Fermeture exceptionnelle by Jane Tolbert

A magnum bottle of Veuve Clicquot in front of La Cave, Juan-les-Pins

Given that I have my favorite watering holes in the South of France, the only missing ingredient to ensure my comfort may be considered something of a quirk with me--the opening hours of stores. Growing up in the States, one of our guiding principles is that at least one convenience store is open from 7 a.m. till 11 p.m.

In contrast, among the guiding principles that underlie French society (in addition to the culinary exigencies) have been that the journée continue was the rule rather than the exception, and dogs were admitted anywhere. Corporations close for a month in the summer. And restaurants and pastry shops generally close for a month in the late fall or early winter when tourism dropped and the weather turned dreary.

Some things have changed. Today, most of the larger supermarkets like Carrefour, Casino or LeClerc remain open at lunch. Some service stations have minimarkets.





La Cave is closed. . . exceptionally!

Although most stores remain open Monday through Saturday until about 8 p.m., Sunday morning remains the wild card—whether a store opens may depend on the town and season. In smaller towns like Vallauris, schedules varied for the library, grocery, the dry cleaner, museums and the post office (oui, on ferme à midi).

I arrived too many times to find the shop closed, and the hands of a little clock in the window indicating it would reopen at 14h. I kept a digital folder of opening hours that I consulted for various merchants. For example, I knew my wine merchant across from the Square Dulys in Juan-les-Pins would be open that evening when I planned to stock up on that wonderful dry white wine to use for my kir. But when I arrived at La Cave, the metal shutter was closed tight and carried a sign, Fermeture exceptionnelle. The store was closed. It was an unscheduled closure. I would have to check the wine selection at the corner gas station, Agip. Already that morning I had found the bakery across the street closed (fermeture annuelle).

Fortunately, the French feeling about dogs remains relatively unchanged. Or so I thought.


Dogs seem to be admitted nearly everywhere except in supermarkets. Pets remain outside, attached in pet-designated areas. Supermarkets, soit! But the bookmobile had a small sign indicating, “Les chiens ne sont pas admis.” Although pets can no longer check out books, at least they can travel. Mass transit still allows pets to accompany their owners, usually for half fare.





Dogs are not allowed in the book mobile



A dog awaits an owner at the Centre LeClerc in Antibes-les-Pins

Soccer Sidelines by Jane Tolbert

Allez les bleus. . . Well. . .

Le foot, or soccer, is a popular sport that has spread from Europe to the States only recently. Years ago, a friend rejoiced over spending a year in France (to be away from American football and baseball), but she found her husband equally enthralled with Le Foot and Le Tour de France and its maillot jaune. This year, most non-soccer fans have been caught up. . . .if not in the game, at least in the sideline activity. In fact, the occurrences both on and off the field have made this World Cup one to remember. Here are some examples:

World cup horns, or vuvuzela (like swarms of bees), may lead to hearing loss (what will become of these horns at the end of the World Cup?).

The French team has lost face due to the strike and other non-sporting types of behavior. The Equipe de France de Foot, or the Fédération française de football, has more than 71,398 unhappy FaceBook followers who have posted comments that are anything but supportive.

Like my daughter Sandra commented, “If the American football teams went on strike during the Super Bowl, they would have to go in a witness protection program.”

In a country in which a campaign has been launched to encourage polite and civic behavior, the French soccer team committed many an egregious offense. “It’s hard to top this French team's performance, which stands out in two major categories: gross incompetence and cartoonish dysfunction,” writes Darren Everson in his article, “Even the French Hate the French.” (Wall Street Journal, June 23, 2010).

On a more positive note, Paul, the psychic octopus, has gained international recognition for his ability to predict the outcomes of matches in this World Cup. He predicted Spain’s defeat of Germany in today’s semi finals, which, given his residency at the zoo in Oberhausen, could be risky. We will see if he has to request asylum in another country. Prior to this match, Paul had 15,548 very supportive FB fans. By the end of the match Spain v. Germany, he had 18,809 followers, and he posted, “Six for six, mis amigos.”

The lingerie queen from Paraguay, Larissa Riquelme (with 235,752 followers on FB), promised to run naked through the streets in the event of a victory of her home team. Many others made similar patriotic promises for their countries.

Now that the World Cup is coming to an end with the finals (Netherlands v. Spain) on Sunday, sports enthusiasts can shift to the Tour de France. But will the sideline activities be as interesting?

What's in a name by Jane Tolbert

High Heels at the Melbourne(Fla.) Harbor



The Dilbar at the Antibes Harbor with the Fort Carre in the background

I always assumed the difficult part about owning a boat was procuring the money. But now I realize it’s much more complex. Money isn’t the issue—the name is! Some of those in the Melbourne, Fla., harbor carry interesting names—High Heels, Love Nest 4 Two, Miller Time III and Free and Clear (now for sale) and Fish Story Part II. We can only speculate how these names were chosen.

Since the Americans seem to name their boats (as well as their racehorses and greyhounds) in a clever way, are the French equally imaginative? A visit to the Antibes harbor (where most of the boats have non-French owners) revealed names like the Désirée, Fahrenheit, Developing Fast II and Just for Fun. Of course, many of these were the size of small cruise liners. . . . the deck hands were so busy polishing and preparing that no one had time to explain the origin of the name.

At the Port de la Galice on the Cap D’Antibes, I found names like Nikaia, Ideal 1, Octant and Equinox. This port was devoid of deck hands, and the boats were much smaller. One fuzzy dog remained on a sailboat. . . and the owner of a catamaran did not understand my fascination with boat names (“Je peux vous aider,” translates to mean Can I help you, but in this context, it was more of a rhetorical comment, What are you doing here!)

A French forum provides some insight into the dilemma of selecting a name. The forum moderator had just purchased a sailboat with two other friends. One of the owners had chosen the name, the JaJa. The moderator asked participants to come up with a better name—something that alluded to wine, good speed and other “sensible” things about a boat. The prize, he claimed, would be a ride on the boat or a picture of the three owners “en petit tenu.” (I will leave that translation to the reader’s imagination.)

The nine pages of posts hint at the popularity of the topic.

One forum participant suggested Le Grand Cru, and another, 11°. Another participant (a male) said he really was not interested in the photo. . . . The moderator provided the narrative of the delivery of the boat. . . and the final decision about the name. The JaJa. . . .

The only thing preventing me from buying a boat is the name. . . . Je rigole. Je ne suis pas trop bateau. Actually, I am fond of the Lucien.




The Lucien at the Antibes Harbor


Life is Good at a private dock on Tropical Trail

Solstice Milonga and the Festival of Music by Jane Tolbert

. . . Nous déplacerons la
Milonga de la fête de la musique . . . au Forum Jacques Médecin ou, s'il n'est
pas libre, Place Masséna. Tango Siempre Tango


Summer Soltice Milonga,
Monday, June 21, 2010
7:00 pm to 10:30 am (Cocoa tango)

These were just two of the tango events scheduled for the solstice, known as the festival of music in many countries. Dancing and music are inseparable for me. I attended a milonga in Cocoa. The music ranges from sad (he loses the girl) to happy (she comes back). . . . The tango experience is something we continue to seek—that ultimate dance experience.

Tango is a dance of feeling. What is particularly significant about tango during the solstice is the dance connection with a partner, the connection with the broader musical community and the global connection people around the world. The experience of a worldwide music festival is similar to that of watching New Year’s celebrations occur around the world. I feel like we are one.

I first heard of the 24-hour music festivals when we lived in Garbejaire (Valbonne), France, in the 1990s for a brief period. My kids said they planned to camp out with friends near the stadium at Sophia Antipolis, a research park in the South of France. I was skeptical.

Really, a 24-hour music festival in a wooded research park of more than 6,700 acres! What would the kids invent next. Then I saw fliers and wondered, is it safe? Is it a French version of Woodstock? A mass camp out? But this festival turned out to be one of many held in France.

These festivities began in 1982 to promote music by organizing free concerts in public spaces. Not only did music flow on a 24-hour basis, but these venues also enabled little-known musicians to gain recognition.

The tango groups always organize events for the solstice. In Nice, France, Marie and Jacques planned a milonga on the Place Massena. In Cocoa, Fla., the El Tigre Academy of Tango also organized an indoor event (due to the humidity and heat). In checking the Web, I see that the French embassy and major US cities also organized solstice music events.

I had to leave early. June 22 was a work day, after all. But the music by Francisco Canaro with vocalist Ada Falcóne continued to play in my mind throughout the night.

It's like this by Jane Tolbert

My son and I often carpool to work. We alternate cars and figure this is a great way to save money and gas in this recession. Although he sold his Mustang and bought a BMW, he still loves to drive mine . . . .


But just the other day, he sent me this email:

HIM--Hey, so I've decided I don't like how ur car feels. I had ridden last week in my friend's 2001 GT. The suspension had new shocks and it felt amazing.

I could put new shocks in ur car. It would only take me about 2hrs cause I won't do the springs like I did with my old Mustang.

I looked up prices, $170 for all four with lifetime warranty which would be a lot better than what u got, or $330 for all four performance shocks, which would be really way better, more performance oriented.

So what u say??? U know u want them...right?

ME (writing back). Let’s start with replacing the toilet thing. . .the flap. . .

HIM--Well it gonna cost you about $200 dollars to fix the toilet...that ok?

ME -- Wow, is that parts or labor?

HIM--It’s a rough economy right now...and good work doesn't come cheap! It would just be a really crazy coincidence if your Mustang's shocks got better around the same time

Le chat et la valise by Jane Tolbert

A cat in a suitcase seems to mean, “Take me with you.”
But given the choice of traveling in a carrier or staying chez soi, the cats prefer to be at home.

Cats are pretty much laid back about many things except for suitcases. Suitcases mean change, and for homebodies (les casaniers) like cats, change is not good.
They already know you have planned a trip from the printed email itinerary and passport now on your kitchen counter, or they sense your level of stress when your American Express bill arrives.

As the day of departure approaches, they sniff the growing contents of suitcases that lay open on the floor. If the suitcase (helas, only one checked bag is allowed these days) remains open, they adopt a comfortable outpost.

Of course, having a cat in the suitcase means you do not pack items that would cause discomfort to your pet (Il ne pas déranger le chat, n’est-ce pas?) or delicate articles of clothing that could be damaged by tiny, kneading claws. So stilettos and silk scarves remain outside the suitcase until the cat emerges.

The night before one of my daughter’s transatlantic flights, she closed all windows to ensure she could find the cat the next day. Unknown to the cat—so we thought--it too had a round-trip ticket. Obviously, the cat had seen the pet carrier and drawn its own conclusions. On the day of departure, the cat had climbed high into an olive tree and seemed to enjoy watching the panic below . This was one of the few times an airline strike and delays have worked in our favor.



Daughter and cat arrived at destination, but not without some adventures to recount. One security checkpoint insisted the cat go through the scanner in its carrier. The screener said, “I didn’t know cats had bones in their tails.”

This year during my visit to France, my daughter’s cat ignored me until I brought out the suitcase to pack for my return to the States. Just like the other household cats, she too perched on my clothes (the favorites were the black suit that seemed to attract cat hair) and determined what I did pack—the leather purse was o.k. but not the pointy shoes –and what got left behind.

Did that look mean, “Take me with you.”

My daughter replied she didn’t think so. The cat just wanted to ensure I left. And given the cat hairs on the black suit, I would certainly have something to remember her by.

Chicken or Pasta by Jane Tolbert

My daughter precedes most mentions of international Delta flights with “chicken or pasta.”

As long as I have been flying the airline, this has been the meal choice. Airline travel has not changed much. At least, not for the best.

My kids said they assumed planes would become faster and more comfortable by the time they reached adulthood. However, instead of faster planes (hélas, I never got to take the Concorde), my European flights still require anywhere between 18-to- 24 hours of transit. As of January 2010, we are limited to one checked bag. And carry on luggage and hard plastic pet carriers no longer go under the seat. The seats in airplanes seem to have shrunk, and bathrooms have all but disappeared. This past weekend I only found three in economy class of the Nice-New York flight.

Now, at the beginning of every flight when airline stewards announce safety procedures (like how to fasten your seatbelt, what to do in case of loss of pressure), they also add that passengers are not to congregate (but the dearth of bathrooms forces us to congregate—we have few options at 35,000 feet). 9-11 has resulted in an increasing number of restrictions and security checks. Usually, the airport PA system pelts us with messages about an orange alert and the need to maintain all items with us at all times. We guzzle the last drops of water (more than $3 at JKF the other day) so our bottle will not be confiscated by security.

The PA systems on airlines and in airports that carry messages that we do need to hear (like our gate has been changed, our pets have not been transferred to the next flight) continue to be broadcast in a mumbled, crackly Esperanto reminiscent of a Mr. Hulot on holiday film (you do not have to understand French to enjoy this series by Jacques Tati, portions of which are online).

People still plod through airports with weary expressions (they are), and some run as if they will miss their flight (they do). Suitcases are still black or dull blue, for the most part. Years ago, we had bags strapped to metal luggage carriers. Now suitcases have four wheels that make transport much easier. Some suitcases (like those designed by Britto) have bright colors for a perky price ($350 at the airport).

The food cart (carrying steaming trays of chicken or pasta) trundles down the aisle, cutting off passengers from the bathrooms and confining them to their seats until the trays are collected. Scalding coffee is still served in plastic cups and inevitably just before the airline hits a patch of turbulence. There are at least two movies I want to watch (“It’s Complicated” and the “Blind Side”), but the projection system is experiencing problems. My option for language was only Japanese for a film I did not want to see.

I spend time between flights with my T-Mobile “searching” for a connection (yet everyone else seems to be chatting happily on their cell phones). What has changed—the flights arrived on time. Immigration and customs at JFK seemed better organized (and more polite). What seemed to be an interminable line of people made it through all formalities (passports, baggage claim, and customs) within 30 minutes.

Everytime I prepare for an international trip I say this is my last flight, that I will find another means of travel. But by the time I arrive in Orlando, I am almost ready to go again.