Marshmallow Bears
On Monday we hopped on the TGV to Bordeaux, a smooth 2 hour ride that delivered us to Gare Saint-Jean just as they were wrapping up a little security lockdown over a suspicious package. The police soon pulled down the crime scene tape and we figured out the tram to our hotel, Noisette leading the way, and then off to explore the city a little. I was devastated to see my favourite gf bakery in the city was closed for holidays (failing to plan is planning to fail) so consoled myself with dinner of parmentier au confit de canard and a bag of chocolate marshmallow bears in bed.
The streets were the busiest I’ve ever seen with shoppers and we admired the lights all over town as we criss-crossed in the cold, appreciating the beautiful architecture and stumbling across Roman ruins by chance. We also spent a few hours defrosting in the Natural History Museum, particularly taken by their colour coded displays and extensive permanent collection.
On New Year’s Eve we bundled up and prepared ourselves for a long evening of eating and drinking at our friends’ house. The two dogs and cat worked as a team to demolish the childrens’ dinner before it was even served but luckily didn’t get near our apéro of Spanish ham and crudités. Everyone was curious about my drink (lemon, lime and bitters, I gave up alcohol over 2 years ago) and following French mandatory discussion of victuals at length we managed a 45 minute chat about it, repeated twice for those who arrived at the end.
After the clock struck midnight we got down to discussing the same politics, economics and social structure that we do at every dinner party (no one parties quite like the French) and at 2am it was time to make a hasty exit in anticipation of follow up questions after I’d declared France isn’t quite socialist enough. By 3am we were all in bed, the children quite content with their late night, and the train home the next day was surprisingly uneventful.
After some persistence I finally had luck getting tickets to Notre-Dame (I’ve since learnt that showing up around 8am almost guarantees you a quick entry without tickets) and it was wonderful to explore the newly renovated cathedral, realising I have to brush up on my history, and am looking forward to returning and further admiring the artwork, tapestries, sculptures and treasures once I’m more familiar with them.
Yes it’s odd to see her all shiny and new but the controversial lighting exposes details that have been hidden for hundreds of years which is so amazing to see, and the grime of Paris will soon give her a new patina. I watched her burn and it’s a pleasure to be able to visit her again.
On Saturday the Christmas tree came down with just a few more breakages, everything that survived safely packed away for next year, and our living room feels double the size. I spent the rest of the day rearranging things and stocking the kitchen with vegetables after identifying with a puffer fish in Bordeaux, then got on a roll clearing out the children’s closet, planning small home improvements and preparing for a new year of being my most optimised self, before collapsing in bed and doom scrolling for a few hours to balance it all out.
There’s been conflict bubbling with my in-laws since August when they decided that I’m simply not French enough (that I once cooked them a 3 course meal instead of 5 a criticism I particularly enjoyed) which all came to a head on Sunday when we were exhausted after 2 weeks of full time parenting and everyone had a case of the Sunday Scaries. So I took myself off for a long walk and as I sat in the Louvre courtyard reflected that if you’re going to have an emotional crisis Paris is really a beautiful city to do so. If you have any mother-in-law stories you’d like to share to pep me up the comments are open!
Have a great week,
- Emily
Cheese we’re eating this week:
Maroilles - a semi-soft cow's milk cheese from the Picardy region with a very strong scent.
Bruyère - a goat’s milk cheese that looks creamy but actually has a crumbly texture and a flavour that varies as it’s aged.
Cantal - a firm cheese produced in the department of Cantal using milk from hay-fed Salers cows.
All 3 cheeses were served at the New Year’s dinner.
Real Life Bordeaux Photo
Love the name 🤣
I am an MIL and 80 years old with a stent and an exercise program and telehealth every week to check in with an exercise physiologist and nurse who look at my vitals (online) every day. Lucky now to be in Paris for 3 weeks on my own. My kids (son and DiL) are now in their 50s and surprised by middle age! I try to “stay out of it” with no advice. Every month treat my DIL to “Mani Pedi” with me at our favorite salon. Give her massage cards for our local Chinese body work. Praise my son for his equal (or better) equal share of cooking and cleaning. Admire them constantly as a couple. This seems to work! I am often invited over, and they freely drop in for a cup of tea. I am lucky to be able to live on my own and enjoy them as equals… for the present. Old age - maturity - has so many challenges. I hope they see me facing different challenges with equanimity so the will be happy and healthy as possible in their 80s. Ii treasure my children, born to me, and their partners, chosen by them.
Not helpful but I moved literal continents and oceans away from my MIL. Now I am on the cusp of becoming one myself,I have tried to learn from the lessons that stung so much when I was a young bride and my new husband was in the impossible middle. Mine was so sharp and unkind about anything I did (I should maybe split dessert, The school where we send our son the wrong kind of Catholic) Thankfully my son's girlfriend is a ray of sunshine and I can see they are so happy and good together. And them living oceans and continents away makes us all sad instead of relieved.