Addendum

All in all, your faithful author was without her computer for approximately 24 hours. I'll bet most of you couldn't even tell. Back online now, but whew, it was a tough day. I had to read a book! The horror!

When I got my new (fancy, European) charger, I immediately plugged in and watched a dog on a skateboard on YouTube. Only then did I feel totally better.

Recipe nº6: Teardrop

1 1/4 oz. Absolut Peppar

1/4 oz. triple sec

(shot-cocktail-recipe.com)

Serve chilled in a shot glass. Beautiful in its simplicity, non?

Today I begin a fun social experiment. Well, not too social, as I will be the only test subject. But I often wonder: as I whole-heartedly embrace the convenience of the Internet, in all its instant-gratification glory (Wikipedia, online t.v., solving silly disputes with IMDB and song-lyrics pages, recipes, weather reports, directions, oh did I mention e-mail, Facebook, etc.), I also worry. Am I becoming TOO addicted? It's soooo annoying when suddenly your network is down; whatever you were doing (and usually it's something super-important, like watching Gossip Girl or checking to see if anyone's commented on your blog (p.s. they haven't)) grinds immediately to a halt and you're back in the plain old, boring real world.

I don't like feeling this dependent on anything. And while I often lament this dependance on "stuff", as I like to call it, the Internet is an especially hard thing to be attached to, being that it's so non-physical. Is it...love?

But today, with a few sputtering clicks (my least-favorite sound made by Apple products; I'm talking to you, iPods number 1 and 2) my computer charger has lazily decided that it's tired of converting French energy to American (les wattes to watts, or what?) and gave up. Meanwhile, I must have been using the computer while its battery slowly and irreversibly drained away, leaving it not really on or off, or as my friend Céline so aptly put it, dans le coma. I've been told I should still talk to it; it can probably still hear me. 

So after I go home tonight and try speaking words of encouragement in soft (dulcet, as Rachel would say) tones into its little, tiny speakers, I will have to decide what else to do with myself. Sans internet. Shall I find myself inclined to do more wholesome things, like take a walk? Watch the sunset over the snowy mountains? Write a poem, perhaps? 

Speaking of which, this whole incident has reminded me of a similar one about a year ago, when my friend Nate (aka Dr. Thinky) inadvertently (well, that's for the judge to decide) left his cell phone in his pants while they repeatedly underwent the wash and spin cycle. This disconnection from the network, and the free time gained from not texting immediately prompted him to turn poetic. And he produced this gem (and I am reproducing it here for posterity):

Lament for a Dead Cell Phone, his last moments... by Nate M.

$2.50 to wash & dry

How much does it cost to cry?

Oh N75 - you were not always clean

but I hope you know I did not mean

To launder you without a care

Amongst my shirts, pants & underwear

You certainly made me easy to reach

Sadly, you could not survive Tide with Bleach

You let me check my gMail 24/7

How many bars can you get in heaven?

I made a mistake, I left you to die

You're texting with the angels now, finally dry

;(

(end quote)

And to this he added underneath, "Translated from French by N. Marsh". This let to some discussion of me translating the poem back into the original French (he seemed to have lost the original), and I was only too happy to oblige, being that this activity was much more fun than studying for my Master's exam, which is what I had been doing. So my friend Patrick and I took a break (from reading some awfully similar French poetry) to come up with this, and I must say I am quite proud.

Complainte pour un portable défunt (les derniers moments)

1.7€ pour laver et sécher

Combien coûte-t-il de pleurer ?

Ô N75 - bien que tu n'étais pas toujours soigné

sache que je n'ai pas fait exprès

de te nettoyer négligemment

entre mes chemises et mes sous-vêtements

Certes, tu me rendais facile à joindre

Hélas, l'eau de javel t'a rendu moindre.

Avec toi, j'envoyais sans cesse des textos

Est-ce que tu captes toujours là-haut ?

Par ma faute, tu étais condamné à expirer

Tu ne communiques plus qu'avec les anges, finalement séché...

So, voilà, now you know my sentiments exactly, and you see that you can hire me to translate your personal poetry into the French anytime. I certainly enjoyed the assignment, Nate, do you have any others?

I'm late for wine and cheese, but I thought poetry would accompany these things nicely. Bonne soirée, tout le monde.

Recipe nº5: French Pearl(s)

2 oz. gin

1/4 oz. absinthe

3/4 oz. fresh lime juice

3/4 oz. simple syrup

Serve chilled in a martini glass, garnished with mint leaf.

(slashfood.com)

As promised, I will now explain why France is great (from a francophile-American point of view, obviously). I am feeling a special urge to explore this idea, as today is gray and rainy and one of those days where it's best to constantly remind yourself why you're doing what you're doing...

Here, for you curious ones, are the things that spur on my desire to expatriate (remember that reason numéro 1 to move to France is the cuisine, which demands its own category) :

1) Les marchés. When I return to the States, my delightful mornings spent buying cheap, delicious fruits and vegetables in a picturesque outdoor setting will be reduced to only a fond memory. Sure, I can buy produce at roadside stands in the summer, or occasionally trek out to Quincy Market, but the country known for its "convenience" cannot compete with France in the open-air market arena. 6 days a week, I can find fresh seasonal produce, along with meat, cheese, bread, and herb/spice vendors in several locations around Grenoble (and that goes for any city in France). Through rain or shine, more dependable than the French postal service, the marchands are there selling lettuce with the field-dirt still attached (yes, this appeals to me). On most days as well, there are other outdoor markets selling clothes, kitchen gadgets, jewelry, etc. Already I am dreading returning to the sad, waxy produce of the U.S., a country where you can buy strawberries in December and must pay a fortune to have anything that's farm-raised or organic. I've made more food from scratch here in three months than all last year, and I've loved every minute of it. 

Contrepoint: The absolute unspeakable horreur of the big supermarchés; I honestly believe Carrefour is the long-lost 8th level of hell from Dante's Inferno. Give me Wegmans any day.

2) Le SNCF, Ryanair and Easyjet. Although it is becoming more expensive (like all travel, d'ailleurs), the train system in France is amazingly efficient and practical, only the more so for anyone who has ever boarded an Amtrak train. The trains come and go at exactly their scheduled times, to the minute, and most layovers do not exceed an hour. It can be a bit annoying to pass through Paris, taking the metro from one station to another, but on the whole train travel is relaxing and enjoyable. Not to mention the TGV, the high-speed train that can take you halfway across France in 3 hours.

The discount air carriers are also unparalleled chez nous les ricains, but watch out for hidden costs: they often fly from non-major airports requiring further travel, and you can't make connecting flights. These disadvantages are made up for by the fact that many of their tickets go for around 30 euro!

Contrepoint: The SNCF offers huge discounts to people 25 or under. Way to rub it in to those of us who are just slightly older than 25 and still dirt poor. Oh, and les grèves, which can put a serious damper on everyone's travel plans, and are completely unpredictable.

3) Health Care. Not being an expert in this realm, I can only recount my experiences with the French health system. I once went to a doctor on a Sunday, which is the most expensive time to visit a doctor for obvious reasons. After being examined, I trotted off to the pharmacy, prescription in hand, only to find they were closed but would open, for a nominal fee, for "emergency" prescription filling. 10 minutes later I left with antibiotics and paracetimol, which along with the pharmacy fee, reached a whopping 12 euros. The doctor warned me the visit would cost 30 euros, but I never received a bill.

This in addition to the superior knowledge of pharmacy employees themselves. Have a sore throat? Skip the médecin entirely and ask the friendly pharmacist, who will lay out your options for you and give advice, generally more precise and helpful than the typical CVS worker who will merely send you off to aisle 5, just to the left of the Cheetos rack, to pick out your own remedies.

Contrepoint: French pharmacies do not sell Cheetos. No, seriously, the only downside for a spoiled American is the possibly shoddy-seeming appearance of public hospitals; but that's just because we're spoiled. Also, cheap schools are a similar benefit to French life, but in their case, the shoddiness is really palpable and influential; although we pay a fortune for our education, I can definitely see the positive effects of this money in the quality of our classrooms, libraries, etc. I mean the University of Grenoble has Turkish toilets (i.e. holes in the ground) on the first floor. Maybe I'm spoiled...

Well, there you have it, the main attractions of France selon moi, after the food, of course. This is a work in progress however, and suggestions are welcome! More to come.