Barcelona

About a month ago, I spent 4 days at Barcelona with mom. It was hot there and we enjoyed ourselves. We bought this 2 days pass for the open top tourist bus that offers 3 routes. One up north, one down south and one along the beach. With this 2 days pass, we boarded and alighted as and when we like. So it was really cool.

Las Ramblas is the main street that leads from the center to the port and along the street, there is an old market which sells lots of fresh food. There are tropical fruits which I can't find in France and fresh seafood and meat and dried sausages. It was always crowded with tourists but I have to say the prices are reasonable.

Sagrada Familia, a cathedrale that started to be built in 1882, is still under construction. It is the only cathedrale in this world that is under construction. Does this mean that there are no other cathedrale being built at this moment? I have no idea. It may just mean that this is one of the last cathedrale that is not completed from the 19th century. This temple is really amazing and is the main attraction for sight-seeing tourist in Barcelona. In the cathedrale's museum, explanations of the design really made me understand how the architecture use nature to its best. You really have to see it to understand it.

Of course, during the 4 days, we had visited many other places like Park Güell, the Barcelona FC stadium, the old city, Poble Espanyol, Miramar Park ....

As for food wise, we tried the different tapas, tortilla(different variety of omelette), paella but the most impressive food is the bread. We had breakfast each morning in a cafe which serves sandwich with sliced chorizo. The interesting part was that the bread were spreaded with a tomato paste that tasted fresh and unique. We asked if we could buy this tomato jam but after some language difficulty, we understood that this tomato paste can be easily made.

First, cut a big juicy tomato in halves. Take one of them and rub it on the bread. After that, cut a garlic into halves and rub it on the bread as well. Sprinkle some salt and olive oil and that's it. It is so easy.

When we were having lunch at Poble Espanyol, we noticed that on each table, there were 2 tomatoes and some garlics. Of course, we had fun making our own tomato bread to go with our main meals.

All good things must come to an end so after a short 4 days, we packed up and headed back to Paris. In fact, I think mom enjoyed Barcelona more than Paris. The weather was warmer, the people were friendlier, things are cheaper and the food tasted less foreign for her. :)

Boite de nuit

I just passed a great Friday and half a Saturday with my company at the Château de Bertichères.
This was where we passed our company weekend for this year. I even did horse riding for the first time and am now recovering from my body ache. Yeah, I was stressed at a certain time when the horse stopped and started to feed on the grass with its head bent down and me trying to keep myself from falling.

Well, today's subject is not on the château itself but on the boite de nuit.
Boite = Box
Nuit = Night
So boite de nuit means night club. Most of our quarterly company meetings finished off in a 'boite de nuit'. So far, I had been to three such events.

1. I guess the first one was rather interesting. It was a restaurant-spectacle-dance hall all under a big top. Yeah, the venue was a top like those of a circus and there, the theme was Spanish. While dining, there was light circus performances. After dinner, the ring was turned into a dance floor and we had fun dancing away.

2. For the second time, we went to ManRay along the streets of Champ Elysee. It was highly recommended by my colleague. This is the club where all jet setters go. So we had dinner fusion style. After dinner, as usual, tables were carried aside and it became a dance floor. I remembered that on that night, there was a promotion on a wine and there was free wine tasting. Added to that, there were 2 pillars in the middle of the dance floor. Soon, there were 2 young ladies standing on each of the pillar and striping to the music. This was happening while everyone was dancing. They striped to their strings and danced with the poles on the pillars. Of course, my colleagues told me this was not normal but I did not appreciate it at all. We were here for dancing and not to watch strip tease.

3. Well, and for last weekend, we visited Le Pharoan. There are 5 halls in this night club. A wine bar, a hall for 30 years and more, a hall for house music, a hall for 70-80s music and a hall for Zouk music. This place was not too bad as there were a variety of music for one to choose from. But I was again shocked when I saw a strip teaser performing lap dance on the men who had bought a bottle of liquor for 100 euros. There you had, 18 year olds girls and boys dancing away on the dance floor and right beside them, a strip teaser working on a man beside the dance floor. Of course, a lot of men's attention was on her and she was just doing her job.

For me, it is really weird to see all these. Especially each time out with my colleagues. I guess for the French, these things are part of life. To pretend that they never exist is being puritan. But for me, to be in such places just makes me feel uneasy. As I told my colleagues, the next time, let me choose the 'boite de nuit'.

how to read/interpret the french address

My friend Carol sent me an email asking if my address is still correct as she is updating her address book. At the same time, she was wondering how to read/interpret the french address.
Well, I thought it will be interesting for you readers out there as well.

As for my address, it is 10 rue Davy 75017 Paris. (the number has been changed for security reason)
rue = street
So, it means the No. 10 building of street Davy.
In Paris, the buildings are built in blocks.
As most of the apartments were built a long time ago, there were not many apartments in one block. In the old days, one block housed a family from the servants to the head of the family.

For my block, there are 6 stories and 2 apartments on each level. There are no door number. We put our surnames on the letterboxes. The postman will come to 10 rue Davy, check the names on each letterbox and put in the letters into the right letterbox. If someone simply wrote my name on the envelope, then the postman will have no idea where to put this letter. So, letters must always have our surnames. For Seb and I, our letterbox shows both our surnames. In this way, I can still receive my letters from Singapore. In france, my letters are addressed to me with the surname of Seb.

As for the postal code of 75017, the first two digits are the department you are in. 75 is in Paris. Around paris, the departments are 78, 93, 76, 92, etc. These numbers are by alphabet order. So numbers in 70+ are in the range of P. To see someone having postal code 75 means he is in paris. The last three digits means the area you are in. In Paris, there are 21 districts. I am in the 17th district. By seeing the number of the postal code, you can know if the person lives in the 'good' district or not. The posh areas are the 8th, 16th, 7th, 6th and 1st districts. Paris started with 10 districts. So the inner districts are more expensive. During the time of Napoleon, Paris was expanded to add in 11 more districts. Of course, 17th district is not so bad. It is big and there are the good side and the poor side. My area is on the poorer side.

Well, so there it is. The explanation of my address. Interesting isn't it.
I do hope that this gives you an idea how the french address is like. If I miss out on anything or if you want to send me a postcar, just drop me a comment.

Une sale journee

This morning, Bao Bei puked. We think she ate too much, too fast. Cats!
Work went fine.
This evening, my key was not able to open the door. It was jammed.
I called Seb and he packed his bag to return home.
As it was 33 degrees, I decided to walk up the street to get an ice cream while waiting for Seb.
I reached the ice cream shop. It was closed on mondays.
I walked back and took a Monaco at the brasserie near our apartment. Finally I managed to cool down.
Seb came and used his key and force to open the door.
At home, internet connection was down. Seb had to call the Free provider and reset the modem 5 times to get it to work. Internet connection is important as our phone line is by internet connection and we got extra channels on TV through internet.
We call this une sale journee. A dirty day in french expression.

Poor Bao Bei

I received an email from Mike today. Among other things, he mentioned that I had not update my blog for a while. Indeed, it has been more than a month since the last blog. Well, these days, times flies and there was more work, the weather is warmer and I am just feeling slack.

What's up these days? :) Bao Bei is sick again. She has this allegry that makes her scratch her face. This is really bad for a cat so we had no choice but to make her wear a collerette. It is a collar shaped like a funnel so that the wearer is not able to use its paw to reach its face. It took us 30 mins to make Bao Bei wear it. It was really a big, big struggle. She cried, meowed, and used her claws to get her way out. Of course, in the end, Seb's shirt was dead.

When she had the collar, her sight was restricted and her whiskers were not extended. This made her walked very slowly. She looked like a big black caterpillar to me but to Seb, it was more like a slow lizard. She was on all fours and she dared not even jump up the chair.

The next day, we took out the collar as she had not touched her food and water while we were at work. But she started to scratch herself again. So, after a while, I took up the courage to put the collerette back on her. But hey hey, it took me no effort at all. She just lifted up her head for me to put it on. We could not believe this. Just the day before, I had to sit on her and hold her front paws while Seb struggled to put the collerette on her neck.

We concluded that she might think that this is her new collar. Seb thinks further that Bao Bei trusts us so this time round, she obeys us. After all, we fussed over her a great deal during these 2 days.

Life's a bore without a cat.

Opera - Madame Butterfly

I went to watch an opera last month. It was the famous Madame Butterfly. As a "mountain tortoise", I had only a very vague idea of an opera. As it was performed by the London City Opera, I thought I had a good chance to understand it. How wrong was I.

The story of Madame Butterfly is simple. In fact, Miss Saigon is an adaptation as a muscial but happening during the Vietnam war. Madame Butterfly was about an American who came to Japan and got a "part-time" wife, Madame Butterfly. When Pinkerton left for US, Madame Butterfly was pregnant. She waited for the return of her husband and when he finally did, he brought along his wife. His wife knew that Madame Butterfly had born her husband a son and she wanted the baby. In the end, Madame Butterfly commited seppuku out of sadness.

All the dialogues were sang in a high-pitched tone and in Italian. The performers must have a lot of practices in order to reach this level of singing without panting. And to my surprise, the character Madame Butterfly was played by a Singaporean. Her name is Yee Er Ping and apparently, she had received the 2001 Young Artist Award from the National Arts Council.

The audiences were mostly french and the opera was in Italian. Okay, someone told me after that all operas are in Italian. Is it interesting? Well, for me, I did not understand a thing that was sung. I mean if I were to understand Italian, I am not sure if I could have understood the singing. :)

I don't think I will watch any opera in the near future. If I can recommend something foreign to you, go and watch the movie "Vas, vis et deviens" (Go, live and become). It is really a good film done by France/Israel.

This film is about an African boy from a refugee camp in Sudan. In 1985, Israel decided to save some of the Africans Jews. This boy was not a Jew but his mother made him leave with an African Jew who had recently lost her son. The boy settled in Jerusalem but had a diffcult time to intergrate and keeping the secret that he was not a Jew. This is not based on a true story but on a true event that had happened. So, I think there may be many stories that is similar to this one. Africa is one part of the world that people do not talk about so much nor do people react to the poor Africans who are still suffering there.

To Eternal Sunshine,
Thanks for your concern about my leg.
It is well now. Think it was caused by my heels and the uneven pavement in Paris. ;)

To doctor I went

Today is 1 April. Gone were the school days when friends made jokes on each other. This day, I remembered it as Bao Bei's birthday. Yes, we sang her a birthday song this morning to mark her one year of age but she did not really care. Guess birthdays do not count for cats.

In Paris, I had seen doctors thrice. Three times, it was with different doctors.
On the new year, I was sick and a house doctor had to come as there was no doctor who opened shop on this day. This house doctor came smelling like a chain smoker. He examined me, gave Seb the prescription for the medicines, wrote us an invoice for payment, washed his hands and left. Impression: bad.

The second time I was sick, I searched on the yellow pages in the internet for a female general practitioner near my area. Seb called up to get an appointment for me and we went. The doctor is situated in an apartment like most other doctors. The waiting room looks like a living room. There are sofas, a few chairs, a coffee table with lots of magazines. There was no assistance or nurse. The doctor sent out the patient, came to the waiting room, guided the next patient into the consultation room, examined, wrote the prescription, collected the payment and sent the patient out of the door. Then, she came into the waiting room for the next patient. That's how it works here. As medicines can only be bought from pharmacy, setting up shop as doctor is really a one man show.

The third time I was sick, which was yesterday, I searched the yellow pages for the doctor. I wanted to have an appointment in the evening after my work. I called up the female GP but she was totally booked for the day and I had to wait until the next day. I decided to call the next doctor in the list. The GP had retired and now, there is only a paediatrician. Since I am not a kid, this doctor is not for me. So, I called the next one in the list. Finally, a GP picked up the phone and he was able to see me at 18h.

At 17h55, I reached the building. It is an apartment building just a street away from my apartment. Outside the building, there was a plate engraved with the doctor's name. I went through the first wooden door and reached a spiral staris. I went up to the first floor. There were 2 apartments on each floor. On the left door, there was a plate engraved with the doctor's name. I rang the bell but no one anwsered. The door was locked. I called up the doctor and heard a phone rang on the second floor. The doctor was at home and he came down the spiral stairs to open his clinic. Once inside, he invited me to wait in the waiting room with the usual set up like a living room but minus the television.

5 minutes later, I was in the consultation room and I told him the pain I had in my foot. Half way through, the phone rang and he started to chat with someone on the other line giving advise on certain issues. As like with the previous doctor, the same procedure happened. He gave me the prescription, I paid him, he sent me out of the door.

This is kinda weird for me as I am not at all used to this. In Singapore, the doctor does not move. He just sit in his comforable chair and wait for his nurse or assistance to co-ordinate with the appointment, dispensing the medicines, and collecting money.
So this is my experience with the doctors here.

Au revoir, l'hiver

Goodbye winter, hello spring.
In 3 days time, we will be back to 6 hours difference between Singapore and France instead of 7. That also means daylight saving is gone. Which in turn means that spring is coming.
Indeed, about 2 weeks ago, when I wrote an entry about heavy snow even in Paris, I am really amazed to break to you the good news that since Tuesday, during the day, the temperature was at 22 degrees. Can anyone back in Singapore believe that? For me, I still can't get over the fact that on Tues evening, I was out dinner with my friend and I was wearing my suit and a winter overcoat. And on Wed, I was just wearing a pull with a thin outer jacket which was hanging in the wardrobe since more than 4 months. Finally, the jacket can be out under the blue sky. It seems like we skip spring and plunge straight into summer.

In the weather report, it mentioned that this surge in temperature is as abnormal as the snow fall 2 weeks ago. Also, as it had not rain much in France since the beginning of the year, this year may be a difficult year for farmers and in turn, difficult for us. For now, I am just glad to have the sun basking on my face.

Oh yes, before ending, I had to pass by a small patch of greenery each day to work and it is amazing to see wild flowers sprouting out of the grass overnight once the temperature is warmer. Isn't that a miracle?

It's snowing in Paris

Since a week, it has been snowing in Paris every now and then. Usually the snow did not stay on the ground as it snowed during the night when the temperature was lower. And during the day, with all the pollution from cars raising up the temperautre, the snow would have melted away. But this was not the case on two occasions. The snow stayed on the pavement and on these mornings, I had difficulties walking from the Metro station to work.

It was really weird to have so much snow in Paris. And it is already the start of March. People in Singapore were telling me how hot it was these days over there. I even saw from BBC meteo annoucement that Singapore is experiencing the highest temperautre in 29 years with 300+ bush fires reported. So the weather is going haywire again?

I am spending my weekend in Chartres and it was just so lovely to see the 10 cm snow almost everywhere especially in the garden. We put Bao Bei in the snow and it is funny to see her paw prints in the snow. As the sun was out yesterday, Seb suggested to drive up to the Normandie coast 219 km from Chartres to see the coast under snow. We arrived at the beach resort of Cabourg. Normandie is a region with its unique architecture. The houses are built with the influence from the English. As this is a summer resort, most of the apartments and houses had their shutters closed. I gathered that these must be summer houses. It was like a ghost town in Cabourg, Deauville and Honfleur. But I can imagine during summer, it must be super packed with Parisians since it is the nearest beach for them.

Well, the weather turned for the worse on our way up north. The sun had disappeared and we were the only ones at the beach under the snow. It was good to hear the sound of sea waves though it was super cold too. After a nice lunch at Cabourg, we drove along the coast and passed by other resort towns. We stopped at Honfleur to take in the beautiful sight of the old port. Honfleur is famous for the display of flowers during spring and summer. Even with this cold weather, I saw a group of Japanese tourists. I wondered who will come to such a "ulu" place as tourist. But Seb reminded me that France is not just Paris. That is indeed very true. There are a lot of places of interest all over France. Each region offers its own style, culture and food. We stopped by at an old cafe manned by an old man. We had hot chocolate and the view of the old port was just in front of us. The old man explained to us that the buildings on this side of the port used to house the labourers. And the ones on the opposite side housed the bosses of these labourers. He also further explained that these buildings were built around the late 1600s. Of course, there were only us in the cafe so it was nice to have him telling us these information.

On the trip back, it was snowing harder and Seb had to concentrate harder. He was afraid that the road would froze and that would be extremely dangerous. At these times, salt is usually scattered on the road by the authorises to prevent the freezing. I would hope we have another opportunity to go up Normandie. My next place of interest would be to see the beach where the Americans embaked during WWII and also the cemetery of the Americans soldiers. Maybe when the weather will be less harsh.

Chinese New Year

In another 1.3 hours, it will be chinese new year in France. I called mom at 5pm in office today to wish her a happy chinese new year. It is the first time I spent my chinese new year overseas. How does that feel? Well, I miss steamboat and BBQ pork. It sounds simple but reflect on that and the sense of longing is deeper than just the good taste of food. It is habitual, tradition and all those good old feelings.

Seb and I went Chinatown on Sat to check out what we can find. I bought some food to cook tomorrow. After work, I will rush home to dish up some simple singaporean food for 2 invited guests. I would rather do it today as it is chinese new year's eve and it is really important to eat as a family. The invited guests are like family here in Paris. But I had my french lesson and today we were doing subjonctif which is very important in the french language. So I could not afford to skip class today. Seb cooked instead and the two of us had a good meal after my lesson.

I watched CCTV and saw Jackie Chan singing 'Nan er tang zi qiang'. There was this variety show from China and it felt good to be having reunion dinner in front of a chinese program.

Got to get back to watching CCTV now. Have a great Chinese New Year and 'Xin Xiang Shi Cheng' (Heart thoughts become true).

The Seven Habits of Highly Effective House Cat

Bao Bei is only 9 months old but she is already having her own habits. She is so adorable but as you read on, not all habits are desirable by her owners.

1. My cat has a bad drinking habit. No, she is not an alcoholic. It is just that she only drinks water from cups, glasses, taps except the cat bowl. If someone is drinking a glass of water, she will be eyeing on that glass. Once the glass is put back on the table, she will go to it and check if the water level is within the reach of her mouth. She tests this by putting her front paw into the glass. Next, she verifies if her head is able to go into the opening of the glass by bending forward. If all are possible, she will start her art of drinking from the glass. If there is not much water left, she will just use her paw and then lick on it.
Of course, nowadays, we tried not to give her this habit. We drink direct from the mineral water bottle. She meows at us asking for water. And if that does not work, she jumps onto the top of the sink and tries to act as though she is dying of thirst. All this while of couse, there is always fresh water in her cat bowl. Is it a good habit? Indeed, Seb and I are always amused by her drinking habit.

2. Every night, Bao Bei will wake up Seb at 3am and then at 6am. It is as though she can read the time. It is so automatic. At 3am, she will 'lick' on Seb's neck to wake him up. At 6am, she will sit on his chest and bit on his nose. What she wants from Seb is just to go to the kitchen with her, switch on the light, add in a few fresh cat biscuits and she will start eating and leave Seb alone. It is the same thing at 3am and 6am. We think that she is a black cat who is scare of the dark. How ironic.

3. So at 6am when Seb wakes up for the day as he can't get back to sleep, Bao Bei will come to me after she has eaten and sleeps beside my legs. I usually wake up at 7.30am. So we really can't figure out why she can't leave Seb alone to sleep. Of course she bothers me sometimes at night too but the success rate is slimmer as I usually just push her towards Seb. :)

4. The fourth habit is driving us crazy. Each Sat, we change Bao Bei's litter. And the first thing she does right after the fresh litter is put into the litter box is to do a big shit. It is really immediately as though the litter has a special effect on her bowel system. And of course, after the big business is done, she will try to cover up with the litter but splashing the litter outside of the box onto the floor as well. So we will have to sweep up the litter. It is just so ritual.

5. Bao Bei does not like to eat alone. I mean if we are at home, she can go to the kitchen and feed herself. But if Seb and I are not at home for the whole day, once we reach home, she will be rushing out from the bedroom and straight to her feeding bowl. Then, she will start gluping up the cat food. It looks as though she has been waiting since the whole day for us before she starts eating. How sweet right? I have no idea what's in her little brain.

6. Bao Bei likes to sit outside the window ledge. So, each morning when we open the windows to open the shutters, she will be under the window waiting for the instant when the window is opened to jump up on the window ledge. Of course, we are very concerned as she had fallen from the window when she was 3 months old. So, we are fighting hard with this habit. Call this "height-phobia" from concern pet owners.

7. The last habit of course is to do lots of stupid things and then look at us with big, innocent eyes like those of Puss-in-boots in Shriek 2. How can we be angry with her. She scratches while playing, bites when excited, pulls the curtains, chews on the flowers, jump on the dining table, shit or pee when we are eating inthe kitchen, pulls out all the toilet paper from the roll, etc.... yet each time, there are those 2 big innocent eyes. Gosh, they just melt your heart right away.

So, there you are. The seven habits of highly effective house cat. We don't always love all these habits but we do love Bao Bei so much. It is winter and she sleeps with us all the time now. It is just so sweet. If you can live with these seven habits and desire for a full experience, go get a cat. I'm sure SPCA has a lot to spare.

3 hours stay in the police station of Chartres.

I went to the police station in Chartres on the Saturday after I lost my wallet and mobile phone to file a stolen report. Seb and I arrived at 10am. There was a young police officer at the reception to welcome us. When he was explained of what we need to do, he ushered us to the counter. Before us, there was an elderly man who was there to complain about his neighbour or someone who was haressing him. When it was our turn, the police chief explained to us that we lacked some information and had to come back later. Also, he was busy as the "hotel" was full. Apparently, they had 3 cells (little rooms) and they were occupied due to a good "harvest" from the night before.

So, we went to the bank to get the numbers we need and to cancel all our GIRO transactions. When that was done, we went back at 3pm in the afternoon. As the young police officer recongised us, he told us to sit and wait. While waiting during the one and a half hour before our turn, I saw the "All in a day's work" in a police station on an average Saturday.

1. An old granny came to report that her house had been broken in. While she was waiting with us, her other old friends came and joined her and during their discussion, we overheard a comment "It must be done by the gang of blacks".

2. There was a couple who came and was told to come back another day as the police station was understaffed and there were too many waiting to lodge a complain. The couple were not happy as earlier they came, they were rejected and told to go to the Gendarmerie. And at the Gendarmerie, they were told to go back to the police and now, they were informed to come back another day preferably a weekday. For your info, in France, there are the police and gendarmerie. Usually, the gendarmerie takes care of road traffic related incident.

3. Another couple came and were rejected.

4. A man came and informed the police officer at the reception that someone misused his credit card number and purchased items in Turkey. Fortunately, the bank had blocked the credit card now and he was there to make a formal report. The police officer explained that the police station was understaffed and overcrowded with complains and asked the man to come back another day if he considered the money lost was not a big sum. The man replied the sum was about 3000 euro and he did not mind coming back another day.

5. A man came to ask for his son who was locked up over the night.

6. A woman came to ask for a man who was locked up over the night.

7. A woman who wanted to talk to a detective and not to the police officer at the reception as the complain was too personal.

8. Another man who was before us and waiting and waiting.

Now we know the job of the young police officer at the reception. His job was to filter the complains. At each complain he received, he maintained a cool look. I believe he must have heard of broken-in houses, stolen wallets and mobile phones, complains of neighbours, traffic accidents so many times that he was just so unaffected by it.

Finally, it was our turn. We were met with another police chief. He explained that usually it was not his place to be typing out complains but that day, they were understaffed. We explained briefly what we need to report and spent the next 45 minutes following his 2 index fingers on the keyboard. Yes, he is a 2 finger man. But at least he was nice. He asked "What is your country?" I replied "Singapour". And he asked "What is the city?" I replied "Singapour". That really surprised him. Guess it was the first time in his life that he heard of Singapore, Singapore. Of course when he asked for my nationality, we all laughed. "Singapourienne". How difficult can that be.

Voilà, voilà. That was my 3 hours stay in the police station of Chartres.

Merry Christmas 2004

Bonne fêtes et joyeux noël.
I had a good christmas in Chartres. Nope, it was not snowing yet. In Chartres, there is a high chance that it will snow in January but in Paris, snow never stays long. There is just too much pollution and it warms up the atmosphere. So for my friend who wished me to walk under the snow along Champs Elysee, that is very unlikely. :)

We bought a small real Christmas tree at home. It feels good to have a real one unlike the plastic one back in Singapore. When you walk along the streets, if you look up, you will most likely see sapins of all shapes with their christmas deco and lighting in almost everybody's living room. But too bad most people forgot the real meaning of Christmas. To kids, it is the time to write to Papa Noël to ask for gifts in return for being nice for the whole year. And adults help the kids to write letters and paste pictures from catalogues to send to grandparents, uncles and aunties.

For me, I hope to educate my kids on the correct meaning of christmas. Indeed, it is a time of giving and sharing. Indeed, there was a Santa Claus somewhere up, up north of France who once went around giving presents to nice kids. Still, the beginning started with baby Jesus being born on this day or somewhere near this day. And 25 December is the day to remember about our Lord Jesus who came to live and die for our sins. If you are interested to find out more about this, just search in the internet for an online bible and start reading from the new testaments.

Apart of that, I had a new lambwool scarf, 2 french books I asked for, a thick French-English dictionary, a pair of leather gloves and lots of cold outdoors and warm indoors and from Seb.

Why would someone steal my things?

To compensate for the silent period of Nov where I did not write, I am going to write more before today ends.

In my previous blog, I was pickpocketed. The police found my handphone but not my wallet with a teenage girl from the eastern country. Seb is not surprised. He explained to me that the pickpockets work in gangs. The leader will recruit these minors as they cannot go to jail due to their young age. Worse for these young girls are to be sent back to their country and in a month's time, they will be back to Paris to continue with their tricks.

These poor girls are usually promised food, clothing and shelter. In return, they are to steal for their boss. They work in groups where one steal and pass it to the other. In my case, the police only managed to catch the girl that has my phone. The boss keeps the wallet so that he can manipulate with the credit cards in it.

Is the society to blame for the sad plight of these girls? They are poor, have no education, no skills to find work. They are young and impressionable. How can we stop this chain of pickpockets where the big boss is never captured and brought to justice?

Life is tough for everyone. It is tough for me too. I'm glad in a way that I was the victim and not the culprit. I truly hope the young girl who is sitting in jail yesterday (maybe not today) will turn over a new leaf.

I have to buy a new wallet.

Someone stole my wallet and my handphone yesterday. It was a friday evening and Seb and I were leaving Paris to spend the weekend in Chartres.

It happened at the Montparnesse train station. As usual on friday, almost half of the parisians are leaving town to spend the weekend in the countryside. It was very crowded and as we were taking the escalator, someone told Seb that my backpack was opened. I took a look and realised that my handphone and wallet were missing. We were constantly on the move and walking. I could not imagine how someone would opened my zipped bag and stole my things without me feeling a thing. The chain of events happened as they should be. Seb called the phone company and bank to cancel my contract and credit card. He called his mom to get the numbers as we were not at home. To make life more interesting for us, the ticketing counter system for the counters were down and everyone had to buy tickets from the machine which were created in 'stone-age'. It was just so slow. And to add the cherry on top of the cake, the train was late and stopped every 5 km. On the train, we received a phone call from Seb's mother that the police called Seb's grandmother. They found my phone on a teenage girl. Apparently, she stole my things but they could not find my wallet. I was lucky cos there are so many people who had been pickpocketed and never manage to know who did it. I was so depressed to have fallen victim to pickpockets that I called a friend to get some comfort. She told me that she had the same thing happened to her. Someone used a knife and slitted her backpack from top to bottom and emptied the contents. She did not feel a thing. I feel better now. At least, I still have my bag intact though I am not sure I will want to use it again.

Now, everyone tells me to keep my bag in front of me in crowded places. So if you are thinking of the same, please do not send me a reply. :) Enough for this week where the washing machine gave out smoke, Seb's lap top died. We have enough misfortunate to end off this year.

All Saints' Day

Monday is Toussaint and it is a day to celebrate all the saints for the catholic faith. For me, it means a public holiday in France. What people do during this day is to go to the cemetery to pay respect to the dead.

Today is Sat and we went with my granny-in-law to the cemetery. This cemetery is in a small village where my granny-in-law grew up. On the way out, my granny-in-law showed me the grave of a soldier who died here during WWII. It was a 19 year old pilot from New Zealand. There was also a grave of an American pilot and a few Germans soldiers graves. An old woman was standing at the entrance of the cemetery asking for donation. She is part of an association that take cares of the soldiers' graves. The association will maintain the graves and put flowers. We chatted with the old woman and she explained to us that there were even soldiers from the fourteen eighteen (1418) meaning WWI which began from 1914 and ended in 1918. By now, the families of the WWI soldiers are all gone and there is no one to maintain their graves. She even had a thin book for sale. This book is about the life of the young New Zealand soldier. Research was done by a professor through the letters this soldier wrote home and the family of the soldier.

On the way back, granny-in-law pointed out the field, about a kilometer away from the village where a WWII plane crashed and soldiers were parachuting out of the plane. She told us that her cousin found an opened parachute there and in those days, parachute was made of silk. The cousin took it and made it into a wedding gown for a neighbour as cloth was scarce in war times.

With all these thoughts, I wondered aloud that isn't 19 year old too young for a pilot? Seb replied that right now in Iraq, there are 17 year old American soldiers. It reminded me of the movie 'Gangs of New York' which I watched in the morning. Only the poors were sent to war. The rich sons stayed. During the civil war, America accepted all immigrants on the condition that a random 25% of them will be drawn to go to war. And the movie ended with the poor immigrants of New York raising up against this consitution. 200 years after, things did not seem to change. In the recent documentary movie by Michael Moore, it is also the poor being targetted to go to war. Have my thoughts lead me too far again? Have I lost you the reader? War is complicating and where lives is concern, 19 year old is simply too young an age to die.

CFILC Ecole de Langue

I have started my french lesson again. There are 3 Polands, 2 Japanese, 2 Indians, 2 Americans, 1 Thai, 2 Germans, 1 Columbian, 1 Cambonian and me, the Singaporean. It is kinda weird that usually when you are overseas, you tend to have more foreign friends than locals. Ok, these people are not my friends yet as it was only my second lesson.

But right now in Paris, my friends, people whom I hang out with during the weekends are few and limited. There's Anca and Irinel who are Romanians. We really hang out almost every weekend with them catching movie. There's June and Erwan and June is a fellow Singporean. That's about it.

2 months ago, Seb and I joined a group of church members for a hike. Almost everyone is a foreigner as I attend an English church. There was one french and he joined us because he wanted to improve his english. How courageous for a lone French.Of course, there was Seb who is a French too.

Why is it difficult to find locals as friends?
1. Over here, the French do not have many friends in their lives. It is not like the Asians culture. Once you know someone by name, the person is your friend. Over here, friends are usually people who had been to the same school as you for 5 years . For Seb, his 2 best friends are from his high school days. Another good friend is a brother of his friend from high school. Another friend is from his previous work place. That's about all the people he needed to keep in touch.

2. Sometimes, the culture can be such a big barrier. I do not always understand the humor of French. A humor in France is called a 'blague'. As the word sounds like 'black', the joke is often qualified as 'black humor' to me and usually it is laughing at someone/something rather than laughing with someone. My sense of humor for any 'ang-moh' is kid's stuff. This is just an example. If we already share different taste in jokes, it is rather difficult to find something in common like beliefs, values, thoughts and etc.

3. It is easier to relate to someone foreign in a foreign land. You have more or less the same anxiety. When I was studying in Australia, there were so many Asians in my estate that I do not have a chance to know any Australians. I feel ashamed but I managed to redeem myself*. In the University, the Australians do not mix with the foreigners either.

*When I was in US for 3 months and stuck in a 'ulu' part of Fairview Lake for 9 weeks, I got to know many friendly Americans. There was no Chinese in the camp community of few hundred people. After my stint in Fairview Lake Camp, I was invited to stay with Heather whom I got to know during my work at the camp. Till now, we are still exchanging emails on a regular basis.

So, the reason goes on and on as to why it is difficult to find local friends here. But that is not going to stop me. Seb always told me that where ever I go, I can make friends easily. I prefer to count everyone as my friend. But in times of trouble, I counted with my fingers and guess how many I realised I can turn to? Before you know mine, start counting yours. My result is not too far from yours.

Where on earth is Loipersdorf?

My company celebrates its 20th anniversary by inviting all the 40 subsidaries around the world to Loipersdorf, Austria for a weekend. For the French, we took the plane from CDG airport to Vienna and travelled by bus to reach Loipersdorf. It is a place known for its thermal spa. By the time we reached there, it was 7pm (due to an accident in the highway). We quickly changed into our swim wear and headed for the spa and pools. At various pools with water temperature ranging from 34 degrees to 38 degrees, we stayed in the warm pools under the night sky of 16 degrees. It was really nice. Dinner followed after and we stayed in the bar talking to other fellow colleagues until the wee early moring.

The next morning, we started our day at 9am. As the Intercontinental Hotel had been booked by the company, there were only the 400 of us. Activities of the day included: portrait drawing, massages, bungee jump, hotair balloon, board games, juggling and sorts, volleyballs, baby-foots, golf (arcade style) and etc... I hanged around with friends whom I met during my training in Delft, Holland. I also got to know others from Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Vietnam, Australia, German, China, Hong Kong, Netherlands, England, Belgium, Austria. It was really a big melting pot where the only common goal was to relax.

In the evening, we had a gala dinner where ladies were dressed in evening dresses and men in black tie. To bring everything to a climax, we even had fireworks set off right in front of our eyes in the maize field. It was just so extravagant and yet just so right at that moment. I stayed in the party until 4am before heading off to bed. There were brave souls, the English mostly, who stayed until the sun rose.

On Sunday, we left for France again. It was really short for a weekend but all of us had fun. A Malaysian colleague told me that he will arrive at 4am on Monday and had to get back to work at 9am. Fun aside, we still have to work on Monday.

I wish I can write more but I am still recovering from my lack of sleep. I know that this entry sounded more like an account of the event and there is not much input of my thoughts. It is for the benefit of Dick de Jong. He was not able to make it for the event. So, Dick, if you read this, drop me a comment.

Guy Moquet

The Metro near my home is Guy Moquet. It is named after a dead young guy who joined the resistence army during World War II against the Germans in France. Guy is his name and Moquet is his surname. Guy is pronounced as in 'Khee'.

In August, there is always the big celebration on the liberation of Paris and France during the World War II. The TV will show programs and films of WWII. I watched one black and white film done in the 60s which was based on true events on how the French and Americans liberate Paris from the hands of the Germans. The German commander in chief was ordered by Hilter that if Paris was invaded, all monuments be destroyed. So explosives had been planted in those famous places like Effiel Tower, Concorde, Arc de Triomphe etc. But the German commander realised that Hilter had gone mad and thus, did not follow on this order when the Germans surrended. What a pity it would be if all these beauties were destroyed during WWII. Will people still be flocking to Paris each year? So the son of the German commander was interviewed and he wanted peoople to recongnise that his father had saved Paris. I don't think the French thinks the same way as him.

Yesterday, I went to the Préfecture (Police head office) to renew my 'tithe de sejour' (paper to stay in France). This big building had been siezed by the resistence army at the near end of the war. They were shooting from the windows and even destroyed a tank which was just outside Notre Dame Cathedrale. The Préfecture is just beside the cathedrale. It is amazing for me to think that 60 years ago, there was a war here.

In the Garden of Luxembourg, big poster size of Paris liberation related pictures were displayed outside the park's fence. Last week, Seb and I went for a walk and I took time to visit almost every pic. Again, I was overwhelmed by the events taking place right here in Paris and in France. In a pic, there was a soldier laying in wait for the enemy and a woman brought him some cider to quench his thrist. The pic showed danger and yet tender care at the same time.

I overheard a comment; the Iraqis are the resistence army in their own country today but they are labelled as terrorist. It is true that the methods some used today invoke terror into the lives of the ordinary people. Are their cases justified by all the misery happening in their country now?

Back to WWII. There are French who are against the Germans but there are also French who worked with the Germans pointing out the Jews. Nearby Marais is the Jewish quartier (neighbourhood) in the third district of Paris. We were there last Sunday and I noticed that above a door, there was a plate that wrote that a Jew killed in WWII had lived there. Till this day, evidence of the war can still be found in this area and many others. I stopped for a min (I was waiting for my take away lunch) and thought to myself, can I imagine that right in front of this door 60 years ago, this Jewish man with a name and a family had been dragged away by the Germans and killed in a concentration camp. It was a difficult thought.

To end this, each day I took the Metro to go to work last week, in replace of those unsightful super big posters of advertisement in the Guy Moquet metro station, the city hall put up on one side of the station big poster pictures of the Paris liberation; and on the other side, poems written during the war about Paris. With my limited French, I can understand the desperation and anguish these French were suffering then.

Today I am in Chartres, the 80,000 population town an hour from Paris. Seb told me that at 11 am, there will be a parade of Americans WWII vehicles at the uptown. Let us be reminded again each year, lest we forget.

Je suis une Singapourenne.

The Olympics is over. Most of the evenings, Seb and I were glued in front of the TV watching the games. So many things had past and so many little thoughts on my mind to note down. Yet, I had been busy with work. The summer vacation is over, almost everyone is back in office. For the past 2 weeks, I had begun to pick up phone calls and supporting the clients in French. Yeah, French. After work, I just wanted to sit down in front of the TV to de-stress.

There was once I was asking a client for the amount in the screen. Instead of saying 'montant' for amount, I asked for 'mouton' which means sheep. The client was very much amused I am sure because to be a 'mouton' is to be a blind-follower and you don't tell your client that for sure.

And on the same day, I was creating a procedure document for my client. Instead of writing 'cocher la boite' for check on the checkbox, I wrote 'clocher' which means church bell. Only after I had sent out the document did my superior told me and we had a good laugh.

Some clients tried to switch to English as my French is too heavily english-accented. And it was just so funny as we had a hard time understanding each other.

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