Comment manier les standard baguette

English: How to handle a standard rod (henceforth referred to as chopsticks).
For English version, please refer to the texts below each picture.



Open the packaging and separate the chopsticks.




Hold the first chopstick as you would hold a crayon.




Put the second chopstick in between your third and fourth finger.




The second chopstick will remain still while you move only the first.



I haven't really had a chance to observe a French using a pair of chopsticks, so I can't conclude if this little lesson I saw printed on the chopsticks packaging helps.

Lessons learnt over the weekend

Boulangerie: There's always something new to learn or discover, even though you've been doing the same thing for almost 50 years.

MSN: Seeing a person's face after a very long time can suddenly make you miss that person very much.

Church: The best way to earn someone's love, is to give that person your love and not ask for any in return.

Inside a shop: It pays to be discreet when photographing, unless you know the character of the owner very well.

Weather forecast: It is accurate for only a certain period of the entire day.

I have a poorly taken photo to share

I have been deliberating for a long long time on whether to upload this photo or not. Normally, I'd have condemned my handshake photos right away, but I couldn't bring myself to delete this one.

I was just standing on the street, taking photos and reviewing them immediately as I always do, when this little girl with a skipping rope walked by. I didn't notice her initially, as I was rather focused on my camera's LCD.

In order to review my photos, I'd always tilt my camera's LCD upwards towards myself and peer closely at its details. From her point of view, she probably saw this very tall stranger, pointing his camera at her as walked by.

And that was when she suddenly paused in front of me, with a toothy grin on her face, her skipping ropes close to her chest in what she probably felt was an appropriate pose for her 'big fan' to photograph. Indeed it was. It took me a fraction of a second to realise that she was waiting for me to take her picture - it would have taken longer were she not holding that bright skipping rope in her hands. After all, my camera was obstructing my view of her.

I snapped out of my photo-reivewing mode and into my photography mode quickly (I had to switch my own mode before doing so for my camera), aimed my camera at her and snapped. Unfortunately for me, it was getting dark, due to both the overcast sky and the approaching dusk. I could tell my photo wasn't very well taken, yet I was too shy to let the little girl wait for me to shoot again, thus I waved her a thanks and a goodbye. She returned my wave with her own and another smile, and went on her way.

It was her cheerful disposition and spotaneous friendliness towards a complete stranger (with a camera?) that left a very deep impression on me.

A toast to the halfway point of our overseas attachment

As you can see, it's not all hostility between Linus and I. What am I saying, there's no hostility at all.

In that photo, we're drinking sauternes, a French dessert wine, and having some wonderful French pastry at the same time. I don't remember its name any more, but I sure do remember its taste. Absolutely marvellous stuff.

Alright, in case you're dying to know what exactly it is we're having, take a look at the photo below.







We actually had these on Linus's balcony, enjoying the gentle night breeze, staring out at the sky and our neighbouring blocks, observing who's asleep and who's not, admiring the architecture of the classy residential estate.

For that few hours, it seemed that the rest of the world was quite far away from us. That night was just us, and peace.

We started to contemplate the possibility of spending a night in Singapore doing the exact same thing. I immediately pointed out that it was quite difficult - the hot weather in Singapore, even at night, turns one off from any enjoyment, warms up the wine before you know it, and melt your dessert so quickly that you had to gobble it down.

Climate aside, there isn't anything to deter anyone from having such past times in Singapore. Though it's true that the buildings here are much more pleasant to look at, everything becomes boring once you've been looking at it for long.

Parisians are people who don't find it troublesome to bring a glass of wine, a couple of wine glasses, a piece of cheese wrapped in cloth, out to a beautiful spot to enjoy with their favourite company. Of course, beautiful night spots are abundant in Paris. No, I don't mean pubs or bars. I mean outdoors.

Like outside Musée du Louvre, for example.

Though most of my photos don't show much people around, it's only because I intentionally looked for angles where people couldn't be seen, or I waited for them to pass by. That place is actually rather lively at night.

Perhaps I'm trying to bring the French culture to Singapore. I felt that it might be nice if Singaporeans could sit back and appreciate whatever we have in our country, and make the most of it.

Maybe I'm too idealistic. That adjective has been used on me before. A good friend of mine once told me that it's quite impossible to slow down after having moved at a fast pace for so long. I think what he says is true, until you bring every single Singaporean out to countries like France, and let them realise that life can be experienced slowly.

Like what photography has taught me, you can walk very fast, and photograph a lot of different places, but then you'll miss out the individual details which combine together to give the place its beauty and unique quality.

What kind of life would you prefer to lead: To experience a little of everything, or to experience less, but to a greater depth?

Work is work, lunch is not

I usually try to keep work issues separate from personal issues, with the exception of blogging during office hours. I'm currently somewhere in between dying of boredom and having holiday mood, and therefore I simply have to blog.

I'm going to blog about my colleague, Linus, who came to Paris with me. Linus is reputedly the smallest guy in my office with regards to stature. And he has a proportionally small appetite. We usually cook our meals together because it's easier to cook for 2 rather than for 1.

But I made a mistake. Linus and I only made 1.5.

He doesn't realise I need to eat more than he does to sustain my body, nor does he remember it. Whenever we plan our meals, he'll make a suggestion first. Following which I'll say, "Yeah, that's enough for you alone."

Is it that difficult to remember I need to eat more than he does?? 3 weeks together in Paris already, and yet I have to remind him constantly. 2 pieces of bread for breakfast. The end. I ate more than that as an adolescent. That's not all - 2 more pieces of bread for lunch.

"Oh, if that's not enough for you, you can always buy pastries from any shop we pass by outisde", he says cheerfully.

Hello, I need more than just carbohydrates in my diet. Shall refrain from making evil remarks on his height in my blog.

Worst thing that happened, is that he forgot to bring a can of tuna to the office for lunch today. He's been starving me ever since we got here, and he had the nerve to say, "I'm trying to help you cut down on expenses!" And now this.

Someone stop me from cooking him for lunch.


Endnote: Lunch affairs are considered personal and thus I'm putting it down in my blog. Linus and I have been and are still on good terms, but that doesn't make me want to throttle him any less for forgetting the tuna.

Getting arty-farty

Is something that's probably inevitable after staying in Paris for a while.

This past weekend's programmes were hasily planned, but it still turned out pretty well by my standards. Saturday was spent on a day trip to Giverny. Thankfully, the weather was a bright and sunny one, though it did get too bright sometimes and caused my photos to be overexposed. But I'd rather have that than a rainy day.

I left Paris at about 8.40 am on a train, and arrived in Vernon approximately 45 minutes later, where I had to take another shuttle bus down to my final destination, Giverny. This rustic little town was home to one of the famous artist, Claude Monet, for the later part of his life.

According to internet research, Monet passed by this town on a train one day and he immediately wanted to stay here. So did my colleague, Linus, though he have a penchant for rural places smothered with brightly coloured flowers and dotted with medival-looking houses built out of stone and cement.

It was said that Monet built his house here, and landscaped his beloved garden with plants bought from all over the world. Must have been a pretty rich guy to do that. The place that we can see today, is a version that is claimed to have been restored to almost what it was when Monet was still around.

It made me wonder what the place looked like before Monet lived here, though it shouldn't be anything lousy or he wouldn't have chosen to live here.

We spent a delightful day snapping at almost every flower we came across, save for those that we've seen before. The houses themselves were like pieces of art too, further beautified by the potted plants and crawlers. The mood of spring was in the air - the fragrance from the gardens were all around us, bees hovered from flower to flower collecting nectar, dandelion seeds drifted with the winds like snow flakes descending.

Spring is a wonderful time to visit Giverny, and it attracted many visitors, most of which I noted were Japanese and Americans. There was a point in time, when Japanese drawing was becoming popular among French artists and greatly influenced the works of these people. In fact, Monet's precious garden was modelled after the Japanese gardens, with bridges, lakes and all, and it was here that he painted his famous water lilies.



The only problem with this place is that the height clearance is not what they claimed it to be.



It took me by surprise that the Japanese art could be so popular here. Maybe communication isn't much of a problem for people who express themselves often by drawing and painting.

Another artist that was also similarly influenced was Auguste Rodin. Linus had been dying to visit Musée Rodin since his friend recommended him to go, and we decided to spend the rainy Sunday there.

Rainy days are best spent indoors away from the icy cold wind and I'm glad we went there. The museum was dedicated to artworks left by Auguste Rodin and other artists who influenced his life one way or another, a bit too much art over a weekend for a guy like me.

It was intriguing, nonetheless, to find out twice over 2 days that the Japanese and French art scene can affect each other so greatly despite being almost half a globe away. Information Technology was not a development of the early 1900s and that's what made me puzzled over how these people can keep in touch so well.

I was hungry after my museum visit, so I bought a crêpe from the first road-side stand I encountered. The owner, a rather friendly and playful guy, noticed that I wanted to have my photo taken while queueing up and invited me to stand inside his stand to have my photo taken.

Initially, I was too shy to accept but after his insistence, I gave in to his offer.






My first crêpe!



The guy even offered to help Linus and I take a photo together.





Bet no one ever took a photo of this view: from inside of a crêpe stand.



All of the crêpe stand photos turned out rather smoky, because the owner was cooking my crêpe while the photos were being taken. Who cares about smoke, when I can have my photos nicely taken with a friendly crêpe stand owner, and get to eat my delicious hot crêpe right afterwards.

Who would have the time to blog?

My colleague would.

He's just lucky he had some free time on his hands today. Maybe my turn will come and I'll go back to blogging during office hours.

As with my last trip to Paris, I didn't have time on hands to do much after work. It's always grocery shopping, cooking, washing up, ironing the clothes, getting the next day's meal ready and before you know it, way past your bedtime.

Who would have the time to blog?

I would if I chose not to do all those things, or rather leave them till another day. Bring instant food and heat it up in the office pantry's microwave (this country has lots of those), or buy a meal outside.

It's not good to eat instant meals everyday. Furthermore, my own cooking tastes better. Kidding. I needed the practice. Who knows, maybe one day, I might have to cook to impress someone?

I do have the time to blog, even after all that cooking dinner and washing up earlier on. It's time consuming, but I take pride in my efficiency. My 1st trip to Paris has already trained me to be independent, and this 2nd trip is just another chance to practice what I've become.

Funny thing is, I don't miss home as much as I did the last time. I think I miss the life of not having to do any household chores. Maybe I've really grown independent. It's like suddenly realising I can do without my mum after relying on her for 2 odd decades.

It would still be nice to have my mum fuss over me though. I'll always be a child at heart, both hers and mine.

Speaking of which, I'd like to share this photo:






I took this photo at Jardin du Luxmebourg, one of the gardens in central Paris. It's just a mother duck with her - extremely adorable if I may add - ducklings.

The significance of this photo is that it is taken on Mother's Day. I can't help but be reminded of how my mum went through all kinds of trouble to bring me up. A tiresome chore, but one that she undertook willingly.

Happy (belated) Mother's Day, to my mum and the mother duckie that I caught with my camera.

History Assignment

The 8th of May is a French holiday with a historic significance - it marks the end of World War II in Europe, when the Chief-of-Staff for the German Armed Forces signed an unconditional surrender in France.

Other European nations, however, celebrate this event on the 9th of May as they were following the British time at the moment of surrender.

To the French, it was a day of the restoration of glory to their home nation, and they celebrate it with military parades around the Arc de Triomphe each year. Photos of the celebration for the year 2007 are shown below.



















The Germans, however, viewed this date as a day of defeat, until, in 1985, when the West German President declared it as a day of independence from Nazi rule.

As a visitor to this country (coming to Paris to work doesn't make me feel like a "worker" to the country) and someone born 2 generations after the war, this date may seem to be just another holiday. However, that's not what I feel.

History contains lots of lessons for us to learn. Not in the sense of all those words written in textbooks, but events in the past, where actions lead to consequences. World War II wasn't fought simply for the sake of showing off military superiority or for greed of domination - it was also a war of racism.

Hitler believed that his people (he was Austrian, but seemed to portray himself as a German more than anything else) were of a superior race, and hence the superior-should-be-ruling-the-world theory, which he spread to the rest of the nation.

In the midst of the war, he had numerous opportunities to exterminate the Jews, the race he blamed the most for the cause of poverty and whatnot. The Holocaust should have been one of the most painful lessons ever learnt, a lesson that says racism only bring about sufferings. Yet racism is still abound in a country that is celebrating its liberation from oppression 62 years down the road.

Maybe the 8th of May is just another reason for a holiday, meant for locals to relax and for tourists to enjoy a mlitary parade.

Unchanged vs changed

The morning wind at La Défence (guess what? I can type in French now) is as strong as I remembered it to be, and just as cold too. Yet there will always be the occasional passerby who dresses as though he/she takes pride in challenging the cold. Low-cut, sleeveless tops, bermudas, sandals - the kind of attire people wear in Singapore to avoid getting heat stroke.

Arriving at the train station, my senses picked up something familiar again. This time, it's the unpleasant odour of someone relieving himself at the dark corner in one of the many corridors. I wondered if anyone bothered to wash the place since the last time I came.

And as usual, I've forgotten to bring something with me to Paris, though this time it's quite an important item - my handphone charger. Still comtemplating whether to buy one here or to get my family to send it over via courier...

Some of my french colleagues have changed since the last time I came over. Most of the newcomers are quite young, rather close to my age. Almost seems like the company is trying to bring in fresh young minds.

I came over to France at a time when they're about to elect a new President. From what one of my colleagues told me, there is 1 candidate from each side of the wing. In a nutshell, the male candidate on the right wing is winning votes by a slight margin over the female from the left wing.

Allow me to sound a little intellectual as I digress to French politics.

It seems that my colleague isn't in favour of the rightist. She found him to be more extremist, less tolerant of the other races who wish to immigrate to France, and deemed that demonstrations will spring up everywhere were he to be elected President this coming Sunday, 8 pm Paris time.

At present, he does seem to be winning. I think I'd better return to my apartment early on Sunday.

Back to the topic of my office in Paris. May is a month with 3 days of holidays - the 1st, the 8th and the 27th. Therefore, many of my French colleagues took the opportunity to clear their leaves on Monday for an extended weekend.

Many including my boss and big boss. 我在“没政府”时工作的日子，真是爽！

I can't believe that...

...Blogger can recognise that I'm blogging from France and set the entire webpage to be viewed in the French language. I'm relying 100% on my memory of the webpage format (plus whatever negligible knowledge of the language I have).

I'm currently blogging in the office - an obsession discovered by froggy long long ago - and I might have to keep this short. After 13 hours of flight, with only half of the time on board spent sleeping, I'm feeling too dazed to realise that I'm in France.

Or maybe it's because I'm familiar with this place already.

The place doesn't seem to have changed much, in fact, I felt that the location where I disembarked from the plane is exactly the same as the last time I came. The airport is still undergoing renovation, the efficiency of the airport staff is still as poor (I'm pampered by changi Airport's standards), the temperature is still as low...

Spring came late this year, so I guess it's still considered late spring now. Daisies are blooming all over the place, trees fully decked in their greens. However, love is in the air all year round - just caught sight of a couple in deep embrace on our way out at the carpark.

Going to knock off soon, so I'll just have to break off from here. Hope I can blog more often than I did the last time.

Hope my boss doesn't see the previous line too.