Something to look forward to

A couple of weeks ago we hosted our first visitors from the U.S. (aside from my parents, who came in August, but they stayed at a hotel). These visitors happened to be Lori's best friend, Taylor, and her dad, Tim. Taylor plays competitive softball, and they were in the Netherlands for a competition. To take advantage of their time in Europe, the team planned a side excursion to Paris for two days. Lori and Greg traveled to Paris and did the touristy stuff with Tim and Taylor, and then the four of them took the train back to Lyon and spent one night with us.

This special get together was long-anticipated. Even before we left the U.S., Taylor's trip was on our calendar. It gave us all something to look forward to on the days when we were the most homesick. We kept reminding ourselves that soon, Taylor and Lori would be together again, even if just for a short time, and that made the most difficult days bearable. Even Lindsey looked forward to it. Taylor's little sister is Lindsey's best friend, and even though she couldn't make the journey, it was (almost) good enough for Lindsey to have Taylor here.

During difficult times, it's always helpful to have something to look forward to. Our time in Lyon has been 95% positive, but still there are those days when we feel blue. We miss home, and the comfort of friends that understand us well. This time with Tim and Taylor was like medicine to weary hearts. Even though our time with them was short, it was incredibly uplifting. Now we have another event to look forward to: in May, we'll be traveling back to America.

What about you? What are you looking forward to this year? Post your story in the comments.

Happy

Contrary to popular belief, people in France actually do smile. At least they do in Lyon. True, it's not wise just to walk down the street with a huge grin plastered to your face at all times, but if the occasion warrants it, a warm smile is appropriate.

After six wonderful months in Lyon, I can say that I smile when I think about my city. I am definitely HAPPY to be in this amazing place...and so are the people in the video below. Just look at their smiles!

So wherever in this amazing world you find yourself today, SMILE!

Customer service

France has a reputation for excellence in many things, but customer service is not one of them. Polly Pratt's classic book French or Foe (a veritable Bible for understanding French culture) devotes an entire chapter to French customer-non-service. One of the section titles reads "The Customer is Automatically Wrong, the Store Never Is." I actually only have one personal testimony to share regarding this. Our bakery has a special machine that collects coins as payment and also dispenses change. So, if you pay for your baguette with a 1 euro coin, you put it in the slot rather than give it to the cashier, and then the machine gives you 10 centimes change. One day, I put in a 2 euro coin, and the machine didn't accept it -- but it didn't return it to me, either. The coin just disappeared. So I told the cashier what the problem was. She glanced at the machine, rolled her eyes, and argued that I hadn't put any coins in. Needless to say, I didn't get my money back.

Just knowing that "the customer comes last" in France has produced more patience in me. I don't expect French shopkeepers to rush over to help me, so I'm pleasantly surprised when I do get good customer service. And it actually happens quite often. Perhaps the negative stereotype holds more true for Paris than Lyon.

Still, I was really caught off guard today when I was asked to participate in a customer service survey at a local grocery store. I started to beg off with my typical excuse, "Je parle juste un peu français," but then I thought, "Why not? It might be interesting." And it was! Between his limited English and my limited French, we "Franglished" our way through the survey, question by question. (Fortunately, he let me read the questions on his clipboard as he tried to translate them into English, and that helped a lot.) I was surprised to see that the questions were exactly the types of questions a store in America might use: How would you rate the cleanliness of the store? The variety of produce? The friendliness of the staff? etc. I rated my answers on a scale of 1-5 and justified my responses. He jotted down notes from my suggestions for improvement, and then he thanked me for my time. I was very pleased -- perhaps the French do understand that good customer service breeds loyalty. I know I'll be returning to this store.

Flash Fiction

When I was a kid, I wrote fiction all the time. My dad, who is a great writer, noticed the seeds of talent and encouraged me to persevere. But life gets busy, and over time I dropped the hobby.

Old dreams can be resurrected.

A few weeks ago I was reading one of my favorite blogs, and learned about a weekly "flash fiction" writing contest called the Iron Writer. It's a brilliantly simple idea: four authors have four days to write a 500 word short story utilizing four elements. Readers vote for the best story, and there aren't any "prizes" other than bragging rights. The four elements are given out on the first day of the contest and are often bizarre, challenging the writers to be extra-creative. (For example, the elements in this week's contest are: Mata Hari, a houseplant, a toilet-paper-roll hat, and a single roller skate.)

After learning about this opportunity, I couldn't get it out of my head. It sounded like fun, but scary too -- kind of like sky diving. So, holding my breath, I emailed in a request to join. I'm taking the challenge on February 13. Making this announcement publicly on my blog will force me to follow through and not chicken out!

Hopefully, entering this contest will be a rewarding and fun experience. I don't really care if I win, but I don't want to come in last place either...so if the story sucks, would you guys still vote for me anyway?

Soldes!

The malls are jam-packed, the streets are filled with greedy shoppers...'tis the season for sales in France! I recently learned that stores in France are only allowed by the government to put their merchandise on sale at certain times of the year. (French government regulates retail establishments in many ways, even restricting days and times of operation). The winter sales, or "soldes" in French, start in early January and continue for 5 weeks. Most of merchandise is deeply discounted during the soldes, usually about 40-60% off, and even more for clothing stores that are discontinuing seasonal attire. That's good news for expats like me who have been reeling from sticker shock ever since arriving in this country.

I'm not much of a shopper, but I can't resist a great deal. So I've ventured out recently to browse what the stores have to offer. Yesterday I went into a sporting goods store and picked up a great running jacket for only 10 euros! Score! Mostly, though, I just wander through my neighborhood, peeking into the classy boutiques that line our street. The French have a special expression for "window-shopping": faire du lèche-vitrines, which literally means "window-licking." And no wonder: the storekeepers take pride in creating breathtaking window displays to lure in the customers, such as the one below -- a color wheel made out of shoes. I've spent long, lingering minutes in front of windows showcasing everything from electronics to furniture to jewelry to kitchen gadgets. The best part of window shopping? No buyer's remorse!

Strolling through the park

This week, while America froze, we enjoyed marvelous weather here in France. I felt very fortunate to be able to spend most of yesterday outdoors on my monthly "personal retreat day." Not surprisingly, I found myself drawn to my favorite part of Lyon, the enormous Parc de la Tête d'Or. Usually I go to the park for exercise, either jogging or power walking the 2.4 mile perimeter path. Yesterday, though, I just strolled through the interior of the park at a leisurely pace.

The park is wedge-shaped, like a slice of pizza. Running down the middle of the park is a small lake, home to swans, ducks, and other water birds. In the summertime you can rent canoes and paddle boats. To the right of the lake is a huge grassy field where kids play soccer or fly kites in good weather. Bike and pedestrian paths meander throughout the park, and can take you to various destinations within its borders. There are multiple playgrounds, a miniature rail train, greenhouses, rose gardens, putt-putt golf, a velodrome (biking stadium), and my favorite part -- the free zoo.

Usually the zoo is crowded, but yesterday morning there were just a few moms with small children in tow. I wandered from cage to cage, unhurried. I had no agenda. Nowhere that I needed to be, nothing that demanded my attention. So I cheerfully entered the fantasy-like world of the zoo, entranced; a child once again. I was mesmerized by the monkeys swinging on their ropes, hypnotized by the panther's intense stare, giddy from the playful antics of the mongooses (mongeese?). I lingered alongside a small pond, watching the ducks and their noisy neighbors, the flamingos. I noticed the "pecking order" amongst the different species of ducks. Mallards were the chief bullies: they honked and flapped their wings, pushing aside a smaller breed with lavender-grey bills and feet.

Taking time to slow down, to notice, to see, REALLY see, with fresh eyes -- it was a gift. And I realized, as I strolled back home, that it's a gift that's always available. It doesn't take a special retreat day to enjoy God's little wonders, His everyday gifts to us. They are always there, but it takes intentionality to appreciate them.

That is what I desire to do this year. To wake up to the beauty around me. To enjoy each precious moment, not to always rush, rush, rush from this moment to the next. Will you join me?

Courtyard jugglers and other strange sights

New Year's Day was a beautiful day in Lyon. But even on a warm sunny day, in wintertime the light hugs the horizon, and you need to get away from the city buildings to feel the rays on your skin. I took the opportunity to go for a run along the quai and then into the Parc de la Tête d'Or. Whenever I run, I distract myself from the agony by people-watching. There's always something interesting to see in a city -- whether it's women taking a walk along the quai in stiletto high heels (how do they DO that??) or a political demonstration (a friend once quipped that the "grève" is the national sport of France) or a fender-bender followed by a screaming match (good thing that guns are illegal here). Yesterday I saw the biggest dog I've ever seen in my life. It looked like a black bear on a leash.

After returning home from my run, I opened our kitchen window to let in the last remaining rays of sunshine.  Hearing voices, I looked out onto the courtyard below to see a man and woman juggling bowling pins. They weren't very good, but they were having a great time, laughing at their mistakes and occasionally pausing for a quick kiss. I smiled and thought about some of the other very strange sights I've witnessed during our 5 1/2 months in Lyon. Here are just a few:

• A guy in a tutu and makeup running along the river, getting photographed by his friends who were laughing hysterically. Obviously a lost bet of some sort.
• Three guys dressed in "onesies" during the Fête des lumières.
• A New-Orleans style jazz band, slowly making their way down our street (they were great!)
• A van with a large menorah on top of it, blaring Hanukkah music through loudspeakers.
• A man nonchalantly carrying a suit of armor down our street. Some things just make you go, "huh?"
• A van on fire in the middle of the road (the firemen came quickly to put it out).
• Speaking of fire, the last time Greg and I went out for a date we saw a fire-breather, apparently just practicing, in the middle of the sidewalk. We crossed the road.

Another time, I heard a really strange rumbling/scraping noise out on the street below our apartment and just had to see what was going on. I looked out the window and saw at least 100 people roller-blading. It was 10 p.m. 

Back to "grèves" -- we've seen several demonstrations during our time here. Some were for serious political and social reasons, such as the gay marriage law, but others were a bit more interesting. A new equestrian tax brought out several horse owners, with their horses -- and the subsequent horse poop -- into the large city square. Greg witnessed a tiny anti-foie-gras grève with three or four people dressed as waiters. And we recently heard about a grève in Marseilles where the bus drivers went on strike because their new uniform pants were too tight.

Yep, living in a city has opened our eyes to new experiences. I can't wait for the next strange sight!

Bonne Annee

January -- janvier in French -- the month named after Janus, the Roman god with two faces: one looks back, and the other looks ahead. Our first New Year's Eve in France was celebrated quietly. Lindsey had a sleepover party at a friend's house. Lori, Greg and I gorged on raclette and watched the 80's movie "The Breakfast Club" for nostalgia's sake (to our great surprise, our millenium-era teenager loved it!) Afterwards, Lori went out with a friend to ring in the New Year, and Greg ventured out just after midnight to make sure she got home safely. (The best thing about New Year's Eve in a city -- no driving!) From my balcony, I watched the drunken revelry below. Joyful shouts of "Bonne Annee!" echoed down the street as the clock struck midnight.

I woke up this morning thinking about two-faced Janus. I thought back over the past year. 2013 was a year filled with more change than anyone could reasonably expect to endure. Yet we survived, and I can even say that at times we thrived. Our move to Lyon was an incredible adventure, filled with God's blessings. But there were losses. Sadnesses. Tears. Goodbyes. Some of these were permanent goodbyes, at least until heaven. As I look back, I see the way that God took the seemingly unrelated threads of blessings, joys, sorrows, and heartbreak, and He wove them together in a beautiful tapestry, as only He can do. He continues to weave that story.

By nature I'm a planner, a goal-setter, a control freak. New Year's Resolutions used to be a high for me. But more and more, I'm trying to let God direct my story. He's a far superior author. I wonder what will be added to the story in 2014.