La Bise......The Kiss

To the uninitiated, a greeting in Europe can be a high-anxiety moment, fraught with danger. And no more so than in France . 

When I first started to travel around this country of contradictions, I ignorantly thought that 2 kisses on the check – with no “lip to skin” contact - was "the norm", but I was sadly misguided! Consequently  on meeting friends and acquaintances  en France my head resembles that of a confused hen darting awkwardly to and fro, backwards and forwards while waiting for a cue, from those whom I’m greeting, to stop. And when do I kiss-kiss (or should it be kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss) on the cheek, give a firm handshake or just a verbal greeting, with no accompanying body contact? 

Even Britain is no longer a safe haven from la bise when meeting and greeting! As for Australia – that’s simple, as I live in an area renowned for kissing when saying hello to friends and family. And it is definitely a single, albeit prolonged, kiss in the vicinity of the right cheek.....with the accompanying sound effects!

So if you are as confused as I am about exchanging kisses in France, you may benefit from watching the following video, L'art de la bise, and adding the web address of Combien de bises? to your iPhone.....to  which you may discretely refer in order to meet and greet with finesse instead of confusion.

Addendum: this is my 100th blog! It may be the only century I ever reach! My hat is off to those of you who have been committed to maintaining a blog for years. I hope I have the energy to follow in your footsteps. Bon weekend. 
If you are the owner of the lips image, please contact me so I can acknowledge you. Thank you.

Progress Report on My House in France

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That's it.....absolutely no progress has been made. The silence 

from Mr M (Man on the Ground in France) has been deafening!

And he has had the keys to My French Folly for over a year now.
................Tomorrow is another day!

Emerging.....

Courtsey of dk images

Just starting to emerge for my therapeutic rest in bed. Thank you for your well wishes. The aggressive little viruses are stubbornly refusing to vacate my body, but at least I am beginning to feel human again .....albeit a dizzy one with a giant headache!
I'm astounded by the prolific number of entries on your blogs since I have been out of action.....not sure if I will be able to read and comment on all of them!I hope those of you from the U.S.A. had a wonderful Thanksgiving.
A national holiday to give thanks and reflect on the positives in one's life, regardless of one's religion or cultural background, is to be applauded.                     
  
Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die: so, let us all be thankful.
Buddha 563-483 B.C.

All is quiet.......

Apologies - I'll be off line for a few days and won't be able to chat to you or leave comments on your wonderful blogs because I'm as sick as a .......

Courtesy of dogfoodchat.com

Will Santa Deliver?

Change is inevitable: the rhythmic change of the seasons; cognitive change as we gain life-experience and mature; physical change; change forced upon us from external sources, and change due to our own bad habits – change, over which we tend to delude ourselves.

As I’ve matured I’ve found the following equation to always holds true.

Lack of exercise + lack of sleep + poor food choices = muddled-headed 

                                                                                                              syndrome

 It is said,  “a problem recognised is a problem solved”. If only it were that simple. Currently I’m suffering from muddled-headed syndrome and appear to lack the wherewithal to remedy my malaise. Quite frightening for a person who you used to thrive on order and self-discipline!

My appetite has blossomed, along with my waist -line and bust size, since I reached the state of hormonal mayhem. Obviously, an issue to be discuss with my gynaecologist - which I did.  His professional diagnosis?  “It’s not your hormones that are the problem, it’s the fact that you can’t stop putting food into your mouth!” What a blow– no quick fix by a miracle of modern medicine. Ball’s back in my court.

Time for reflection.

My exercise routine……. I used to walk a few kilometres daily to and from work: a habit I developed after a wonderful sojourn in Switzerland where walking is de rigueur. A bad fracture, torn ligaments and a couple of DVTs interrupted that routine. Now I’m now finding it extremely difficult to rejuvenate this practice.

Food……. According to Fit and Firm for Women (L & D Hoy), I have a few issues with food.

1. I eat when I am sad.
2. I feel happier after eating.
3. I regularly feel full.
4. I am overweight.
5. I nibble in front of the television. (Thank goodness T.V. watching is a rare event!)
6. I eat when I’m not hungry.
7. I eat as a diversion.
8. I over-indulge.
9. I choose the wrong foods when I’m under pressure.

What a list. …..I could have my own reality T.V. show!

One of my favourite Christmas foods, which always tastes nicer when we
pick them from the canes at Lily Pilly Farm.

So to sleep……. There are no crying babies to attend to….no other demands on my time other than that of work and home duties. So what has disrupted my sleep cycle? Technology. I’m seemingly forever on the computer – for work, leisure and for my blogging “fix”.

The blue spectrum of light stimulates specific receptors in our eyes, which in turn prime wakefulness.  So the solution for getting a good night’s sleep is simple -  press the Shut Down icon on the computer…….However, for me there is a growing chasm between knowing and doing. The older I get, the harder my bad habits are to break. A very unfortunate situation.

Another downside to being at the computer incessantly - prolonged sitting trims a few years of one’s life and leads to “writer’s bottom” …….flat !

All in all, I’m feeling very displeased with myself……. and I do like to be in control.

So number 1 on my Christmas list to Santa this year?  A packet – no, make that big stocking full of self-discipline. Will Santa deliver?

I had to stop and record this Christmas display in the middle of the Australian
sun. Each to their own!

The Root of the Problem.......

When I am passed a compliment it is accepted graciously. However, when it is from a person whom I admire, my spirits seem to overreact.  Helen is one of those people. Recently Helen returned from France stating that I looked very French.  "Ah…savoir-faire at last" I thought.....but not for long!  

My husband received his best hair cut here in Provence.

A fortnight ago, despite being on a 2 week break from work , I was unavailable to the world because I had a grey halo and Marc, my colourist, was fully booked out .….for 10 days! Only Marc is allowed to colour my hair. My suffering at the hands of  “professional colourists” in trying to achieve the “sun kissed” look is similar to that caused by bad cutters, but not as prolonged. There appears to be a problem with the porosity and proteins of my locks to which a number of colourists cannot adjust. I have been temporarily (very temporarily) orangutan orange, jet black, flamingo pink and white- blonde à la Marylyn Munro…… Hours of my life wasted in the hairdresser's chair with accompanying dangerously high, cortisol levels!

Then there was the episode of having litres of milk poured on my scalp. The colourist, Paul, forgot to set the timer, so he left me dozing with chemicals in my hair until I was woken by a fierce burning sensation. I had been brewing for an additional hour while he pranced around his salon gossiping with his celebrity clients.  When Paul sighted my burnt scalp the salon suddenly resembled an ants nest with all the worker ants focused on drenching my head with milk.  I was most unimpressed, as was my scalp. It took weeks for it to heal and, “to add insult to injury” the resulting colour was indescribable!  

So to grey or not to grey seems to be my perennial question.  Going au natural - what ever that may be – is very tempting. Grey and white hair can be so elegant and flattering if one has the appropriate skin tone and texture. But for the pale, and pasty brigade, of which I am one, grey hair can be aging.

The trouble with my grey hair is that its growth is erratic. As soon as a wisp of the grey sees some daylight, it sprouts forth at a frenetic pace, with profound social implications if my colourist is unavailable! 

After "fluffing about" at home and having to cancel some social engagements during my 2 weeks of holidays, I've decided that life is too short to be in self-imposed exile waiting for an appointment to have the “roots done”. And my hair is too unpredictable to make a booking chez le coiffeur, weeks ahead…So perhaps I’ve answered my own question…... But have I got the courage?

To Blog or Not to Blog?

I need order in which to function - perhaps it is because I'm a Capricorn, or more likely due to my  INTJ personality. I love spontaneity, just not when deadlines have to be met and there are routine tasks that need completing.   Consequently I usually write my weekly blog in advance. This week my blog was focusing on the images of French photographer, Yann Arthus-Bertrand. However, when I went to comment on someone else's blog , I noticed that it too, contained the work of Arthus-Bertrand! Ahhh.... what now? 
...........Order dissipates. 
...........Schedule disrupted.
...........Solution (as you may have noticed) - upload the blog anyway!

Paris and France....... a bird's eye view

Photograph by Yann Arthus-Bertrand

Vicki Archer (French Essence, 2010) identified that elusive French character that annually draws millions of tourists  to the shores of France, when she stated that…...” in France there is a sixth sense - a French sense... French sense is simple - it is chemistry, a magical mix of the sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures... As a nation France has chemistry, as individuals the French have spark."

Renown French photographer and environmentalist, Yann Arthus-Bertrand, captures some of this intriguing French character in a series of superb images of Paris and France, which were taken from a helicopter. Click on the 2 links above to view Yann's breath-taking photographs. 

Photograph by Yann Arthus-Bertrand

Tranquility in Times of Stress

Nature can still make me catch my breath. These images are of  some of the magical places in Switzerland that I revisit mentally in times of stress.....Yes, I'm slightly stressed, so instead of reaching for food, I'm using imagery to coax my brain into releasing more endorphins! 
I can vividly recall the fresh, damp scent that filled my nostrils, the crisp breeze against my skin and my feelings of absolute serenity and awe as I first stood at these locations to record their splendour on camera.

The human spirit needs places where nature has not been rearranged by the hand of man.  ~Author Unknown
I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in Nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright.  ~Henry David Thoreau

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.  Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.  The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.  ~John Muir


How do you relieve stress, or are you the laid-back type who always goes with the flow?

Hair Behaving Badly....thank you

Thank you for your kind offers to exchange hair and also for your wonderful comments about hair behaving badly (Bad Hair Days....Months....Years) Most reassuring.  Perhaps the grass always appears greener on the other side? 

Michael Leunig

Swapping my tangled mass for very straight locks is appealing…I would be able to jump out of bed and go for a jog or whiz to the shops for an ‘emergency litre of milk' without having to first douse my frizz in water and apply product…..a real challenge in the depths of winter!

Would I switch my voluminous mop with Annie’s  (Plum Siena) very fine, very straight hair?  Surely this option must be better than having a cranial duvet, especially in the hot summer months when I am too vain to be shorn in order to keep cool?

Courtsey Google Images*

The problems of humidity, greying, "texture", hairdressers who don’t listen and actually finding a hairdresser who can cut well, appear to be universal.

As Karin (La Pouyette) observed, "whatever country, Germany, London, France... hairdressers are the same all over! Nobody seems to be concerned about the days of depression after a coiffure visit".....For me it has been years of emotional "ups and downs"  at the hands of hairdressers.

For anyone thinking about a career move, there appears  to be a professional niche waiting to be filled by psychologists specializing in “hair trauma”.


Post script: 
Please visit the comments to last week's blog, Bad Hair Days....Months....Years - very entertaining and so true.....and sometimes a touch sad (to which I can relate.)


Courtsey Google Images* - if you are the owner of this image, please notify me so you can be acknowledged.

Bad Hair Days...Months...Years

Courtsey Google Images*

I am cursed with the family’s rogue genes. My siblings are all tall and handsome, and still draw admiring comments, despite their years. I am shorter, pale (à la Cate Blanchett) with unruly curls that tended to frizz with the onset of puberty and became drier and less predictable on reaching middle age. A theatrical agent could easily cast me in the role of one of the witches in Macbeth without the need for a hairstylist.
In the era of “product”, one would think that this sort of hair could be easily tamed. But unfortunately there is a scarcity of effective frizz-reducing treatments, and then when I do locate one, I develop an allergy after 6 to 8 weeks of applying it to my unruly crown. The result: presentable hair and a bright pink face, similar in appearance to one that is sunburnt…...or to that of an alcoholic.

For years I’ve longed for hair through which my beau could sensually run his fingers and seductively toss aside as he kissed me. Instead, there is a tangled mass of protein springs bobbing about on my skull through which fingers can't penetrate.

My search for a suitable hairdresser, shampoo and conditioner has been a life-long quest.

Before "zis hair cut"

In my very early teens, at an age of great sensitivity when straight hair and no bust was de rigour, the doyen of hairdressing in Melbourne loudly exclaimed that “ zis hair haz to come orf’ and gave me a number 2……decades before it was in vogue. I can still remember the warm tears streaming down my face and my throat tightening as my curls fell to the ground. I wanted to scream “stop” but I was too intimidated to utter the meekest whisper of protest.

After "zis hair cut"

A new hairdresser was sought and a new look obtained -  chemically straightened hair……..until the air was damp! Father, (who had never accepted the change in my hair  from the soft golden locks of childhood to a hormonally-driven frizzy mop), was happier with this new hairdo and consequently compared me with sheep less frequently. 
As I grew older and wiser I decided, despite the angst my hair had caused, I didn’t want potent, nasty chemicals regularly applied to my scalp.

Another hairdresser. A natural look. A success. Unfortunately for me, but more so for him, this talented and rather flamboyant hairdresser prematurely passed away.

Enter Anthony – a sensitive and colourful soul. On our first meeting, Anthony informed me that my hair was of a type that could never look sophisticated and the only acceptable alternative, in his professional opinion, would be funky. So funky I became with varying success. Anthony had relationship issues that used to affect his hands or eyesight, and on occasions, both.  His desperate solution to his growing  problems was to move interstate, which led me to Stephan in 4er Paris. For the first time my heart actually sang after a hair cut, but I was faced with a dilemma. I couldn’t wait 12 months for another cut in Paris.

Finally fate sent me Emma – an English hairdresser (in Australia) who followed Stephan’s cut…….and improved on it! Ce n’est pas possible? A good haircut has a transforming effect on one’s self esteem. It had taken decades, but I finally felt at ease with my appearance. I have accepted that my search for a suitable leave in hair conditioner will be life long…. as will my father’s occasional references to sheep …..….obviously funky ones which are bien dans leur peaux!

Post Script.

The husband has just read the above and wants a “right of reply”. He loves my pale skin, the doona that adorns my head and my height, and rather biasedly claims that I resembled Nicole Kidman in my younger years. Yes, my husband truly loves me ….. for me!

The Artist and His Wife          Andrew Sibley

* If you are the owner of this Google Image, please contact me so you can be acknowledged. Thank you

Mon Printemps

 The sky is monotonal grey, heralding the promise of Spring rain. Will it deliver?

Spring should be refreshing – a time of hope and renewal. The rhythm of this season is reassuring ……….the fleeting displays of blossom. ………festoons of light green confetti cling securely to the bare branches of winter……….the fresh green, (occasionally tinged with yellow or pink ) of the new growth on the evergreens ……….

the blazes of yellow wattle along the roadside. ……….the angle of the sun that fills the house with golden hues and creates intricate pink sunsets. 

              And the scent-laden air carrying the perfumes and unwelcome allergens of Spring – reminders that life is never perfect.

During the last decade, the promise of Spring has given way to despair as the seasonal rains dwindled. There is a whole generation that is unaware that in Victoria, October is “the wettest month”. This is evident by the recent, uncharacteristic rise in the number of Spring brides. 

Although it has just commenced, this Spring has the hallmarks of the Springs of old. Wonderful …….except for my red nose and heavy dependence on antihistamines!

Le Printemps 
par Théophile Gautier
Regardez les branches

Comme elles sont blanches,

Il neige des fleurs.
Riant de la pluie

Le soleil essuie

les saules en pleurs.
Et le ciel reflète

Dans la violette

Ses pures couleurs...
La mouche ouvre l'aile

Et la demoiselle

Aux prunelles d'or,

Au corset de guêpe

Dépliant son crêpe,

A repris l'essor.
L'eau gaiement babille,

Le goujon frétille

Un printemps encore !

Spring is a time when I dust off my camera- I love capturing the images of Spring flowers. What do you love about Spring?

Springtime (Le Printemps) par Théophile Gautier

Look at the boughs,

How white they are,

It’s snowing flowers!

Scoffing at the rain,

The sun dries

The weepy willow.

And the sky reflects

In the violets

Its pure colors…

The fly opens its wings

And the dragonfly

With the golden pupils,

And the wasp-like corset,

Unfolding its silky wings,

Has resumed its flight.

The water happily babbles,

The tiny fish wriggles

It’s Springtime again!