France: Good, and a little Bad and Ugly

This week, P and I went on our first flight together. We have said hello and goodbye many times at various airports during our long-distance year, but we've never been on a plane together before. We decided to head to the South of France for this momentous occasion to explore the region and to visit our wedding MC, Olive.

We used Marseille as our base as it is easy to fly into and out of from Blundon. I found a great little self-catering loft studio run by a glamourous older French lady. She has turned her property on the outskirts of the city into a profitabe business. Her own home (fabulously French shabby chic, filled with beautiful antiques that made me drool, drool, drool) sits alongside a suite, double bedroom and the studio. The grounds are full of mature trees and a swimming pool. However, it was very cold, so we didn't brave the chilly water!

Although it was a lovely little self-contained flat, we were very tired of climbing down the ladder every time we needed to use the loo in the middle of the night! Let's just say the novelty wore off very quickly.

The studio where we stayed:

Marseille:

P rented a kick-a** Chrysler with sat nav that served us very well. At the beginning of the week, we drove all the way to Monte Carlo in Monaco. Having never been there before, I was blown away by the jaw-dropping sight that greets you as you drive in to the city. Huge, ostentatious buildings perch on the mountainside, falling away dramatically into marinas with multi-million dollar yachts. The very air of Monte Carlo stinks of money.


The women were stylish in white linen, gold jwelery and designer handbags. We were definitely out of place in our faded jeans and cut off shorts, by hey, someone's got to provide the contrast!

On the way back from Monte Carlo, we drove through Nice (shabby without the chic, we didn't bother to stop) and Cannes (not to sound jaded, but just another seaside town).

The next day, we drove to Aix En Provence. The morning flea markets were a delight with vendors selling everything from fur coats to vintage bedding to soaps (the specialty of the region). After lunch, we drove to Uzes, where Olive lives.

Olive has visited us several times in Blundon, where she still has a house a couple of miles from where we live. She also came to our wedding on the Small Island last November. However, this time we were on her turf. It was another jaw-dropping experience when we walked into her 400-year-old house in the town centre. P and I looked at each other and it was like, "Wow!" Set over five floors, her house consists of a cellar, huge living and dining area, quaint walled garden, three bedrooms, several bathrooms, numerous little nooks and crannies and a storage loft on the top floor. We could fit our house in Blundon in it three to four times over! Definitely impressive.

That evening, Olive took us for a delicious three-course meal at one of her regular restaurants. A bottle of local wine accompanied our squid salad (tender and flavoursome), pate (ditto), grilled fish and duck with coffee sauce. My dessert was a smooth creme brulee and P didn't even get a look in!

When we woke up the following day, Olive took us on a whistle-stop tour of the shops (she didn't let me buy anything, not even this adorable enamel ashtray that I really wanted!), the cathedral and the Vichy's house. When I say house, I mean villa. The views overlooking the town remind me of sun-bleached rooftops you see on travel shows.


One of the things I wanted to buy was a nice painting of the area. However, P and I didn't see anything that we liked. Most of it was garish tat for the undiscerning tourist ie, not me! When we were at Olive's house, I saw a painting that one of her friends had done. It was exactly in the style that I wanted, so Olive took us to her studio to see what other paintings she had.

The artist showed us a selection of her watercolour originals and I picked two different but complementary pieces showing the cobblestone streets of Uzes. Olive tried to discourage me from buying both of them (to the silent horror of the artist I'm sure, who was too polite to say anything at the time!), but I had to have them both. One is a more detailed work where the artist experimented with a pencil technique. The other is a simpler and crisper watercolour. Quite different styles but hung one on top of the other, they look perfect together.


Olive is one of my poshest and most cultured friends and she wanted to take us to Pont du Gard, the most visited site in the region. Having not ever done any Roman history, I didn't even know what an aquaduct was. I was reluctant to go as I would have preferred to continue shopping (it's true what they say, you can't take the materialism out of the Small Island girl) but Olive insisted. Now when a striking six-foot tall muscle-bound 'Grace Jones' insists you do something, then you do it if you know what's good for you!

I am so glad that we went to the Pont du Gard as it was my third jaw-dropping moment of the trip. The 2,000 year old monument is huge and the sheer scale of it takes your breath away. Set against vibrant blue skies at one end, and an inviting river at the other, it defies any description that would do it justice.


As we sat having a juice soaking in the ancient and mind-blowing atmosphere, I told Olive, "You were right and I was wrong, this place is amazing!" Gracious person though she is, Olive did allow herself a smug little smile.

Although most of our week in France was wonderful, like any country, there are also aspects of it which are rather unpleasant.

1. The majority of the Southerners we met were friendly and helpful, in spite of my refusal to even say hello or thank you in French ha ha. However, there was one miserable old geezer to wouldn't take a photo of us in Aix. I don't understand that at all. I come to your country and spend my hard-earned money, and you can't even take 15 seconds out of your day to press a button? He's too ignorant to realize that without tourism, the entire region would not be able to feed itself, and that includes him.

2. The complete lack of public toilets. We had to hunt high and low for them and if you can find one, you have to pay between 0.20 - 0.50 Euro to use them. There was one day where I was so desperate that I went in a public carpark. If you can't provide me with a working toilet, then I'll just have to make one myself! No regrets though, better on the tarmac than on the car seat!

3. The horrendous traffic system and driving. There were many days where P and I were stuck in traffic in the city centre, even if it wasn't rush hour. The streets are narrow and virtually every car has a ding or 10. When a tunnel is shut, there is no signage. Just terrible gridlock where the police stand around and chat while frustrated drivers blare their horns. The French obviously do not have the word 'indicator' in their language and if they do, then they certainly don't know what it means or how to use it.

Would I visit the region again? Yes, if only to see Olive. P and I both agreed that we would skip the coast and drive straight inland next time. I am really glad we went as we have needed the break. And it's always good to visit a place that you have never been before. However, I am very happy to be back in my own home, where I can have rice and stir-fry instead of another bl**dy baguette!

A Woman Needs Her Friends

This has been a particular tough week for me. I have been in this country for almost six months and I realize that I don't like it any more than when I first arrived in mid-March. Besides the inefficiency and bad weather, I also miss my friends like crazy. I have met some nice people through the Small Island social group here, but we all live very far from each other and I don't have the history with them as I do with you guys, friends that I've known for quite some time.

Although the work I do in my job is pretty interesting, my colleagues are not. Unfortunately, most of the others are small town girls who have never lived abroad. They have no idea of what life is like outside of Brrringland. They may have travelled, but then spent their time sheltered in a resort so they have no concept of how other nationalities live. I have nothing in common with them except possibly a love of shopping and champagne, but how much can you talk about that?

On Friday night, our wedding MC came over for dinner with her friend. It was particularly wondertul to see her. She totally understood when I told her that I've noticed that the Ang Mo Brrrringlish (AMB) people prefer to sit on the train with other AMBs. When I first mentioned it to P a few weeks ago, he thought it was my imagination. However, he saw this for himself when he went into work on the train with me one day (normally he cycles to the office). We sat on a long bench for five people and it faces another long bench. On the opposite side were four big AMBs. On our side was a small Indian guy about my size, an empty seat, me, P and another person. At one of the stations, a very tall, well-built AMB entered the carriage. He looked at both benches and predictably, squeezed his very big self into the small space with the other AMBs. I said to P, "See what I mean?!!"

It's sad as people can be so small-minded. The bad thing is that I have to live amongst them and look at their sour faces all day long!

Yesterday, my friend of 11 years, the New Dad came to stay with us with his partner, the New Mum (I've known her for 10 years). I met both of them when they worked on our Small Island all those years ago. I introduced them in 1998 and they have been together ever since. 17 months ago, they had a lovely baby boy. Although the house was noisy and chaotically overrun with baby clothes and paraphernalia, having the three of them around was a balm to my jaded soul. They are very down-to-earth (as my friends need to be), sincere, open and intelligent people. Their baby was happy, easy to be around and kept himself entertained by running around the table and trying on P's shoes!

Today, we all took the train to see another friend, China W's Wife (CWW), whom we've also known for 10 years. She too worked on our the Small Island at the same embassy as the New Mum. CWW and her husband have two beautiful little Eurasian girls. After lunch, we sat in their living room where the three kids played together. I looked at all of them and it was almost surreal to see how life has moved on since we all first met, but in a positive way. They are all parents now (very good ones) and I am married with dog.

I have to say I feel very proud to call these wonderful people my friends. They have shown me real love and understanding over the years. Seeing them as well as the MC drove home one thing to me: that I may not like this country (that is an understatement ha ha), but I can certainly make the best of it. I can try to rise above the detritis and spend as much time as possible with my friends who live in this part of the world. After all, who knows what life will bring next? We don't know how long we will be staying here as my heart does belong to the Small Island.

As the new week begins, I have much more to look forward to. My young cousin arrives on Tuesday on a working holiday visa and will stay with us for a few weeks while she finds her way around the city. Then in a couple of weeks, P and I fly off to France where we will see the MC. So roll on September!

Old is New Again

Most of you who really know me, also know that I go through phases where I am focused on one thing, and one thing only. For example, I went through my lotus stage, where everything I bought had to have a lotus on it. I scoured the internet and streets for all things lotus. Then one day, I woke up and realized that the house looked like a lotus museum. All of a sudden, I didn't like lotuses anymore.

I also have been through other phases: belly dancing (I had matching outfits in various designs consisting of floaty skirts to transparent scarves), fighting fish (I had a fish in just about every colour and tanks both at home and at the office), silk camisoles (P counted that I had almost 20 very similar ones), cashmere turtlenecks (ditto), etc. You get the picture.

The current 'thing' that I have recently discovered is Shabby Chic. This is a style of furnishing that where old items are cherished and new items are deliberated aged. The main components of Shabby Chic are white painted wooden furniture, muted floral prints and stripes in creams, pale pinks, faded greens and blues. Hearts are also big in Shabby Chic.

We are living in a perfect canvas for this decorative style: a Victorian cottage built in 1885. I have had to remind myself over and over not to overdo it, so I've bought pieces bit by bit. Our bedroom is the first room that has been completed and here is the finished result. You have seen the quilted bedspread that we got from the flower show last month, but I've added more to the room since then. There are white metal hearts hanging on the walls that hold tea lights and a hand-knitted wool blanket at the foot of the bed. The checked cushion on the floor is Winnie's bed:




I have used an old stuffed dog as a door stop, which I bought in 1995. Being old and worn, it fits in perfectly with the Shabby Chic theme. I am very pleased with the result and think I have created a nice, restful room without going overboard on the florals and frills. Even though P is a manly man, he thinks that it is fantastic and all goes very well together. I am sure he is not just saying that to please me. ;-)

I'm also happy that Shabby Chic items are very reasonably priced. I have bought everything online very cheaply and have just picked up a vintage 1940s French bedside alarm clock in full working order for less than $40.

I am working on the guest room next and will put up photos in the upcoming weeks once it is done.

The Sorry State of this Nation

One thing I've noticed in the four months I've been here is that work is mostly a foreign concept. I mean that literally and figuratively. It permeates through the entire society. Besides colleagues whom I've seen pass the buck time and time again, and the scrounging unwed teenage mothers, the public transport here is also one big mess.

Consider today. We wanted to visit one of the markets in Central Blundon. When we got to the station, the normal four trains an hour was reduced to two. Two minutes after P bought his travelcard, they cancelled the next two trains so we would have had to wait for an hour. Needless to say, I was not amused. I pay £1,800 a year for my season ticket to get to work. This allows me to ride on trains, the tube and buses, but what is the point of that if services are so reduced?! Honestly, we should get our Small Island government to come over here and show these lazy sods how it's done.

It also bugs me when I see young men living rough and begging on the street. Most of them would be capable of work if they were not drug or alcohol addicts. If it wasn't going to get me beat up, I would give them a good telling off. I wake up at 5.45am every morning to walk the dog, prepare lunch for us (because it's so bloody expensive to eat out) and get ready to go to work so that scums like that can take over 30% of my salary every month. Bitter, who me?

I know that there are good and bad things in every country and this place is no exception. But sometimes, the laziness and inefficiency of the people really bothers me. When I had my two-month performance review with my boss last month, she actually told me that I was working at a very high level and that I should take it down a couple of notches. I have never had an appraisal where I was told to slow down before. My boss is also from the same part of the world as I am and understands my frustrations with the way they 'work' here. I know that she doesn't want me to feel held back by the way they do things in this country. Too late!

On the positive side, I guess it's good for them that they have people like me to set an example. A foreigner that to comes to their country, works hard, and supports the useless lower strata of their society. I can only take comfort in the fact that it is character building and all that stress does keep me slim!

Love x Hate

Having now been in Brringland for four months, I can honestly say that while I've tried to immerse myself in the local lifestyle, the initial excitement at being in a new country and getting a fab job with a famous bank is wearing a bit thin.

While I still get the occasional sense of 'Am I Really Here?', I have very quickly come to realize that there are a lot of inefficient and lazy people who do not take accountability for their own behaviour and actions.

At work, everything takes ages to complete. We recently hired a student intern from my Small Island and it took two months to get his contract sorted out. As you all know, I went through a similar experience with own hiring process in getting my credit and reference checks done. If it wasn't so politically incorrect, I would tell them in Singlish, "You think I'm like your country people ah?! I'm a law-abiding and hardworking citizen from the Small Island okay! Don't play play!"

The daily news is also very depressing, with knife crime and inflation both on the rise. Sometimes I don't even bother with it all. This country makes things hard for people like me, but easy for those who are undeserving, like those who can work but who milk the welfare system for all that their scummy little bodies are worth.

I have felt some frustration at the incompetence of the people here, but I know that I shouldn't dwell on that too much as there are also some wonderful things about this place.

On Saturday, P and I went to a flower show with our new friends. It was amazing and we walked around the various marquees that showcased some beautiful gardens. I took over 60 photos but have just selected three of my favourites.

This concept is of a mirrored garden, which looks like an endless forest:


How Brringlish is this? I love the cottage and the beautiful vegetable patch.

And imagine if this was in your backyard. I definitely wouldn't say no to it!

I got into the spirit of things by wearing my vintage Burberry mac (and also because it was a typically drizzly afternoon), eating fish and chips and drinking a refreshing Pimms. I was definitely cheered by the fact that P bought me a pair of wellies (blue with pink roses) for walking the dog in winter and a gorgeous shabby chic patchwork bedspread.

I guess at the lesson of the story is that although this country has a lot of faults, what REALLY helps me is retail therapy. All kidding aside, I do miss my friends, family and food back on our Small Island. Still, I have to be careful that I don't become one of the locals and turn into a whinging p*m! Or is it too late already?!

Never mind Brrrringland!

It's just BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

Mark Twain obviously never crossed the Atlandtic. If he had, he would have experienced the coldest winter during the summertime in Brrringland and not in San Francisco!

It's the second week of July and it has been p*ssing down with rain. It is truly cold, grey and miserable. I've tried to make the living room look cosier by lighting candles but there is still a chill in the air. I am sat in my favourite (and only) armchair in a jogging suit with a fleece blanket over my legs and drinking a winter Pimms to keep warm!

At night, we are still sleeping with a winter-weight down and feather duvet. Unbelievable. P also bought me brushed cotton pyjamas and I sleep with those on as well as socks. Romance is definitely dead and thank goodness P remembers what I looked like when I was sexy!

Where has the summer gone? Not that we had much of one anyway. I blinked, so I think I missed it. The sun has shone intermittently over the last couple of months but cloud has definitely been king.

Winnie the Pooch is definitely not a fan of the rain, though she still needs to do her business. When I take her for a walk, the guys hanging around at the pub near our house laugh at her because she blinks in the cutest way when the water falls on her face. Thank goodness she normally does what she has to do in double-quick time and the two of us can scuttle back into the shelter of the house!

We are due to attend the Hampton Court Flower Show with some friends this Saturday and fingers crossed that it won't be a complete wash out. Sigh...

And Doggy Makes Three!

Some of you may remember that I adopted a lovely cocker spaniel called Winnie (Poopini) in 2004. I had her for two years, then when the Martian and I split up, he agreed to keep Winnie because I didn't have the finances to take care of her.

A week before the wedding which he knew about, the Martian texted me to say that Winnie was part of his 'old life' and now that he had a 'new life' (translation = new girlfriend), he didn't want her anymore! He asked if I would take her back or alternatively, find another family to adopt her. I was very angry at the time and knew that he had timed it deliberately to cause me maximum stress, but I refused to give him the satisfaction.

I kept my cool and told him that while I would love to have her back, that I would be moving to Brrringland in a few months time. I told him that with the wedding, move, visa fees, new apartment, etc, that I just didn't have the money to take her with me. To my surprise, he offered to pay for her to flight to join me. I think a lot of it was guilt. Why else would he drop $3,000 for a dog he didn't want anymore? Regardless of the reason, I was/am happy that he did so.

When he knew that I would be taking Winnie back, the Martian left her full time with the dog sitter. He arranged for her to spend her quarantine on our Small Island and as everything went smoothly, she arrived in Brrrringland this week!

She was very happy to see me but her health has been a concern. I wouldn't say that she has been neglected in the last two years, but she certainly hasn't had the same level of care that I used to give her.

Her little paws are soft from lack of walking on tarmac, so they are a little raw and even bled a bit yesterday. She has also been trembling a lot (I'm guessing from stress and cold), so P went out and got her a couple of fleece blankets, which we wrap her up with. We took her to the vet last night for a check up and to get some cream for her paws. I think (hope!) she will settle down soon.

She loves chasing her balls in the parks here but we have to take it easy for the moment as she's not as fit as she used to be. However, she's as cute as ever, as these photos will show:

Wrapped up in my blankie, woof!

She is a real daddy's girl, following P around like a little shadow! She simply adores him. P has also been amazing with her. I will post more photos once she gets fitter and we can bring her to new places.