Movin’ on Up!

Our lovely provençal skies have really taken a bruising lately. But my recent days have been brightened by the warm wishes that filled my email inbox and post comments to welcome me back into the world!

Thank you – un mille fois!

Now a tour is in store of the rooftop apartment to give a bit of a form to the unintended hiatus from the blog. But first, a little something to balance things out. The loss of connection was also unintended and the experience serves to illustrate the less than lovely side of my little life in provence!

Having given a full 3 months notice (required in France), I began to prepare for the move to the new apartment. Although it was only upstairs, "upstairs" is three flights (otherwise known as 100 steps) with no lift. In addition to packing in smaller boxes to make for easier carrying for those dear friends and neighbors who pitched in and spent a full day running up and down stairs (thank you, again!), I began in early April to prepare for the transfer of my telephone line. I believe I’ve made no secret of my dissatisfaction with a company called Alice here in France. Yup, I'm namin' names here! To put it briefly, from the first connection (which took over 6 weeks to get straightened out and then never really was right) the service on every level sucked. The move was an opportunity to change providers. The research was pointing to Neuf Telecom.

I began taking steps to transfer my phone number to the top floor apartment and then make the connection with Neuf. A call was made to Alice to announce the move. But it would seem that the people in the apartment before me had also taken a "package" deal with another provider where the company takes over the dial tone and hooks up telephone/internet/television connection through their equipment – precisely what I was looking to do. Alice informed me that according to their test on the line, there was no "tonalité" (dial tone) at the new apartment and I would have to go to France Telecom to ask them to establish a dial tone on that line. No problem. With a France Telecom office just a block or so away from my door and more confidence in my French these days to tackle such things, I simply saw it as the next step. The unexpected hiccup was that I was going in as someone who had crossed over to the Dark Side with another provider and had to admit as much to explain the situation and inquire as to how to go about getting the line in the new place up and running.

The notion of customer service in France seems to be as foreign as fish tacos. And it's not looking like either will be imported any time soon. As an American coming from the land of waiters who end up on a first name basis before they’ve rattled off the specials for the evening and wide smiles and hearty welcomes delivered upon walking into the GAP as if being welcomed by long lost friends, the more subtle style of customer service in France can be a bit of a relief...at first. But then there is always the moment when you actually need something...and...well, frankly, you’re toast.

It was with sniffs of disdain and heads tilted upwards to actually make it appear that the "customer service" people in France Telecom were actually looking down their noses at me from their perched stools in front of buzzing computer monitors that kept showing them that serving me (a non France Telecom client) would be impossible. Attempts were made to override the system and try to serve perhaps the apartment - since he had not done anything wrong – instead of this person standing in front of them who was capable of reasoning and who had clearly chosen to abandon them. But even those attempts were zapped as the requests for service were moved through the system.

At one point, after I had been promised a dial tone over the weekend and faced Tuesday morning (after another one of the countless May Holidays had eaten an additional day out of my time line to try to get this all handled) with complete and utter silence on the other end of the line, I marched over to the FT office to state that although one had been promised to me, it had not yet arrived. Could someone tell me where we are in the process so I can move this along?

I was handed a telephone handset and after a secret number had been dialed into it, was told to talk to "deez-strez" for assistance. Perfect, I thought. "Distress" would be able to help me because that was exactly the state I was rapidly approaching. And so I stood there in teh FT office on hold...

...for several minutes...

...waiting...

...listening to some perky muzak and various conversations in French taking place around me...

...then an odd silence.

Thinking I had been disconnected unintentionally I approached one of the customer service reps who told me just to wait...and so I continued...

...to wait.

Finally a voice came on the line and expectantly I tossed a quick "Bonjour!" into the receiver only to discover that the voice coming through was a recording telling me that I had been on hold for too long (duhhh!) and I would be cut off immediately. Please try again later. (The only good news in this particular part of the situation is that I was calling from the FT office. Had I been calling from my own phone, I would have been charged 0.34€ centimes a minute for that hold time! And I have a 10€ "hold" bill to prove it! Yup! That’s right – customer service is not only bad here, it’s expensive!)

I’m quite certain that a bubble appeared over my head at that very moment with ‘Arrrrrrgh!’ writ large. But I composed myself and approached the rep who had done the secret dialing to see if I could access that distress line once again. Impatiently she stated that it was "deez-strez!" To which I responded, "Oui, I know. But I do not know the number of ‘distress’." I’ll spare you the Abbot and Costello style back-and-forth that went on until she grabbed the phone out of my hand and dialed "10 13". In French that would be "dix, treize" pronounced "deeztrez". Yes my friends, sadly we were talking numbers and not my state of being after all.

It went downhill from here with the general message consistently being that I was no longer a France Telecom customer and would have to go to my provider to handle the dial tone issue. Except that my provider kept telling me that they had no control over accessing the dial tone...yada yada yada...and kept sending me back to FT.

Like any victim of abuse who doesn’t know how to get out of a destructive cycle, I kept going back until finally one of those now rather hostile customer service reps actually waved me away with her hand as one might wave off a nagging child who is irritating a preoccupied parent with an inconvenient request of "Play with me!" while the parent is involved in finding the solution to world hunger.

(Oh! And there was that ever-so important language lesson in which I learned that the word "bitch" is universal: A man rather rudely interrupted my explanation to a customer service rep at which point she actually stopped our interaction to answer all of his questions and show him various models of telephones to replace his broken phone, turning to me briefly and giving me that French shrug as if to say, “What am I to do?!?” Mind you, he entered the store several minutes after I had been working with this person. I said in very clear French, "This is too much!" and turned to leave, knowing that I had just accomplished two very important things: 1) I had expressed myself in a moment of frustration in French and stood up for myself, (yay me!) and 2)I had pretty much shot myself in the foot to get a dial tone...ever. But it was as I walked toward the door ignoring this rude intruder’s hollow apologies followed by a snarky expletive that I learned that “bitch” seems to have found its way into the French politesse.)

Shocked and shaken, I called in desperation to a French friend of mine to see what could be done to get a dial tone released from the evil grip of France Telecom and get this thing moving along. By now it had been 4 weeks without connection. After a phone call to FT in Marseille, I was promised a dial tone but it had to be established at my old apartment first then transferred some days later to the apartment upstairs. Once I had this precious dial tone, I could arrange for the new operator to take over – and take it all away from FT once again.

Good riddance!

As of this happy moment all of my telecommunication eggs are in Neuf’s basket...so far so good. Fingers crossed.

Lest anyone think that my little French life is all charming outdoor markets and locally grown seasonal produce and stimulating cultural events and music in the streets (and in the language) and charming winding rues and lavender fields and vineyards...well...I'm here to tell you: there are days!

With internet connections in place, it's time for a tour of the new digs!

Step in and look to the right and you'll probably see Bodhi sitting in his favorite spot.


Look left and you'll see through the kitchen to the bedroom end of the space.

The kitchen, a bit larger than the previous La Fourchette "playroom", there is room for everything to have a place of its own.






Back from the kitchen and into the living space, even I have a place of my own for various creative projects...and anything else I want to do at a desk separate from where my computer lives.

A fireplace anchors the room in a pleasant way.

And a full wall of bookcases gives home to a few of my favorite things.

From this banquette, you can see directly onto the lower terrace.


But if you wander up the stairs...

...and across the catwalk...(or "dogwalk" in our petite maison!)

...you will arrive at the place where I fell in love with this apartment a year and a half ago!


From here, the views are...well...stunning!

From provençal rooftops...




...to my neighbor, L'Eglise Madeleine...

...to the Palais du Justice...

...to the clock tower at the Place de la Mairie...

...to the cathedral...

...to, of course, my mountain...Ste. Victoire.

Remind me to tell you a story about Ste. Victoire one of these days. In the meantime, the toughest part of the big move is over and one of these days, I'll be wandering back into the kitchen.

For now, the recipe is simple:
Pour yourself a glass of chilled rosé.
Put out a few salted almonds and some olives.
Put your feet up...and enjoy the view!

Ciao!
Leslie

Hello?! Anybody There?!

Who knew that "a couple of weeks" would be...errrr....over one month?!?

The first order of business is to send out an enormous "Thank you!" for sticking around. There are a few complications that arise in this little French life of mine. Telecommunications (or "phone hell" as I've come to call it) can be quite challenging. I'm lucky. I finally have a dial tone and a phone/internet connection and it only took one month! No...I'm not kidding. And I started a solid three weeks before the move even started in an effort to reduce the waiting time. Obviously to no avail.

It is what it is. (More on the lessons of surrender later, my little Grasshoppers.)

Even Bodhi is caught in the mix of things. He is waaaaay overdue for his rendez-vous at Prince du Sud (Prince of the South) for his "clipping and cleaning". So much so that he needs a bit of accessorizing to even see his way around. He puts up with the new look but I don't think he loves it.

Now that I am able to access the internet chez moi, there is much to share. The move upstairs, visitors in town, a few little trips to here and there and other various and sundry unfoldings that the Universe has dropped in my lap. But all in good time.

We'll start with a reconnection to say "hello" and an "amuse bouche" (little taste) of a couple of views from the new apartment. I'll take you on a full tour of the new digs and its other views on Thursday and we'll get back on track.

Did I say "Thank you!" for being there? For your lovely comments during the extended hiatus? It's worth repeating! Thank you.

À bientôt! (see you soon)

Leslie

Finally Sprung

Spring has sprung in Aix en Provence after weeks of rain and continued cold temps. But hope...ahem...springs eternal and it finally paid off.

A few images to share the first signs from here.





While I wait to be "sprung" from my existence in and among boxes to new digs upstairs and have a guest in town who has touched down between adventures, I am not finding much time to be in the kitchen. I'll see you all in a couple of weeks!

Ciao!
Leslie

Last Stop: Rome, Part III

I promise...this is it! The last stop in the Rome adventure...well...for now. Something may strike my fancy that may show up at a later date but for now, there is an additional restaurant recommendation and a recipe that I just had to share with you.

The last evening there, we headed up through St. Peter's square one last time toward Piazza Angelica. The destination: Ristorante Taverna Angelica. With an ambience of "modern cozy", we had great service and a really lovely meal.

Well-prepared and creative fare is served in a relaxed setting where one can take one's time and really enjoy the entire experience. Not to mention a stunning collection of Italian wines - and a sommelier who knows them all well. I know, I know: a sommelier is supposed to know them well...but still, it's impressive when the match made is such a hit! For our meal, it was an Argiolas 2003 Monica di Sardegna Perdera, suggested to accompany the eclectic nature of the dishes we had chosen. Indeed, it went beautifully with the shrimp, duck, beef...(yep, we tried it all!)

I would have to say the Smoked Duck Breast with Celery and Walnut Salad served with Chestnut Honey and Rye Bread was the hit of the evening! Paper thin slices of tender, melt-in-your-mouth smoked duck hugging a mound of chopped walnuts and celery. The sweetness of the drizzles honey added a lovely complement to the smoky duck. This was something special. I nearly dropped my fork on the first bite.

Having so enjoyed the recommendation of the Cul De Sac from The Professor, we thought he may well have enjoyed Taverna Angelica.

Speaking of The Professor, he put this little number together as a savory side dish to chicken and roasted potatoes after he had been inspired by a salad that he had enjoyed one day. Even if you think that you do not fancy anchovies, I would really encourage you to give this a try. The sweet/salty/bitter combination is a win/win/win in my book! If you want to soften the anchovy flavor, he suggests letting the anchovy filets "melt" in the hot oil before placing the endive halves in the pan. Try it both ways and see for yourselves. (I told him that if he didn't become famous for his groundbreaking work on the Pantheon, he might enjoy fame from this dish.)

Bon appétit!
Leslie
p.s. Greg: As you can see, I didn't have any fun at all! Maybe next time... (Thank you!)


Recommendations:

Ristorante Taverna Angelica
Piazza A. Capponi, 6
00193 Rome
+39 06.687 4514



Belgian Endives and Anchovies

Belgian Endives, cut in half lenghtwise (figure at least one per person)
Anchovies (one filet per endive half)
Olive oil
Pine nuts

Place the anchovy filets in a pan of heated olive oil, topping each filet with an endive half. Cook them over a fairly high heat for a couple of minutes until the bottom of the endives are browned.

Then turn down to a very low heat and cover the pan with a lid, so the endives cook (and soften) all the way through.

Serve them with the browned, achovi-ed side up.

As you are plating the endives, toss a handful of pine nuts into the same pan and toss quickly over medium high heat to toast. Sprinkle toasted pine nuts atop the plated endives. Serve immediately.