Iceland ahoy!

After I woke up this morning, September the third, my Google Calendar app reminded me of my flight to Reykjavik in a few hours. Boston to Reykjavik, it says, 1pm, don't be late!

To explain this state of affairs, I have to tell you the story of our leaving Paris. Let's start in, oh, March or so, when I'd accepted the job in Hawai'i and as we were making plans.

The goal: Get from Paris to Honolulu.

This presents a challenge, because this journey takes at least 24 hours. The journey with a baby would be particularly difficult. Plus, once we get to Hawai'i, the time difference is 12 hours - as big of a time difference as is possible. It'd be 8am, it'd feel like 8pm. At 4am, it'd feel like 4pm. Not an easy adjustment for adults, let alone babies.

However, it also presents opportunities. I checked a map, and apparently right between France and Hawai'i is a large continent known as North America. We have a lot of dear friends in Ohio (plus a storage unit with things from our old house that we didn't take with us to Paris), and family in Oregon.

So we decide to hop. Go to Ohio first (only a 6 hour time difference), spend 10 days there, see friends, pack up our storage unit and have it shipped to Hawai'i. Then onward to Oregon (a 3 hour time difference), spend two weeks with family. Finally make the last leg over to Hawai'i. Simple, right?

Yes and no. This plan has us getting to the US on June 30, and slowly travelling west until we get to Hawai'i on July 26. Here's the problem: my visa is only valid from July the 22nd. How can I get into the US on June the 30th?

Well, the first part of our trip is just tourism, I consider. I won't be working or earning any money - just seeing friends and family. So I could enter the US as a tourist, under the visa waiver program called ESTA. I enter on ESTA, and then change my status to my work visa. Simple, right?

Yes and no! You can't change status from an ESTA to a work visa. It's not allowed. You have to leave the US and then re-enter on the work visa. This sorry state of affairs then motivates a solo trip from Oregon up to Vancouver, Canada, to allow me to hop out and back into the USA. I book some train tickets and add it to our itinerary. A complex plan, but everything should work out.

We began our preparations in earnest. We sold most of our Paris possessions. We mailed a few boxes of books and things to await our arrival in Hawai'i. And the rest we packed. We ended up with four large suitcases, one smaller roller bag, one laptop bag, two backpacks, and a cello. And of course, a small baby.

We had emptied and cleaned our flat, our landlady had deemed it vraiment impeccable, très propre ("truly impeccable, very clean"), and with tears in our eyes we left for our airport hotel, where we were to spend the night before flying out the next morning. It was at this point we learned of a small flaw in our plan: we didn't have enough hands.

That is, there were more suitcases than we could easily move. With a luggage cart, it's possible, but with just the two of us, it's not straightforward. Even though our hotel is basically right beside the airport, we realize that we need to book a taxi to ensure that we can get to it effectively. I speak to the agent at the front desk and get a taxi booked, after I make sure he understands that we have a lot of luggage.

(It is here, at the hotel, I discover the value of speaking English and pretending not to speak French. The staff are more revealing when they turn to their colleagues and address them in French. But I'm listening...)

In the morning, we awake and await our taxi. It arrives, but it's plainly too small. They clearly didn't get the memo about our luggage. The driver calls in for another taxi to come, and we are resigned to waiting some more.

I'm a fairly anxious traveller, I'm not sure why, but these events send me spiralling into worry. We've barely begun our trip and there's a delay! What if they don't have a taxi big enough? What if the taxi arrives late and we miss our flight? How will we manage?

Luckily the taxi soon arrives. It's driven by a middle aged Japanese immigrant, who regaled our ears with easy-listening guitar covers of classic rock songs at high volume. He was really keen on it.

At the airport, we went to check our luggage. We had booked and paid for the extra luggage in advance, but I was expecting to have to pay 200€ for Talia's cello, which is technically oversize.

After weighing everything, they tell us that some of our bags are overweight and that we have to speak to another person to pay the fee and get the tags. I head over to the other person while Talia waits with Maëlys.

"Okay sir, for all of this, you must pay 750€."

My eyes boggle.

"No, there must be some mistake. See, here, I have already paid for these bags. I am only paying for an overweight fee for one of the bags." I brandish my receipt from when I booked the bags. (If there's one thing I've learned from living in France, it's that paper documentation is king.)

"Let me see. Actually, we can distribute the weight of the bags across all of them, so while this one bag is overweight, the total weight of everything is under the limit. So there's no fee. Let me print your passes now."

However, this was followed by brow-furrowing and talking to colleagues. The wait was long, and I was getting worried again. We'd arrived at the airport a little later than I'd wanted (because of the taxi) and now we're being delayed again. What if security takes forever too, and we miss the flight?

Eventually the airline people come to a consensus and tell me that although I'd paid for the luggage on the second leg of our flight (Frankfurt to Pittsburgh), the first leg (Paris to Frankfurt) was not covered. This is apparently because these legs are operated by Condor and Lufthansa respectively.

Never mind the fact that they're both part of the same parent company. Never mind the fact that when I paid for the luggage, I spoke to operators at both Condor and Lufthansa who told me that the payment covered both flights. Never mind that. Right now, they wanted 150€.

At this point, I pay. I reckon I could have stayed and argued my case, but to be frank I was happy to just get the luggage onto the plane and be able to get going. My anxiety was getting the better of me.

And, remember I expected a 200€ charge for the cello? They never mentioned it! So really, this was like gaining 50€. That's what I told myself, at least.

Security was fine, the Lufthansa flight was great. The flight attendant gave Maëlys a little toy to entertain her on the flight, which we got to keep. Everything was looking up!

Now for the Condor flight. Condor is a low-cost airline, and we got some great rates with them. So great that booking three seats (i.e. a seat for Maëlys, which is a game-changer, let me tell you) was actually cheaper than just two on some other airlines. However, there are restrictions, and their policy on hand luggage is relatively strict. I had read flyer reports where they actually weighed people's hand luggage to ensure it's below their maximum weight. This worried me, as we had a lot of stuff.

When we go to board, the boarding agent sees that our passes haven't been double-checked, and send us over to another agent. Here we go, I think, they're going to weigh our bags. No such thing happens. Instead, they check our passports.

"Two Americans and one British person. I see. Do you have travel authorization to go to the USA?" she asks.

"Yes, I have an ESTA", I say, referring to the visa-waiver program.

"And do you have onward travel outside of the USA?"

She asks this because if an airline brings someone to a country, and they are denied entry, the airline is liable for the cost of taking them back to where they came from. Airlines are really tough these days on anything that looks like you might be in violation of the rules. The ESTA, as a short-term thing, requires that you have evidence of onward travel to leave the country.

"Yes, to Canada." I show her the document. "And see here, I also have a work visa, so I'll re-enter the US as a worker."

"Hm. No, Canada is not good enough. You have to leave the entire continent."

For various reasons, going to Canada or Mexico (or various Caribbean countries) doesn't count for leaving the country. This means that, say, someone in the US on a student visa can go to Toronto for the weekend and not have to go through complex immigration procedures upon their return. Paperwork is minimized, student gets to go to Toronto, everyone is happy.

Except that this rule also doesn't make sense, because you have left the country. You can't legislate that away.

I argue my case, that I have a work visa and that I'll be re-entering the US. She stands her ground.

"I need to see onward travel out of the US. Here is a list of countries which don't count." It's a long list, with lots of Caribbean nations, plus Mexico and Canada.

"What do you want me to do? Just get out my laptop and buy a plane ticket right now?"

"Yes."

Great. So I do that. Due to a lack of foresight, my laptop was not charged, so I needed to find an outlet. The first one I found was not in a location with a wifi signal. The second one worked. Meanwhile, our flight is boarding and I am freaking out.

I do a quick search for flights from US east coast cities - Boston, Newark, JFK - to major European hubs - Paris, Frankfurt, London. I select a date in the near future which is within the 90 days I can be in the US on ESTA. I find a cheap flight with Wow Air for about 160€. It goes to Paris via Reykjavik. Since I'm in Germany, my computer has defaulted to the German webpage. I click through and order my ticket, hoping that my understanding of German was good enough. I get a confirmation page.

I run back to the agent and show her the flight. She glances at it, nods, and waves us through onto the plane.

And that is the story of why I was meant to fly to Reykjavik today.

Of course, the US immigration official didn't care about whether I had onward travel. He didn't even ask how long I was staying. When you are white and travel with two white Americans, one of whom is a baby, they don't check you very thoroughly.

I later cancelled the flight, as I had no intention of taking it, and was reimbursed the 35€ or so that they charged in taxes and fees.

In hindsight, I could have handled it better. I could have just bought tickets to Reykjavik without onward travel to Paris, that would have been cheaper. I also learned that US law entitles you to a full refund within 24 hours of buying a flight. (A rare case where US law is more consumer-friendly than EU law!) Since I bought my ticket through the German site, I wasn't eligible for this, but I would have been had I used the US site.

All this to jump through the hoops of getting to the US and dealing with our complicated itinerary and complex immigration laws. Our other travels within the US (and to Canada) were not without incident, but not quite as eventful or as stress-inducing as this first one. Maybe one day I'll make it to Iceland for real.

¡Barcelona!

A colorful market in Barcelona

When I first learned we were moving to France, I was both excited and a little disappointed. Disappointed because throughout high school and college, I spent a considerable amount of time learning Spanish, and had always wanted the chance to try out my language skills in a Spanish-speaking country. I thought Spanish would be a much more useful language to know than French, what with the number of Spanish-speakers in the US and the proximity to Mexico and Latin America.

Imagine my surprise, then, to find out that I was moving to France. I had to shove my hard-earned knowledge of Spanish to the back of my brain and start cramming French in there instead. I enjoyed the challenge of teaching myself French and have done reasonably well at learning the language. But I still harbor an appreciation for Spanish and Latin cultures and that dream of communicating in Spanish. Thus, the close proximity of France to Spain was something I wanted to capitalize on while we were in Europe.

Amazingly beautiful gelato

It took us nearly two years of living in France, but I finally realized my goal of seeing Spain. Last month we took a short trip to Barcelona and had two-and-a-half days to see the sights. Here's what we found.

Barcelona is full of life. Compared to Paris, it felt sunny and open and friendly. On our first full day there, we did a walking tour loosely based on the one in the back of the novel The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. One of my favorite books, The Shadow of the Wind is a page-turner of a gothic novel set in Barcelona in 1945. Zafón sweeps you up into a twisting story of shadowy characters and intricate mysteries, while expertly painting the scene of a dark and dismal post-war Barcelona. I was keen to see some of the places that figured so prominently in the story, so we took a stroll down the Ramblas, a long pedestrianized street that takes you through the heart of Barcelona's gothic quarter. We saw an epic outdoor market with amazing foods, then joined the sea of tourists that made its way past the flower vendors, souvenir shops, theaters, restaurants, and living statues, and ultimately emerged at the marina in front of a massive statue of Christopher Columbus. In addition to the Ramblas, we saw a wide variety of architecture, including some fantastical buildings created by Antoni Gaudí in the late 19^th century, as well as the outside of La Sagrada Família, the enormous modern basilica designed by Gaudí that has had construction ongoing since 1882. Rounding out the day was a trip to Jansana, a lovely gluten free bakery.

Going incognito and keeping the sun off

We did a lot of walking that first day, and in our vacations pre-baby, we would have felt obliged to go out again in the evening to cram in as much sight-seeing and experiencing as possible. But now with an 8-month-old who goes to bed around 7:30 pm, we had a perfect excuse to have a quiet evening in our AirBnB apartment, cooking ourselves a simple dinner and having hot chocolate on the patio. It was a relaxing end to an enjoyable day. Despite my initial worries about vacationing with a baby, it all worked out splendidly. Maëlys seemed to enjoy the new sights and sounds and she managed to sleep fairly well in an unfamiliar environment. Plus, Spanish people seem to love talking to, smiling at, and touching babies, so she made us quite popular with the locals.

I should note, however, that on the speaking Spanish with locals front, I failed miserably. First of all, Barcelona is part of Catalonia, so they speak both Catalan and Spanish there, and Catalan sounds rather like a mixture of French and Spanish, which confused me. Secondly, my brain is now wired such that when I hear a foreign language, I automatically respond in French, regardless of the language I hear. I kept saying “oui” instead of “si” and “merci” instead of “gracias”. So when trying to order in Spanish at restaurants, I would stare blankly at the server while my brain cycled through the English and French words before coming up with a French pronunciation for the Spanish word. It was frustrating but amusing.

Casa Batlló, designed by Gaudí

GF cake at Pasticelía

On our final day in Barcelona, we first got lunch at another excellent gluten free bakery, called Pasticelía. This time, after again being struck dumb at the sight of the waitress and having to order in English, I mentally rehearsed a couple of Spanish sentences explaining that our sojourn in Paris had left me struggling to speak Spanish. She chuckled and told me (in Spanish!) that she didn't know any French, so she appreciated the effort. It was a small victory.

Sagrada Família basilica

Afterwards, we took the subway, a funicular, and a cable car (excellent views of Barcelona) up the hill to the Montjuïc Castle. Montjuïc was a 17^th-18^th century military fortress that was the site of a number of battles and symbolized Spain's defeat of Catalonia in 1714. It served as a prison and a house of torture for three hundred years, and is mentioned in The Shadow of the Wind as the grim place where one of the characters was tortured. There is a small historical exhibit inside the fortress, but we mainly just walked around the grounds and on the ramparts. The castle's unpleasant past is not really on display too much, but a somber air pervades what's left of the fortress. At the end of our visit we walked down the steep hill through well-tended gardens and back to the funicular. In the evening we hurriedly made our way to the train station and caught a two-hour train to Carcassonne, a medieval town in the south of France.


I would love to spend more time in Spain. Barcelona was a very colorful and inviting place and with two-and-a-half days we barely scratched the surface. But at least we made it there and at least I was able to use a little of my mostly-dormant Spanish skills. The next part of our vacation took us “back home” to France, and was a great contrast to the bustle of Barcelona. Rory will tell you about that adventure in our next post. Stay tuned.

Statue (should be) entitled, Naked woman pondering ice cream cone.

Giverny, the home of Claude Monet

Spring is in full swing here and we are trying to make the most of the two and a half months we have left in France. Although we're eager for our Hawaiian adventure to begin, there is so much of France left to see and experience. Having a baby made us put some trips and activities on hold, but we're back in the game now. So yesterday we took a trip with two of our good friends to the tiny village of Giverny.


Giverny was the home of Claude Monet, the renowned late-nineteenth and early-twentieth-century Impressionist painter. The village of Giverny is in the southeast of the Normandy region of France, and Monet moved to a house there in 1883 at the age of forty-three. By this time, he was already well into developing his new Impressionist style, a disparaging term coined by an art critic in 1874 after an exhibition of his and other similar artists' work. Monet was attempting to artistically document the French landscape using a method of painting that conveyed his impressions and perceptions of the scenery, rather than striving for realism. Much of his progress in exploring this new style occurred at his home in Giverny.


Monet designed and created elaborate gardens on the land surrounding his house. As he sold more paintings and his wealth increased, he was also able to add a water lily pond, the one that would figure so prominently in his later works. His house and the gardens and pond are open to the public, so we spent the afternoon exploring where he created his masterpieces and enjoying the idyllic landscape. Unbeknownst to us when we planned our trip, mid-April is an ideal time to visit as the gardens are dazzlingly in bloom. The vibrant gardens showcased blossoming trees, leafy plants, vines snaking across trellises, and row after row of fragrant flowers, with particularly magnificent tulips of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The water lily pond as well was encircled by bamboo trees, flowering bushes, and a wide variety of other plants, though there were no actual water lilies at this time of year. It exuded peace and tranquility. It was not difficult to imagine Monet being constantly inspired to paint his surroundings.


After visiting the house and gardens, we strolled down the main street of Giverny, taking photos of the picturesque old homes, many of which peek out through a dense layer of bright purple wisteria. There are a couple of cafés and galleries, as well as the Museum of Impressionism, where we had lunch but didn't have time to otherwise visit. At the other end of the village is the twelfth-century church and the cemetery where Monet and some of his family members are buried. And that's about the extent of the town of Giverny. It's tiny and beautiful and even with plenty of tourists it still feels like a charming and refreshing getaway from the rush of Paris.


For any parents of young children among our readers who might consider a trip to Giverny, it should be noted that it works fairly well to bring a stroller/push chair/poussette, though it can't be taken into Monet's house as there are many stairs, and there are also stairs leading to the water lily pond, so it's good to have help carrying it up and down. We alternated the stroller with our baby carrier, and Maëlys seemed to appreciate the variety of views. Also, there are nice baby changing facilities and toilets for children next to the parking lot.

At the end of our meanderings around the village, we took a fifteen-minute shuttle bus back to the neighboring town of Vernon, where we caught the train back to Paris' Gare St. Lazare. The baby enjoyed watching the countryside fly past on the 45-minute trip and was nearly asleep by the time we got home that evening. For a small village in the middle of nowhere, we found it surprisingly easy to get to Giverny via public transportation. It's not a super cheap trip, as a return train ticket from Paris is about €25 per person and the shuttle costs €5 each way. Plus entrance to Monet's gardens and house is €9.50 per person. Still, a visit at the height of springtime is well worth the money and effort; it provides a marvellous escape from city life and allows you to feel the same tranquility and beauty that inspired the paintings of Monet.

Winter travels part 1: Thanksgiving, USA.

We've travelled a fair bit this winter, but we've hardly blogged at all! Sorry to keep you waiting. This post is the first in a series!

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a big American holiday in late November, where you get together with family, eat a lot of food, and be thankful. It's basically a harvest festival.

For Talia's family, this is a big celebration, so we made a special effort to traverse the 9 time zones from Europe to Oregon. Since it's such a long trip, we spent two weeks there.

The Oregon coastline.

Marilyn, me, Maëlys, and Talia, keeping warm on the beach.

The big event, of course, was thanksgiving day. There were 21 of us in total - me, Talia, and Maëlys; Talia's three brothers and three sisters-in-law, and their children (three boys and two girls); one of Talia's cousins and her husband; another of Talia's cousins and her two children; and Talia's parents. Eight children, ranging from 4 months to 11 years, and thirteen grown-ups. What a party!

Maëlys's cousins learn how to spell her name.

Marilyn's famous dinner rolls!

Lemon meringue pie!

More pies, and a turkey.

Everyone assembled before the eating began! Not pictured: me.

Of course, for everyone except Talia's parents, it was their first time meeting Maëlys. (And she'd grown a lot since Talia's parents saw her last!) So there was lots of baby-holding and cooing.

Maëlys with Grandpa and Erik.

Maëlys with Hanna.

Maëlys with Mayela. (Note her thanksgiving-themed dress!)

Aunt Ashley reads a story to Travis, Maëlys, Sage, and Erik.

As a bonus, here's a picture of Hanna reading her parents the Scots translation of The Gruffalo, and explaining what words like "biled" and "ahint" mean.

Click to zoom in!

A lot of food was eaten, as is traditional, and it was fantastic to see everyone and have them meet Maëlys and compare baby stories. A refreshing trip to the new world!

Next up: Milan!

Two months of sweetness

Maëlys is two months old today! The first month passed in a haze of exhaustion and amazement and a pervasive what-the-heck-do-I-do-with-this-creature feeling, but the second month is where the love and confidence have started to grow in earnest.

Smiley Maëlys!

At six weeks, she intentionally smiled back at me for the first time, quelling the sneaking suspicion I had that our daughter would resemble a humorless and demanding alien for the rest of her life. Shortly thereafter, she started to become much more cuddly, burrowing her face into my neck and wrapping her arms around me when I held her. She started showing more interest in her stuffed animal toys, as well as holding a person's gaze for much longer. And this morning, she consistently giggled (cutest sound in the world!) when Rory wiggled her bottom and made a motorboat noise. It's episodes like these that make your heart overflow with love for your tiny human. And make the less fun stuff worth it.  

Our latest otter comparison.

You may be wondering what it's like to raise a baby in Paris. I might also write later about my experiences with labor and delivery and our stay at a French hospital if people are interested, but I'll save that for another post. For now, here are some interesting facets of new parenthood in Paris. For the record, I suspect it's actually quite a bit easier to have a baby in France than it is in the US (though I can't say I've tried the US version). Here are some reasons why.

• Mothers stay at the hospital for an average of three days after giving birth. This gives them time to recover and learn how to feed, change, and bathe their baby with the assistance of the nurses. They also have time to make sure the baby is healthy before being sent home. In our case, two days after she was born, Maëlys started to have trouble feeding--she had very low energy and fell asleep before she could get enough food, which was a sign of the start of jaundice. Though not uncommon in newborns and not a terribly serious problem, it still freaked me out and had me bursting into tears at the slightest provocation. Instead of being home alone by this time and having no idea what was wrong with our baby, our midwife very quickly diagnosed the problem and the nurses helped Maëlys get better.
• Along the same lines, mothers in France are entitled to a home visit from a midwife a few days after they leave the hospital. My sage-femme (literally "wise woman") came out to our home and spent over an hour with us to check on the baby and me. The follow-up of mother and baby that is built into the French medical system makes problems less likely immediately following a birth.
• There are community medical centers called PMIs (Protection Maternelle et Infantile) which offer medical care for women and children free of charge. PMIs offer the services of pediatricians, midwives, puéricultrices (nursery nurses or childcare workers), and psychologists to anyone, regardless of income. Unlike in the US, where a free medical clinic such as this would most likely only be found in poor inner-city neighborhoods and would have somewhat of a social stigma attached to its use, PMIs are used by families from all walks of life and the quality of service is generally quite high. I have visited three different centers and they all had friendly, welcoming staff and a professional yet kid-centered environment. We will be taking Maëlys to our PMI on Monday for her first vaccinations (which are free, by the way). Oh, and there are three PMIs within a 15 minute walk from our house. I think France has some things figured out.
• Mothers are prescribed la rééducation périnéale following a birth. This is a practice not widely found in the US or UK, but it's essentially physical therapy for a woman's perineum (the muscles that get very stretched and sometimes tear during childbirth). Unlike in most other countries, France actually recognizes that childbirth can lead to lasting medical difficulties for women, particularly problems like urinary incontinence. La rééducation périnéale is typically carried out by a midwife and the goal is to retrain the muscles to prevent problems later in life. I start my first of 7-10 sessions of rééducation this coming week. Although it feels like a very awkward and uncomfortable thing to do, I'd rather not have to wear Depends when I'm older, so I'm willing to give it a try. 
• I mentioned in a previous post that France gives paid maternity and paternity leave (unlike the USA). Women get 16 weeks and men get two weeks. Rory's work was flexible, so he was actually able to spend most of Maëlys' first month at home with us. This time was invaluable for us to grow into our new roles as parents, to explore our changing relationship as a couple, and to love and support each other through the sleep-deprivation, constant cluster feeding, and piercing newborn screams.  
• And finally, another great aspect of living in France is that French people love babies. Especially older French women. So if you live in or visit France and want to practice your French conversational skills, I highly recommend having a baby with you (preferably your own). Parisians who wouldn't deign to look at you before will now ooh and ahh over your baby and will chatter away with you. Also, they are largely very kind and quick to offer help if you need it. 

What a cutie!

So it's been a great two months. Challenging, testing of patience, and requiring lots of learning, but an amazing experience nonetheless. Figuring out some of the resources available to new parents and understanding the medical system here has made a big difference in our confidence levels, and despite our very imperfect French language skills, people have been helpful and accommodating. Plus, we have this super cute baby who is learning new skills every day and becoming increasingly loving, responsive, and fun to play with. I'm a happy mama. 

A month already

Our daughter Maëlys is one month old today! She is getting increasingly squishy, is starting to make cute noises that sound like “Hi!”, and is smiling more often (though not because of anything we're doing). At times, she looks pretty convincingly like a balding old man, especially when Rory does his ventriloquist act with her. And if she's particularly hungry, when she starts feeding it often sounds like Zoidberg from Futurama. Here are a few noteworthy firsts from this week.

-Maëlys laughed for the first time. It was while our friend, Anna, was playing with her, which hopefully makes up for the fact that she often cries when Anna is around.

-She received her British passport four weeks early, so now we can for certain use those (expensive, non-refundable) plane tickets we bought to go to the US for Thanksgiving. Then we'll head to Scotland for Christmas. She'll be quite the seasoned traveler.


-She learned how to drink breastmilk from a bottle. It took a few tries and lots of ear-splitting screaming before she got the hang of it, but now Rory can help with the feeding occasionally. Yay!

Check out the comparison photo of her at 4 days old with the otter.

-Bottle feeding means that Mama started pumping milk this week. Yes, breast pumping really is just as weird as you might imagine.


-Maëlys and I were the furthest apart that we have ever been. The reason for learning to bottle-feed was that on Tuesday, as one of several music teachers with the American Conservatory of Paris, I presented at a musical instrument exploration day at a Paris international school to encourage kids to play string instruments. I was only gone for four hours but it was enough to make me feel refreshed. It was nice to teach and be with my music colleagues again.


-The three of us ate dinner at a restaurant for the first time. It involved Maëlys' first ride on the Paris metro trains. She also got her first view of Notre Dame as part of the outing, but I doubt she was looking.


All in all, it's been a great first month of parenthood. Our friends and family have been super helpful and we're managing to figure out some rhythms to our new life. Rory has started going back to work now and I'm learning how to be a full-time mom (at least until teaching starts again). It's definitely challenging on a daily basis, but we love this little human that we had the amazingly good fortune to bring into the world, and we can't wait to see what the next month holds.

"Seriously guys, enough with the photo shoot already."

Le bébé est arrivé !

In case you haven't heard, the baby has arrived! Little Maëlys joined us two weeks ago today. She is approximately the same size as a small otter.

She does not appear to swim as well as an otter, though, or enjoy raw clams.

Maëlys and Talia were both healthy and happy after the birth. As is standard in France, they stayed in hospital for 3 nights after the birth. In the UK and USA, usually you leave the hospital within a day or so, and only stay longer if there's a problem. Here, they routinely keep you until the baby has begun to gain weight. Having nurses and midwives around who can answer questions or provide assistance - even in the middle of the night - is a very reassuring way to ease into parenting, especially when we're all learning new skills such as changing nappies, or breastfeeding.

All set to go home!

Once we had been cleared to go home, we loaded her into our little car seat and drove her home in an electric car.

A week ago, she was a week old.

Today, she is two weeks old.

Both my parents and Talia's parents came all the way to Paris to meet their new granddaughter, and to share with us their love, support, and advice. I can't think of a better way to transition into parenthood! They left just a few days ago, leaving us to raise this critter all on our own. Wish us luck!

Preparing for Bébé, Part 3

Welcome to this week's installment of Preparing for Bébé. For those who are keeping track, I am now on Week 39 of pregnancy, and my day-to-day living can be summed up neatly in this picture. I'm pretty sure I've said the words “bladder” and “I need to pee” (or comically in French: j'ai envie de faire pipi) more in the last couple of weeks than in the entire rest of my life. At our last appointment, our midwife described the baby's head as being “très, très bas” (very, very low) in my pelvis, which is great for birth but a tad annoying in the immediate. Nevertheless, I'm feeling upbeat and optimistic, doing lots of walking, and baking double batches of chocolate chip muffins – just in case.

So for our final baby preparation blog post, I thought I would share our experiences with economizing on space in readying our apartment for the baby.

If you live or have lived in a large metropolis like Paris, you may be familiar with the concept of tiny accommodations. I, however, was not. I was used to relatively large houses with a garage, front and back yards, and plenty of personal space. Even when I went off to university and lived in a variety of cheap student apartments, there were always distinctly separate rooms and typically more space than I needed.

Coming to Paris, however, I quickly learned that space is at a premium. We have two friends who recently celebrated their move from one apartment to another one that was five times as big. Yes, they went from a whopping 7 m² (smaller than an average US bedroom) to a spacious 35 m² (75 ft² to 376 ft²). It made me realize what a luxury it is to have lots of room.

Our current apartment is 33 m² (355 ft²) and comprises a combination kitchen – living room – dining room area, plus a bedroom with an en suite bathroom. When I was reading about what furniture we would need for a baby, I kept finding pictures of immaculate nurseries that were bigger than half of our apartment. While this was somewhat disheartening, it also felt like a relief that we would not have to spend hours “designing the perfect nursery” and buy tons of furniture to decorate it with. Instead, we have had a fun time puzzling over how to fit everything into our limited space.

Puzzle #1: The crib

For example, we knew the baby's crib would need to go towards the foot of the bed in our bedroom as there was no other space big enough for it. However, most cribs on the market have dimensions that would have blocked our access to the bathroom, which would be a disaster for me in my current state of walnut-sized bladder. After weeks of searching, we thought we had settled on a smaller foldable crib that would only partially block our toilet access, but then realized it would only work for the first six months of the baby's life before it would be outgrown and we'd need a bigger crib. Back to the drawing board.

Message Classifieds to the rescue! Fortunately, I found a parent advertising a used Bloom Alma Mini crib, a fancy pants solid wood crib that is foldable and sized for “urban living spaces” with “room-to-room mobility during nap time.” Amazingly, the dimensions were perfect to slide into the nook next to our bedroom wardrobe, thus leaving plenty of space to get to the bathroom. It has an adjustable mattress height too, so it can last at least the baby's first 12 months. Hallelujah! Plus, we got it for less than half the original price. 

Puzzle #2: The changing station

If we could barely fit a crib in our bedroom, imagine trying to fit a typical diaper changing table in there too. We racked our brains to come up with a place for one and spent hours searching for small tables online, but ultimately found nothing. The solution?

The washing machine! We have a front-loading washer squeezed into our bathroom next to the sink, which happens to be at a great height for changing a baby. Just plop a contoured changing mat on top, and voilà! Of course, it wasn't quite that simple. Changing mats basically seem to come in one size, and, you guessed it! the size is bigger than our space would allow. Out of hundreds of varieties, I found only three that would sort of fit on our washing machine and none of them looked like great products. My energy spent, I enlisted Rory to continue the search in the more remote areas of the internet. Having almost given up, he finally stumbled upon a Danish product (BabyDan) on an Irish baby safety website that fit our dimensions to a T. What a relief! It may not be the most spacious baby changing area ever, but it should suffice.

Puzzle #3: Expectations vs reality

How do we fit a rocking chair in here? Where do we keep the stroller so it's not invading the whole living room? If we get a food processor/blender, where can we possibly store it? These are the other kinds of small living space questions we've been grappling with. Before coming to Paris, I now realize I had a lot of expectations about what constitutes a home, especially a home with two tax-paying grown-ups and a baby inside it. Years of subconscious media absorption led me to believe that a rocking chair was an absolutely essential element for nursing mothers. And I would have been fairly scandalized at the idea of storing kitchen appliances in the living room. These are very silly, trivial issues, especially in light of the massive problems facing the world today, but they have shown me how rigid my ideas have become on even some of the most frivolous of topics. Thank god for eye-opening experiences like moving to a new country.

As it turns out, rocking chairs are not mandatory for nursing mothers. They're not even that common in France. We opted to fill that space in our living room instead with a foldable dining table so that we could invite friends and family over for meals (there was previously only dining space for Rory and me). The food processor fits beautifully in our bookcase next to the baby books—why shouldn't it? And the folded stroller has found a home in a corner of the living room.

Sometimes the biggest puzzle in preparing for a baby is simply learning how to let go of your expectations. Most of us have developed beliefs over many years about the right way to do things. In coming to France, I've been reminded over and over that there are many right ways to live, to raise children, to furnish a home, to be successful, to be happy, and that our limited experience as humans can't possibly give us the omniscience to know the single best way to be. So try new things. Turn off that judgy voice in your head when you see something that doesn't conform to your expectations. Because really, we all just have the same goal. In the words of Tim Gunn, we have to “Make it work!”

Preparing for Bébé, Part 2

In Part 1 of Preparing for Bébé, I mentioned some of the activities we've undertaken in the final stretch of my pregnancy. And in previous posts, I shared some of my experiences with things like health care and public transportation as a pregnant woman in France. By the way, good news on the transportation front! Once I hit about 8 months, my belly had become sufficiently large that people started regularly giving me their seat on the bus and métro. No more of the "I don't want to offend her by assuming she's pregnant if she's really not" behavior. It's been great! I really appreciate the Parisians' courtesy and generosity in this regard. The one caveat is that when people are engrossed in their phones (as most people are these days), it's much less likely they will notice my protruding tummy and I'll have to stand until a seat opens up. Such is life with technology these days.

Excusez-moi? Heavily pregnant lady would like to sit down. Anyone home?

Anyway, in today's blog, Part 2 of Preparing for Bébé, I'll look at two of the most helpful tools I've found that have allowed us to get ready for the baby. These are specific to living as an ex-pat in Paris, but provide a good contrast to the preparation process in the US or UK.

Message: like a bridge over troubled waters

The first crucial element in our quest to be well-prepared parents has been membership in Message, the large community of English-speaking parents and parents-to-be in Paris and its suburbs. I learned about Message from a blog post back in December when I was feverishly researching how to have a baby in France. Remember that my French language skills were pretty limited back then, so diving into French administrative websites for information on finding doctors, paying for health care, and registering at maternity hospitals was hugely overwhelming. Add on the early pregnancy hormones and anxiety, and I was barely keeping my head above water. When I found Message, I felt I had been saved.

Upon paying my 60 € membership fee, I received a very helpful book called The ABCs of Parenting in Paris, which explained everything from declaring one's pregnancy to government agencies to what types of butter are available in Paris grocery stores. More importantly, I was personally contacted by coordinating members of Message who answered my panicked questions and suggested I explore the online Message forums, where one can find a rabbit hole of members' questions and answers on any subject regarding the ex-pat parent's experience. It was a treasure trove of knowledge. Through these forums, I found an excellent English-speaking obstetrician, learned which hospitals not to go to, and got step-by-step instructions on submitting my pregnancy declaration to the government.

In addition to the online forums, Message offers classes led by trained volunteers on topics like birth preparation, newborn care, and breastfeeding. The classes were super helpful for Rory and me, and not just because they weren't in French (though that was a big part of it!) Another nice perk is that each Message member gets an assigned Breastfeeding Support Person who will help and advise you (for free!) with any questions or problems related to breastfeeding. Furthermore, there are Message play groups, monthly meet-ups, bring-and-buy sales, and seminars, as well as support groups for single parents, adopting parents, and more.

One of the most useful features of Message for us, however, has been its online Classifieds forum. Like Craigslist or France's version, Le Bon Coin, members can freely post their items for sale, apartments for rent, services offered, or items wanted, but you get to avoid the scams and shady characters common to Craigslist and don't have to contact people in French like on Le Bon Coin. Instead, it's just buying from one ex-pat mom or dad to another. The prices are often excellent and you can find gently used high quality (e.g. typically very expensive when new) baby gear. Plus, you get to meet friendly parents around the city who were in your shoes not too long ago and who can give helpful advice. It has been an invaluable service.

Membership in Message has already paid for itself many times over. When having a baby in a foreign country, especially when far away from family, anything that makes you feel less adrift at sea is probably worth doing.

The fact that Paris is a big enough city for a well-organized network like Message to exist, is also part of what makes living here a challenge. This city is expensive. This brings us to the second crucial element of our baby preparation: how to save money on baby stuff in a city where an apartment the size of a closet can sell for 200,000 €.

Saving money: go used and go online

Truth #1: Living in Paris is expensive. Although many ex-pats who move here work for big global corporations and can afford to live in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, we are not those ex-pats. Rory's two-year university contract and my very part-time music teaching keep us afloat and fairly comfortable, but the cost of living is just a smidge higher than we were used to in Ohio.

Truth #2: Having a baby is expensive. Holy catfish, Batman! Baby stuff is NOT cheap! 800 € for a stroller? 600 € for a crib? Well, there goes our month's rent...

With a first baby, there's often this desire to have brand new everything for one's precious bundle of joy. It has to be pristine! It has to be the best! I, too, had these feelings briefly.

But then I remembered that we most likely only have one year left in Paris, and international moving/shipping costs are enormous, so investing in brand new furniture and baby gear doesn't make sense as we may not even take it all with us when we move. That's where the Message Classifieds came in. The vast majority of our large baby-related purchases have come second-hand from Message members. Crib, stroller, swing, playmat, even dining room table and food processor were pre-loved by Message members. Had we bought everything new that we found on Message, it would have cost us in the neighborhood of 2100 €. Instead it cost us 595 €. It required patiently browsing through Classifieds posts every few days and making long trips out to the corners of Paris to pick items up, but the savings were definitely worth it.

Online shopping has been another huge money and time saver for us in Paris. Here's why.

As I was explaining to my incredulous mother the other day, there really aren't any big one-stop-shopping stores in our neck of the woods. Nothing like Target, Costco, or Walmart exists over here. You can find select places like Monoprix—a stand-alone department store that has groceries, clothes, and limited home goods, but the selection isn't very big by American standards and they're on the expensive side. So generally if I need to buy a wide variety of products, I have to go to a wide variety of stores. As I have no car, I have to walk or take the bus or subway to do my shopping. My 9-months-pregnant body can't handle too much of that these days, so that's strike one against traditional shopping.

Fill-your-car shopping trips and the stockpiling of groceries for the month aren't really done here either. In France, every few days you go to the boulangerie to buy bread, the boucherie to buy meat, the fromagerie to buy cheese, and it lasts for a few days or a week. Refrigerators and freezers are small, apartments are small, and we haven't had a pantry or closet since we lived in the US. You don't pick up 12-packs of butter at Costco because you won't have room to store it. Besides, again, I have no car, so I can't buy more than I can carry. I even gave in last month and bought what I call a Granny Shopping Cart, but I still can't bring that much stuff home at one time. Babies apparently need and consume a lot of random stuff, and heaven forbid if you should run out of diapers, or if the batteries for the baby swing die in the middle of the night. Or on a Sunday, when all of the stores here are closed. Going out shopping with a screaming baby every other day is probably not high on most parents' list of things to do, so that's strike two against traditional shopping.

Hence, online shopping.

After weeks of research on Amazon, bebe-au-naturel.com, lilinappy.fr, and dozens of other websites, after slowly reading and translating French product reviews and comparing prices in France, the US, and the UK, we ended up buying more than 300 € worth of baby-related stuff online (think wipes, baby laundry detergent, waterproof mattress pad, nasal aspirator, cloth diapering accessories, etc.) and had it shipped to our door (or to a nearby location for pick-up). It did mean dealing with unintelligible delivery-guy phone calls in French, but was otherwise an easy and straightforward way to ensure we got highly recommended products at cheaper prices. And I didn't have to kill my back and feet running around to dozens of stores throughout Paris to do it. I call that a win.

That's all for Part 2 of Preparing for Bébé. In our final installment, I'll show you how we are turning our little 33 sq. m (355 sq. ft) apartment into a baby-ready home without feeling like we're on an episode of Hoarders.

Have a splendid week, everyone!