend alone. With a lot of cinemas charging $10 each for tickets, being able to laugh uproariously for an hour for $5 (while drinking booze), cannot be overrated.

For low prices, convenient location, and consistent laughs, my favorite is iO, just a few doors down from Wrigley Field. If that doesn't float your boat, there are at least three other improv theaters within a few minutes walk. Another good bet is the Chemically Imbalanced Theater, which hosts Pimprov every Friday night (and it is BYOB to make up for a slightly higher entrance fee).

There's trees here somewhere...
Chicago can feel a little clausterphobic at times, being surrounded by honking, speeding cars, towering buildings, and encircled by hundreds of miles of interstates and railroad tracks. Frankly, the park system is a little pathetic and doesn't help to alleviate this situation. Most of the parks are sparsely wooded and fairly unattractive. The one exception to this is Jackson Park, near the museums of Hyde Park on the south side of Chicago.

It was designed by Frederick Law Olmstead (designer of Central Park and Prospect Park in New York and also the grounds of the Biltmore Estate in Ashville, NC) for the 1893 World's Fair. He used is hard-won prestige to keep the financial backers of the fair from turning the park into the technology riddled sideshow they were looking for. Especially relaxing is the Japanese Gardens on the Wooded Island.

More to come shortly...

Hotels

2010-06-20T06:30:00.009+02:00

In case you haven't figured it out, we're really hoping you come to our wedding. It order to make it as painless as possible, we'll be giving you lots of helpful info so you can get the most out of your trip to Chicago.

Choosing a hotel is something I used to agonize over. Now I only agonize over it if I can't bring my bike along. It can be difficult finding the right hotel for your tastes that is also conveniently located for the types of things you want to do. For now, I'll focus on giving you a few different price/location options. Perhaps later I'll try and demystify Chicago's sometimes great/sometimes awful public transit system so you can see the things you want to see without losing your shirt.

The hotels in Chicago are concentrated around the airports or just north of the Loop in the neighborhoods of River North, Near North, Gold Cost, and Streeterville.

View Marmalade in a larger map (A quick key to the symbols: beds=expensive hotels, yellow pins=bed & breakfasts, red pins=not quite as expensive hotels)

These hotels range in price from slightly expensive to very expensive.

Pros: close to lots of (expensive) shopping options, restaurants, and nightlife. Short bus ride or long walk to downtown museums, etc.
Cons: far from (less expensive) shopping options, restaurants, and nightlife.

If you're looking for something (a little) cheaper and in a more varied neighborhood, I've found a few different kinds of accommodations a little farther north in the Lincoln Park/Lakeview/DePaul neighborhoods.

Pros: close to (less expensive) shopping options, restaurants, and nightlife. Closer to some nice public beaches which are nice for relaxing even if it's too cold to swim.
Cons: only one El line (the Red Line) runs through these neighborhoods, so you'll be doing more walking, busing, or taxi-ing.

Hotels:
Days Inn
Diversey and Clark

City Suites
933 West Belmont Avenue

Super 8 (a little farther north than most)
7300 N. Sheridan Parkway

Bed and Breakfasts
Windy City Urban Inn
607 West Deming Place

Hansen House Mansion
1020 w. Altgeld

Gold Coast Guest House
113 West Elm St.
312.337.0361

This is just enough to get you started, enough to realize there's more out there than what shows up on the first page of a travelocity search. And in case you get too enthusiastic in your search, there are a few businesses with "hotel" in the name that are not what you're looking for (they charge by the hour).

If you find any of this info needs updating due to changing availability, let me know.

Wedding Gift Registry

2010-05-24T00:21:00.006+02:00

Dear Wedding Guests,

For your convenience, we are registered online at:

~Williams-Sonoma

~Bed, Bath, and Beyond

and

~Anthropologie

However, we welcome any and all artistic alternatives from our brilliant and creative friends and family.

We can't wait to see you all in Chicago!

Love,

Jeff and Rebecca

Getting Married!

2010-05-24T00:13:00.004+02:00

Hey, long time, no write!

But guess what, we're getting married on October 2, 2010!

We'll post details soon...

Bikes are for riding...

2009-08-09T18:53:00.011+02:00

Among the perks of being back in Illinois is access to our fleet of bikes. Really old bikes for hauling stuff, newer bikes for going fast, folding bikes for traveling (a Raleigh Twenty and two bikes with S&S couplers), and a tandem. When our friends Tom and Jessie moved from the car heaven of Raleigh, North Carolina (#3 on the list of most sprawl-icious cities in America) to the bike heaven of Portland, Oregon, we were sure Tom's tinkering side would kick in and their newfound bikes would be transformed into rolling tributes to the DIY philosophy. We were right.

A few excerpts from his latest inventions:

Since Jessie and I have a massive pile of broken electronics downstairs (over 10 CRT monitors, a couple LCDs, some TVs, several desktops and laptops, stereos, DVD players, record players, receivers, etc etc) I figured I'd just take a gutted desktop computer and remove some more of the framework inside and make it into a box. It even has a lid that can open and close really easily (and will be waterproof once I cover up the holes in the end with some tin and silicone).

I know I need a light to be safe at night, so I took some old neon wire (pretty cool stuff, just white neon wire with a red cover, less than 1/8" thick) and made a light on the back face of the computer...err, bike box. At least this way everyone will know what I am cruising around at night.

In response to Tom's tinkering, I thought I would detail all the ways I've modified my bike to make it great for cruising around town in all kinds of weather with a week's worth of groceries. While I certainly try DIY as much as possible myself, I also don't mind occasionally buying off-the-shelf stuff, since a large part of the challenge with bicycles is attaching various accessories so they don't get in the way of some other vital component. A loose wire, nut, or something rattling at 20 mph can quickly turn into a spectacular crash, something I've been trying to avoid more and more in the last few years.

The grocery bike is a 1965 Humber Sports. It lived through many winters in Traverse City, Michigan until it made its way to Champaign via Scot McCollum (the friendliest, most knowledgeable bike person you're likely to meet). It was covered in a thin layer of rust, and the rust had eaten through the fender in a few small spots. I sent it to get sandblasted and powdercoated at Coating Specialties. It came back rust free, beautifully (and durably) coated, ready to be built up.

I retapped the bottom bracket shell so it would accept a more modern bottom bracket and I could ditch the old cottered cranks, which aren't unreliable, they just require much more effort to service than newer cotterless cranks. I replaced the wheels (and donated the wheels to others looking for old English three-speed wheels) with a three-speed/drum brake rear and front dynamo/drum brake. Drum brakes are especially useful in adverse weather conditions. When using brakes that engage the rim to stop the bike, rain (plus the road grime it contains) and snow (plus the salt that has been added) gets caught between the brake pad and the rim, quickly eating into the rim until the braking surface is so thin it gives out and the tire and tube pop off the rim. Coaster brakes, drum brakes, disc brakes, and Servo brakes all help to solve this problem.

And if you plan on riding in all that rain and snow, you better have a good mudflap on your front fender. I made this one out of gasket material and put it on with three pop rivets. If you want a little bit better protection, you can make the top a little wider and attach it to the fender struts. The mudflap will curve around the tire a little bit more, keeping the spray coming off the tire more confined.

If you're going to be carrying much, you'll need a rear rack. And while you could put a basket (or computer tower) back there to carry stuff, I prefer to use panniers that hang off the side of the rack. They are waterproof and I can take them into the store with me, so I don't keep accumulating plastic bags. This particular rack (Axiom Odyssey) has the extra guards to keep panniers from getting caught in your wheel and it has one of the highest weight ratings I could find, at around 150 lbs.

And sometimes it's nice to be able to see what you are carrying--in case it is delicate or otherwise in need of a watchful eye--and to have a front rack, also. This one is a CETMA rack from Oregon. I've also mounted the (hub-powered) light underneath the rack, so it doesn't get obstructed by anything I might be carrying. Among other things (plants, trash cans, cardboard boxes, dishes, I've also carried a complete bike on the front rack. I removed the wheels, bungeed the frame on the rack sitting upright, then sandwiched the two wheels on.

You can also see the curtains Rebecca and I made in the upper right side of the photo.

If you are using your front rack a lot, and carrying heavy stuff, it would be better to attach the rack to the frame (which doesn't rotate), instead of the handlebars and fork (which do), like this rack from WorkCycles. Either way, you'll want something to keep the front end from rotating while you're trying to load up your rack. I put a small spring between the frame and the fork to keep the fork/wheel from rotating too far. Normally, it doesn't affect steering since you don't move the handlebars very much. It makes tight, low speed turns more difficult and also make maneuvering the bike inside your front door a little harder, but otherwise works great.

In one last safety feature (besides the front and rear lights), I found these pedals with LEDs in addition to the reflectors. They don't require any batteries, the rotation of the pedals powers the lights, very convenient (similar to these, but mine don't have a capacitor that keeps the LEDs on when you stop).

Any other noteworthy DIY projects and modifications going on out there?

Don't drink the water...Seriously.

2009-07-20T18:00:00.007+02:00

Russell on the left, Jefe on the right

In our last few weeks in Europe, we went to visit our friend Russell in Kraków, Poland, a place very unlike France and a nice change of pace before we head back to the United States. We didn't know much about Poland before we got there, and Russell has only been living there a few weeks, so no one knew what to expect. (You can read Russell's summary of our trip, without pictures :( on his blog)

Russell has been slowly learning Polish for more than a year, but (as we have also learned, here in France) jumping into a conversation with a native speaker is still a daunting task. He was kind enough to help us as much as he could and we all learned a little more Polish vocabulary. We learned the words for "danger, mean dog"...Uwaga Zeypies

The sign says he's a mean dog,
but he looks more like an awkward ballet dancer

and that night we made home-made tortillas (we brought some masa with us from France) and carnitas, he learned the word for shoulder blade at the grocery store (łobotka, as in pork shoulder, the cut used for carnitas)

Of course there was a little bit of culture shock. The small grocery store across from where we were staying remained open all night, we couldn't believe it. Instead of thinking "how convenient" like an American, I thought "who would work those hours" like a French person.

The clocktower across from our hostel.
Zoom in to see the odd typeface of the numerals.

The food was also surprising. After a few meals in a row of various kinds pork paired with piles of french fries, we were excited to find something a bit different...for instance, a place using local specialties in creative ways. Oscypek is unpasteurized, smoked sheep's cheese that has been pressed into cylinders with designs on the outside. In this case it was sliced, grilled and served with strawberries. In true Polish fashion, they managed to sneak some meat in, since it was tasted like it was grilled on the same grill used for fatty pork products, which made it even more delicious. Baked camembert with strawberries is a similar dish, which we've found here in France. We'll definitely be looking for this Polish cheese in the Polish grocers of Chicago.

Grilled Oscypek with fig jam and strawberries

After a meal of pork, or things grilled in pork fat, there is nothing like finding a good bookstore to relax. With the population of English speakers in Kraków--some residents, some tourists-- comes the local English language bookstore: in this case, the very welcoming Massolit. With three rooms of books, English language periodicals, comfy chairs, and a small cafe, it's easy to spend a whole afternoon here. I was able to catch up on a fairly recent copy of the New Yorker, which was addressed to someone in Chicago's Hyde Park neighborhood, and had made its way to Poland, probably thanks to Chicago's enormous Polish population.

Taking a break at Massolit bookstore in Kraków

For better or worse, it seems that Poland is taking a lot of its cues from the United States. There are the twenty-four hour grocery stores, the poor bicycling infrastructure, and the occasional lack of government oversight. Case in point: the tap water is unsafe to drink, which I didn't believe at first. When I initially heard this, I had already been drinking it for a day or two with no ill effects. I wondered if it was unsafe like in Central America, where the effects were immediately apparent, or if the effects were more long term. Turns out the contaminants in the water cause long term damage...as in liver damage.

In the American spirit of exploiting loopholes, we noticed another phenomenon, that I though might be a quirk in the advertising laws. There were bikes covered in advertisements, locked to street signs and fences. I wondered if putting the ads on bicycles exempted them from normal advertising restrictions, or perhaps just the costs associated with renting ad space.

Of course there were plenty of used clothing stores, and even a used clothing market every Sunday in Kazimierz, south of the city center, but we especially liked the one in the photo below because of the frankenstein mannequin out front. They stuck a small head on a regular body...

...and somehow made it seem kind of gangsta

Besides all the previously mentioned American imports: greasy food, crazy drivers, the idea of convenience over sanity, there was one last blow that was especially crushing after living in France. This is a snapshot (see below) of a menu at a mid-priced restaurant. The American wines available are Sutter Home and Carlo Rossi, two wines which are particularly well known for their disgustingness and popularity amongst underaged drinkers. So why import it to Poland and feature it on the menu? I assume it is mostly to keep prices down. And to make us feel even more uncomfortable with the way Europeans imagine Americans. On the other hand, both the locals and tourists here clearly expect things pretty cheap. The French wines we found in wine shops usually cost three times as much as they would for us in France, which makes them true luxury items when you take into account Poland's otherwise low cost of living.

Sutter Home can be yours for only 17 złoty ($5) a glass, the same price as bottle of good wine in France.

Poitiers Rocks...Sometimes

2009-07-13T23:00:00.004+02:00

Despite the 6000 miles which separate Champaign-Urbana and Poitiers, coming from one university town to another carries certain expectations with regards to the availability of late-night food, weird art, and music.

Champaign-Urbana's music scene was perhaps more developed than its modest size and distance from major metropolises might suggest. Jefe helped with a live local music show on the local independent radio station (WEFT 90.1 fm) for long enough to appreciate the quality and sheer volume of continuously maturing local talent.

It took us a while to wrap our heads around the music scene in Poitiers. Besides the various arms of the university, Poitiers is home to two music conservatories and a surprising number of instrument retailers and repair shops, including a luthier. But these vestiges of musical education are no guarantee of music that speaks to and evokes passion in the audience. Modern French music is notorious for borrowing from other people and cultures. Unfortunately, mimicking music far from its geographic roots can be a tricky enterprise. Case in point: Jefe has seen a few "blues" bands in Europe that, while adept musically, lacked the urgency and passion of their stateside counterparts. It was "blues," it just wasn't "the blues."

With a few exceptions, the bands and DJs performing at Poitier's local venues are mostly visiting groups. Sometimes from elsewhere in France, but just as often from Spain, Norway, Czech Republic or even from the U.S.

Besides mentioning a few noteworthy examples, I won't attempt to provide a critique of all the foreign and local groups that have passed through Poitiers. Partly because writing about something as subjective and ambiguous as music is extraordinarily difficult, but also because the venues are as interesting as the music they are hosting.

Our first ever music experience in Poitiers was at Le Pince Oreille (trans: The Pierced Ear). Located on the periphery of centre ville near Eglise Montierneuf it also houses a semi-upscale restaurant above the bar/music area. The offerings vary between DJs, repeater bands (various nights of week are swing, jazz, or blues) and the occasional foreign visitor, usually of the world music variety. This venue caters to a slightly older crowd. One that doesn't want to be forced to wear ear plugs or fight for space with the sweaty, drunk student crowd.

The big-name acts that come through town are generally showcased at the Confort Moderne. This is a one stop shop for all your alternative needs. Part music venue, part art exhibition space, it also houses a used/vintage record store, a fanzine library and even a small restaurant. It's located outside of centre ville in the area populated by many students & conveniently close to late-night pizza and kebabs. It's most interesting because it includes all the extracurricular activities that wouldn't appear at a normal venue. The problem is that the employees that make these interesting operations happen (young, inexperienced) are also really poor excuses for bartenders, lighting technicians, etc. Oh well.

The fanzine library at the Confort Moderne

For those members of the younger set who prefer to dress up a little, there is the recently opened Minima Cafe. Situated closer to the center of the action in Poitiers, the bar is located on the ground floor, with a beer garden out back and space for bands/DJs/dancing in the basement. The decor is minimalist (thus the name) and modern with new locally produced artwork/photos exhibited on a regular basis. Besides being frequented by mostly DJs, there are only a few drawbacks to this location. The clientele often orders labor-intensive mixed drinks, leaving someone craving merely a beer or glass of wine to wait while the lone bartender turns out armloads of pineapple mojito-margaritas. Also, with France's indoor smoking ban, the clope set is forced to fill the narrow sidewalks out front (on both sides of the already-narrow street) making entering and exiting a little more difficult, not to mention the danger posed by cars passing through this drunk, absent-minded, bifurcated smoking party. We saw the Czech band Sabot here.

Concert poster for the Czech bass-drum duo Sabot

Moving down the social ladder a rung, we come to Le Cafe du Clain. Located on the edge of centre ville on the banks of the Clain River it is a small, cheap, traditional restaurant by day and a punk- and alcoholic retiree-populated watering hole by night. A little idiosyncratic to be sure, it is a good bet for metal and punk bands traveling through town, often from Spain. Since it's a little out of the way, the patrons have only this bar or the nearby, more upscale establishment to choose from. Thus, the disparate crowd. If you come for bands, you'll want to bring your ear plugs (unless you're one of the retirees and/or already deaf).

Punk rockers from Spain at the Cafe du Clain

Just around the corner from the Minima Cafe on the Place Charles de Gaulle, Cluricaume Cafe hosts generally talented acts and is welcoming enough you might actually hang out there when there isn't music on the menu. As a Irish/French Celtic Pub it is frequented by a beer swilling, sometimes dreadlocked, underclassmen crowd that can get a little crazy if the musicians are too enthusiastic. If the music is of the metal/punk variety you won't have any trouble hearing it from the slew of tables on the sidewalk out front and across the street.

Meringue Alcohol and Us at Cluricaume Cafe

Finally, on the DIY side of things is 23 avenue de Paris. Resembling (and smelling like) a glorified squat, they host bands, art, and theater acts. The bands hosted are mostly local. I'm not sure if they sell alcohol, but most of the spectators seem to bring their own anyway.

French Fashion, Unromanticized

2009-07-06T15:07:00.019+02:00

"Fashions fade, style is eternal"

Yves Saint Laurent

As Americans, we sometimes imagine the French as living in a sort of hazy, idyllic world of wine, cobbled streets, and perfect, timeless chic. These myths of the well-dressed Frenchman or Frenchwoman are perpetuated by lovely sites such as The Sartorialist and Garance Doré.

Scott and Garance live in a world where everyone looks like these girls and him or her and this lady.

The myth is beautiful, but the reality is that -- even despite some of the things we've said on this blog -- everyday French people don't look so different from Americans.

everyday French folks -- except for the 2-hour lunches, they're just like you!

Of course, there are some exceptions.

1. Anachronistic Trends

You may or may not have heard that the 80's and early 90's are making a comeback. I have spotted a range of anachronistic trends...

Man in 80's/90's-inspired monochrome track suit

Gladiator Sandals: Dating back to 1st century BCE
and Summer '08.

2. Punk Ladies
There is a distinctly punk-inspired, Mad Max element to current French trends. Extraneous zippers, studs, gatherings, asymmetry, etc.

Actually, these are a couple of SDF guys.

3. Runway-to-Street
Fashion-forward runway looks, converted for the everyday woman

Leighton Meester in Louis Vuitton at the 2009 MET Costume Institute Gala

Everyday French lady version

4. Pointy Elf-inspired shoes

This trend seems to work better in men's shoes than in women's

Um, i think the price listed here is a joke.

Restaurant Philosophies and Food Epiphanies

2009-06-29T20:00:00.013+02:00

fresh artichokes, a lot of work, but worth it

Everyone knows that the French take their restaurants pretty seriously, but it's interesting how small variations in attitudes and the philosophy of patrons and staff can add up to a big difference.

Case in point: In France, waiters leave you alone. Many foreigners interpret this as laziness or arrogance, but they're wrong. For the most part, French waiters ignore you because your interaction with the food and your fellow diners is supposed to be more important than your relationship with the staff. The waiter is not your friend. Your dining companion is your friend. And most importantly, no amount of saccharine sweetness from the waiter is going to make up for a sub-par meal.

But beyond this there are other, larger, departures from standard restaurant philosophy at work in France, and in other European countries, too. In fact, we met with one of the most novel of these approaches in Germany, at a restaurant called Perlin, in the Mitte neighborhood of Berlin. Though it's technically labeled a wine bar, the classification is misleading on several fronts. To begin, you pay a one euro deposit on your wine glass, which gives you unlimited access to a selection of red and white (albeit German) wines. If you would also like to eat, a fixed two-course meal is available. There are no prices listed for food or wine, instead you are asked to pay what you think the meal was worth after you have finished eating. This is an interesting idea, but must sometimes lead to a little awkwardness for the patrons.

inside perlin

First, it must be said that the wine is totally unremarkable. The food is simple, but well made. The ambiance is nice and the staff friendly and helpful, but you may feel obligated to pay more than you otherwise would because the restaurant is putting so much faith in your generosity. In addition, with liberal access to wine, you're likely to be at least a little drunk by the time the purse strings are loosened, perhaps letting out a few more euros than intended.

In talking to the staff, it appears that customers from more food-oriented countries tend to pay less. It is not hard to imagine people from France, Spain, or Italy being unimpressed with the wine. The selection is similar to what you might find at a budget brasserie in France, though the mood is closer to chic bistro. Perhaps this is a sleight-of-hand to trick people into parting with their money in a competitive restaurant environment?

Instead of offering a novel payment system, the Parisien bistro Ober-Salé focuses on the food. With only one chef (Stéphane Corcessin) and one waitress, and thirty seats (seats, not tables), this isn't hard to do. A veteran of other well-regarded bistros (Villaret, Bristol), the owner-chef is alone in the kitchen, and it shows. Lacking the delegation of duties of multi-person kitchens, every dish at Ober-Salé is fabricated from start to finish by one very skilled, technically adept chef with a very real monetary stake in the satisfaction of the clientele.

facade of Ober-Sale

The food is stunning without being pretentious. Flavors are refined, and they harmonize perfectly without being muddy. The presentation is delightful without being overly artsy or minimalistic. Artichoke soup with poached egg evokes the very essence of the artichoke. Having cooked both baby and full-size artichokes, I still can't imagine how much labor went into producing this dish to obtain a flavor that an artichoke itself dreams of.

Your local cafe's spinach-artichoke dip, this is not.

Overcoming the battle between food-obsessed chef and tight-fisted owner is no small task -- imagine the stress involved when they are one and the same! Let's hope that trying to do double duty never begins to detract from the delightful flavors constantly coming out of his kitchen.

Ober-Salé was the site of my second food-epiphany, changing the conception of what food can be and extending the limits of what is possible. The first, not surprisingly, was also in Paris, at the now closed (and soon to be reopened elsewhere in Paris) Un Drôle d'Endroit Pour Une Rencontre (trans: "A funny place for an encounter").

The name seems to be based on a title of an old Deneuve/Depardieu film

People come to Paris for lots of reasons, some of them for the food. Explaining what makes it so unique can be difficult when speaking to people who have never experienced this level of cooking. Yes, it's possible to get cooking like this in the United States, but you are only likely to find it at the most expensive, exclusive restaurants. That you can find such eye-opening flavors at a small Parisien bistro that is half-empty is a testament to the nearly inexhaustible supply of unassuming restaurants that would magically grow three month+ waits if they were transplanted to any American city.

Biking further afield

2009-06-26T09:00:00.008+02:00

Yes, we've been doing lots of stuff...and to prove it...

Trevor and I took a trip to Southern France (the region surrounding the Dordogne River) in order to do some biking. We took the train and arrived in Brive-la-Gaillarde, home of a foie gras factory...

After taking a circuitous route to Proissans, we stayed in a Bed and Breakfast outside of Sarlat-le-Caneda, and went to the Saturday market in Sarlat. It was pretty hectic. There were lots of tourists and a lot of stalls selling lame clothes and other crap to tourists, we even saw one stall selling gear plastered with characters from American professional wrestling (WWE). We also caught this guy, who left his car parked overnight in the lot used for the market. Now he's trying to back out between the vendors...good luck.

Of course the region is known for their castles perched on the cliffsides, not their intricate parking maneuvers. We spotted plenty of the former, but opted not to take as many pictures as the tour groups being chauffeured in tour buses through the winding roads. I like this one because of the ivy-covered small building beside the main residence.

Near the end of our second day, we took a break in Assier after riding 125km through rolling hills. Luckily, there was some entertainment in the form of a tiny kid riding his bike around like he owned the place. He was jumping it up and down the steps of this gazebo and generally acting like a pint-sized bad-ass. Keep up the good work.

After riding 140km through almost continuous steep hills, we were worried we would be too sore to complete the third day's riding to make it to Cahors where we were getting on the train back to Poitiers. Fortunetely, a good nights rest and a decent breakfast helped a lot. We were on our way, just outside Capdenac, when we encountered this in the way...

The road had been washed out. We tried to get around it, as the shortest detour by road was an extra 15km out of the way. The wall to the right supports a railway, we were able to climb up onto the railway. One of the tracks was still in use, but veered off into a tunnel going the wrong direction. The other set of tracks were unused, but were overgrown with thorns and we were stymied. We had to shorten our journey and head back to Capdenac to catch the train there. On our way back into town we found a notice from the city regarding the temporary closure of the road...dated February 21, 2006.

Luckily, Rebecca was waiting for us in Poitiers with a rabbit stew....Mmmmmmmm.

Visitors...

2009-05-31T00:30:00.004+02:00

Our visitors are arriving on the heels of each other. We said goodbye to Erika on Wednesday morning, and Trevor arrived with his bike in tow the same afternoon.

Erika's last day in our lovely apartment.

Hello Trevor...with Saturday afternoon oysters. (In case you're wondering what you're missing)

then a nap...

Late afternoon in Parc Blossac

Moules Frites and Muscadet

After all that relaxing, it's time for a trip to the bottle depository.

Stay tuned for more photos and info from the recent adventures and possibly some guest-authored posts.

Athletic Anecdotes and Another 10K

2009-05-23T08:05:00.003+02:00

post 10k, part deux
5/19/2009
New Personal Best : 65 minutes, 51 seconds
(nearly 6 minutes faster than the first one)

When I am running, even when I am running inside, at the gym, I see many interesting things. I suspect that many strange things also happen at gyms in the US, but here in France, gym culture is especially peculiar:

(1) yesterday, when I got to the gym and went to the locker room, I watched as a young lady who was changing out of her work-out gear into her street clothes
removed a large set of hoop earrings from her ears and replaced them with a larger set of hoop earrings. She has designated exercise jewelry.
(2) also yesterday, a large asian woman -- who is new to the gym-- was working with one of the personal trainers. she was wearing a very small leotard with no...erm... supportive undergarments. the trainer tried to get her to run on the treadmill next to me, but when he increased the pace, she fell. not stumbled. fell, all the way down, and then rolled all the way off the treadmill to the wall. She didn't seem hurt, and I was impressed that the leotard remained intact.

Have you seen strange things like this happen at your gym? Feel free to share your anecdotes in the comments.

A Saturday AND Sunday in Hell...

2009-05-19T13:58:00.010+02:00

I came across this poster on the internet a few days ago. Initially, I was almost giddy...the 20th of June?!?

Having participated in this glorious hypercycling race only once, in 2006, I had resigned myself to missing it in both '08 and '09 because it is normally held in September each year. Even if our visas had arrived on time 10 months ago, I still wouldn't have made it to the 2008 edition, and in September of this year, we'll be cosying into our new place in Champaign-Urbana, gearing up for the academic year.

"But June 20th?" I thought to myself. "I could actually swing that."

And then my newly cultivated Inner Voice of Reason said, "What are you trying to get us into?" While my experience racing in 2006 was sometimes enjoyable, it was also plagued by periods of intense pain and delirious soul-searching, and many questions of "What the #@!* am I doing this for?"

Here's my account of riding in the same race (a little shorter and with different cities) which I wrote after finishing in 2006:

The race flyer from 2006

The 23rd of September was the start of the 3rd 24-hour race in Holland. I'd seen somethings online about the previous ones. I was planning on being in Europe for my friend's wedding in Scotland a few weeks prior, and decided in July that I should stay and do the 24-hour race in Holland 2 weeks after the wedding.

I got to Holland on Thursday for the race which was scheduled for Saturday. I spent most of Thursday and Friday finding maps, getting a rear rack for a track bike, helmet, bottles, bottle cages, and adjusting fenders.

My bike from 2006 that is currently in the U.S. in storage. I miss you.

The race started in Utrecht, about 35km from Amsterdam. There was food and drinks at the start to try and build up the energy reserves. I had 2 water bottles, extra clothes for the night time, nuts/fruit, cell phone for emergencies, mp3 player, 4 maps of Holland or parts of Holland, rain gear, and bike tools.

The start of the race in Utrecht: hot bikes + random cute toddler

Almost 60 people took off at 12:10PM from Utrecht to Amsterdam for the first checkpoint. I was riding a 46x16 fixed gear (with a 17t freewheel on the other side) 'cause I wanted to be able to keep up with the leaders as long as possible. About 15km outside Utrecht I lost the leaders. We were cycling mostly on bike paths which were too narrow to do a lot of passing. When the group in front of you got dropped, so did you. Soon after we lost the leaders, there were navigational problems. We managed to ride an extra 4km from what race organizers stated it would be between Utrecht and Amsterdam.

At the checkpoint in Amsterdam we had more food, drink, and a quick group map-check and we were off to Zwolle, 138 km away. Much more getting lost ensued in the suburbs around Amsterdam. We never got too far from the intended path, but we spent a lot of time looking at maps or asking directions. Around 15 km from Zwolle my legs were hurting, and I was no longer able to go very fast. Our group of 6 from Amsterdam (Eva, Hannes--both from Stockholm, Louise from Dublin, who lived in Chicago for 6 months, Pedro from Madrid, Chris Berling from Amsterdam, and me) was still together. I got leg cramps just outside of Zwolle and I wasn't sure if I would continue after that.

After more map checking we found the checkpoint in Zwolle. We spent 45 minutes there. More eating (rice and pancakes), drinking, switching to the freewheel (after 90 miles), stretching, putting on some cold weather clothes, engaging front light, hooking up the mp3 player, and we were off, plus one lone German (Tibor Sillo, from Hamburg) who had showed up while we there.

We made pretty good time to Arnhem, with Tibor, Louise, and I sharing most of the pacemaking. The freewheel made all the difference, so did the music I started to listen to; it really took my mind off the monotony. It was nice to be a group because you had more eyes to look out for signs in the dark pointing the way. We went through one decent-sized city, Apeldoorn, and the cobbled bike paths and streets were brutal on the hands. I knew they would only get worse in every town for the rest of the trip.

Arnhem was the site of the Open Dutch Messenger Championships a month before this, which Tibor attended. So he showed the way to the checkpoint, a messenger service headquarters. After 30 minutes of food, drink, and a little beer, we were off again to Nijmegen.

Outside of Nijmegen we asked a man pushing his bike for directions. He said he was going to the same neighborhood and would show us the way. En route, his bike broke down twice while he was riding. Once, his bungees got caught in his chain, and then his chain fell off. Luckily, there were three people there who had tools to work on the problem all at the same time. Nijmegen checkpoint: more food, drink and we were off to Eindhoven.

Checkpoint times for our group. Left Utrecht at 12:10.
Arrived in Amsterdam at 13:50, Zwolle at 20:00, etc.

By the time we reached Eindhoven, everyone was lagging except Tibor and Louise. I didn't quit in Eindhoven because there was no place to sleep and there was a drunk guy yelling at at everyone about how they 'had to keep going, it is ONLY 85 km.'

We left Eindhoven for Maastricht as the sun was coming up. About 30 km outside of Eindhoven we started encountering clubs out for a Sunday morning training ride. There was a lone cyclist from Eindhoven following us. Once he found out where we were going he decided to join us and show us the way because he was out for a 'leisurely' 160 km training ride. We followed a canal for around 60 km, it was really boring, and clogged with morning exercise traffic, but it was the shortest way.

Once into Maastricht we had to ask for directions every few kilometers. There were a few small hills, but there was one leading right up to the finish outside Maastricht that was 2km long. It was torture after riding for 24 hours. Everyone in our group finished except Chris. There was a short awards ceremony after the race, not really any prizes, a few trophies and patch kits.

The race finish at a campground in Bemelen.
Tibor getting an award for finishing in exactly 24 hours; 2 minutes ahead of me

It was a lot of fun, even if it wasn't as much of a social event as it would have been in the States. The checkpoints along the way were more fun than the finish.

Race checkpoint in Arnhem at the headquarters of Velocity Couriers

So back to the present...

Tickets from Paris to Amsterdam aren't too expensive, I'm better prepared both physically and equipment-wise for something like this than I was three years ago. But it still kind of scares me. Any misadjustment of your bike's fit or minor discomfort will be enormously magnified after performing 90,000 pedal revolutions. Not only is this year's race the longest version yet (490 km=305 miles), there are only 23 people registered so far, nearly all of them Dutch. The more people that race, the better your chances of finding a group to ride with that is going your pace. And the Dutch aren't much help: they are cycling robots, capable of inhuman speeds over vast distances. The 2006 winner (Dutch, of course) finished the 400km race in 14 hours, for an average of 18 mph, an incredible pace for 14 hours straight.

Now the Inner Voice of Reason is wondering how I'm going to consume 10,000+ calories while riding my bike for 24 hours straight...

Graduate Travel Math

2009-05-14T12:04:00.014+02:00

Now that we're older and wiser, we're getting more adept at taking advantage of the various transportation options that surround us here in France. This includes navigating the buggy, crash-prone, truly awful SNCF website. We recently visited Tours for an afternoon, with Jefe riding his bike the 116 km and Rebecca taking the TGV with an appropriate MFK Fisher book.

The bike ride north was fairly uneventful and Jefe made it to the main Tours train station (well, not exactly, more on that later) about 10 minutes before Rebecca showed up. We walked a few blocks through pedestrian streets to Rue Colbert, which is lined with restaurants and cafes. Thanks to a little research the night before on fra.cityvox.fr we knew of a couple restaurants on this street that were promising candidates.

We decided on Le Turon at 94 rue Colbert. They specialize in traditional recipes incorporating regional foods and their prices are pretty reasonable. Rebecca had a large salad with local specialties St. Maure goat cheese and chunks of fatty pork called rillons. Jefe opted for the full formule: terrine de Rillette, Perch with tagliatelle, and lemon sorbet.

Delightfully sated, we wandered over to Place Jean Jaurès and met Rebecca's colleague (and Tours resident) for coffee and a discussion of Tours sites and French foibles (they have too many national holidays in May, for example).

Post-coffee, Jefe went to the Centre de Cr é ation Contemporaire to check out Kasbah by Kader Attia while Rebecca wandered the pedestrian streets people-watching and window shopping. After reuniting we strolled through the twice-weekly flower market and stopped into March é des Halles and found a spice booth selling Quinoa flour (hooray for gluten-free flours!) and a vegetable stand selling abnormally large, mutant rhubarb. It looked like a fossilized dinosaur femur and reminded Rebecca of that scene in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles film with the giant daisies and the ooze...

Giant rhubarb from Les Halles in Tours

In his endless quest for calories, Jefe also picked up some raspberry tiramisu at a stall selling Italian specialties.

After so much walking, we had to take a break, with wine of course. La Gazette des Halles (bistro/wine bar) was just across the street and offered inviting street-side tables. We got to sample a few local wines from Chinon and Touraine while enjoying the passing scenery until our train departure. The last drink was on the house!

When departing from (or arriving at) Gare de Tours (Tours' central train station), it is usually necessary to take a shuttle train to St. Pierre des Corps (the less centrally located train station) to catch the TGV to your destination. Apparently, the central train station is a little too central, and the since the train can't pull through (it has to back in) the time-pressed TGV doesn't want to spend the extra few minutes it would take to stop at the main station. Thus, all the TGV trains stop at St. Pierre des Corps, making it, essentially, Tours' primary train station. Which is kind of a shame, since the Gare de Tours is beautifully built and otherwise very convenient. In any case, Jefe took the opportunity on the 5 minute shuttle ride to dismantle his bike for getting on the TGV.

Now that we can manage Tours' slightly convoluted train system, we're ready to go back to visit the annual F ê tes des Vins (wine festival) for samples of the regions wines and other gastronomic specialties along with lectures.

Emboldened by the weather and the local scenery and food, we had barely returned to Poitiers before we were planning our next bike+train day trip. This time south, to Angoulême. While we were waiting for a break in Rebecca's teaching schedule and the sunny weather to coincide, Jefe rode to Bellac and took the TER (Regional Express Transport) back to Poitiers to see some new territory and check out the bike-accessibility of the slower, smaller, TER trains.

Jefe's 142 km route to Bellac was clearly not the most direct route, but he designed it to investigate all those small, squiggly, green lines on the Michelin map just south of Bellac that indicated narrow roads, scenery, and large hills. He found some truly lovely sights.

The view from Les Monts de Blond into the department of Haut Vienne

The last train for Poitiers leaves Bellac at 6:08 pm, so Jefe had to start his ride from Poitiers at 10:30 am to leave enough time for a food break and slower riding through the scenic, hilly areas. The food break didn't happen on schedule as all the small-town grocers were closed for lunch until 3 pm or later instead of the expected 2 pm. When he finally found some food in St. Christophe, he was hungry enough to devour an armload of fruit.

2 oranges, 3 bananas and pear in front of a 12th century church

He also picked up a few savory pastries in Bellac at the local traiteur before boarding the train.

The TER trains were very comfortable and were bike-friendly, no disassembly required (the limit of 4 bikes per car was far from met).

Bike spaces on the TER

An hour and half later he was back in Poitiers, ready to eat more food.

Once the weather and Rebecca's schedule cooperated we were off to Angoulême. Jefe by this 133 km route and Rebecca by the afternoon train after a morning meeting at work. The wind forecast at France meteo was mistaken (their forecast of rain was also mistaken, and thus France meteo is getting deleted from the list of weather bookmarks) and Jefe was a little late to the rendez-vous after riding into a headwind for 5 hours.

We wandered the winding streets looking at murals from graphic novels/comic books (Angoulême is the site of a graphic novel/comic book museum and annual graphic novel expo)...

Comic book mural in Angoulême

...sat in cafes sipping and people-watching and picked up some quinoa flakes at a health-food store. The young residents of Angoulême all seem hot on the trail of the latest trends. Besides some gel-enabled hairdos, we saw lots of examples of the return of 80's fashion that is so popular (see here, here, and here) as well as numerous fanny-pack-as-reversed-messenge-bag.

Slightly blurry, but you can clearly see the fanny pack on the chest,
with strap worn over the shoulder

Dinner time arrived and we were off to La Cité to fulfill our increasingly frequent seafood cravings. It was delectably satisfying. We had salad with prawn tails and sautéed fresh foie gras, pan-fried goatfish in basil cream sauce and a skewer of prawns, shrimp and scallops. We can still taste it a day later, any more trips to Angoulême will definitely include a stop at this restaurant. We were so stupified by the delicious seafood, creamy sauces and wonderful wine, we had to belatedly dash out of the restaurant, running 4 blocks to the train station to catch the last train to Poitiers. We hopped on just a few seconds before the doors closed and Jefe quickly dismantled his bike aboard before the conductor approached and punched our tickets. A little sweaty and happy, we were glad to be heading back home to Poitiers for the night.

2000 km later...

2009-05-01T17:17:00.009+02:00

My rear tire, which has been replaced after covering around 4500 miles since last August.

Our first visitors have come and gone and our next guests are a few weeks off. Rebecca's students are on vacation for their trimester break and the weather has been mostly sunny. With the free time and nice weather, I have been trying to cram in as much biking as possible. Some to get in better shape, but mostly to keep exploring the hidden corners of the Poitou-Charentes Region.

I won't be entering any races anytime soon (edit: apparently I will be entering races), but being able to go a little farther and faster allows me to cover more ground and keep expanding the territory available for exploration.

The town of Le Blanc, which I visited for the first time on a recent 140km ride (not my photo)

After riding the same routes for much of the winter, I've been trying to map out a new route at least twice a week. The spring greenery and sunshine have also added new life to old routes.

The thing about riding around Poitiers that I will miss the most is the infinitely varying terrain. The gently rolling hills with the roads that gracefully twist and turn to find the path of least resistance across the undulating landscape. A road system diametrically opposed to the rigidly numeric grids of Central Illinois.

Champaign-Urbana, IL
Those boxes aren't lines of latitude or longitude, those are ROADS!

So, while Rebecca was charting her increases in speed, distance, and incline on foot, I decided to set some goals of my own. I came up with the relatively arbitrary goal of cycling 2000km during the month of April.

This didn't sound too bad, it is more than I've ever done in one month, but there seemed to be enough free time in my schedule and the sunshine was becoming more frequent.

I got off to a slow start, with rain and the threat of rain keeping me off the bike for a few days each of the first two weeks of April. If you've seen pictures of my bike in earlier posts, you know that it is equipped to handle the rain with full fenders and a mudguard. These are fine for running errands around Poitiers in the rain, or sightseeing in Berlin, Paris, Toulouse, or Bordeaux in winter showers, but the prospect of riding for 3-4 hours in soaking rain makes it seem more like a job than a pursuit of happiness.

My bike rides during the month of April

I barely made it to 2000 km for the month. The last few days were a little rainy and I wasn't able to ride as much as I would have liked. The last day was overcast for the first two and a half hours of riding, then it started raining and I had to keep going for another hour and a half to make it 2000 km for the month.

In pushing the boundaries of my cycling universe, an unexpected hurdle was consuming enough food to sustain me for the occasional 140 km ride. Eating breakfast, lunch, during-ride snack, post-ride meal, pre-dinner snack, dinner, and making sure there are enough calories in all those meals to replace the ~3300 burned during a 5 hour ride (plus the 1600 burned when I'm not on the bike) can be a little disconcerting.

After riding for a few days in a row, I found myself very lethargic. I mentioned this to Rebecca and we did a few calculations and found that I was not eating enough to replace the calories consumed during 4 days of riding. This came as a bit of a surprise since I eat a lot of food, snacking throughout the day and consuming 4-5 normal portions at dinner.

So now I've been trying to eat a little smarter by consuming more fat (hooray, duck fat, butter, cream, etc.) and protein (beans and meat) and fruit.

This has worked out great so far. I'm not nearly as tired after multi-hour rides and can actually accomplish things around town shortly after getting off the bike. Now that I feel more comfortable going longer distances the train+bike adventures will continue farther afield. We are going to visit Tours tomorrow. It is an hour away by train and 116km (4+ hours by bike). We picked Tours partly because one of Rebecca's colleagues from ESIP lives in Tours and has volunteered to steer us to interesting sights (thanks Ann!), and also because it is the right distance away through the interesting terrain of the Indre et Loire department.

We've been told that Tours leaves a little to be desired from the tourist perspective. Perhaps this is because it was bombed heavily during WWII and its Palais de Justice was the site of the Nazi headquarters for central France. Nevertheless, it is a little larger than Poitiers and hopefully we'll find some interesting things there to tell you about.

Before the wheel there were...stairs...and the Devil

2009-04-23T18:09:00.005+02:00

The Devil's Staircase-Going down from centre ville to the train station

Poitiers being both old and hilly, it's interesting how stairs have been used in various forms here for a very long time. In fact, if Poitiers were merely hilly, the staircases might not be quite as numerous. The major staircases are placed where roads are impossible, literally up the sides of cliffs.

Besides being interesting elements of pre-automobile urban planning, they are (occasionally) still used today. Allowing pedestrians access to the center of Poitiers who would otherwise have to walk much farther, along slowly climbing, curving streets.

The stairways on either side of the train station, combined with the passerelle allows pedestrians in centre ville and the areas to the west direct access to the train station, bypassing the circuitous route the cars and buses must use.

La Passerelle, which crosses above the trains in Poitiers

Besides the public staircases that help pedestrians shortcut the winding streets, many houses have extensive private staircases to take advantage of as much real estate as possible. You can put your garage on one level and your house on another:

The stairs wind to the left, while the more modern elevator (or dumb waiter) goes straight up

Or expand your garden into a multi-level affair:

Note the white lounge chair near the center of the photo, perfect for a sun-drenched afternoon

It also allows this city to put a park somewhere that would normally be too steep. This park is tucked between two parts of the road that snakes down from centre ville to the train station.

Park along blvd. Verdun

While all these stairs allow a pedestrian to more easily navigate the area, it's not surprising that sometimes you might want to take the long route. These two pictures below comprise one staircase, and a lot of stairs.

Escalier de la Grotte des Druides-Staircase of the Druids Cave

Hmmm, maybe I'll take the bus.

Armchair Tourism

2009-04-13T08:53:00.016+02:00

Jefe rode his bike around in the Spring rain and then fell asleep watching the Paris-Roubaix race on TV...

Perhaps we've been a little inattentive of the blog lately, but we wanted to let you know that it has been for a good reason. Many good reasons, in fact.

1. We've been waking up before dawn to go to this place:

...second semester is almost over at ESIP!

2. We've been doing a lot of planning for our friends' upcoming visits:

...checking out local wineries, cognac distilleries, (and not so local) bicycle routes.

3. We've been biking and running.

4. We're learning to make awesome (gluten) bread. And Rebecca is dreaming of the perfect gluten free loaf... too bad you can't get quinoa flour, arrowroot starch, or even certified gluten-free oats in France.

5. We're continuing to try our hand at artsy photo-taking...

...sigh. We need a camera stand.

6. We've been making fancy things with white asparagus:

7. We've been walking up and down a lot of stairs. Jefe will have more on that soon...

8. We discovered how to make our own French minty green cocktails at home, so we save money without skimping on flavor or fun...

mmm.

Paris from the Perspective of a Non-French Person

2009-04-04T11:41:00.008+02:00

The purpose of this post is to give guidance to tourists and visitors to Paris (and other French tourist towns). If you want to add to our commentary or dispute some point we've made -- please do so in the comments!!

Thanks --ARAD

image from smh.com.au

We hope you've been well as we've been traipsing around Poitiers and Paris with Jefe's family. (And thank you if you are still reading...)

Now that we've been to Paris three times as "resident aliens" (i.e. not counting the times we came before moving to France), we feel like we're beginning to know our way around, which areas we enjoy and which ones to avoid like the plague.

When people visit Paris, they think all the people they see (at least all those who aren't looking at maps) are Parisiens. Well, that probably isn't the case. While exact numbers are hard to come by, Paris is host to at least 9 million non-French tourists every year, and at least that many French tourists.

Some people (e.g. us) try and hide the fact that they are tourists so that the waiters don't start speaking English before you even sit down. To be hired in a restaurant or cafe in Paris, it's clear that you must prove that you are fluent in French and English. I think preferential treatment must also be given to applicants who have cultivated a special blend of hackneyed "bad English" pronunciation, patience, and a side of caffeine addiction. Unfortunately, Jefe and his backpack and unfashionable coat are usually a give-away. But that's ok, because we ride bikes, we go places most people don't, avoid the places that most people flock to, and we even save some cash at lunch by packing a snack to eat in the numerous parks and gardens (when it isn't raining/freezing).

Paris can be a little intimidating because it feels like everyone is judging you, and they are, the French being an especially opinionated people. The way you dress (she's not wearing black?! OMD --"ouh mon dieu" the French equivalent of OMG), where you eat, what you drink (a Pinot Noir from Alsace with veal liver?!?!?), how you tie your scarf.

Correct:

Incorrect:

Even which hand you hold your fork with. It's very difficult to switch from the zig-zag style of eating to the Continental style. Almost as difficult as learning to write with the opposite hand. But, it's worth it to teach yourself, especially if you are the type of person (e.g. me) who thinks that the patrons and waitstaff in French restaurants are surreptitiously watching you cut into your food and silently judging you. Maybe if you learn to eat properly, they won't think you're a tourist. Oh wait, everyone is a tourist.

Nowadays, we don't have to look at the map quite as often, and even I know which way north is and how to get to the airport (I'm even getting good at helping out lost tourists). I could also give pretty good directions around Le Marais, one of the trendy shopping areas in the 3rd and 4th arondissements.

We're always looking for weird art, and Paris is happy to oblige with many controversial exhibits (which they've conveniently labeled as such). Since the worst minority oppression takes place in the suburbs, Paris has to import their controversy. In this case, from the U.S. in the form of David LaChapelle.

One photo from the series "Jesus is my homeboy" by David LaChapelle

And since I like making lists, here's another one:

How To Look Like a Tourist in France: Top Ten

1. Ask someone for directions. Extra points if the person turns out to be another tourist.

2. Wear jogging shoes. Extra points if they're white. (I still walk to the gym already wearing my gym clothes. I also--gasp--leave the gym, visibly sweaty, still wearing said gym clothes, and walk home. I know that it identifies me as a foreigner, I just don't care.)

3. Sport multi-colored eyeshadow, fake bake, or cakey foundation. French girls typically go for "le smoky eye" look with neutral face and lips.

le smoky eye

4. Wear anything that is visibly optimized for comfort. Fleece is an excellent example.

5. Count with your hand incorrectly: the French start with the thumb, not the index finger.

6. Hesitate for more than 10 seconds when someone asks you a question in French. You will know that 10 seconds have passed because he or she will repeat their question in English.

7. Only order a plat instead of the whole formule. Extra credit if you order the wrong kind of wine, too.

8. Stop in the middle of the street to take pictures of a building.

9. Travel in a group of more than 5 people.

and of course...

10. Start speaking.

How to cook when you only work 35 hours per week...

2009-04-01T09:21:00.003+02:00

...like the French do.

Back in Illinois we have a cookbook of traditional French recipes (purchased long before we knew about our trip). It includes classics like coq au vin, bouillabaisse, cassoulet, and roulade of wild pheasant. Before coming here, we had only tried a very small number of the recipes. Most were very time consuming and/or required seemingly exotic ingredients.

The longer we spend in France, the less difficult these recipes seem and the less exotic the ingredients become. Making a terrine that takes three days, c'est normale! Making your own chicken stock, pourquoi pas? Finding duck fat, goose fat, chicken necks, rabbit, and horse are as easy as walking down the street.

Perhaps this newfound sense of time has something to do with Jefe not working at all, and Rebecca working a little less than she did in the U.S. Perhaps, the inexhaustable supply of excellent restaurants here have raised our standards a little for our own cooking.

There are a few things we now keep around that take home-cooking to the next level. Duck fat: available at all grocery stores and many specialty stores in France. Chicken stock: you might be shocked to find that it isn't for sale in grocery stores, but after you make this easy, delicious roast chicken recipe (adjust for gluten allergy as necessary), you can simmer the carcass and some vegetables and herbs in a pot for an hour or two, strain and store in jars in your fridge or freeze in an ice cube tray. Brown butter: butter that has been cooked until it turns a golden brown and develops a caramel, nutty flavor. Infused olive oils: herbs, or garlic boiled in olive oil and strained, and refridgerated.

homemade chicken stock

The visit of Jefe's brother and the ensuing restaurant testing in Poitiers and Paris lead to a few of these discoveries along with another new favorite: terrine. The word terrine can refer to either the cookware (like a loaf pan with a tight lid) or a chilled, compressed meatloaf that you would make in the aforementioned cookware. We tried a couple restaurants that offered their own take on this dish as an appetizer. It is made with various ground meats (uncured bacon, pork liver, and chicken liver are usually included) herbs and usually port or brandy. Often very aromatic, it is delicious with a side of cornichons and mustard.

In preparation for Jefe's parents, we made Country Terrine, using ground, uncured bacon from our favorite pork butcher Yves Henaud. The three-day prep was worth it. It smelled so nice and was a perfect addition to our regular mid-afternoon snack of cheese, artichokes, roasted beets, bread, and cornichons.

we made a few changes to the recipe with our terrine,

including the use of local Calvados instead of regular brandy

And since the only canned beans available here are white beans, we've been buying bags of black beans (thanks to the exotic grocery store) and soaking them overnight in preparation for tacos. Tacos for which we make the tortillas by hand out of masa (thanks to Jefe's parents who brought a bag of masa from the U.S.) since real corn tortillas are unavailable here. The homemade tortillas are definitely worth the extra effort, they are fresher, fluffier, and taste delightful.

Jefe's dad demonstrating proper tortilla technique

You can hear the filmographer--Jefe's mom--asking the tough questions

Rebecca ran (a) 10K

2009-03-31T12:40:00.005+02:00

Breaking News:

Yesterday, For First Time Ever, Girl Runs 10k

Well *cough* it wasn't an actual, like scheduled 10k event, per se.

Ok, so maybe it was only on a treadmill, and not on real pavement...

maybe it was all by herself and not with thousands of screaming bystanders...

and maybe it took 71 minutes and 45 seconds to do it (a time which doesn't even qualify as "real running," according to some)

But even if it was just a snail-paced 6 mile run at her local gym -- that's pretty awesome, right?!? Next stop, half marathon.

victory

France-related posts will be back soon...

WTF?

2009-03-25T23:47:00.006+01:00

We've been fortunate to be hosting a few visitors lately. We're trying to impress them as much as possible with our intimate knowledge of Poitiers and French culture. This can be a little time consuming. So while we gallivant around Poitiers and Paris, pointing out French quirks and foibles, here are a few photos to keep you entertained until we get around to writing again...

Jefe and Josh eating dessert from Claud Lafond, the local high-end pastry shop (by Rebecca)

La Serrurerie (by Josh)

Parc Blossac at Night (by Josh)

The town of L'Isle Jourdain along the Vienne River (by Jefe)

The Grand Prix de Buxerolles, 12 laps totalling 155km (by Jefe)

Eglise St. Pierre in Chauvigny, immaculately restored (by Jim)

***Just wanted to clarify that Jefe meant that the picture was taken by Jim.

Jim did not immaculately restore the Eglise St. Pierre.

-Rebecca's edit 4/1/09

How to fill your mouth with sand in 3 hours

2009-03-18T10:53:00.002+01:00

While France is the center of the cycling world for 3 sunny weeks in July during the Tour de France, let's not forget that there is racing here year-round in all kinds of weather. In fact, the one-day road race from Paris to Roubaix is famous for it's inclement spring weather and inhospitable roads.

While the weather around Poitiers is milder than in the regions of Northern France, there is plenty of rain. So it should come as no surprise that the annual Vienne Classic Espoir, the first date (Sunday, March 8) on the road racing calendar in the region was an extremely wet and windy affair.

Even though we were expecting my brother at the train station around 4 pm, I couldn't pass up the chance to catch a glimpse of French bike racing (although at a much lower level than the Tour de France). The draw wasn't the prospect of watching a bunch of plastic-wrapped riders race their plastic bikes, but the chance to see racing through the countryside I have become so familiar with lately.

route map (more detail)

After poring over the race maps and time estimations, I picked out a few spots along the route that might be conducive to taking pictures. I also had to find shortcuts so that I could meet the racers farther along, since they would be riding almost twice as fast as me.

The race start and finish were located just a few kilometers from Poitiers in Chasseneuil du Poitou. I arrived about 30 minutes before the start during the introduction of the teams. With the wet, blustery conditions, it didn't look like there were too many spectators.

The largest contingent present was the multitude of support staff. There was a fleet of motorcycles, official's cars, team cars and people manning the feed zones.

I left the start area before the racers left so I could make it to Chateau Le Fou before they got there. Unfortunately, I got a little lost trying to take a shortcut (maybe I don't know the area that well after all) and ended up in the Forêt de Moulière trudging down a water-logged horse path in the rain wondering if it was perhaps time to head home.

Luckily for me (and you), I found an exit over the next hill. I had missed the rendez-vous at Chateau le Fou and headed for Archigny for the next photo-op in the course. On my way, I passed through the feed zone with cars and vans parked on every driveway and side road awaiting the racers for refueling. Some of the denizens of the cars were looking at me a little funny. Maybe because I appeared to be the only non-racing cyclist anywhere near this racecourse. And while I had to fight the wind and rain to catch up with the peloton, they had to sit in cars and wait for the racers to come to them. I wouldn't want to be in their situation.

Once I had found a good spot for photos (around 50km into the race), I parked the bike and waited. After a parade of motorcycles and cars with lights flashing, the peloton finally came into view. There was a lead pack of around 20 riders, with the rest of the riders 15 seconds behind.

All of the riders were soaking wet and most were heavily spattered with dirty water coming off the bikes of the riders around them. When you're trying to draft off someone who doesn't have fenders you get a steady stream of waterlogged road-grit coming off their rear tire right into your face. Not very pleasant, and a good way to fill your mouth with sand over the course of a three hour race.

After the main pack passed, I took a shortcut back through the feed zone to Bonneuil-Matours to take more pictures at the bridge over the Vienne River. Once I found a spot, I could hear the radio of the race official directing car traffic. It was crackling every few seconds with updates on the time gap between the lead group and the rest of the field; Quinze secondes...Onze secondes...huit secondes...dix secondes...huit, dix, huit, dix. The peleton was slowly closing on the leaders (see the race play-by-play here at around 15:59).

Turning the corner at Bonneuil-Matours into the feed zone

The riders passed and I headed to Bonnes for the last time I would cross paths with the race course. They were faster than I had anticipated, and I had to pull over as I was overtaken to snap a few pictures.

Once everyone was out of sight I headed home. Their was a stiff wind in my face all the way to Poitiers, but the rain had finally let up. Someone eventually won the race, but I was at home by then and had more important things to worry about.

The final sprint (photo taken from the Nouvelle Republique)

Rebecca picked up Josh at the train station, and I made it home about an hour after they did. I got to take a hot shower and have a few snacks before we made baked oysters for dinner. A wonderful end to a wet day.

Jefe and Josh debating oyster (on the towel) opening techniques.

Moving mountains...of paper

2009-03-15T15:25:00.012+01:00

The cliché of France being a bureaucratic country is well known (comments #62 and 122), and we certainly had plenty of first-hand experience negotiating the maze getting visas, an apartment, residence cards, bank accounts, and (soon) paying taxes. But more surprising than having to change our flight twice while we waited for someone to send an "official" piece of paper to the consulate because a phone call wouldn't do, were the reams of paper we would soon accumulate. Not just paperwork, but --literally-- paper, and folders to keep it all organized. Making and storing copies of everything, just in case our utility company wants a copy of the lease, or the prefecture wants a copy of the utility bill. Or in case we needed a birth certificate to open an account at the local video rental store (turns out we didn't, but we've taken to arriving everywhere a bit over-prepared...)

The French love everything about paper. The way it feels, the colors, the weights, the pens you use to write on it, the folders you put it in, the envelopes you mail it in, the tampons (rubber stamps) you use to certify it, and the signatures used to sign it.

Papeteries (paper stores) are numerous and they stock every imaginable size, color, and weight of paper, envelopes, and folders...

...as well as accessories to make everything more official, like multicolored wax and personalized seals. In case you need to disseminate a decree to your serfs.

They sell pens too, but unless you're one of those serfs, you'll go to a proper pen store and get a nice fountain pen to give your completely illegible signature that special flare.

Luckily, since they love it so much, most things associated with paper are well designed. Paper is lined both ways so you can draw graphs and make sure your L's are the same height as your H's. Envelopes have easy-open seals...

Note the scalloped perforation (click to expand for a better view).

... and folders are ingeniously designed to make sure nothing falls out. The common grade-school prank of bumping the school nerd and sending their papers flying doesn't work here. Nya-nya.

Not only do they love paper, they trust in it. If it isn't written down, stamped, and signed, it isn't real. In order to change anything regarding your bank account, you must return to your specific branch so they can find your actual paper file and change the info. With white out and pen. Only then will they enter it in the computer database. The digital version is the backup of the physical copy, not the other way around. I imagine that somewhere in Le Nord among the industrial parks of Lille, is a warehouse full of printouts of everything that has ever been written on the internet in French, just in case it goes down someday.

Once you start accumulating this paperwork, you quickly learn to modify your signature. Who knew that writing "lu et apprové..." (read and approved) on each page of the four copies of your 25 page lease can actually make you break a sweat. Pretty soon your signature starts to look like this:

(actual signature, with printed name removed)

Below, in a photograph from a local art exhibit, we have everything coming together in one glorious photo. The numerous rubber stamps of various designs, the filing boxes, stapler, hole punch, folders, hanging files, and a computer that hardly ever gets used:

la pièce de résistance

Close-up of the desk:

Things that hold your bike upright

2009-03-08T22:40:00.004+01:00

A lot of cyclists complain about poorly designed bike racks. The ones that you had at your middle school that you could slide the front tire into (see picture).

Since you can only get your front (or rear) tire in contact with any part of the rack, you can only lock that one part to the rack. For those who use quick-release wheels, these racks are even more troublesome. If you only lock your wheel to the rack, it is pretty easy to remove the wheel and abscond with the remainder of the bike.

These kinds of racks are everywhere, and somehow more are being installed! But I'm not here to complain about these run-of-the-mill, poorly-designed bike racks and the poorly-informed jerks who install them. Instead, I want to point out certain bike racks that are especially insulting to the user or which border on complete uselessness.

First, we have this bike "rack" at the main post office in Poitiers:

It is conveniently located just steps from the entrance, though if anyone were to actually use it, people would have to walk into the street to get around the bikes. As you can see above, my bike is blocking the entire sidewalk.

And once you've locked your bike to it and stepped back, you should notice something odd. The part of the rack you've locked to is open!!

If you rotate the wheel a little and slide the lock down, the lock comes right off the rack. How convenient if you lost your key while in the post office. Or perhaps this is the mayor's attempt at a bike-sharing program?

Incidentally, if you were to lock you wheel slightly differently, like this:

...the trick doesn't work and the bike is slightly safer. Another interesting area of common interest between cycling and knot theory.

The second location for insulting bike racks can be found at (where else?) Géant Casino...

This is the side entrance with no bike parking, though many people lock to the railing pictured above. But since the railing is only a few inches from the plastic backing, I can't get my bike close enough on one of the three sides to the railing to use my small u-lock. So, I end up hanging it off one of the corners (as pictured above).

Around the front of the store there is a something resembling a bike rack, and it is sheltered from the rain:

It is also located on top of a grate where you can conveniently deposit your cigarette butts (and beer and urine from the smell of it) before entering the store.

In case you do find real bike racks that are protected from the rain, chances are that the motorcyles and mopeds have taken all the spots. Because everyone knows those can't stand up by themselves...

And just to prove that Poitiers' cyclists don't necessarily know any better, here's two local bike shops, which are completely free of bike parking:

Keep up the good work everyone.

Tourist towns without any tourists

2009-03-05T10:40:00.006+01:00

Rebecca's students were on vacation again last week, and since we've got some visitors coming in a week, we decided to preview some local destinations that people might (or might not) find interesting to visit. We had two criteria: things we haven't seen, and train access.

While the winter in Poitiers has been pretty mild by Jefe's standards, the sun has been playing hard to get. And poor Rebecca grew up within two hours of the East Coast of the U.S. and has been craving the beach since we left Wilmington. We quickly settled on the sunny, seaside locale of La Rochelle as the perfect destination. In order to maximize the discovery factor, we were looking for another destination close to La Rochelle. Following the local train routes and trying not to stray far from the sea, we decided on Rochefort.

When Rebecca mentioned this duo of destinations to people, trying to solicit ideas for things to do in the area, she got a bevy of similar responses.

La Rochelle: Oooh, how nice, you're going to love it, it's beautiful!

Rochefort: Hmmm...(Silence).

Well, La Rochelle is nice. A popular summer destination for French and English tourists, the area boasts one of the highest concentrations of vacation homes in France. There are almost as many hours of sunshine every year as the Mediterranean coast but without the endless stretches of beachside hotels that you find in Nice.

Nice, France: land of beaches and hotels

Despite its un-Nicey-ness, La Rochelle remains a primarily tourist-driven economy. Restaurants have different hours hors saison (out of season) or are closed entirely for their congés in late winter; hotels are cheaper; some museums/attractions are closed. It's not as though we're panting to fight the throngs during the Festival Francopholie, but there is something a little odd about port-side restaurants in a tourist haven who have to fight for the few off-season visitors. We even spotted one restaurant with a designated crier, an older woman standing out front listing the delicacies inside in a loud voice to no one in particular.

Even though some of the posted menus of the restaurants in the tourist area looked interesting, we were disconcerted by the prospect of having people watching us eat, peering in the restaurant windows and trying to determine if you're enjoying yourself enough to merit them coming inside to try it.

Port-side restaurants in La Rochelle...probably to be avoided

Luckily we were able to find excellent restaurants away from this area. La Rose des Vins was wonderful, small, earthy restaurant serving traditional French fare with a little bit of a twist, and occasionally featuring ethnic cuisine from around the world (Jamaican chicken). They also have an extensive wine list, with some wines available by the centimeter (get a bottle and only pay for what you drink), and excellent recommendations.

We also stumbled upon Le Cabanon des Pêcheurs while craving a seafood restaurant. Baked oysters topped with melted cheese, salmon terrine, and fish with spanish chorizo were more than enough to satisfy our urges. And Jefe couldn't pass up a post-meal rhum arrangé (rum with fruit soaking in it) as the giant jars (pineapple, passion fruit, strawberries, and more) were lined up enticingly on the bar.

Lovely Rhum arrangé at Le Cabanon des Pêcheurs

We also wandered along the coastline and the ramparts of ancient castles. And, perhaps even better, we went to the sprawling central marketplace, got snacks, and took them to the beach. We ate our picnic while basking in the sun. Sublime.

●●●

Rochefort-sur-Mer (as opposed to en-Terre) was just a short train ride away. We noticed something odd about it almost immediately. The city blocks are square! How un-French. Apparently, it was a planned community started in the 17th century as a naval base and shipbuilding yard (wiping out the former pesky Protestant town that was there before). The military influence led to the straight streets and right angles.

Apparently, Rochefort is one rung down on the tourist ladder from La Rochelle, it was mostly a ghost town in late February. There are a few interesting things to see (as our extremely enthusiastic hotel personnel pointed out), notably the Maritime Medical Museum, the house-cum-museum of Pierre Loti (author, seaman and general eccentric), and the rebuilding of the frigate Hermione (which La Fayette used to aid in the American revolution).

On top of everything, it seems we picked up some nasty stomach bug while we were there. Not so nice. Reminded us a little of our friends Jessie and Tom, who came home from their honeymoon early because they got sick. And bored.

Well, we stayed it out, but we were happy to get back to good 'ole Poitiers. And now we have the first of our visitors to look forward to, the Jefe's brother, Josh...we can't wait!

Travel Math

2009-02-25T19:43:00.004+01:00

Now that I've been riding a bike through the countrysides of Poitou-Charentes for nearly five months, new roads and towns are getting harder to come by. I've covered some of the smoother, more scenic routes dozens of times. In order to expand the limits of my cycling universe, exploring more routes and towns farther from Poitiers, I've decided to combine the two most convenient forms of travel here, bikes and trains.

Instead of biking in loops, always ending up back home, I've decided to try riding one way and taking the train back. The weather has been improving and I'm in much better shape than when I got here, making longer rides much more enjoyable. In addition, I can eat lunch and spend an hour or two exploring a city before hopping on the train back to Poitiers with my bike.

First destination: Niort.
Niort is around 80km from Poitiers, and is almost the same size. Biking there takes about 3-3.5 hours. Since Rebecca's students don't have class this week (because of Carnaval? Or Ash Wednesday? We're not really sure) she decided to take the train to Niort so we could have lunch together and explore on foot.

First step: Wake up early. Normally, I ride in the afternoon, but to make it to Niort in time for lunch, I'd have to leave by 9:30am. The trains stop running before I would be able to finish dinner, so I have to stick with lunch.

Wake up Jefe!

I got to Niort a bit before Rebecca's train was scheduled to come in, so I rode around a little to familiarize myself with some of the parts of town. Then I went to the train station...

...where I met Rebecca and got to change into real clothes (which Rebecca had kindly brought for me).

We found a nice place for lunch. Actually, we were looking in the window of a random place and then a customer came out to smoke his post-lunch clope, and he pretty much forced us to go in.

We sat down to recount our adventures of the morning. Rebecca *just barely* made it to the train on time thanks to the self-service ticket kiosks and their convenient option to "buy a ticket for a train that is departing immediately." Jefe found a really nice route from Poitiers to Niort with lots of smooth roads, nice scenery and not much traffic.

The part between Mothe St. Heray and Chavagné is especially nice, with views down into the neighboring valley.

Rebecca ordered une salade de thon, and Jefe had the plat du jour: roast chicken with spanish rice. We had just about finished up when...

--ok, now I have to recount an exchange I had with the waiter at lunch. It's embarrassing for me, but I feel that it bears an important lesson about French café culture--

...after the meal (in french)

Waiter: Vous êtes terminés? C'était bien? Vous voulez un dessert?
All done? How was it? Would you like some dessert?

Me: Non, merci, euh... {il donne un coup d'oeil a Rebecca} un dessert, peut-être?
No thanks, uh...{glancing at Rebecca} how about a dessert?

For some reason, I thought he had asked if I wanted the bill (l'addition). Perhaps it was my fatigued state, I'm not sure. Besides the obvious humor in rejecting and then asking for the same thing in a single sentence, Rebecca reminded me of two things one must understand about French waiters: (1) they will never offer the bill, and will wait until you ask for it (unless you're just getting coffee or drinks, or if you're in Paris & are perceived by the waitstaff as incompetent to do such things properly) and (2) they will always offer dessert. How I could have mis-heard and failed to take into account these two cardinal rules of the café, I will never know.

Giggling, we wandered through the streets of Niort, stopped by the Donjon, and island hopped in the middle of the Sèvre Niortaise River. We also saw this interesting alternative to standard bollards.

Serpent guarding the pedestrians from the evil cars

When it came time to leave, we got tickets for a local (TER) train to Poitiers. I packed my bike up for the train ride and covered it with a fitted bedsheet that Rebecca got that morning just for this purpose.

So much easier than taking it fully apart!

Everything worked out great. I got to try out some new roads, and we both got to explore a new place. This leads me to my new Theory of Travel Math:

more sweet math, for all you nerdfighters

Attack of the 50-foot Wicker...thing

2009-02-21T16:19:00.003+01:00

It must be Carnivale...

Apologies for the poor quality of the video.

We'll do better next time.

On the Untranslatable (L'intraduisible)

2009-02-16T17:22:00.006+01:00

In America, this gesture might translate roughly to "I don't know";

in France, it means "c'est normale!"

There exist some words in French for which there are no exact English translations. This is apart from idiomatic expressions like Quel dommage or Grâce au ciel. There are, of course, plenty of loan phrases, such as laissez faire, la pièce de la resistance, or noblesse oblige, which we use in English; but these often do not have the same connotation in the context of a French conversation.

No, the "untranslatable" is something different altogether.

The existence of untranslatable words points to conceptual areas that exist in French but not in English. Perhaps one of the most representative examples of the untranslatable are the french words normale and normalement. Many dictionaries will tell you that normale means "normal," and online translation engines will turn c'est normal into "it's normal" and normalement into "normally" or "usually." I find these translations misleading, but I've been struggling to find a way to convey the appropriate nuance.

Here is a typical conversation in which normalement would appear:

A: Est-ce que vous pouvez m'aider? Je n'ai pas bien compris la dernière annonce. Ils ont dit que le train departra ou pas?
Can I ask you a question? I didn't quite hear that last announcement. Did they say that the train is leaving or not?

B: Normalement on part dans vingt minutes, mais on ne sait jamais.
We should be leaving in twenty minutes, but you never can tell!

As you can see, in the above conversation, the term normalement has the sense of "theoretically" or "ideally". But this is also not a perfect translation, as it would not make sense to translate the phrase c'est normale into "it's theoretical." Below is a conversation that hinges on the nuance of c'est normale:

A: Je suis desolé, mais mon vélo est bloqué par votre voiture. Est-ce que vous pouvez avancer juste un petit peu?
I'm sorry, but your car is blocking my bike. Could you move forward just a little bit?

B: Bof, je veux bien mais il faut attendre cet camion.
Well, I'd like to, but we'll have to wait for that truck.

A: Ah oui, c'est normale.
That's how it goes.

In a corollary to the Wharf Hypothesis, I would like to argue that the words normalement and normale evoke a sensibility that doesn't exist in other cultures. Maybe we could call it "French resignation"; what's normal in France is not necessarily normal anywhere else.

When you start to think about it, I think you'll notice that we (meaning English-speakers) have adopted many French terms and phrases in order to express feelings of regret and resignation. In American politics, we use the phrase laissez-faire to describe the kind of government that shrugs its shoulders (see photo at top) and consents to let its people do whatever the hell they want. And if an English-speaker says c'est la vie, he or she is communicating the inevitability of an inconvenient situation. What c'est la vie actually means is c'est comme la vie française; the implication is that inconvenient situations are French in nature, which many French people would confirm.

What are some other examples of these kinds of untranslatables?

c'est normale

(nerdy math joke)

Update:
It occurs to me that I should reread Doug Hofstadter's Le ton beau de marot, which is all about the art of translation. I've also been thinking a lot about translation in movie titles and subtitles. There's a movie that came out a while ago in the US called Religulous; the word "religulous" is a mash-up of the words "religious" and "ridiculous," which evokes the movie makers' beliefs about faith. You can imagine that this would be difficult to translate into another language. However, the French translation is rather impressive: "Religolo," a mash-up of the words "religieux" (meaning religious) and "rigolo" (meaning funny or odd).

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

2009-02-14T00:29:00.000+01:00

I sewed curtains and painted a picture of a goat instead of doing real work

Patricia Highsmith once said, "My imagination functions much better when I don't have to speak to people."

Although I am inclined to agree, I have mixed feelings about self-sequestration. It's not that I'm afraid of being a cliché (such as the antisocial jerk or the solipsist in the ivory tower). I think the problem is that, left to my own devices, I tend to be imaginative, but unproductive. At least not productive in tangible ways.

For instance, I might sit for hours, just reading through old seminar papers (or even worse, my bachelor's thesis). I might read reviews of the Pains of Being Pure at Heart's album, marveling at how famous my old Brooklyn friends are getting. I might decide I need to watch all of the brotherhood2.0 videos, trying to understand the way fame happens gradually, memetically, and how it changes people. I might walk around the shops of Poitiers, not buying anything, just listening in on French people's conversations. I might follow Jefe around random galleries, helping him collect interesting flyers and free postcards.

I found this painting on a flyer in an architecture gallery

the woman looks uncannily like my mother

For me, productivity has always been unpredictable. My dad once put it perfectly when he said, "for someone so ambitious, I find it interesting that when there's something you really don't want to do, you put all of your energy into finding ways not to do it."

I suppose this is a circuitous way of fessing up.

I've found it difficult to be consistently productive since we moved to France. Of course, I've really thrown myself into the teaching and the students, but in terms of "my work" (I gagged when I wrote that)...not so much.

It's been ages since I've even singly-authored one of these posts. Sorry.

BUT, around the beginning of January, this sluggishness started weighing on me. Maybe it's the timing (and I certainly wasn't the only one) but I suddenly had a burst of energy. A big one. Basically, in the last two months, I've drafted two dissertation chapters, sketched out a journal article, outlined two conference proposals, created two new special topics courses, applied for two jobs, and written a fellowship application. Oh, and started training for a 10k (March 22).

The question now is how to maintain my momentum. Any suggestions? What do you do to keep yourselves productive? How do you keep from oscillating between frenzy and stupor? Or is maintenance a myth? I'd really like to hear your thoughts on this.

Urban Planning: Bringing Poitiers into the 21st century

2009-02-10T15:30:00.005+01:00

Poitiers + Suburbs (pop. 127,489+students)

Like many American cities, Poitiers is fighting to keep its central business district from being overtaken by outlying mega-stores. There have been a handful of articles in the local press about ways to draw more people into centre ville, including more parking, adding a tram line, changing traffic flow,... The discussion has culminated in the screening of some major French urban planning firms in hopes of revitalizing the Plateau (as the center is called here because, well, it's on a plateau).

Topographical map of centre ville and surrounding area

In riding my bike around, it's easy to see how frustrating driving (and parking) a car here can be. There are only a handful of (4) two-way streets in centre ville. You end up zig-zagging through a series of narrow one-ways while circumventing the pedestrian areas to get to your destination. And since some of these streets are so narrow they don't even have sidewalks, you still end up having to dodge pedestrians.

See if you can find the 4 two-way streets (click to enlarge)

Believe it or not, it's not much faster on a bike. Apart from the obvious hills separating the flat center from the rest of Poitiers, the one-way streets are so narrow, I usually opt for the long route instead of going against traffic and getting squeezed into parked cars or the curb. While some people cycle on the pedestrian streets, this is something I usually avoid. Pedestrians are even more unpredictable than drivers (and much more fragile). If they pass a shop and something catches their eye, they may wander into your path without warning. I'm not yet sufficiently confident in my French to berate someone for their unpredictable walking.

Now that you have some kind of picture of how things move around here, what to do about it? Oh, and don't forget about the few dozen historical sites, some of which date back to Roman times, that need to be preserved. Clearly, this is a problem requiring some thought.

Perhaps the problem could be solved by shifting the idea of what "normal" is for people who live here and making a few tweaks to the transportation system at the same time.

Buses
The bus system is extensive and frequent in Poitiers and the associated suburbs. But the buses stop at 9pm. Dinner and a movie on the Plateau? Better drive. Going out to see live music with your friends at the Pince Oreille? Who is the designated driver? Want to hang out in Parc Blossac on a summer night?...

Well, you get the picture. The municipality wants people to come to the center to shop and then go home by 9 pm, but shopping for things like clothes, food, umbrellas, and BD's is only one facet of "quality of life."

It's no secret that the French love their leisure time. There has been strong opposition to a law that would allow more businesses to open on Sundays, and the current law also requires all businesses except bars, restaurants, and tabacs to be closed by 10pm every day of the week. But having some (limited) number of buses run until late night/early morning would greatly expand people's entertainment options. Maybe more people would stop by the Deitrich for the Friday the 13th Triple Feature, or get their fix of punk rock/heavy metal at the Café du Clain.

This also relates to the problem of teen alcohol consumption that was mentioned earlier in our Vin Chaud post. Normally, the drinking age is 16 in France, but the mayor of Poitiers has raised it to 18 because of fights and destruction of property. Since these kids can't drive (they start driving between ages 18-21), and they can't take a bus to alternative forms of entertainment, what else are they supposed to do? The situation has essentially created a bored, isolated population in a metropolitian area.

Bikes
One thing to consider are the solutions that other cities have come up with to increase the number of cyclists. Besides low-cost bike rentals, tax incentives, bike lanes and bike parking (all things Poitiers already has but could use more of), there is one thing that is often overlooked. This is the ability to take your bike with you on public transportation. Many municipalities in the U.S. equip the front of their city buses with collapsible bike racks or allow bikes on the subway.

Let's say your home or destination is not close to a bus route...riding to the bus stop and then throwing your bike onto the front and hopping in would be a great alternative to taking a car for the entire journey. Even if you live close by, but you are just beginning to bike or (as is common here) the weather takes a turn for the worse, using a combination of bike and bus is the perfect solution.

It would be especially appropriate here with the combination of the hills that form a uncyclable barrier (for normal people) around centre ville, and the relative cyclability within centre ville.

Before you hire a big-shot urban planning firm to plant a few trees and add some roundabouts to improve traffic flow, the addition of bike carriers to the buses seems like an easy, low-cost win-win solution. In fact, given the large student population, much of whom live on the periphery of Poitiers, being able to take your bike on the bus may prove to be a little too popular.

A lot of people waiting for the bus at the University

Overcrowded bike parking at the School of Engineering
notice that Jefe's bike (not pictured) is keeping a safe distance

In Conclusion
Poitiers has so far failed to demolish lots of buildings to make concessions to the automobile in the form of wide fast-moving boulevards like post-war Berlin. We look at this as a unique opportunity to leapfrog many cities by taking the medieval infrastructure of centre ville and tweaking it into a pedestrian- and bike-friendly area. Adding buses (with bike carriers) that run later at night would make it easier to get to, and around, centre ville for a lot of people, something even the protest-prone French might like.

Instead of continuing to make excuses as to why driving here isn't easier, maybe the mayor should admit that maybe this isn't the best place live if you own a car, and that this is a good thing. Given the increasing interest in sustainability and alternative methods of transportation, this could become a strong selling point for the city.

TGV: The Train to Awesometown

2009-02-05T17:34:00.004+01:00

A funny thing happened when we started telling people that we were going to be living in France for a year.

"Really?! Can I come visit?"

"Oh, and can I bring my [boyfriend/girlfriend/mom/gerbil]?"

"I am so totally coming to visit you in France! I am so excited!"

So here we are, now halfway through the year abroad. Guess how many people have come to visit.
Less.
No, even less.

Zero.

Either this is proof of that whole "out of sight, out of mind" thing (though that seems unlikely if you are reading our blog), or it's an economic issue.

To those of you for whom our absence has made your heart grow fonder, but whose wallets are waning, we'd like to emphasize that overseas travel is often much cheaper than you'd think. And with our help, much easier, too.

We still believe there are a few of you out there who may brave the unfavorable exchange rate and unpredictable airlines to come visit us in Poitiers. To you we offer you this guide to navigating Charles de Gaulle Airport and the associated TGV station.

Bathrooms in the airport terminals are free, but are 50 cents at the train station.

Assuming you want to leave Charles de Gaulle Airport (aka Roissy) and you are not Leon Logothetis (who would hitchhike to his destination) or Daddy Warbucks (sorry, I couldn't think of a real person who is still rich) you have a few options.

1. You could take the Air France Shuttle Bus to one of the train stations in Paris.

2. You could take the RER train to Gare du Nord in Paris

3. or you can take a TGV home, like the 60 million non-parisien French folks who come through Roissy.

As we mentioned previously, the ease of transferring between methods of travel is a breeze in France compared to most airports in the U.S. Of the airports we've been to, Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam is perhaps the only European airport that makes the transfer easier. You can catch a train to Paris directly from the Schiphol Airport any day of the week, and the train station is directly underneath the entrance hall; pretty cool.

If you decide to take the TGV from the airport in Paris, it's best (i.e. gloriously cheap) to book ahead of time. If you live in the U.S. you can use RailEurope.com and look for tickets departing from Paris CDG Airport (or ask us, and maybe we'll even do it for you). If you live in Europe (or just know someone who does), you can use voyages-sncf.com and look for trains departing from Aeroport CDG 2 TGV. RailEurope is either as, or more expensive than voyages-sncf.com.

If you use RailEurope, they will mail your tickets to you. If you use the voyages-sncf site, you can pick up your tickets at the ticket counter; remember to bring the reference number and the credit card used to make the reservation. Bonus: if you have a European smart credit card with a chip you can pick up (or exchange/get a refund for) your tickets from one of the automated kiosks.

Standing at the station, ticket in hand, you look down and see this:

Note the train number. When you get to the train station, look at the giant board with all of the departure times. Your train's track (voie) number will show up on that board 15-20 minutes before the scheduled departure. Once you know your voie, head to your platform. Very Important! Don't forget to validate (composter) your ticket at one of the yellow boxes before boarding. Some tickets are exchangeable/refundable even after scheduled departure, and validating them ensures you can't get a refund later for a ticket you actually used.

Stick your ticket in to validate (barcode end first):

Once you find your platform, you have to find out where to stand. The train cars will be divided by numbers. The platform is divided by letters. Look at the electronic map listing the composition des trains, determine which car (voiture) you are on, and find the closest corresponding platform letter.

Standing at F on the platform:

Train with cars numbered and letters underneath showing where each car will stop on the platform.

This is where you should be standing so you don't have to run across the platform when the train arrives. You only have around 3-5 minutes to board once the train arrives, don't start daydreaming about cured sausage, goat cheese, and paperwork.

Once on board, when you find your seat, you will be whisked to your destination in quiet and comfort (cell phones are allowed only in the baggage area between cars, thank goodness).

Subtitles are for the weak

2009-02-01T17:22:00.007+01:00

Pretty much every time we visit a new city, the ensuing blog post mentions the movie theaters we found and the films we saw therein. We enjoy the quirks of old movie theaters with bathrooms behind the screen, converted stages, adjoining cafes, sofas instead of seats, and the often strange movies they screen. And when the local movie theater (Dietrich and TAP) are showing movies we've seen, we'll rent movies. Indeed, one of the things we miss most about Champaign-Urbana is That's Rentertainment, possibly the greatest DVD rental location on the face of the earth, or perhaps just the best one we've ever seen.

That's Rentertainment in Champaign, Illinois

Their DVD selection rivals even Netflix. Their library of foreign films is truly astounding (to complement the University of Illinois' large international student (5,700)/faculty population). They have more movies from Germany than most stores have in their entire foreign film section. Besides movies from Africa, every country in (eastern and western) Europe, China, Russia, Korea, Japan, Thailand, and South America (I'm probably still missing a few),...

That's a bunch of movies.

...they also have PAL DVDs. In case you are unfamiliar with PAL, it is a DVD encoding format that is mostly unplayable by DVD players sold in the U.S. (of course we nerdily purchased a DVD player that plays both PAL and U.S. formats. And brought it with us to France. Ahem.)

Why would That's Rentertainment carry DVDs that only a handful of people in Champaign have the equipment to play? It's because many of the DVDs are not available in the U.S. in a non-PAL format, and some of them are really good. Like Black Cat, White Cat or Ebertfest selection L.627.

So imagine the frustration when we got to Poitiers and found that: 1. the DVDs available for rental are mostly American films, 2. For the most part, DVD's of French films lack subtitles (even French subtitles for the hearing impaired! So much for that fraternite, egalite, blahblah thing).

For example...this (below) is the DVD for La Haine, a black and white film released in 1995, which won numerous awards in France and Europe. It has sound in French, Spanish (mono), Italian and German, with subtitles in French, English, Portuguese, Hungarian, and Dutch. However, I haven't found a single other French movie with any sound or subtitles besides French and English. Believe me, I wish they were all like this.

What you are more likely to find are DVDs like this one:

De Battre mon coeur s'est arrete (The beat that my heart skipped), which also won numerous awards in France and Europe. So why is there only one audio track (in "V.F." which means French) and no subtitles?

For a background on the technical aspects of subtitling, you can read this comprehensive article. It mentions the space and time limitations of subtitling. People can only read so fast, and the subtitle must be gone by the time the next character speaks. Since French is a wordy language, they have to condense dialogue a lot while still conveying the important information, like the emotions, jokes, irony, and plot points.

Apparently this is just too much to ask for.

And so, while the French bemoan their struggling movie industry, they still don't choose to subtitle their films in English for release on DVD. Even if it meant that 6 times as many people could understand them (in Europe alone). They don't even bother to add French subtitles so that deaf and hard-of-hearing French folks can watch them, not to mention the foreigners (i.e. us) who can understand written French, but have trouble with the colloquial/slang French spoken in most movies (Coluche was a NIGHTMARE, and pretty much anything with a comedian in it is nearly impossible to understand).

Leaving aside the complications of distributing a movie in the U.S., I assure you that there are enough Swiss, Germans, Spanish, Dutch, etc. who understand English well enough to make subtitling a French movie in English cost-effective. The cost of subtitling a movie is around 1-2% of the total cost of production.

(YES, TWO #@%$^* PERCENT!!!)

You know what? Maybe I'm way off base, maybe not enough people would rent the DVD to offset the cost of subtitling a movie in English. But even then, they could think of French movies that foreigners can understand as advertising for France tourism. Advertising that the target audience in PAYING FOR! Or perhaps it is part of the plan to drive down the number of tourists. This in addition to rectal sausage. Oh yeah, and massive, frequent transit strikes.

"What time tomorrow does the first train not leave?"
"It depends on where you would like to not go, Sir"

UPDATE

We rented the French-Canadian movie C.R.A.Z.Y. (which also won lots of awards) because the box said it had French subtitles. Well, turns out it only has French subtitles for the French-Canadian dialogue, and not for the French language narration. The pronunciation and syntax (and especially the profanity) of Quebecois is sufficiently different from the French spoken in France that French-Canadian movies are often subtitled in French for release in France. Apparently the narration in this movie is not difficult enough to understand to require subtitles. So, what did we learn? The French don't give a shit about the deaf and hard of hearing. Apparently, the entire French film audience is people people who are fluent in French, younger than 60, and who have no hearing problems.

Toulouse, Part II: ROCK the boat

2009-01-30T18:00:00.004+01:00

Are you ready to ROCK...with bunnies?!?!

So, about that boat. Turns out it's really a permanent music venue.

While a canal boat (Cri de la Mouette) is certainly an unusual location for a rock show featuring four bands (plus DJs), Jefe didn't think too much of it. Canal boats used as houses, restaurants, and bars are not so uncommon in certain places (Amsterdam especially, but also Paris). And while the outside looked a little grungy, the name matched, and the gangplank was sporting the same poster we'd seen, so it must be the place. Another reassuring sign (depending on how you look at it): the canal seemed pretty stagnant and shallow, so it didn't look like the boat was going anywhere.

Armed with this news, we rendez-vous'ed at the Cinema Utopia for Idiots and Angels, an animated film by George Plympton. It was without dialogue or embellishment, and was very well done. The underlying question to the audience is "What if you didn't get to choose whether you or not you do good?"

be good, dammit

Post-film and craving some spicy food, we were off to Baan Siam, a Thai restaurant Rebecca found on the internet (the guidebook, and even local publications, are completely devoid of information about Asian and Indian restaurants). While it was nearly empty when we got there, the waiter wanted to make sure we would finish in an hour as they were fully reserved starting at 9pm. I guess that's a good sign. We asked for our dishes très très piquant (very, very spicy) and were a little more than surprised to actually receive them that way. Jefe was sweating and blowing his nose from the hot peppers (just the way he likes it). We finished with some coffee ice cream to soothe our deliciously tortured tongues.

Leaving the restaurant, we were a little worried about being late for the start of the show and that the tiny canal boat would already be at capacity. Upon arriving, we learned that we couldn't board because the show wouldn't start for another hour (although we had some suspicions that we were turned away on the grounds of not being sufficiently hip). So we walked down the street (to a more upscale establishment) for a drink while we waited for the cool kids to decide that the magic hour had arrived and we could give them our money and come aboard. After the waiting-drink, we checked back, and saw there were still people loitering outside the boat. Since the show apparently still hadn't started, and since we had perhaps already been deemed not cool enough to enter when it did, we headed to a more distant bar to bide our time until the doormen were too stoned to care who they let in.

At some point while we were killing time, we found (to some surprise) our mysterious aquatic venue listed in not one but both guidebooks. Perhaps this was a legitimate operation after all, and not merely some squat turned music venue that required a certain haircut for entry. Reenergized, we turned around and made it inside in time to catch the first act, The Pumplies. Needless to say we were surprised. Not only was the music good (most of it awesome even), there was alcohol and bathrooms (that the awesome musicians occasionally puked in). So we ended up staying for all the bands. There was only one dud in the bunch (perhaps because, unlike the other bands, they lacked a female member), Wild Women and the Savages, which reminded us of the SNL spoof show Sprockets. However, the (male) guitar player was wearing a button-down suede mini dress, no underwear (steep stairs...you get the picture), and a lighted sign on his chest ("WW" for Wild Women), and the singer was wearing a Lucha Libre mask, so we tried to forgive them their musical shortcomings.

AWESOME BAND PICTURE

(Cristal Palace featuring singer reminiscent of 90's era Courtney Love and Ian Curtis)

NOT-SO AWESOME BAND PICTURE

(Wild Women and the Savages)

Edward Cullen+Samantha Ronson lookalike playing keyboards in Bogart and the Addictives

All in all, a great couple of days in Toulouse dodging some pretty nasty weather. Thanks to a combination of a guidebook or two, the internet, and a little luck.

Toulouse, Part I: Evacuation Plan

2009-01-28T21:51:00.014+01:00

Yes, the weather is terrible. "Violent wind, DANGER, risk of falling branches."

Our trip to Toulouse was another excellent illustration of the complexity of navigating a new place. You may recall a previous post, in which we discussed the pros and cons of relying on local publications versus established guidebooks. In that post, it's possible that we may have overemphasized the value of local guides. In fact, what we should have suggested is that reliance on a single form of travel guidance is not much better than using none at all.

We arrived in Toulouse on Thursday afternoon (Le Routard guide in hand). Once we got to the hotel, we also had the advantage of internet access (which we didn't have in Bordeaux). Et puis, it took Jefe only about four hours to find Let's Motiv, the local (free) toulousian guide, which became the third prong of our navigational apparatus.

third prong--100th edition of Let's Motiv

One of the first, and in many ways, best finds in Toulouse was thanks to Let's Motiv. El Chivito del Léo may look like a shack, but the Argentian tacos, sandwiches, empanadas, & cetera were so good that we went back two days later for more. And people who have been to Spain would appreciate the availability of San Miguel, which is, in Jefe's opinion, the best cheap beer in the world.

The next day, on the suggestion of Le Routarde, we went to the Marché Victor Hugo; the guide mentioned that the restaurants located on the upper level of the market were very good for lunch ("Get there early, or late, or prepare to wait," it said). What the guidebook didn't say was that in order to get to the restaurants, you have to go through a fire door, ride in an elevator of death (some graffiti on the inside warned that pushing on the door while in transit would cause it to spontaneously open) and walk down a spartan hallway. In fact, the only clue we were on the right track was this placard of the evacuation procedure noting the location of us and the nearby restaurants.

Vous êtes ici

Once we found them, everything went well. We walked through all the restaurants (since they lack separating walls, this is a little awkward, and the only way to tell them apart is their chosen color scheme) and finally chose Attila, which specializes in seafood. We had dorade carpaccio, shrimp risotto (unbelievably good, I think it may have had veal stock in it), and three small filets of different kinds of fish fresh from the market below. Don't forget the crème brûlée, mousse au chocolat, a little wine, and two p'tits cafes all for a reasonable price.

After lunch, Jefe went to Les Abbatoirs (the contemporary art museum, which had an exhibit by Antonio Saura, a series of paintings reinterpreting the Pinoccio story, and more abstract art),

Crucifixion by Antonio Saura

and Rebecca went in search of vintage clothing, books, and perhaps a small suitcase for our increasingly frequent train excursions. Just before separating, as we were walking off our wine, we noticed this unusual poster and took a picture (we'd recommend this to those of you who travel with a digital camera; it's often easier than writing stuff down, and you can avoid misspellings and incorrect times/dates).

It tooks us a few minutes to decode the alternating color typeface. The difficulty in telling where words begin and end (is that Cride la Mouette or Cri de la Mouette?) caused the ensuing internet search to take a little longer.

After the museum, Jefe looked up the address of the venue, Cri de la Mouette, on the internet. The address listed on Google was merely a street with no number (Allée de Barcelone), and so Jefe went to check it out to avoid prolonged wandering in the dark later. What he found was this:

is that...a boat?

to be continued...

Bordeaux, Part II: Vélo F***ing Sutra

2009-01-26T20:45:00.006+01:00

To enrich our wanderings in the center of Bordeaux beyond shopping the thousands of post-holiday sales, we went in search of some contemporary art. There were a few spaces showing this kind of art in the center of Bordeaux, most notably the Espace St. Remi. Formerly a church, it has been converted into a space for showing contemporary paintings and sculptures

Jefe found it accidently while he was looking for a place to lock his bike near the hotel one afternoon. We passed the church/art gallery and immediately found ourselves in a quiet square, deserted except for a few middle aged women, each separated by 30 or 40 feet, sitting on chairs on the sidewalks with thigh-high, white, high-heeled boots (these are apparently the newest component of the national prostitute uniform this year, which we noticed in Poitiers). The art inside was almost as strange as the scene outside.

Apart from the Espace St. Remi, the center of Bordeaux is too expensive for emerging artists and they are forced to stay in nearby Eysine or the industrial area of Bègles. These side trips wouldn't be so bad, if it weren't for the ever-present rain. Oh well. So Jefe biked among semi-trailers and warehouses of Bègles to La Morue Noire for an exhibit by Frédéric Lucas. This sculpture garden was outside:
Inside the building were the paintings. Lucas uses an interesting technique; up close it looks like layers of peeling paint, but from a distance various forms are discernible among the chaos.

Sort of the urban/street version of a Monet.

Since this blog is about bikes and art, among other things, I have to mention a series of comics by Cami that were exhibited at the Maison du Vélo, Bordeaux's headquarters for bike rentals (only to residents, unfortunately), maps, and information.

Yes, that says Velo Sutra

Don't laugh too hard. We did, until we actually saw some of these positions in action, at night, in the rain. Pretty scary.

As anyone familiar with us should know, we visited all the local movie theaters. On the Place Camille Julian, there was Cinema Utopia, two screens and a cafe/bar in a converted church (a theme in Bordeaux?), where we saw Che: Part One. Also UGC Ciné Cité in the center of Bordeaux (where we saw Twilight and Slumdog Millionaire), and Cinema Festival in Bègles, kind of a hike, but worth it to see 20th Century Boys.

And while we like the combination of dinner and a movie more than the average couple, we have other interests too, notably live music. Champaign-Urbana has a very active music scene for a town its size (some of our favorite acts of recent years: The Beauty Shop, The Living Blue, Bellcaster, Animate Objects, Headlights, Kate Hathaway, Darrin Drda's Theory of Everything, Triple Whip, and the list goes on). Needless to say, we jumped at the chance to see Calexico in Bordeaux at the Barbey Rock School. Apparently, so did a lot of other Bordelais, as the 700 seat venue was nearly full.

Pre-show, before most of the people finished their beers and coffees in the lobby.

Luckily, we got there early and were able to stand right near the stage.

They played for nearly two hours, and everyone (fans, band, us) was pretty exhausted by the end. But Rebecca was sublimely happy. She saw Calexico in a small outside venue in NYC a few years back, and this show brought back a lot of happy memories.

Bordeaux, Part I: Finest Food in Finest Town (?)

2009-01-24T14:00:00.002+01:00

follow the wet cobblestones

In this, only our second francophone foray from Poitiers, we headed south to Bordeaux and Toulouse. Since both are fairly large and populous, and because we had never visited either place before, we did get guides (in French) for the two cities.

Really, a guidebook is just a starting point, something that you can use for the first day or so (maybe even just the first 4-6 hours). We feel the need to stress this point. The guidebook should be a handhold to use only until you get your hands on some local publications that will give you the lowdown on the currently hot restaurants, music venus, movies, art exhibits, and which may even warn you of an upcoming manif (slang for manifestation nf. 1. a protest, sometimes in conjunction with a strike or grève; 2. the national sport of France; 3. something you should know about before traveling).

Finding local reviews of what's going on is probably the most underrated travel-related activity. Guidebooks are ok for finding all the 1000+ year-old churches, but they aren't going to know about the organic Thai restaurant that just opened (or the little old theatre that just shut down). And if the locals aren't that into spicy organic food (a good bet around here), it may well be closed by the time the next edition of Lonely Planet comes out. This means that you, the traveler, have a responsibility to venture outside the safe confines of the published guidebook, which you should consider out-of-date and out-of-touch even before you spotted it on the bookshelf.

There is a reason the local publications review art, restaurants, movies, and fashion--locals want to know about this stuff too! In larger cities, local publications (for instance, Pariscope in Paris, The Reader in Chicago, Spirit in Bordeaux, or Let's Motiv if you're in Toulouse) give those out-of-the-way, non-corporate, and newly-opened, but still solid establishments a fighting chance against the overpriced robo-bistrots in the tourist district.

Enough of our hipster politics.

So anyway, after our apartment almost burned down, we hopped on the TGV in Poitiers and were in Bordeaux in two hours, a short tram ride later, we were at our hotel. We'll never get over the ease of transferring from one form of transport to another here (TGV to bus/metro, airplane to TGV/bus/metro). You know that feeling you get when you have to walk the five blocks from Chicago's Union Station to the nearest El stop dragging two suitcases in the snow? Well, not here!

In the middle of a vast network of streets for pedestrians and bikes only, we were surrounded by restaurants and boutiques. We found a great breakfast/lunch spot, Karl Restaurant, around the corner from our hotel.

Karl--"Finest food in finest town"

Located in the Place du Parlement, the interior is very airy and the sun shines in the windows in the afternoon (well, theoretically. If the sun ever shines in Bordeaux).

It was also a fun people-watching venue. For instance, we watched this mother (picture to the left) tying her baby to a chair with her designer scarf. It's hard to imagine a mother doing this in the US. It might even be illegal. It was very chic, but it didn't last long (baby was relocated to dad's arms, scarf returned to mother's shoulders).

If you make it to Karl's, don't forget to visit Cousin et Compagnie, the caviste across the street (their motto is: The importance of a wine shop? That it stays open! --W.C. Fields), where we got this excellent and very wine/cheese/bread-appropriate wine...

Other good food finds were Bar-Cave de la Monnaie (classic-cosy french) and a bar/restaurant whose exact name and address escapes us--it looks like a typical bar from the outside and is located somewhere on the Place du Palais (also classic french, but cheap, and more lunch-appropriate. About 4 meters north of this spot).

While in Bordeaux, don't forget to get a glass of Lillet in between meals, while shopping, or in between art exhibits.

Recent Story in Local Paper May Interest ARAD Readers

2009-01-22T14:38:00.013+01:00

The Meter Explodes: Smoke Fills the Boutique!

Just yesterday, a washing machine almost put the Patrice Bréal boutique on a diet. During the height of the post-Christmas sales season, the clothing shop in Poitiers was hit by a small catastrophe.

It was 2:50pm when the fire department was alerted. The fire started in the closet situated at the back of the store. A few seconds later, the electric meter exploded, spreading fire and panic throughout the shop.

As the smoke spread, the two sales assistants were forced to evacuate the store. The apartments above the shop, as well as neighboring stores, were also evacuated. The firemen, after putting out the fire, checked the nearby apartments for smoke damage and carbon monoxide levels. Using a thermal camera, they were able to ensure that no hot spots remained. A few hours later, the mayor stopped by the scene.

translated from La Nouvelle Republique page 4 article, published Samedi 17, Janvier 2009

-------
Okay, now here's how it happened from our perspective.

Jefe had gone out for a long bike ride. Rebecca was a home, writing. She heard the doorbell ring, but since this happens by accident every once in a while (drunk people, kids, confused delivery men), she didn't take it very seriously. A few minutes later, the bell rang again, more insistently. She opened the French windows to look down to the street, to see who was bothering her. No delivery man, no drunks, no kids. But something did seem amiss... Usually, when we look out our window, we feel a bit like voyeurs. People walk past on the pedestrian street below, not noticing us and not looking up. This time, people were looking up.

Rebecca mused over this as she shut the windows and sat down again at the computer. A moment later, the electricity in the apartment went out all at once. She slipped on her shoes, pushed open the door to the stairwell, and was greeted with a lot of smoke and the smell of burning plastic, which grew thicker as she ran down the stairs. At the base of the stairs it was very hot, and she looked down to see the door of the utility closet glowing orange. When she made it out of the ground level door and into the street, women in the adjacent shoe store were vigorously motioning to her. She walked up to them, confused, and they turned her around and pointed to the fire.

She spent a nervous hour waiting for the fire department to arrive, put out the fire, and rid the apartment building of smoke. Thankfully, there was no permanent damage to the apartment or its residents (aside from a little smoke damage to the level below us)!

In the mean time, don't worry about us. We're on vacation.

Where to get it (Part I)

2009-01-15T20:00:00.017+01:00

So we'll assume you want to avoid Géant. We've done a lot of exploring in the center of Poitiers, and after a little help from the yellow pages, and lots of walking and biking, we've got a pretty good handle on where to get what you need in our neighborhood. We offer you this guide for those in search of spicy food, a good tailor, a wind-resistant umbrella, and the perfect croissant.

You've probably noticed that we like to cook many different kinds of food, some of which are not available at the regular grocery store. We have given up on some of these things for the time being (for instance, real, gluten-free corn tortillas are nowhere to be found, WTF?). Nonetheless, this Asian/African Grocery store is a great place to get spicy peppers (Scotch Bonnets), various kinds of lentils (we like red lentils), corn flour of varying coarseness (so you could, in theory, make your own tortillas from scratch), and a few "exotic" vegetables (ripe plantains and okra).

Asian, African, and Middle Eastern Grocery

More importantly, it is open 7 days a week (gasp!) til 10 p.m. (impossible!!). This means that you can also get yogurt, cereal, and a few other "everyday" things on the weekend if you're desperate. We're guessing that their biggest money maker is alcohol as they are the only shop open on Sunday (not counting bars, tabacs, and restaurants) where you can get beer and wine.

Had friends over and drank up your weekend allotment of wine on Saturday night? Now you need a bottle to go with your Sunday roast chicken?? Come on over!

When we were living in Urbana, we had two sewing machines (one each, which we got before we met each other). We used them for major projects like curtains, as well as lots of little jobs like hemming pants, adding velcro to things, reinforcing Jefe's pants for biking, and making hats. Not long after arriving in Poitiers (sans Singers), we required the services of a tailor. We found a few in the yellow pages and Jefe rode by to check them out. We settled on Arsène Couture, as the other nearby tailor seemed overtaxed (they advertised sewing-related jobs on everything from clothes and curtains to beads and accessories). However, when he dropped off the sweater with Arsene, he ended up in a political discussion with the owner that ended with her grumbling about her daughter getting pregnant by a Jew in New York (sheesh). Needless to say, the next piece that required tailoring went to Rapid Couture, scatterbrained as they might be. We were hoping that "Rapid" meant "No politics." They did a great job, hemming three pairs of pants in two days, which is pretty fast for all the tailors we've visited.

Since Poitiers doesn't get much snow, the winter precipitation comes down as rain, so you want an umbrella that can stand up to constant use and serious wind. Luckily, there is the nearby François Frères, an umbrella shop. They make and repair all sorts of umbrellas, with a few ingenious versions that I'd never even thought of. There are square umbrellas, children's umbrellas, compact umbrellas, and umbrellas with flexible ribs that don't break when the wind catches and turns it inside out. They also have a vast array of styles, sizes, and prints, so you will be sure to find an umbrella to match your outfit and your personality.

Who doesn't love that the French word for umbrella is "parapluie" (pair-uh-ploo-ey)?

Speaking of umbrellas, you can't swing one without hitting a bakery around here. The real difficulty is finding the "best" one. The trick is to look for a line that stretches out the door during weekday lunches and most of Saturday. Testing the croissants is another way to gauge a bakery. When eaten plain, this simple pastry can tell you a lot about the quality of ingredients and the amount of care taken in their baking operation.

La Grange à Pain (The Bread Barn) satisfies both criteria. Their croissants are unbelievably delicious, with just the right amount of creamy butter flavor; their chausson aux pommes (apple turnovers) are filled with something similar to apple pie filling while many competitors merely use an applesauce-like paste. Their baguettes are good enough that people buy them by the armload, and their array of savory sandwiches and mini quiches are what make that interminable line out the door during lunch.

mmm, gluten

In other news, Rebecca's students will be taking their first semester final exams next week, but since there is no final exam in English, we are off to Bordeaux and Toulouse. We'll be back in a week and a half. See you then.

La Haine...Snark, Part 1

2009-01-08T16:19:00.007+01:00

Or...Things that sometimes make us want to poop on the sidewalk

We recently decided (after much debate and pouting) to include a little more snark (parents: that's what we kids call a snide remark) in the blog. While we will still be rhapsodizing new discoveries and the delights of France, there are a few things we feel the need to address. Such as, for instance, certain things so poorly designed that we continue to hate them, even after trying really hard to find their redeeming qualities. Note: this is not mere homesickness for a certain brand of cookie or the lack of a specific type of beer, these are things that anyone--even the French--should be complaining about.

So without further ado,

Snark, Part 1: Géant Casino

For starters, it's called "Giant Casino". Just the name makes me think of an onslaught of light, noise and irritation. Sometime I wonder if France is playing a cruel joke on us. The Americans create things like Walmart, McDonalds, and blockbuster movies (which I don't like, in case you didn't know), and the French see these things and morph them into something even more outrageous. For example, the French word for "corporation" is "exploitation". It's as if they are taking the aspects I dislike the most and shoving them back in my face in the form of monstrous stores, food that makes my skin crawl, and movies that make me cringe just thinking about them. Perhaps they are doing this in an elaborate attempt at cultural critique?

Géant is a large commercial center located near the University of Poitiers. Similar to a Super Walmart, it houses a huge grocery store along with lots of other smaller shops. In addition, all under the same roof, there is a bowling alley, three restaurants, many clothing stores (such as H&M, Zara, Jules, Bershka, Esprit, Stradivarius), several shoes stores, three banks, a Sephora, a hair salon, a pharmacy, a gas station, and a car wash.

Of course, it's different closer to the center of Poitiers, where there are a lot of quirky shops (a custom umbrella shop, communist bookstore, etc.), but there are certain items, like socks, that you can only find at the hypermarché.

We've been to Géant a few times, mostly because it is near Rebecca's office at ESIP. At first it seems really convenient. The bus, which typically comes by every 15 minutes, drops you off just down the street. But then you start to walk toward the building from the bus stop, and the sidewalk abruptly disappears. You end up in a pavement purgatory, walking through a narrow entrance (the western one just off Avenue JFK) to the parking lot with limited visibility, jostled by other pedestrians as well as cars, bikes, mopeds, and volatile middle school students. Oh yeah, and once you get to the entrance, you are greeted with exactly no places for bike parking.

It is hard to see how this complex could have been designed so poorly. Perhaps if it had been built 20 or 30 years ago when there weren't many bike riders in Poitiers, I could understand. But it's only 10 years old. Besides, with the university so close, how could they completely fail to anticipate the possibility of pedestrians?

OK. Supposing you finally make it inside, you get your 5 kilometers of exercise while shopping in this giant store and you're happy because almost everything is super cheap. You then have 40 checkout lanes to choose from: the traditional sort with a real person there to scan your items. Oops, only 3 of those are open.

Should you go through the self-checkout? Not unless you want to wait for the newbie to figure out that they have to set the item down on the counter after scanning it.

How about the self-checkout plus? You get to carry around a cool handheld scanner and zap all the stuff you want, then just dock the scanner and swipe your card. Nice idea, but it requires advanced registration and your first born child.

Maybe the credit card checkout? They scan all your items and give you a barcoded receipt, then you proceed to a separate machine to pay. This works on the theory that paying is the part of checking out that slows things down. Interesting hypothesis, but it doesn't stand up to testing. You still have to wait in line to get all of your items scanned. And paying is still a hassle, especially with American style credit cards that require a signature. This option is a last resort.

Oh wait--there's an opening in one of the traditional check-out lanes *sigh of relief*. The checkout person is scanning all your items and everything is great. Oh crap, where's that little sticker that was on your red pepper?

"Oh no, please don't tell me that your red pepper doesn't have a little sticker on it. Here at Géant, we don't keep a list of all those exotic vegetables at the checkout counter, so I'm sorry but you'll just have to walk back 300 yards to find a new little sticker and bring it back. No, I'm sorry, we can't just call someone and ask them what the code is. This is Géant, we don't do that here. Do you want to go get the sticker or just forget the red pepper?"

So, dear reader, unless you enjoy torturing yourself (as many people seem to here, given the popularity of Géant), or you like to bowl while your significant other does the shopping, I would try to avoid this hypermarché hell.

Side note: This post is conspicuously devoid of pictures. The last time I went there with my camera, I left too frustrated to think about taking pictures. In any case, pictures rarely achieve the same snarkiness as a well-placed barb.

Historic Poitiers

2009-01-05T12:12:00.012+01:00

Poitiers is really old, at least that's what the Wikipedia entry says. But sometimes it's hard to wrap your mind around what 'old' really means; dates and numbers, rather than elucidating this, sometimes just make your vision blur. For many of us, tangible things are easier to appreciate.

Take for instance the electrical wiring in our apartment, which seems a little sketchy, or the fact that rainwater drains inside our building. That means the place was built before people worried about things like electromagnetic pollution and toxic death mold. So that's a pretty tangible marker of age, but then again, the same kinds of weaknesses were present in the poorly-maintained 80-year-old house we rented in Illinois.

What we're trying to get at is that to US "old" is nothing compared to European "old". Lately, we have been noticing the patchwork nature of the construction here. There are, for example, university buildings less than 20 years old sharing a common wall with a 500-year-old half-timber house.

One side of the house...

...and the other.

And with so many layers of renovation and new construction, I can't even begin to imagine the headaches faced by all the engineers and architects involved in these projects over the last few hundred years.

Fortunately for the curious-minded, Poitiers reveres its history, and has marked out three historical walking routes (red, blue, and yellow; so far partially translated by Jefe) that people can take to see various interesting houses, churches, and city buildings. While taking these self-guided walking tours and translating all the associated information on posted plaques, he began to notice how few of the buildings stick to one style of architecture (e.g Classical, Romanesque, Gothic, Flamboyant Gothic, Renaissance).

The closer you look, the quirkier things become. For example, most of the windows have actual working shutters (instead of the decorative shutters we have in the US), which people actually use daily. Built into the exteriors of the walls near those shutters are small iron latches that keep them from swinging freely when open. There are numerous designs for these tiny shutter latches, but the one below was surprisingly common:

I haven't figured out who, if anyone specific, this is supposed to represent, but I'll be asking around (or please let us know if you have any guesses).

The other minor detail that people have preserved over the last few hundred years are the doors. Since so many periods of construction coexist, it seems like no two doors (even in their dimensions) are the same. Short rounded medieval doors stand next to giant entryways for carriages, which neighbor stubby blocked-off doors that must have been deemed too low for human use and decommissioned. But at least these still seem to work...

Antique (or just really old) door knockers

After walking around on foot and dodging all the dog poop on the sidewalks, you may wonder where all the parks are. Besides Parc de Blossac, most of the grassy spaces are hidden within courtyards and gardens behind the walls of formerly aristocratic homes (which have since been converted to apartments). However, occasionally you think you are walking into a parking area behind a building and you end up here...

The truth is that it is easier to find the parks using Google's satellite view than by walking around. Some parks are right in your face, but with entrances that are locked. This park looks great on Google. Unfortunately, it is completely private. Maybe they didn't want to deal with the dog poop (yes, that's the same link as before. It's just really funny).

La Cocotte Gets a Makeover

2009-01-02T14:56:00.015+01:00

You may remember the story of how we acquired this indispensable piece of cookware, which we have used virtually every day since. We have two cast iron pieces at home in the States: one is a vintage country-style cast iron pan from Jefe's family. As our good friend Eric has impressed upon us, nothing will ever come close to this vintage pan (one word: cornbread); if you find a cast iron pan in good condition, treasure it and it will last forever. Even a pan in bad condition can often be restored.

Our other cast iron piece is a 9inch Le Creuset iron-handle skillet. The Le Creuset skillet (which we bought after trying out Trevor's) is another excellent piece of cookware; it's enamelling is silky smooth and remarkably easy to clean. And this is why we were so enthusiastic over finding a new Le Creuset piece for so cheap (a new one would have been prohibitively expensive).

It might seem like we are making a big deal out of nothing, but the Le Creuset brand has a rich history and is a highly respected brand amongst foodies and chefs (and it's a must-have for many traditional French meals--the cassoulet, for instance). The cocotte was the very first product offered when the company started back in 1925. Our pot, which we picked up at a used furniture store, is one of the smallest and lightest versions, the 27cm (or ~4 litre) size (which is good because our oven and stove are quite small). The color is "flame" (one of the first, introduced in 1934).

The cocotte, an enamalled cast iron "french oven" (aka dutch oven) with a lid, is great both for stovetop and oven use. It produces wonderful frittatas and casseroles and risottos. We even use it for vin chaud. Some readers may remember that the first time we put it into the oven, we melted/incinerated the plastic handle, and had to replace it with a bolt from the hardware store. The bolt worked fairly well; we got used to placing a kitchen towel between our hands and the bolt in order to pick up the lid. One downside is that we couldn't put the lid upside down on the counter top. Another is that the bolt didn't really go with the whole Le Creuset aesthetic.

Well today, thanks to Jefe's brother and fellow foodie, Josh, the cocotte got a makeover...

before, and after

Now our little cocotte is perfect, both aesthetically and functionally (thanks Josh!). Originally, when we moved to France, the plan was to accumulate as little stuff as possible, and to assume that anything we did accumulate was going to stay in France when we went back to the US.

Yesterday, we both agreed that the cocotte is coming with us when we leave.

yes, that's a brand-name handle. don't hate.

Oysters

2008-12-31T13:00:00.002+01:00

(Baked oysters with bacon and leeks)

Though we have yet to travel very far west of Poitiers, toward the sea, the piles of cheap oysters for sale may be the surest sign that saltwater is only a quick (high speed) train ride away. In the case of Poitiers, we could take the train in one of three directions to prime oyster country: south to Marseilles and the Mediterranean coast, west to the Bay of Biscay, or north to the English Channel. At the Saturday market, we have found oysters available from the first two locations, and since France is the largest harvester of oysters outside of the Far East, there is an ample selection in terms of size as well as origin. The South is comprised of one growing region, but the West contains four (South Brittany, Central West, Marennes-Oléron, and Arachon). Regardless of origin, oyster sizes seem to range from the size of your palm to the size of a saucer.

After being in the Midwest, living in the midst of such an abundant selection of fish and shellfish is not something that we will soon forget. The sheer variety, not to mention the nonchalance with which the fishmongers clean, prep, package, and sell this seafood makes it seem dream-like. For normal people like us, the reality of preparing and cooking fish is not a fairytale: there are a lot of new rules and a LOT of ways you can screw up (cooking it too long, not cooking it long enough, not knowing how to open the shells, not using the meat in time...remember the soupe de poissons disaster?). Nevertheless, we only passed up the oyster vendors a few times before we bought our first dozen La Rochelle oysters, a little over a month ago.

Since the oysters are so cheap and plentiful, we knew we would be eating them often. So, as soon as we got home from the market we went looking for a proper oyster knife. A good oyster knife is fairly dull, short and stiff with a thick handle. The local highfalutin kitchen supply store (think Williams Sonoma with a tenth of the floor space) sells lots of nice of knives and other kitchen tools, and they had a pretty serious oyster knife for sale. Too bad it was almost $40. We weren't going to have anyone over for dinner that we needed to impress, so we went to the grocery store and got a $6 knock-off (the bottom one in the picture). Since the holidays are when most oysters are consumed, the fancy kitchen store decided to stock a more moderately price $10 knife (the upper one in the pictures) that was a big improvement over our previous one (note the much thicker blade).

After watching a few youtube videos about opening oysters, Jeff went to work. The first one took around 5 minutes, with lots of grunting and swear words. Once he figured out a systematic, albeit still slow, way of opening them, the rest went much faster. This method is called the sidedoor method, and is better if your knife is sharper and thinner. The upgraded knife was stiff enough to open the oysters in the traditional manner, by attacking the hinge first and then working your way around the shell and cutting the adductor muscle that holds the top of the shell closed.

Wanting to truly taste the oysters, we decided to eat them raw along with some other hors d'oeuvres. Besides some toasted slices of baguette, there was butter with shallots, lemons, avocados, three kinds of goat cheese, and roasted beets.
The picture at the top of this post was our second batch of oysters that we decided to bake in the oven with bacon and leeks. It turned out really well, the creaminess of the sauce combined with the saltiness of the oysters and bacon was really tasty.

Of course the oyster experience is not complete (at least not in France) without wine (dry, white) or champagne. Guess where we went to get the wine. Normally we go to William to ask for wine that breaks the stereotypes of what certain wines are supposed to go with, but this time, he urged us to go the more traditional route for this most traditional of French meals.

While France has been harvesting oysters for hundreds of years and has a lot of regulations in place ensuring the sustainability of the oyster beds, there have been two cases of infections (one, and two) in the last few months which are wreaking havoc on oyster production in the Atlantic. Hopefully, the areas of oyster production in France not hit by these maladies will be able to meet demand. Actually, the slump caused by the infections has brought about a surge in harvesting, which will temporarily result in a surplus here. More (and cheaper) oysters for us! So we will definitely be trying them again.

Happy New Year from ARAD

2008-12-30T11:35:00.008+01:00

New and interesting posts are soon to come on topics such as:

-strange old buildings of Poitiers

-gluten-free in Poitiers

-weekending in Bordeaux

In the mean time, we're starting the new year off the right way...

(long-haired and in love)

French Cyclocross

2008-12-24T17:44:00.006+01:00

The weather has been better than expected here, at least better than we'd been led to believe. For the last week, the sun has come out for a few hours almost everyday and I have been taking advantage with frequent bike rides. On Saturday I took a favorite route west from Poitiers through Sanxay, Vasles, Latillé, and Montreuil-Bonnin. The route is notable for its smooth roads, relatively flat terrain, and low traffic. While passing through Latillé, I noticed signs for a cyclocross race the following day at the nearby Chateau de la Chèze.

I was hoping for good weather so I could compare the French version of cyclocross with the race I saw in Chicago. Of course, cyclocross is more interesting in adverse weather (think sharp, slippery turns, limited visibility, and lots of mud), but in order to watch I needed to ride my bike the 30 km to Latillé, something that would have been considerably less interesting in the rain. It turned out to be ideal: 50 degrees and mostly sunny.

Chateau de la Chèze was not hard to find. This is partly because Latillé is not very big, but also because, as soon as I got close, I could hear an announcer's voice booming from some loudspeakers.

The announcer was also the first thing I noticed that distinguished this French cyclocross race from the one in Chicago. He essentially never stopped talking during the 60 minute-race, and he reminded me less of a sports-commentator than an auctioneer. He was providing commentary at such a rapid pace (and at such volume) to the tiny crowd I couldn't help but laugh.

The race was situated on the grounds of the Chateau de la Chèze, which dates back to the seventeenth century (and was built on the site of an older castle), and the course was truly breathtaking. The ribbons and flags marking the course wound back and forth across the immense grounds, dipping into the valley and disappearing into the distance before winding back up the hill to the chateau.
There were nearly 60 competitors on the course, with multiple divisions competing simultaneously. The spectators seemed to be mostly friends and family; this was also true of the race in Chicago, probably because it takes an intimate knowledge of the cyclists to figure out who is competing with whom and who is winning which division.

Eventually, the speed of the announcements picked up, and I knew the race must be nearing a climactic end. The two leaders in the fastest division were within a few yards of each other as they went down into the valley for the last lap. As they approached the last turn before the straightaway along the water (look in the upper left quadrant of the above photo) they came upon a slower racer from a lower division. The leader was held up momentarily waiting for his chance to pass, then when there was finally room, the cyclist chasing him jumped into the gap and passed both the leader and the lower division cyclist. He held that tenuous lead for the next kilometer and took the win!

It was a pretty exciting finish and satisfying close to my first French cyclocross experience. And then, after the race, as I was preparing to head home, I noticed this little cute bike-wash station near the castle wall:

Very civilized!

You can't win 'em all...

2008-12-22T11:40:00.009+01:00

As evidenced by our recent run of "nyah-nyah" posts, we have been perpetually surprised by the tastiness of things that we've never tried before: duck fat, foie gras, roasted beets, cured donkey sausage (not to be confused with ass sausage--see below), vin chaud, and aged goat cheese among other things. But we feel it is our duty, dear Reader, to admit that we've had some failures, too. Yes, we have tried a few things that someone with decorum would describe as "acquired tastes" (ones we have clearly not yet acquired).

The first of the missteps occurred when Jeff went to the grocery store looking for sausage for a meal of hors d'œuvre. Occasionally, we make a whole meal out of grazing on assorted cured sausages, cheeses, roasted beets, fresh pears and apples, cornichons, artichoke hearts, french bread (for Jeff), and corn cakes (for Rebecca). So, Jeff decided to get some andouille sausage. The concentric circles made it looked a little different than the cajun andouille he had seen back home, but always the adventurous fellow, he got it anyway.

He brought the sausage home and opened it, and was immediately struck with a strange smell....a vaguely barnyard smell. And as anyone who has visited a barnyard knows, the main component of this smell is manure; pig manure in this case (North Carolinians will appreciate the special nastiness associated with the smell of pig farms). Turns out French andouille (specifically the andouille de Guémené that Jeff bought) is made entirely of *gags* pig intestines and rectums; this would be called chitterlings sausage in the U.S. In any case, the smell was unsettling, and only got worse when he tried to cook it. I opted not to have any.

Jeff has tried his share of offal, from chicken gizzards and sheep's head, to sweetbreads, and cow tongue (including delicious cow-tongue tacos in Chicago), but this was a little much. In a final blow to his ego, we discovered that andouille also means 'fool' in French.

Another recent mishap concerned an impetuous decision to buy a bottle of soupe de poissons (puréed fish soup) from the Saturday market. I remember eating something like this back when I was in France as a tweenager. I remember it tasting good, kind of like a French version of New England clam chowder. So I persuaded Jeff (who, despite his aforementioned adventurousness, is always a little tentative when it comes to things of the sea because of his land-locked upbringing) to buy this:

We decided to heat it up, and to add leeks, carrots, and spinach. Sounds pretty good, right? Well, it wasn't. It was VERY fishy, so fishy that Jeff "the Iron Stomach" was only able to eat a few bites. When someone says "something smells fishy," it was that kind of fishy.

It's a good thing I also made a cornbread to go with it or Jeff might have starved.

I'm still not exactly sure what went wrong with the soupe de poissons...should we have mixed it with something else? Maybe a strong soup base like cream of potato? Or something acidic like tomato? Well, the "leftovers" (can you call them "leftovers" if you didn't eat any to begin with?) are burning a hole through our fridge, so if anyone has any suggestions, speak now or we'll have to throw them out...

Le Vin Chaud

2008-12-20T19:57:00.016+01:00

After trying glühwein in Germany, and becoming part of William's efforts to increase the visibility of vin chaud in Poitiers, we decided we needed to find out more about this winter beverage. While the Germans often add liquor to their glühwein, the French generally avoid this with vin chaud, perhaps with good reason. There is some risk associated with consuming glühwein: we were warned that if you inhale through the nose while sipping (schnapps-fortified) glühwein, you are liable to gag, not a pleasant thought.

While vin chaud is not available for consumption at the market due to problems with teen alcohol consumption (though it is available in bottles at ambient temperature), nearly all the local restaurants have their own version for sale. In order to complete our study of vin chaud in time (vin chaud dies out soon after Christmas) we started by concocting our own batch.

Attempt #1:
1 bottle Beaujolais red wine
water
grated nutmeg
Cloves
powdered cinnamon
orange slices
sugar

We added all the ingredients except sugar and brought to a boil (whoops) because now that our stove is fixed, it heats up unexpectedly fast. Everything boiled for too long and it turned out a little bitter. We had to add more sugar than we would have like to make it palatable. We decided we needed to do a little more research.

Perhaps one of the local restaurants could help, so we headed over to La Gazette (which has the same owner as La Serurrerie). The vin chaud came in glass mugs with orange slices, cinnamon sticks and (to our surprise) also came with star anise. The flavor was excellent, subtle and not too sweet. Armed with this knowledge we returned to the kitchen.

Attempt #2
Ingredients:
1 bottle Haut-Poitou (local) red wine
250ml water
cloves
1 tbl. vin chaud spice mix we picked up at the outdoor market (cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg)
cinnamon stick
star anise
one packet of orange flavored black tea
sugar

We heated the wine/water mixture along with the star anise and spice mix until just under boiling. Then we removed the star anise and added the remaining ingredients except the sugar and let the whole mixture steep for 20 minutes. Finally, we added sugar to taste. It was fantastic, the orange tea gave it a very nice flavor and was soothing on the throat, and the anise was also a great addition. Armed with this success, we went to see the expert: William.

A sign at Le Fruit Defendu: "We support VCPC--Mulled wine is not a crime"

We had to stop by Le fruit defendu to pick up wine to go with our gourmet weekend meals (First, Seafood and Chicken Paella, followed by Braised oxtails w/ Spanish chorizo). We queried him to see if we were missing any secret ingredients, and apparently we were not. He promised he would send us some recipes from some "trusted friends," and we will see if there are any procedural changes we can make to improve things further. But until then, tonight's iteration:

Attempt #3
Ingredients:
1 bottle Haut-Poitou (local) red wine
300ml water
zest of clementine
clementine sections
orange juice
cloves
cinnamon stick
star anise
one packet of orange flavored black tea
1 tbl. aforementioned spice mix (cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg blend)
sugar

Combine first 8 ingredients and heat. Once the mixture is hot, add the tea and spice mix, and let steep for 10 minutes. Add sugar to taste.

Update:
The seafood paella and accompanying wine (above and left, respectively) turned out wonderfully. The third iteration of the vin chaud turned out ok. We are eagerly awaiting William's recipes and will probably also try Kristi's suggestion of mixing wine and cider. American style cider is hard to find here; the cider here is mostly carbonated & alcoholic which bears only a passing resemblance to the cider sold at apple orchards in the U.S. We are open to other suggestions (even from our readers in Ukraine and Austria)... let us know!

Noël...

2008-12-16T13:14:00.001+01:00

Hearing about the first snowfall in Illinois has made me miss snow a little bit. I still have some heavy-duty winter clothes I haven't been able to wear yet here in Poitiers. But then, a winter weather advisory for Chicago brought me back to reality.

So, there's no snow, and the ice rink in front of L'Hotel de Ville (City Hall) melts once in a while, but it could be worse. Since the weather does not seem especially Christmasy, the town has done its best to put everyone in the holiday mood. There is an outdoor Christmas Market (with rides and ice rink) in front of L'Hotel de Ville, and most of the shops were open this past Sunday despite the French ban on opening on Sunday.

The shops along the street where we live seem to be doing pretty good business (what recession?). However, to prevent you from having to go home periodically to do those daily, mundane things (like listening to Christmas music, eating sugary gluten, or riding your pony), the town has cheerfully provided these amenities to improve your shopping experience.

As we mentioned a few weeks ago, there are speakers playing Christmas music conveniently located every 100 ft or so along the pedestrian streets where most of the shops are located.

The speaker is the cylinder hanging just under the right side of the balcony.

There are also vendors on nearly every corner selling "Chi-Chis" (also called "Churros"--long thin crispy batons of dough), along with pretty much anything else you can put Nutella on: waffles, crêpes, and doughnuts (which they call "beignets," but bear little resemblance to New Orleans-style beignets). Jeff decided to opt for a crêpe with "chocolat maison" (house chocolate--a darker, less sweet blend than Nutella)

and Rebecca (who is gluten-free) had to be content just to watch as they were being made.

And, for the adults, in case the kids get too much Nutella and can't stand still, they can ride around on one of those donkeys (or pygmy horses?--any animal experts reading?), spin around on the carousel, or fall down on the ice for a while until they calm down.

Another crucial component of the French holiday season--especially for the adults--is vin chaud (mulled wine); vin chaud is so important in fact, that we will be dedicating an entire post to the topic...

so, until then, stay warm and stay tuned.

Duck, Duck,...Fat

2008-12-11T12:30:00.008+01:00

I first took note of the duck fat for sale here at the farmer's market. Frequently, adjacent to the saucisson man, there is a van parked, selling all manner of duck- and goose-related products, whole and in pieces, including foie gras and duck fat. I was first attracted by the foie gras, not because I was particularly fascinated by it (although it's difficult not to be a little fascinated, a ban on foie gras was only recently repealed in Chicago), but because of the shear selection; it feels particularly illicit to be browsing for foie gras. I'd never seen so many varieties of such a product in one place. Tucked in among the jars were a few labeled "graisse de canard," and maybe it was that phrase that intrigued me: grease of duck.

I was little tentative about purchasing the graisse for the first few weeks, not sure of what I would use it for, how long it would last, what the storage restrictions would be, etc. Luckily for my taste buds, Rebecca threw caution into the wind and decided to just buy some and figure out the details later. Needless to say, it is delicious, and can be used in all manner of dishes. It is primarily used in the Southwest of France in dishes like cassoulet, duck confit, and foie gras. But the options don't end there. In reality, versatility (relatively speaking) is its most interesting quality.

Apparently, duck fat gives sauteed vegetables a hint of savory flavor, perhaps similar to MSG. Substitute some duck fat for butter in pie and tart crusts, mix duck fat with some blanched and pounded garlic for Gascony Butter (to use as soup flavoring or on toast; variations can be made with shallots and red wine), fry duck skin in duck fat for fritons de canard (though this culinary term can also apply to various renditions), and all roasted and fried potatoes benefit tremendously from being cooked in duck fat.

Duck fat also has advantages from a technical and nutritional point of view. For instance, the "smoke point" of duck fat, the point at which the oil begins to smoke and break down, is above both butter and extra virgin olive oil, though below high quality extra virgin olive oil. Cooking in fat above its smoke point will impart an unpleasant taste to the food. Here is a chart of the smoke points of various fats.

Besides being a little easier to cook with, duck fat also has less saturated fat than butter. Perhaps this fact, along with the health benefits of red wine (in the form of Resveratrol), has contributed to Gascony having the longest life expectancy in France, the French Paradox. On the other hand, with a number of sites trying to debunk this theory, the whole thing (really, both sides of the issue) starts to sound like a conspiracy theory. But would you rather die from a McDonald's-induced heart attack, or a red wine and duck confit heart attack?

The real question for the English speakers reading this blog is "where do I get it?" It is available online, but shipping costs make it pretty expensive. You might try the local farmer's market or butcher. If you live in a more rural area, maybe your local duck hunter can help. Ducks are very fatty, and cooking a duck without removing some of the fat leads to long cooking times. You can ask them for some of the extra fat; their duck cooks faster (and gets crispier) and you get duck fat to render. Hooray!