Strikes again

France's retirement age was last set in 1983. Since then, GDP per person has increased by 45%. The increase in life expectancy is very small by comparison. The number of workers per retiree declined from 4.4 in 1983 to 3.5 in 2010, but the growth of national income was vastly more than enough to compensate for the demographic changes, including the change in life expectancy.

Once again I am in France and don't know about getting back to Geneva. There is a plan B. If I can make the border, I can train to Barcelona and make it to the airport and fly back, an expensive alternative that I didn't have last time. We expect no more volcanoes to stop flights. Meanwhile I have met only one person here who is not on the side of the strikers.

I keep hearing we can't afford it from governments. I like the ideas expressed in a Guardian editorial today written by Weisbrot.

"The situation is similar going forward: the growth in national income over the next 30 or 40 years will be much more than sufficient to pay for the increases in pension costs due to demographic changes, while still allowing future generations to enjoy considerably higher living standards than people today. It is simply a social choice as to how many years people want to live in retirement and how they want to pay for it.

"If the French want to keep the retirement age as is, there are plenty of ways to finance future pension costs without necessarily raising the retirement age. One of them, which has support among the French left (and which Sarkozy claims to support at the international level), would be a tax on financial transactions. Such a "speculation tax" could raise billions of dollars of revenue – as it currently does in the UK – while simultaneously discouraging speculative trading in financial assets and derivatives. The French unions and protesters are demanding that the government considers some of these more progressive alternatives."

Reitrement is not mandatory at 60. Full pensions do not kick in until 65.

Will Sarkozy give in. I doubt it.

He suffers from PMS (Petit Man Syndrome)

Killing time in Collioure

I had two hours to kill before the Argelès Gospel Singers' concert in Notre Dame des Anges church in Collioure. It struck me as a wonderful time to wander with my camera. This town, the anchovy capital of France with its ancient streets, château and church, its pebbly beach is so much nicer off season when there are only a few weekenders out to enjoy the last of the warm days.



The bright day despite the Tramantane that made me think if I flapped my arms, I could be blown half way home to Geneva with no worries about train strikes produced sunlight and made for wonderful colours and shadows even on the side streets.



Almost all the hotels are closed. Some restaurants are opened and stay open all year long. And there's more to buy than just pizza. One of the restaurants, Les Templiers, has walls covered with painting from the Impressionists including some famous ones, who at the time were too poor to pay for their meal and offered a painting in place of coins.



Few galleries are still open such as Joce's. She has transferred one of her paintings to an umbrella that was absolutely drop dead beautiful, but 120 Euros was much too much to pay when I know it might end up on the E bus in Geneva, a train, a store or restaurant. This is not one of her works, however.



I had stopped at the cookie shop, which will remain open on weekends until Toussaint, and then I found a spot on the bench to sit in the sunshine and read and/or people watch where the wind couldn't touch me.However, dried leaves, clattered along the cobbled dock.



As I walked through the town I had seen a bridal party walking to the church after their city hall wedding (the only one that is legal). As I sat in the sun, the couple and the photographer arrived to take a picture with the château which has existed in some form since Roman days.

About a half hour later it was time to go to the church for the concert.

Forming a syndicate

Today I met with my co-owners to form a syndicate. One women slightly younger than myself who will live in the building, a young man who will live there, a man from Nice who will it use for holidays and when he has business in Perpignan and the man who owns the garage (probably the most valuable property considering the narrow streets and the necessity to park by the river or at one of the few communal lots.

No problems at all to come to the conclusions that will benefit all.

Than the man who renovated the once huge mansion, who was in charge of getting the syndicate up and running prior to resigning as his last step in the project, brought out the champagne, the cheeses and the local chacuterie.

I like this touch. Along with the nice fluted glasses, it was a class act all the way.

He's not staying

But he was meow-ling pitifully a good part of the morning. The wind is blowing and the rain comes and goes.

I brought him in, borrowed kitty litter and cat food from my friend who has called the Cat Assistance people.

Meanwhile he is at least warm tonight and fed. Now he is asleep on my printer after being told my computer keyboard was out of bounds.

He is not staying. I won't name him. He is not staying because I don't stay here myself.
He's not staying...

Anyone want a kitten?

Seasonal fruit

I love eating things that belong to the season. And this is the first kaki fruit of the year. No matter that it makes me break out. Each bite is worth every bump.

a comment on the times

When I was a child Three Musketeer bars were sold with an add that you could share with two of your friends. I just saw an ad for the candy on the web and a friend reaches to take one from a friend who says, "Don't even think about it."

I was sickened by the people who said the TN fire department was right not to put out the fire on a man's house because he hadn't paid his $75 fee. Probably they wouldn't share their candy bar either.

What have we become?

It was a surprise

to be sitting in the notaire's office signing a purchase agreement on my new studio flat.

Six weeks ago I had gone for a walk before the heat of the day made it unbearable and happened by the real estate office near the gare. A picture of a studio within my price range (read very, very, small) was in the window.

Hmmm I thought and wandered on, but after lunch I went back. Jean-Charles, the agent showed it to me. The building had been renovated top to bottom with only the best materials. The studio itself, although tiny, was also renovated with only the best materials. I could have started cooking in the kitchen immediately.

I do know the prices in Argelès having helped anglophones look for places. No, I decided, I won't buy it.

The next morning I went back and made an offer, and in the afternoon, the seller and I signed the purchase and sales agreement. Back in Geneva, I transferred the money (raising questions from the Crèdit Agricole was I laundering money, a terrorist or a Mafiosa--the answer was no).

Thus today, I found myself seated with Jean-Charles and another young man in the notaire's office signing my name or initials on page after page after page until my hand hurt, but not too much to accept the three set of keys for the outside door, the inside door and the letter box.

Tomorrow I will sign the contract with Jean-Charles to manage the rental and care of the flat.

When I used to play Monopoly -- which I never really liked because even then money bored me -- I always tried to get the two cheapy properties as a solid base. I guess I am still doing that.

A friend commented when I told her what I'd done, "I know you hate shopping, but when you shop, you really shop!"

I am still surprised that I did this...surprised but content.



This is the living area.



I can't get a good shot of the kitchen but it is beautiful. take my word for it, the cabinets are a beautiful ruby red.



The flat is in the bottom corner and the house is kitty corner to the one owned by friends Pat, Jeff, Tony and Carol.

Squash festival

The Corsier Port fête de la courge (squash or pumpkin festival) features cotton candy (barbe de papa r papa's beard in French), merry-go-rounds, food stands, crafts, veggies and music. Kids run around in the fresh, clear autumn air, teenagers scope out their friends and dogs hope for a dropped sausage or two. I lvoe it I lvoe it I love it.



And there were a bagfuls of fresh fall vegetables made up of leeks, potatoes, squash, etc. for sale in pretty reusable bags for 28.50 CHF. If I weren't going to Argelès tomorrow and if the frigo wasn't already stuffed with food it would have been too tempting to resist.



A jazz band kept our toes tapping.



And there were stands with crafts to buy.



It was hard to chose from all the food stands, but we selected raclette on potatoes with thyroid conditions they were so big and the traditional dried meat, onions and cornichons and the not-so-Swiss Coke Zero.



Whoever was responsible for circulating with one of the trash bins took a break. The bin was near the restrooms, so it is easy to conjecture where he might have gone.

The new kitchen

For those that knew the old kitchen, this is very different. Ideally we will be able to keep it almost pristine as we build new memories of brownies, meals, brownies, conversations, brownies, reading at breakfast, brownies...



Our clear table.





A view of a nicely clear counter top. We hope to keep it stuff free.




The next to last rose from the garden is on the new counter by the sink. I had to figure out how to turn the faucet on.

Long Island Memories

When we lived in Germany the Armed Forces Radio Station told stories of people came through Grand Central Station. Here I am in the middle of the station but I doubt if I will be the subject for a radio show.





We took a boat tour of the wetlands





A general store still in operation fromthe 1800s



A good luck praying mantis was a great sign for my friend's new business. He jumped from her car and then ran to her. He did not stop for a reiki treatment

NE Memories

This is the first house I ever owned only when I lived there was only one storey.



This is soooooooooo New England that my host braked do I could take it.




He doesn't think he can jump over this gate nor does his brother who is at least five times bigger.

Three Conversations

1.
Little girl at Pont d'Avre tram station.: Stop!!!
The tram stops.
Little girl to Grandmother: I have REAL power!


2.
Dermatologist: Are those Massachusetts or Swiss bites?
Me: Swiss bites. I think it happened as I was getting into a car to go to South Station to go to New York. (He studied in Massachusetts, but I guess he didn't meet the right bugs there)
Dermatologist: I don't know that much about Massachusetts insects, but they look like -----------(I have no idea of the word he said)
Me: I have been thinking of the advantage of amputating my feet, the itching is so bad.
(He decides it is better to give me a cream, but cautions that I will still look like my lower legs have the creeping, crawling crud for another ten days.

3.
Pharmacist: Put in your debit card
(I do several times but it is blocked for not reason that makes any sense)
Me: Can you hold the package for me until tomorrow when I can get to the bank?
Pharmacist: I'll just print you out a bill.
I leave with the medicine that will keep me from cutting off my legs to stop the itching.

Roots are funny things

At my final naturalization interview I was asked about my feelings for both the US and Switzerland. In my analogy I said if I were a plant the roots nearest the plant would always be New England Yankee. However I had been transplanted to Switzerland and put down longer roots. If the original roots were cut off, the plant would die, but the new roots had gone so deep and the plant had grown so much, that the original roots were no longer able to sustain the plant.

Recently I’ve reconnected with my roots in a series of encounters with people whose faces have morphed into new faces that were sometimes recognizable, sometimes not. Their experiences have written on those faces, as on mine. Life has been kind to us, overall, but none have escaped without some pain that have made us stronger and grateful for what we have.

Sunday evening, I found myself on a stone terrace with other friends, younger friends. Had not a man poked his head into my office in October 1971 where I worked in a job that I was not qualified for and not successful at and asked if the rumour were true that I had coffee available I would not have been with this couple. That coffee cup friendship extended into the next generation and proved how one simple act can cross decades.

The sun was fading over the trees, just beginning to turn colour, but the flowers and landscaping were still visible. Clearly the end of summer was at hand. He had built a fire, not in the traditional outdoor fireplace but a huge stone circle one surrounded by a moat. Their Jack Russell was on guard duty against all frogs that hopped in and out of the moat.

Their other dog was quick to find a marshmallow on a stick that had yet to be toasted.

Time with them is always a gift. We’ve shared Indian meals, murals, cries of sleeping policemen, chateaus, olives, laughter, eagles soaring and memories on two continents. I am hopeful for more to come.

Geographically I am closer to my roots than I normally am albeit for only a short-short time. Looking at the land where I grew up, seeing people from the past, were what made me into me.

They say you can never enter a river in the same place twice, but you can enter in many places letting the water nourish your roots.




This is the land where I grew up. The house burned down. Their are only a few of the original 50 pines still standing. The two huge rocks which I turned into western badlands, Greek temples, tea party tables and more are still there.



This dog can jump three feet in the air, but does not think he can get over the gate. His much bigger brother, thinks the same thing.

Check this out

http://fourseasonsproducts.com/

For those that like
Switzerland
Puns
Nail Polish

Anatomy of a new kitchen

In the almost six years I've lived here it is has become a tradition to sit in the kitchen and plan how to improve it. Planning time is over. We have three weeks to totally do over the old and replace it with the new. I feel a bit if I'm on the old BBC Changing Rooms. Trips have been made to Ikea and other places, materials selected, and the work begun.



The old cabinets wait for the trash men. They had over 30 years of holding this family's dishes, food and a memory or two.



The bare walls look so funny stripped, but the kitchen never looked so large.



We have set up a temporary kitchen on the desk in the living room and the table in the winter garden. The WC sink in the downstairs hall is for utensils and the few dishes not made of paper. We've been quite clever with meals including brownies and a potato casserole dish. I had haystacks for the first time in my life, but it won't the last.



We try and create a tiny space of beauty among the chaos.



Our end goal is to enjoy a glass of wine on the beautiful new glass kitchen table. We won't be discussing what to with the kitchen any longer

Another Review

Murder in Caleb's Landing
D-L Nelson
Five Star, Sep 15 2010, $25.95
ISBN: 9781594148972

Thirtyish Annie Young may have been born in the States, but the contract technical writer has lived mostly in Europe with her Swiss based parents. She is a “Third-Culture Kid” not quite comfortable in Europe but totally uncomfortable in America. When her father inherits a home in Caleb's Landing, Massachusetts, the Young family leaves Geneva for New England.

In Massachusetts, Annie dad and his friends persuade her create a CD on the real founding of America. Her program is previewed at the local elementary school. Many townsfolk are irate due to her realistic portrayal of the Pilgrims and the Native Americans. In the basement of their new house, father and daughter find skeleton dressed in pre-Civil War rags and a diary written by a runaway slave; her mother’s business partner and Annie intervene to save a woman from her abusive spouse. Then there is Des.

This is a fascinating fast-paced mystery the takes off once the Yong family arrives in Massachusetts and never slows down until the finish. Annie’s problems with poorly adapting to a different society enhances the tale as her actions make her an eccentric and to some a pariah. Her diligent research provides a rounded realistic portrayal of the founding of America, but alienates many who prefer deity filters on the heritage of the country especially the state.

Harriet Klausner

Vingt ans déjà

So many French television variety shows are entitled 20 years already to commemorate the 20th anniversary of some French singer's death.

Sept. 4th is a vingt ans déjà anniversary for me, but a happy occasion. Sept. 4 1990 I arrived in Switzerland to start a new job, a new life. Half of me was utterly terrified, the other half ecstatic that I had achieved an almost life-long ambition, to live and work in Europe.

Overall it has been a wonderful 20 years.

There were ups and downs of course. My first three years of work were a nightmare, something that my new boss had warned me about. He even had me meet with people who used to work with him so I would be fully warned on how difficult he was. They told nightmarish stories. They spoke the truth. It was a sales job, not my strongest point. But I survived.

Switzerland brought me in touch with the Geneva Writers Group which led me to my masters program in creative writing at the University of Glamorgan in Wales and the learning of my craft that has earned me six novel contracts.

Switzerland brought me many new friends of many nationalities: UK, Egypt, Syria, Czech, France, Italy, India, etc.

It gave me a new passport.

We have to celebrate, my housemate said. She treated me to breakfast at the Relais St. Bernard. We ate lunch at the Burger King where I went with CB my first weekend in Switzerland to buy furniture. Tonight we are having fois gras and champagne. We've invited the Gilmore Girls to join us, and we will also celebrate finding the kitchen floor tiles.

I am so grateful for every minute of the last 20 years, already.

Last minute escape

With Kitchen Chaos about to begin (three weeks to totally redo the kitchen), my housemate and I decided to escape to the chalet for a night between tearing down the old cabinets and the arrival of Cousin W. who is going to put the new kitchen together.

We've been spending years sitting in the old kitchen, playing "where should we put the frigo, stove, dishwasher, etc." Now it is fish or cut bait. We've been scouring LeRoy Merlin, Ikea and Obi for tiles, cabinets, etc.

In Martigny we let our artistic sides play out as we went around taking pictures of the beautiful statues.

We fell in love with the Dancing Nuns. We didn't ask them if they had any kitchen suggestions.

Eye surgery on the cheap

The couple I am staying with when I go to my high school reunion generously offered me their car...when I said I wasn't driving until after my eye surgery, the husband said "I will also perform the eye surgery if time permits."

Now that's a good friend for you.

Roberta goes to the mountains

In a recent issue of Smithsonian there was an article about a survey on couples that were composed of robots and humans. The humans didn't like the constant humming and the fact that their partners could not go in the water which affected vacations and the robots were annoyed at humans' need to eat and sleep.

How silly I thought.

Then I saw my housemate's suitcase as she packed for a few days escape into the mountains.

Sitting in the middle was our very own robot.

I hope the robot will be patient as we eat fondue.