Tag Archives: friends

A la francaise

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Last weekend, Pedram and I went to visit friends in Lyon, France.  Justine and Mathieu had recently moved there (Chambery to be precise) from Montreal, where we had all been neighbors.  It was good to reconnect with them.  I also reconnected with my long lost buddy, their son, Inaki.  Here we are in Montreal back in May 2011

And here we are in March 2012.

If Pedram didn’t have one on the way, he probably would have stolen this one.

You’ve probably heard how French people do everything better, right?  There is a huge American boom about writing in detail how the French manage to do all the things Americans long to do, but with their great snobby I-don’t-really-care attitude and their well, frenchiness.  This past weekend I witnessed it all with my own eyes, and I can tell you — it is all true.

French women do eat everything and do not get fat (like the book). Justine is skinnier than I have ever seen her, including her pre-baby days.  Her secret?  French cuisine.  The girl eats bread, cheese, croissants, coffee, decadent and hearty meals, crepes, galettes, mousse, tartiflette, etc, etc.  And she is tiny.  I, on the other hand, gained considerable weight on that same diet over 4 days.  In fact, that weekend, I “popped”, meaning my baby is like me and probably doubled its size during the weekend.

And did you read all the hype about how French parents are better?  It is true.  They are not afraid to tell their kid “non!”, and then the kid listens.  And is respectful, and obedient.  And well mannered and behaved.  At the ripe age of 1, they learn to greet people when they first see them.  We would go to restaurants and I would observe the children there — they do not negotiate with their parents, they do not throw food, they do not complain about what they are offered, they act like adults.  French adults, which means they can turn up their nose to poorly cooked meal, or anything American, cause they believe they are superior to everyone else.  Vive la republique!

Lyon is the capital of food in the country that is the world capital of food, and to say that I learned a bit about food over the weekend is like saying I knew what it was like to be pregnant before I ever was.  The food culture there is superior — there is such pride and dedication to make an effort to reinvent meals, use premium quality products, and offer the best culinary experience possible.  On our first day, we went to the market, where we had a 20 minute discussion with the cheese monger about local cheese.  And I sampled cheeses so stinky and wonderful that one actually turned my tongue numb.  And it was fantastic.  In the words of Justine — “you can tell it is good because you can feel your heart beating in your gums”.  If you don’t eat anything in your lifetime that fits that description, then you haven’t lived.

Pedram was dying with giddiness the whole weekend.  It made me realize how much he misses continental Europe — his comments were consistently about how classy the people were, how comfortable the pace of life is, and how wonderful it is to get fresh bread.  Every day.  And not from a special baker, but any boulangerie.  Because they are all good.  And we don’t need to buy extra for tomorrow, because tomorrow we will go back to the corner boulangerie and buy fresh baguettes.  Every day.  A la francaise.

Food, companionship, adorable french babies, smelly cheeses and baguettes aside, the highlight was probably a quick excursion to French Alps, where we all relaxed and enjoyed France’s natural beauty, soaking in the sun and snow and the wonderful homemade jams from Justine’s mom, along with the fresh bread that we got that morning.  Cause you know, France.

The big love day

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Yesterday, Pedram and I were reflecting that in the eight years we have known each other, we have only spent two Valentine’s days together.  Usually, one of us is off, traveling or visiting family or living in England or abroad.  The Hallmark date doesn’t really play a role for us in our relationship.  But this year, we are both in England for this crazy love fest of a day.

Sadly, Pedram worked until 10pm and I was at a Baha’i’ study circle, so the day went uncelebrated.

However, my true Valentine, Khanh, who has consistently been making me feel loved with candy and chocolates for 12 years now, did not fail to impress.  In addition to the yummy Frans salted caramel (which I will share with NO ONE!) and my favorite heart candy, she included a little gift for the baby.

It is the softest, plushest, most adorable thing with ears in the world.  It is now in the baby pile, which includes nothing else.  Hope the kid is okay with wearing this home from the hospital and for the following few months.  Thanks so much auntie Khanh.

Speaking of babies, a certain someone became a complete gooey, mushy puddle of emotions when seeing this gift.  Which may have made my day a little more lovable.

Slumber party

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I had an unexpected visitor spend the night last night in my bed:

On my way home from work last night, I received a phone call from Derek (Sonya’s dad), letting me know that my friend Mitali (Sonya’s mom), who is 8.5 months pregnant with baby #2, was at the hospital, and was most likely going into labor.  He asked if I could help them out by picking up Sonya from daycare, which I was happy to do.

Sonya and I are buddies.  She is at the most delightful age (1.5 years), my favorite age for babies, when they are beginning to express themselves, and are so much fun to play with.  She is also good buddies with Rusby, who has spent many days over at Sonya’s house while I am at work.  You can see some adorable pictures of them together here, here and here.  Or, here is a great video Mitali put together:

I was a little nervous about being alone with Sonya overnight, but she is such a great girl (good girl, as she says it), and we had alot of fun.  She was eager and willing to eat anything I put in front of her, and had creative ways of playing with the limited toys we have in the house.  Although it was hard for her that her parents weren’t there, or that she wasn’t at home (like when she woke up at 6am and screamed cause she didn’t know where she was, or who I was), she always calmed down and gave me a big smile.  When her dad came to pick her up, she practically bolted out the door, but I think overall the experience wasn’t too traumatizing for either of us. I guess I’ll really know next time I see Sonya, whether she’ll give me a hug or run the other way.

By the way, Mitali, who is a super-mom allstar in everyway, delivered a beautiful little girl, Leena, last night.  Sonya and I practiced the word “sister” all day long in preparation.

 

My valentine

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Last Friday, I got a package.  It was addressed just to me.  And it was from my Valentine.

I have had the same Valentine for about 10 years now, someone who is so thoughtful and considerate.  I got so giddy when I saw the handwriting, cause it is a dead giveaway on who it is.  Isn’t the packaging great?

Someone who knows that I love candy, and chocolate, and the cute little candy shop at the University Village in Seattle.  And who has always remembered me during this silly holiday.  Of course, I don’t think it is silly when there is chocolate involved, and yogurt covered pretzels, and all other sorts of goodness.  Then I take it all very serious.

Ten years, I have been rubbing my tongue raw with these wonderfully sour hearts.  I don’t like to share these.

Thanks, Khanh, for always remembering me.

Little Girl

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Oh!  Hello there!!

Little miss Sophia, do you remember me?  Our time together has been brief, but I know your mom from way way back when.  I dyed my hair for the first time in her bathtub, and we would write notes to each other in middle school.  We would team up together for projects, and go to Baskin & Robbins to do research for assignments.  I knew your mom before she was a mommy, before she was Hamilton, before she was a Cali girl, before she knew how to drive…lets just say I have known her a long long time.

But you, you are new to me.  I am just one of the many many aunties who love you from far away, admiring you from pictures and videos your mommy shares with us.  And we try to get together as much as possible to see you in person, and to have fun with our first, communal niece.

Cause you know that we all claim you as ours too.  We’ve known your mommy so long, anything she is excited about, we are excited about.  From your beautiful blue eyes to your chunky thighs to your eating habits.  You are such a Cali girl, eating avocados!!

And your laugh!!  You got your giggles and huge smile from your mom.  You know she is known for her grin, right?  It fills the room and is completely contagious.  And although I don’t get to see you everyday like I would like to, a glimpse of your smile reminds me that you are my girl’s girl, and we are connected together.

You guys seem to have so much fun together.

So although you might not know me the way I know you, please know that I love you very very much.

Your auntie,

Mahsa

Christophe!

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Pedram’s bestest friend visited us from Geneva, where he works at the CERN as a nuclear engineer.  Do not make the mistake I did and ask him what he does — it includes such incredibly abstract ideas that it makes me dizzy to think about it.  Basically, it is like they are looking to collide neutrons (protons? electrons?  chupatrons?), which will create a huge black hole and kill us all.  They do this out of curiosity, because they are bored and have too much time and money on their hands.  (Just joking, he has reassured me that there is no reason to worry about the black hole).

Christophe is Belgian, and the means that him and Pedram talk in their own dialect, which includes:

ey, kwe?

ey, kwe!

which means, “hello, how are you doing?” and “I am doing great, thanks”.  When together, they also add a “quoi” at the end of every sentence, which I compare to my saying “like” all the time.

Christophe is a generally, all around, super cool laid back guy, and it is hard for me to make fun of him when he is just so nice. He is such a good guy that he never complained about us forcing him to enjoy the Quebecois cuisine of choice, poutine.  I’ll go more into poutine in detail sometime later, but it is a strange quebecois dish that is both hearty and tasteless.  Since Christophe is from Belgium where they eat horse, rabbits and raw beef, we figured he’d be fine with poutine.

And he was.  He never once complained, never once asked what was the funny cheese, what a strange combination of ingredients (his poutine mediterranean included eggs and sausage), never once made a face.  He finished the entire dish, using a knife and fork for his fries, leaving not a trace of gravy on his plate.

He left this morning, but not without gifting us some of our favorite gifts from the old continent — chocolate baby!  Swiss chocolate, but still oh so good.

Friends Make Life Better

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Sometimes, when you are new to a city, to a job, to a class, meeting new people and trying to create your own niche in town, it can be EXHAUSTING.  You’re constantly “on”, desperately trying to making good impressions, focusing on saying witty things, being thoughtful, expressing your opinions delicately, stifling emotions and reactions under a thin but persistent smile, and at the end of the day, you are tired of being a facade of your former self.

Sometimes I want to unwind, be myself, complain, question everything and everyone, be moody and angry without cause and without judgement.  But often people new to a city don’t have that luxury.  Because you are new, you are trying to get a job, make new friends, influence colleagues, make an impression.  Eventhough you are tired of being “on”.

And then sometimes, you can go to New York City, where a lifelong friend lives, meet up with another friend from Los Angeles, and spend hours talking, venting, and being utterly honest with no risk of judgement.  Friends you have known almost your entire life, who can spread warmth to your soul with a hug.  Catching up on stories, crying with empathy, shaking with laughing, sharing (with no shame) incredibly personal issues, supporting each other through whatever delicate obstacle the other is maneuvering, passing time over coffee walking through the streets of Manhattan, never pausing in conversation (except so that they can manically talk on their phones/text).

It was just one weekend in New York, but it felt like an enormous warm hug after being outside in the rain.  It feels amazing to be “off”, to remind myself of who I really am.  I am so grateful to have amazing friends in my lives, who ground me and give me hope about finding my place in Montreal.  Or, we can all move to San Francisco in 5 years.  Deal?

Thanks for reminding me who I am.

Big Blue – The Guest Bed

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I just counted on my fingers 30+ people who have stayed at our place in Brussels in the last two years.  That is crazy, no?

We were so lucky to have so many people stop by to pay us a visit and I have really enjoyed sharing Brussels with friends and family.  Most people have had the lucky honor of sleeping on Big Blue — the blow up mattress I bought in Costco a few years ago and hauled over to Brussels.  Many of our guests have had the shower experience at our apartment — 9 minutes of hot water in a mini bathtub with a random step.

We (still) do not have an apartment in Montreal, but we are trying to get a two-bedroom, to give Big Blue a little break.  I also can confirm my very first Montreal visitor, who will be coming at the end of June.  Hopefully we’ll have an apartment by then.

Thank you to the 30+ people who have visited us here, it means alot to us both.

We’ve also received some great gifts from friends, including these cute tea cups from the Mardons, and maybe the best tea I have ever tasted from Sepehr, both of which I am enjoying today.

tea