The Holocaust remembered in Providence and Susie goes to Mulhouse

Misato and Susie at Pascal's on rue Monge

First up the French side of the update.

Last Friday Susie finished two weeks of language classes at Alliance Francais on Boulevard Raspail. Believe me, this is an altogether different breed of cat from the AF program taught in Providence. Nearly all of the students in Susie's class are struggling up the language ladder so they can attend school in Paris.

Anyway, Susie struck up a conversation with one of her classmates, a young woman from Milan who hopes to attend Le Cordon Bleu and was thrilled when she heard that Susan had gone there just several years  (a lifetime) ago.  So Susie plans to call her when she gets back from Mulhouse and they'll get together for coffee and the prospective culinary student can fire away with her questions.

Speaking of Mulhouse -- which I was -- Susie took a mid-afternoon train yesterday, Sunday, to visit her friend Misato who works in a pastry shop in Mulhouse, just south of Strasbourg. They had become fast friends when both worked together at Pascal Pineauds pastry shop on rue Monge in Paris. 

( I'm informed that the trip went well and Susie arrived safe, sound and refreshed. This morning Misato fixed a  breakfast of Japanese rice, fried egg, salad, orange segments and tea. Today they're off to visit Chez Jacque, where Misato works -- last evening they had a rhubarb tart from the shop that "was pretty darn good.")

More to come of this take I'm sure.

As for me my week was quiet, work was good, generally better than I could hope in fact. After all, I'm doing what I like and getting paid for it. Eyes are fixed on Brittany, unless Italy can get their act together on high-speed internet access for everyone within the next two years. . .

While Susie was training east toward Alsace and Mulhouse, I headed over to the eastern side of Providence and Temple Emanu-el. Earlier in the week I had come across a story about a collection of letters that had been found in 1997 during the demolition of an old house in Amsterdam. They had written been by a young 17-year-old boy, Philip "Flip" Slier to his parents who then lived in Amsterdam, while he was in a forced labor camp in the Netherlands. His parents hid the letters in two bundles in in the attic before they were rounded up and shipped off to the death camps in the east, where they perished along with millions of others, including their son "Flip."

The letters came into the possession of a family member, Deborah Slier, who, along with her partner, Ian Shine recently published these very touching scraps of memory from the young life life long gone. During the service commemorating the loss suffered during the Holocaust, excerpts of the letters were read by students from the Holocaust Studies class at Providence College. Afterward three women read the names of all the families in Rhode Island who had lost loved ones during the Holocaust.

Inspiring, powerful and yet incredibly bittersweet in the bargain.

After the service I stepped out into the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine. While I held my memorial candle, I stood on the steps of the temple embraced by a sense of amazement of what I had just witnessed: a reaffirmation of life through remembering of loved ones long dead, gone down to the dust of time; I was in awe of  the strength of character and the depth of loss suffered. The connections to the past were vividly alive and palpable enough to almost reach out and touch those men, women and children now so very long gone.

A few minutes later I found myself in the car,  heading north up Route 146 toward Douglas, MA, and a quiet dinner with Dick and Dorothy -- delicious Chicken Marsala, rice and broccoli. Connection to family and the past, one and the same time.

A Sunday to be savored indeed.

Stay well, keep calm and have a wonderful spring/primavera!!

Loneliness in Providence or Paris is still loneliness

It's more than the brownies I miss. Or the fresh apple tart. I miss this smile.

Susie's update from Paris and my update from Providence

First up, Providence.

As many of you know by now, we had a bit of rain here in RI earlier last week. (Even the French newspapers carried stories about the terrible the flooding in Rhode Island.)

It is true that living in the city of Providence has forced us to keep our eyes on the road -- literally -- since we spend most of our driving time dodging the enormous potholes, caused primarily by the incompetence of the government and the indifference of the companies creating the holes in the first place. And we have virtually no drain system to speak of, at least in the city. Over the last few decades, the folks that run things have seen fit to raise the levels of all the streets without raising street curbing or, and this is the important point, without modifying the storm drains so, in effect, they ended up covering up some drains or choking most of them.

But during this past storm we were one of the lucky ones. While we had some flooding in the city, the hardest hit folks -- and some I work with - were those who lived south of here, in Cranston and Warwick, to name just two locations that have truly suffered from the monsoons that struck here last week. Four colleagues spent several days and nights doing little else but pumping water out of their basements.

The one bright side, I suppose, is that without basements that water would have struck at the very living centers of most homes. Not a pleasant thought to be sure.

As a result of the horrible flooding – some of which still persists in the state, Johnson & Wales closed up shop yesterday, Friday – most definitely a Good Friday.

I took advantage of the time off and the incredibly splendid weather to drive north to Cambridge, MA, and spent several hours strolling the stone gardens of Mt. Auburn Cemetery. (I’ll be posting more about my visit, along with a photo slideshow at my blog on US cemeteries. Oh, that's the Mary Baker Eddy monument facing Halcyon Pond. If that name sounds familiar she founded the Christian Science movement.)

But monsoon season is over at last and so is winter. Probably one of the mildest winters in recent memory, certainly for us at any rate. And the weather has been absolutely gorgeous the past several days, as if God is trying to make amends for his bad behavior this last week.

Now, here's the latest news from Susie in Paris -- she'll be forwarding reports to me every now and then along with a few photos, all of which I'll try to post as quickly as possible.

Merci beaucoup!

Ah, Paris - what a place!  It's been an interesting week and half so far.  It took me a few days to recover from traveling and adjust to a different time zone and daily schedule.  I still miss the regularity of my days at Gracie's. But right now I am enjoying having more time to myself as I think about my future.

Last Saturday I attended a croissant class at the Champs Elysees location of Lenotre, the famed French culinary school. Named after the great chef, Gaston Lenotre, the school’s professional culinary campus is just outside of Paris. Their smaller, satellite school on the Champs Elysees houses a cafe, retail shop and kitchens for a variety of day courses.  It is really aimed at the amateur crowd, but for me it's good to have exposure to different recipes and techniques.  One can always pick up a few pearls of wisdom here and there.

In addition to myself there were 3 French, a Russian-Canadian and an Italian, all female (photo above).  The class was in French and, while I understood the gist of what was said, I did miss some of the jokes and various nuances of the language (I'm still working on my listening skills).  Since making croissant dough is, in fact a two-day process, we performed only a few of the required steps but I came away with a new recipe to try on my own.  Voila!

This past Monday I began my two weeks of French language class at L'Alliance Francaise.  My schedule is five days a week, four hours each day, although Easter Monday is a holiday, so no class. 

My previous experiences at the school have been enjoyable and very beneficial to my personal growth. I've gradually advanced in class level since I first started studying French in 2006.  I'm gaining bit by bit in my ability to understand the spoken word, which, for me, is the hardest part.  Our class, as usual, is made up of a diverse group of students from a half dozen different countries, who are pursuing various studies, living and working in Paris, or on vacation and brushing up on their French.  Our teacher Marylise is very nice and very precise and constantly points out our various errors in pronunciation, writing or when we use the wrong verb tense.  That's how we learn, after all.

Otherwise, I've been walking a lot, visiting some of my favorite places – Mora for baking equipment, Librairie Gourmande to check out cookbooks, Detou for baking and cooking supplies, and of course the major department stores of BHV, le Bon Marche for household items. Even with the lousy weather I also make a point of strolling through two of my favorite green spaces: the Jardin du Luxembourg and Jardin des Plantes.

I’m also baking a bit. In fact, on Thursday I made shortbread cookies and moelleux chocolat (moist chocolate mini cakes) and passed them around class. I'm also enjoying some tasty meals out, as well as fixing light meals at the apartment.  (More about my dining next time.) In spite of the current rainy, chilly weather, it is great to be back in Paris. 

More to come!

On Thin Ice in Providence

Well, OK, it was actually in Connecticut. I took Susie to see figure skating at the MGM Grand at Foxwoods in Connecticut but had no idea it involved arm wrestling on ice.

Anyway, after meandering around Connecticut back-roads on the most beautiful day of 2010 (so far), we found ourselves face-to-face with one of the most ostentatiously huge structures poking itself out of the wooded wilderness of eastern Connecticut.

Aside from the rather depressing scene which greeted us inside after we parked the car -- row upon row of people, many elderly, barely able to stand or walk, sitting and punching a small button over and over and over . . .  Well, that was troubling indeed.

And after some curiously stupid problems caused mostly by the folks who run Foxwoods -- problems which affected many of us trying to see the show -- we actually did get inside, found our seats, front row almost on the ice itself, and enjoyed a pleasant afternoon watching very handsome young men swirling pretty young women all over the blue-red ice especially created for this ABC television event.

If you don't believe me, check this out for yourself:

Susie's in Paris

Susie called me early yesterday morning to say she had a smooth trip from Boston to Paris and arrived in the 11th arrondissement in Paris safe and sound. No lines in Boston,  flight left on time and touched down early at Charles de Gaulle. After waiting in a horrendous passport control line at the airport -- after all, what are governments for other than to annoy the life out of us -- she picked up her checked bag, called the shuttle to say she had arrived and they pulled up soon after.

After unpacking and settling in she took a nap. although still a bit "lagged" she roused herself and went out strolling around the neighborhood. After paying her respects to Leon Blum (at the eponymous Place) she walked down Ledru-Rollin to rue Charonne, up Charonne to Faubourg Sant Antoine and over to Place Bastille where she sat outside with a glass of wine, watching the world speed by.

From the Bastille she headed back to rue Charonne (via rue de Lappe) and to the Bar au Soupe where she had a delicious tasting of three different soups, with a small cheese plate, hot, fresh made bread and a glass of wine -- all for 12 euros! (We had eaten there together once before -- nice folks and the soups are all freshly made each and every day.)

Then a stroll back home and to bed.

Me? I'm enjoying leftovers in Providence, thank you very much, and it looks like the high point of my week will be grocery shopping. The only travel challenge for me will be dodging the growing number of large holes in our streets.