To Have and Have Not

Moving outside of one's comfort zone is often difficult, usually scary, unquestionably rewarding, and highly recommended. The opportunity to experience a different culture should be seized whenever it presents itself, to do so opens one's eyes, heart and mind. Born and raised an American, I was naturally accustomed to all the conveniences we take for granted in the good ol' U. S. of A. Like party ice, for example. Having a few friends over? Want to whip up a pitcher of ice cold margaritas? Need more cubes than the 3 trays in your freezer have to offer? No problem, there is surely a convenience store within a couple of blocks, chock full of ice! But in France, non. N'existe pas! (Even at Picard, a chain superstore of frozen foods.) "Ice is not a french concept" I was told. "What do you do when you go camping?" I queried, "Don't you take an ice chest full of food and drinks?" My friend responded with a blank stare, as if I had just arrived in a flying saucer from Planet Zyxzyx. What was I thinking? Of course you wouldn't put unpasteurized cheese, baguette, or a fine Bordeaux on ice! Being possessed with an overwhelming desire to paint walls interesting colours wherever I go, I naturally wanted to create just the right ambiance in my little rented flat in France. So off I went to Monsieur Bricolage, (France's answer to the Home Depot). The paint department was rather small, I perused Aisle 7 searching for the display of paint chips, sample colours on paper. "Ou est le paint chips?" N'existe pas! The closest thing to it are paint cans with lids the colour of what's inside, usually in "School Bus Yellow", " '80's Peach", "Obnoxious Lilac", or "Parisian Beige". Oh la la. And computerized colour matching? I have heard a rumour it's done at the Castorama in Velizy, a suburb southwest of Paris, but I have not been able to confirm this. It's the same with stir sticks, it's not a French concept! As summer approaches, I have become painfully aware (once again) of the lack of window screens in France. What isn't lacking however, is the presence of Man's little winged nemesis; the mosquito! I dated a french guy a few years back who couldn't function with the windows open after dusk, even when it was 90° Fahrenheit in the room. He was so paranoid of mosquitoes it was almost funny ( except I was suffocating - there is no air conditioning here either). Last night I thought of Michel and laughed to myself, payback is a bitch! There was a pesky bloodsucker dive bombing me all night - and les mosquitoes française are not silent but deadly - they bzzzzzzzzzz as they prepare for landing, causing it's intended victim to flail their arms wildly about in vain. They always zoom in for a landing just as one starts to drift off to dreamland.....Garbage disposals and hummingbirds n'existe pas, the former I have learned to live without, the latter I haven't. Of course, it's give and take; if the windows were screened in Paris, you would lose the charm of seeing people leaning out the window, their elbows resting on the sill, having a casual smoke and watching the world pass by on the streets below. You learn to appreciate School Bus Yellow in the dead of winter, when everything is grey and dark for months on end, and you have a margarita at the bar. You offer your guests Champagne or whisky, no ice necessaire!