Organist on the Versailles roof

Hear this, dear reader:

Then imagine how would it be to listen to something like that live, then hurry to hold your places at the Pipe Organ Festival in Versailles, "Versailles au son des orgues" (Versailles in the sound of pipe organs) in the churches and cathedral of Versailles Scheduling: November 24 to December 2, then December 9 and 16.

Then come back and hear that:

Let there be Christmas light!

It is official: the winter is finally here, the mayor declared. This, too, coincides with the first time of the Versailles year when I officially *won't* complain about the Versailles weather and it is not only because our omnipresent mayor lit the magic lights of Christmas all around the city.

Well, "all around the city" is just a way of saying, among other ways of saying, and you should take it as a figure of speech just because not quite everything is lit in Versailles for the Christmas season like I thought it would be (and as you might imagine). You know, with all those stories about the most glamorous city in France having the most glamorous castle ever, one should expect that the royal town officials will put on a lavish display of Christmas decorations, which will transform the city into a genuine ray of light, for the world to be reminded of the incredible former cultural radiance of this great city. Bla bla bla bla bla bla: I've spent my first winter in Versailles constantly erring around, a night owl waiting impatiently for the real thing to begin, which never did!

Shopping pong in France

There is a love-hate relationship between the French people and the concept of buying/selling goods. Because quite about everything in France must be regulated by the state, the commerce cannot escape to the rule: the Mighty State tells you when to buy and sell things (period!) and all this is reinforced by some strange laws and cultural usage.

It all dates from back in 1906 when a law dictated that all the employees should have one day of pause in their work week (to help fight a terrible high mortality rate among common workers: 45% of them had a life expectancy of less than 40yo) and, even if the state is not religious anymore, the chosen day was Sunday for everyone, obviously a Christian cultural heritage. In the long tradition of pagan festivals transformed into sober Christian celebrations, the time had come to transform a religious symbol into a secular one: the "repos dominical" (=Sunday break) rose from the ashes and became a privileged moment aimed for rest and family bonding, or so the State, well... stated!

This Sunday break concept is so ingrained in the French minds that every government attempt of changing it in the past years rose waves of indignation and protest along with the complete dismissal as a ruthless capitalist of any foreigner who ever dared to argue against it (tell me about it!).

Our Versailles Opera House is more royal than yours

Tourists are long gone at 7:30pm, trying to find refuge against the dark in one of the more or less traditional restaurants around the City Hall, when it's time for the subtle lights of the château to witness a new and different kind of movement. Waves and waves of silent pilgrims, dazzled by the greatness, flow up toward the castle like a forbidden sect going to a decisive meeting. One or two small groups stop at the golden interior gates so they can take one last look before getting in, angry with their cameras incapable of taking hold of so much beauty. "Tourists!" exclaim the others with condescendence as they're heading straight to the right side of the imposing building, barely looking at the lights.

This is The Secret Society of the Versailles Opera House Spectators and tonight they're on a mission.

Come on-a my house, I'm gonna give you candied marrons

It's never too soon to get ready for Christmas and the shops all around Versailles are already ready, teasing the consumers with Christmas decorations and food (with emphasis on food!). Even the Versailles municipality installed some Christmas lights on the streets (but not powered them yet as we try to be gentle with our planet and electricity budget) and I can already see twinkling lights in some of the shops' windows (or maybe they were already there from the last year...)

Anyway, I was asking myself what can I do to bring a little excitement in my kitchen and prepare for the upcoming holidays (the Christmas spirit and all) and while perusing my endless recipe list I found the perfect thing to do: les marrons glacés, candied chestnuts. This delicacy in particular costs an arm and a leg to buy ready-made (60+ Euros per kg, more than 1 Euro a piece, something like a macaroon, you know...) but sweet chestnuts in general are a must-have ingredient in all the French winter holidays cuisine: simply roasted or steamed as a side dish, in crème de marrons (a chestnut purée, often used to fill the traditional Christmas cake, la bûche de Noël), in dinde aux marrons (turkey with chestnuts, the traditional Christmas main course) or candied, individually wrapped, and served as it is as a much loved sweet.

I declare open the chestnuts craze of this year!

Attention, please! The recipe after the jump doesn't contain chocolate, hooray!

Survival kit against Versailles' winter

If you are, like me, unable to get used to the constant rain, grey sky and all in all sh*tty winter weather (and, mind you, this kind of weather lasts about 8 months in here, at least!), you absolutly need a plan in order not to sink into depression, especially when you are at the most difficult phase of the culture shock, the Negociation phase. As one who fortunately survived it (hey, I've applied for the French citizenship!...) I am happy to be able to give you some advice on how to overcome it with a fairly good degree of success.

 

French citizenship law n°5: Thou shalt be grateful

In France there's no holiday similar to Thanksgiving, but I am thinking of suggesting one to the French government (with the related day off, of course!) as a special day to celebrate the immigrants' appreciation toward the Universe after their tons of papers have been finally accepted by fussy civil servants.

Today I am being thankful for:
1. waiting only three hours at the prefecture's naturalizations counter (instead of four, the last time)
2. no security agent showed me how to press a button to obtain an order number
3. I've only witnessed one surreal discussion with a civil servant ("- Excuse me, madame, is this the passports counter?" "- Yes". The person goes back to her place and waits some time until her number is displayed; here comes her turn: "- Excusez-moi, I'm here to request the delivery of my first passport". Civil servant: "Oh, for this you have to go to the City Hall, they're the ones in charge with it!"...)
4. I had the chance to be called in during lunch break (when there's only one civil servant active, the two others being out), therefore the three hours of waiting instead of four from point n°1.
5. And finally, because my citizenship request application was accepted, youuuhooo!!!... I didn't get any receipt though, if they lose anything from there, I'm toast!

The War of the Worlds: Chocolate Invasion

Can you imagine having to pay a 13Eur admission fee to enter a place where people sell you things? And be happy, almost grateful about it? After a half an hour of queuing up in an area where you unwillingly smelled what some of the others sharing your fate ate for lunch?

It happened in France, A.D. 2012, at the Salon du chocolat Paris. Not only we've paid our privilege to get in, but we've almost become intimate with half of the population inside and nobody else seemed to have enough time to pay attention. In a big hangar packed with people we've had our moments of bliss and despair, but we couldn't leave the place until we've seen it all. Every. Single. Bit. of what was exhibited.