My little French quilting store

I recognize that I don't live somewhere exotic like China or India, and that life for me in France is much easier than for those who do live in those type places. I don't have to make my own cheese or chase monkeys away from my laundry. But some days, it still isn't easy here. Well, it's not as easy as in America. In America, if I realize that my sewing machine is missing it's foot, I can go to Joanne's and buy a new foot. (Don't ask me how my machine lost a foot because I JUST DON'T KNOW.) In America, if I didn't have a Joanne's in my town...my town would be small enough to have its own homegrown quilting store and everyone would know everyone and I'd be able to find it. I recognize that in China or India, it wouldn't be that easy. Well, it's not that easy in France either.

I needed to find a foot for my machine. "Foot" is one of those words that you can't just put into the google translator and hope it gives you the correct word for the mechanical part that attaches to the machine. It's sort of like trying to look up the verb "to snake," (as in a drain). Not so easy.

Pantene suggested that we go to Eurodif, a nifty little store that has a sewing section. They did sells needles and thread and bobbins and zippers and buttons and pins. But nothing hanging on the wall looked like a sewing machine foot. Oh boy. Here goes my daily dose of humbling myself to look like the village idiot.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Hello. I'm looking for something that I don't know how to say in French. It is part of the sewing machine, is shaped like this, the needle goes through it like this, and in English we call it a 'foot.'" She stared at me for a minute like I was the village idiot until everything I'd said sunk in.

"Oh! You mean 'a deer's foot?' We don't sell those."

"Well, do you know where I could buy one?"

She (and the woman hanging out nearby us who decided to just join in the conversation) explained how to find this sewing store. "Head to the big square just off the port, climb the stairs, and turn right down the first street. You'll see it off one of the streets up there." (Reminded me of my UAE days when people would tell me to head to the "big round-a-bout" and turn at the mosque, and it's the building by the two palm trees.)

Pantene and I headed in that direction, figuring maybe we'll find it. Once we got on the first street at the top of the stairs, we walked for a block or two until we saw a seamstress' shop. It wasn't what we were looking for, but maybe she would know. We went in there, and I explained, "Hello ma'am. I'm new in town and I'm looking for a store where I can buy a deer's foot for my sewing machine. Do you know where there is one near here?" She grinned at us with a "bless their hearts" grin and gave us directions. "Head back down this street a bit, and after the Lidl, don't turn down the first little street, but the second one. You'll find it there." I noticed her antique Singer machine and my heart warmed from the connection I shared with her over it.

We followed her directions, and sure enough, there was a sewing store. They sold all sorts of stuff for sewing machines, and looked like they did their own sewing in house as well.

They sold beautiful fabrics that made my heart soar (not sore, but soar). And they repaired regular sewing machines AND antique sewing machines. But I'm getting ahead of myself. They also sold...quilting materials!!! Boards, rotary cutters, measuring sticks, hand-quilting thread, patterns and more! I was in my own little quilter's heaven.
I went to the back to ask the repairman about my sewing machine. I explained that I really didn't know most of the terms that go with a sewing machine, and he told me to sit down, we'd figure it out! So I explained, as best I could, the ways my machine was being persnickety...missing a foot and not having been used for 2.5 years can do that to a machine. He told me how to detach the whole needle arm, and to bring that in, and he'd find the right foot for my machine. (Which, by the way is a Toyota! Who knew that Toyota made anything besides cars?!) As he was talking, I noticed all the antique machines behind him in his repairman's work area. Maybe I could bring Jasmine to him?

As I went to pay for the fabric I bought, I found yet another reason to love my little French quilting store. They use an antique cash register from America!
Look at those fun buttons! And the change drawers inside are beautiful wood.

It even has the awesome little tabs that pop up with the price like something from long before the Price is Right ever came up with pricing games to showcase something cool like this.

I walked away from my little French quilting store with a happy heart. Happy that while it wasn't as easy as Joanne's, and it took asking in two other stores first, I found what I was looking for without that much difficulty. I found something in France that can help me keep being American me...in France. Another step towards adaptation. Another step towards settling down. Another step towards being content to just live life here.

Camargue Cross

Just west of where I live, there is a region called the Camargue. It is known for salt, flamingoes, and beautiful white horses. It's on my wish list of places to go in France. Once, when I was near there, I saw gorgeous crosses for sale that are the symbol of the Camargue.

The Camargue Cross has an anchor, a heart, and a cross, which represent hope, faith and love. It is so unique and beautiful to me that I bought one to hang in my house.

This week, I finally got to get the Real McCoys up to Notre Dame de la Garde (something that didn't happen the last time they were here). The big church on the hill offers a great view of the city and the sea, and is one of Marseille's main tourist attractions. As many times as I've been up there, though, I'd never seen this statue of the Camargue Cross. Isn't it just lovely? Much more lovely than the actual "church" that is up there with it.

For those of you who don't remember, I am not a big fan of Notre Dame de la Garde. I'll take a cross over a big gold statue of someone who is not God any day. Especially a cross that reminds me to make the cross my anchor and to let love stem out of it.

Mistral

As far as I can recall (and I checked), I've never blogged about the Mistral. The Mistral are crazy strong winds that hit southern France that can blow up at 100 kms per hour at times. Big, strong, hurricane gusts in tropical storm daily blowing makes for a funny day sometimes. The local tradition about the Mistral says that they blow in sets of 3, 6, or 9 days at a time. When I was here in 2009, they blew the entire month of March.

The Mistral are so strong that a gust of one once pushed me off the sidewalk into the cross walk, where I was almost hit by a car. There was one once that, if I'd not had a full grocery cart with me, might have blown me away.

Another local tradition about the Mistral says that it used to be if someone committed a crime during the Mistral, he could plea insanity, and the judge would usually let him off. They blow strong enough to make you a little nutty sometimes.

The blow strong enough that just being outside can be dangerous. Flower pots have blown off of balconies and killed people. This past summer, and awning broke less, flew through the air, and hit one of our tourists in the head, sending them to the emergency room. Mistrals are crazy, I tell you!

Well, I nearly was injured by one today...dare I be dramatic and say nearly killed by one? The Artist (who just arrived yesterday!) and I were walking along the sidewalk when we heard a really loud sound...neither of us can remember if it sounded like an explosion or a crash or what. But at that moment, huge amounts of shards of glass came falling on our heads from the sky. We dove under a covered doorway and turned our back to the street as the glass continued to fall.

Once it seemed safe to come back out, we looked around. We think the wind blew a door or window out somewhere in the building up above us...maybe a cross breeze? The glass blew as far as half a block, and into the street, where it damaged a car that was driving by. (They'd pulled over and were inspecting the roof of their car).

I was so shaken up that it took me a minute to fight back tears. The Artist and I stared at each other, making sure that we didn't have any glass shards on us. I'd see one about the size of my hand go right by my face...a half an inch difference and it would have pierced my scalp or chopped off my nose. We got hit by a bunch of the glass, but after inspection, we realized that we were okay.

Crazy Mistral. This was a video that Jelly Bean took of me at the beach during a Mistral in 2009. I could barely walk into the wind it was so strong.

International Faire

I'd seen signs advertising the "Marseille Fair" around town for weeks, but I didn't know that it was an international fair. I mean, they did call it the "Marseille Fair," so I thought it was a fair about...Marseille. I still intended to go, but I probably would have been more excited had I known it was an international fair. Because anyone who's read this blog even once or known me for about more than two minutes knows that I love me some international exhibits!!!

I think I love them because it seems like a shadow of what is to come in heaven, when peoples from all nations will be together, each unique in their own language and cultural expression, but joined as one in praise to the King. I imagine that when we're There, we'll be able to go from one culture to the next, learning, tasting, experiencing all the creativity that God put into people when He created each people group. And thus...I love these fairs, where I can meet people from Senegal, and Iran, and Armenia, and Tahiti, and Algeria. Taste their food. See their clothes. Hear their music. Touch their handiworks. All the while knowing, that one glorious Day, it'll taste even better. Look even prettier. Sound even more fascinating. Be even more interesting. And all in praise to the King.

So...I went to Italy first. (Wouldn't you?!) There were mounds and mounds of sun-dried tomatoes, and the biggest olives I've ever seen in my life! (And I've lived in several olive-growing countries!) I bought a little more than a half-pound of the sun-dried tomatoes, and I am so stinking excited to cook up something that would make Rachel Ray proud with them!

In the not-so-tasty category...we walked by this smoked pig...and yes, the man is cutting (and serving) from the pig's rear-end. We didn't taste any samples there!
I did buy some white truffle creme sauce in Italy as well. (White truffles as in the insanely expensive mushroom, not the little chocolates). Truffles are so expensive here in France that I've never even gotten to taste one, and this woman gave me a free sample of her sauce. I went week in the knees that stuff was so good! She also had a truffle basalmic vinegar that made my eyes roll back in my head, but I couldn't afford it. For those of you who don't like mushrooms, have no fear! I also bought the chocolate kind of a truffle. :) In Canada, I bought some maple cookies. In Switzerland, I bought some really good Comté cheese. (Why did I have to go to Switzerland to get a French cheese?)

There was one section that was like being in an infomercial exhibition. Every gadget you've ever seen on TV for sale at 3 in the morning was being demonstrated! Cleaning gadgets, cooking gadgets, massaging gadgets, hair removal gadgets. It was good French listening practice, and quite entertaining...but people overload. We had to exit there very quickly.

We headed over to the furniture area...and oh my. Let's just say that the French and I have very different taste in furniture.

Mob boss's wife?

After much laughter in that area, we headed over to Algeria, where we made some friends. Then on Armenia, where we watched some dancing to live music. And then, finally, headed home...as we had no money left and our introvert selves were maxed out. Below is a photo of my purchases.
It was a grrrrrrreat afternoon/evening. So if you ever come visit me in Marseille, come in September, so I can take you to the Fair.