Snow is Falling

Winter has arrived.

Snow began to fall on Strasbourg yesterday as we ventured out to the weekly Saturday morning market with our gracious hostess, Dominique. She heads for this small market each weekend, stocking up on local fruit and veg, cheeses, meats, whilst gathering ingredients and inspiration for her weekly menu. Had we arrived in this French-German border town in the region of Alsace previous to the handing out of our One Month Awards, she would have easily won Best Chef. The last 4 days have been some of the most delectable of the trip: a master class in simple French cooking, coupled with scintillating and informative conversations with our hosts, all in the fairy-tale setting of Strasbourg: the "Capitale de Noël."

At the market, Dominique catches up with each vendor, letting them know of last weeks' successes in the kitchen thanks to their quality products, then proceeds to give us the inside scoop on who has the best of what. We purchase some treats we plan to take on the road with us the next day, because tomorrow we head for Germany. The snow begins to fall harder. Dominique heads back to their flat with her purchases tucked away in her roller-basket, but we stay back in town, wanting to soak up as much of this place as we can. Sure, we're excited for the few weeks that lie ahead in Germany, but we really don't want to leave this place yet. On top of eating well and enjoying the sights, we've had some very Saturn-inspired experiences during the last week. We just want to make sure we're not missing anything.

I refer to events, certain words of advice given to us by people here in France - I don't think it would be foolhardy to call them "sages" - about life and happiness that have resonated with us. If you would, please consider the following cases:

Exhibit A
Mr Blaiz - director of "Street Gospel" Paris, France

On Tuesday night in Paris, I accompanied Carolina (our hostess in Paris) to her weekly Gospel choir rehearsal. After a very enjoyable two hours singing and swaying in unison, we sat down with Mr. Blaiz, the director, at a Cafe for a post-rehearsal drink. The Cameroon-born Blaiz came to Paris 25 years ago with one thing on his mind: music. He teaches, he sings, he performs, he directs, but most of all, he mentors. He made the case that all people need an artistic outlet. "You either go to the psychiatrist, or you come to me." Carolina and I started referring to him as "Dr. Blaiz" after that comment. To be fair, the evidence did suggest he was having a positive impact on the lives of his students. For Carolina it is certainly true. She feels joy each week after rehearsal. Alex, her beau, told me afterward that "Carolina is always happy when she comes home."

"Artists have a place in society: when I am sick, I go to the doctor. When I am hungry, I go to the... how do you say? Cooker? When the doctor and the cooker is tired, they come to me. We, artists, must claim our place in society."

Exhibit B
Unidentified Elderly British Gentleman - Vin Stube, Strasbourg, France

On our first night in Strasbourg, we ducked in to a small cafe for a pre-dinner sampling of the local vin. There were two customers: one seemingly deranged (and heavily intoxicated) woman mumbling to herself, and one elderly gentleman sporting a serious mustache and a full head of white hair. We ordered, sat, and felt very uncomfortable, as the drunk woman had begun to focus her attention on us. We tried to keep to ourselves, but the man addressed us in English, inquiring where we were from. We gave him the short version and then listened as he told us of his younger days, his wife who was now gone, his work for tobacco companies, banks in Africa, and massive travels all over the world. It was an impressive monologue. Of course I couldn't attempt to reproduce it, but as we finally left, he gave us some advice:

"It's better to have souveniers than regrets."

Exhibit C
Returning to the Alcandres - our hosts, Strasbourg, France

I couldn't remember how my parents had known Dominique and Jean-Jacques, so as we sat around the table, eating our first meal together, we asked. My dad and Jean-Jacques had met studying in Germany at the same time back in the day. To make a long story short, it turns out that I was around back then, and that when my parents had wanted to make a sight-seeing trip to Paris, the Alcandres offered to take care of me. That was in 1981...in November. They took care of me as a baby, almost exactly 27 years ago. Ok, that seems very Saturn-returning-ish to me.

Well, what does it all mean? Not sure yet. All I know is that, for some reason, things are starting to make sense in a weird way.

Always forward... to Germany...

steph