We had a fun american night this evening. We invited a few Frenchies, and I did my best to recreate a Pancake recipe without measuring cups. I did a lot of guestimating and trial and error, but we came out with some pretty good pancakes. I also managed to make buttermilk syrup without corn syrup or buttermilk. . .miraculous I know. The ladies were so impressed by my improvisation abilities. But alas, old habits die hard, and after one pancake American-style, they smeared nutella and jam on them like they were crepes. I was not offended though.
We had three great visits. One woman is 98 and is so soft and kind. Except when she slammed her fist on the table because she doesn't want to replace her washing machine - it scared me how fast a gentle grandmother can get a temper. Another person we saw today is the war veteran. We amazingly happened upon him as he climbed the little hill to his apartment, with groceries in one hand and his crutch in the other. My Spanyard escorted him while I carried the groceries. We then listened to old records and admired war metals he has collected from his own experience and others dating back to the Franco-Prussian war in 1870. Amazing. The last person we saw is a sad old man from some island country I have never heard of. He has very little short term memory and drinks a lot, which I can discern from the odor of vomit in his apartment.
That reminds me of the interesting subject of syrop. Elena asked me why everyone in France drinks syrop. Actually, the French always drink their water with a juice concentrate that is basically the equivalent of kool aid. I don't know why they dislike plain water, but it is really hard turning them down when you just want to drink straight water. Most days it is even a battle trying to turn down the beverages these people offer us.
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