MarineLand #WhaleOfATime

Today we decided to do something we don't normally do. We visited Marineland a further 100km along the coast in Antibes, past St Tropez and Cannes. We figured if it was going to be 35 degrees then  we'd want some shade and Marineland would have it, plus there wouldn't be that many people, plus Small Fry would love it. Wrong. Wrong. Right.

Marineland is one of 4 pleasure parks placed right beside each other (a water park, kids park plus adventure golf park) so it was stuffed. And for some reason there was very little shade. And it took us about 20 minutes just to walk from where our car was parked to the entrance. But Small Fry loved the shows - otters, dolphins and the mighty orcas.

It was founded in 1970 and initially started with a small oceanairum, some pools and animals. Today it's one of the biggest in the world with 1.2 million visitors a year. It's hard to know what to make of performing killer whales. They are such magnificent beasts and all the animals 'looked' content and loved and seemed to enjoy the shows and 'like' their trainers. In the orca show they did stress that there are no punishments (like witholding food) if the whales don't perform: they are free to participate or not. The state of the art water tank is the largest in the world and there are a number of pools around the tank that house the 5 whales. Of course it will never be as in the wild, but all of the whales were born in captivity and I think that does somehow make a difference, rightly or wrongly. I also noticed that in this show none of the trainers enter the water with the whales as they do in other countries, notably America. So there does seem to be some industry learning and respect for these amazing animals.

It was of course exceedingly expensive, both to get in and once in, to stay hydrated. But it was a fun day doing something we won't do again for a while and made that glass of rosé at the end of the day (well, for El Puma) all the sweeter.

We did learn though that 1.5 hours in the car is starting to push it for Small Fry...

Orca flip

Orca pose

Orca mama + baby (or as Small Fry says, a mémé)

Bump alert in the shark tunnel

The dolphins (with buggy handles in the way as Small Fry zonked out at this point)

Dolphin flip. Such happy creatures.

Le Pradet #EffectsOfTheMistral

We have escaped Paris and headed south, in order to be cooler, ironically. There is no air in Paris, the humidity is high, the dirt is suffocating, and it is very, very difficult to sleep at night. 

We have very kindly been loaned Elisabeth's house in Le Pradet, just a couple of kms inland from the Mediterranean coast, east of Toulon. The sun might be scorching, but there is plenty of shade and so.much.wind. that I feel a hundred times more comfortable than in Paris.

The wind round these parts is the mistral. It occurs each time there is an area of high pressure in the Bay of Biscay and an area of low pressure around the Gulf of Genoa. When this happens, the flow of air between the high and low pressure areas draws in a current of cold air from the north. We are currently experiencing the summer mistral, which is caused by a thermal depression over the interior of Provence, created when the land is overheated. It has brought refreshing afternoon winds and cooler evenings, although the night are still a problem as letting in the wind also lets in the mosquitoes. It has also brought an awesome hair do to Small Fry:

Local talent #CommonwealthGamesGlasgow

It's actually youtube that has been able to provide me with the best live coverage of the Commonwealth Games from Glasgow (shame on the BBC)....starring my current lodger in the 50m breaststroke.

He's through to tomorrow's final, and although we are heading off on our 2-week summer holiday, we'll be glued to the laptop from 21h30 French time.

First Stop #CoastToCoast

Our summer holidays have officially begun! We'll be going to the Mediterranean coast for 1 week, and then to the Breton coast for the second. But our first stop was 60km south of Paris in Fontainebleau for the wedding of our friends Jonny and Carine.

The beautiful bride arriving at the Mairie (town hall)

The legal ceremony

Just married!

 Small Fry also got covered in confetti and loved it.

 Then it was on to the garden party, dinner and dancing the night away. Well, Small Fry danced until 10pm and then keeled over in his buggy, and we didn't make it much past midnight. Still, it was a wonderful event.

Plus, we found a beautiful gîte to stay in via airbnb: 

Better together #JardinD'acclimatation

A group of us met up in the heat to celebrate Capucine's 2nd birthday. One of the other mums got some snaps of the kiddies and just sent them over:

Gentlemen who lunch #Playdate

Value-added #Helvetica

So maybe that's why I chose Helvetica for the PhD. Turns out that it's Apple's go-to font, so maybe it was just easy on the eye or close to my heart or something.

Spending more time together now that the crèche has closed leads to #MatchingOutfits

So happy to see the rain #CanSleepAgain

First haircut #TheCurlsRemain

Small Fry got his first hair cut today. It's just been too hot lately and it was getting harder to comb through the curls, so knots and tangles were developing and it was starting to look a bit unruly.

In a former life our concierge was a hairdresser and she did an excellent job on his hair - cutting enough to give me a momento to store away in a special box, but not too much to give me a heart attack.

He's still got plenty on top (his trademark!) but it's a bit shorter and more manageable behind. 

And he's still got his curls!

Iced medicine #KissTheConcrete

Small Fry's first homemade orange juice ice-lolly.

Well deserved after kissing the concrete and sending three teeth through his top lip (teeth still intact in gum where they belong).

He's got a lovely multi-coloured fat lip, but thankfully no more bleeding (there was a lot of blood).

Mama could have done with something a little stronger to calm the nerves but had to also settle for an orange juice ice-lolly. Still, with temperatures around 34 degrees, it felt kinda nice.

The problem was that it stayed over 30 degrees throughout the night and none of us got much sleep. 

Getting naked #ParisianCharms

It's summer in Paris. Which means it's hot, muggy, sticky, sweaty, dirty, empty (half the city seems to have already left for the beach), and apparently top-less:

Small Fry ain't complaining about the heat though. For his last day at the garderie until 1 September they brought out the paddling pool. Which meant a stripped-down, fun-filled afternoon in the water for him, and a relaxing evening with our dog-tired toddler early in bed for us.

Superhero #JustSayin'

El Puma fed Small Fry my compote. It's not a big deal, except that today it set off a chain of events that eventually brought me to tears. Despite Small Fry's moodiness this morning and wanting to be picked up, I'd packed his lunch and my lunch in separate lunchboxes, traipsed across Paris in the RER, had to call on help to lift the pushchair as the escalators weren't working, and then time it right so Small Fry got his lunch and started his nap before daddy took on babysitting duties while I went to the first day of my intensive summer Spanish course*. 

SF didn't get the memo so was still awake at 1230, but that was no longer my problem. I battled my way through the class, having not really spoken a word of Spanish in about 10 years, and even had to leave the class on time (not Spanish time) in order to let El Puma get back to his other job on time. 

And that's when I found out about the compote.

My compote, in my lunchbox. And it had been given to SF when he had his own savoury lunch to be getting on with. So no sugar boost for me. Which meant bumping SF down the stairs at the station that bit more tedious, and then I got well depressed when I saw the train pulling away just as we reached the platform. And so we got to the garderie late, which meant I had less than 2 hours to rest (ha ha), put the wash on, hang it up, do the shop and make SF's dinner. Instead, I found at the garderie that he had filled his nappy with such an enormous no.2 that it had seeped onto his trousers, which meant a change of clothes, and as I still wasn't lacking in sugar, I wasn't fast enough wiping his bottom and he stuck his whtie cuddly bedtime toy on his dirty nether regions. So, yes, the tears.

So it wasn't really about the compote. And El Puma must have known that. But he saved the day anyway:

* I'll only manage a total of 6 hours in the end as we're off on our hols before the course finishes.

14.7.14 #Mama'sDayOff

Small Fry's newest word is avion (aeroplane) after watching the 14th of July parade this morning on the telly (while simultaneously hearing the flypast).

But what Bastille Day really means for us is another sunny day in the park with papa.

On the winning team #SweetSupport

So while El Puma was out with the Don and missing that championship goal being put away in order to ensure the Don got his train in time, I stayed at home and watched the match. With exceedingly good company.

Square-eyed #RainySundayBackUp

Paris in the summer #UnderAParapluie

It's wet. That's been about the long and the short of it all week. We still get out but I get soaked and Small Fry's naps are all jiggled about and...well...we are all looking forward to the weekend.

Papa's back! #NotLikingThePresent

Blood, water and wine #WorldCupLoyalties

Our little footballer, ready for the World Cup

If you were French, would you support Germany in the World Cup? No? So why do people think I, with German nationality, would be supporting France? I was asked 4 times today alone, which surprised me, as I'm not French and never will be. So do people think I have mixed loyalties because I am married to a half-Frenchman, live in France and have a quarter-French blood child? It seems that blood is still thicker than water (and even wine), as they say. 

It will be an interesting question for Small Fry one day. After all, he does have both nationalities*.

* (which will mean he'll always be a winner ;-))

Inheritance #Mama'sIsBetter

My sisters will be the first to tell you that I prefer their clothes to mine, and tended to 'borrow' them whenever possible.

Looks like Small Fry has inherited the trait.

Why wear your own hat when mama's got one?

Our own summer music festival #OutdoorIvoryKeys

What struck me during our June travels (although I didn't blog about it because I couldn't get a good enough picture) was the delightful sound of a classical piano being played live in each of the train stations that we found ourselves - even when it was just being played by travellers and commuters, which is the idea (although there are a surprising number of excellent piano players normally hidden in the general population as we heard some real musical treats). 

I thought it was a great idea to have a piano bolted to the floor and to see people with their luggage propped against the side of it and playing merrily away. It certainly brings something to an otherwise awfully boring wait for the train (yes, gone are the days of running for it thanks to El Puma's travel paranoia and the logistics of travelling with a toddler).

I was a bit surprised though that that our local park is also in on the act, and as there was virtually no-one around, I also found the courage to finally muck about on it. It's not very high quality, which makes sense, but it was still pretty cool. Small Fry was a bit scared to touch the keys, which made me a little sad. It's impractical to bring mine over from the UK, so my new aim is to try and locate a clavinova (an electric piano with weighted keys and headphones - we do live in an appartment after all) for rent. Time to move Small Fry beyond the guitar!

Beaten up #ByAGirl

Small Fry always seems to come off worst at the garderie.

I've seen it with my own eyes: he gets his golden locks pulled (a lot) or a toy snatched out of his hand. He gets upset and then gets told off for his particularly cute method of showing he's upset - huffing and puffing while sticking out his bottom lip.

Other times, he gets the blazes scratched out of him and all I hear is 'don't worry, it's the first time but there will be many more'.

I'm a bit skeptical about the stories I'm told because I regularly see SF in action around his peers...at the English playgroup or on playdates or even the crèche at Church, and from what I can tell he a) asks for a toy first before attempting to take it b) will take getting knocked about quite a bit before retaliating c) his retaliation tends to consist of him 'hitting' his attacker, but when they are about a metre away, so it's really just an air hit.

Of course it could just be because I am there, but Small Fry is a bit of a sensitive soul and I don't really see him as the playground bully. And today I picked him up from the garderie with 2 deep scratches very close to his eye - apparently he wanted a toy, but the rather chunky Inès gave him a different kind of gift. Not much I can do about it all really, but I bet she doesn't have a scratch on her. Everyone seems to want a piece of that hair.