The "Médium's" Advice

Last week I had coffee with a colleague to talk about some issues that affect our profession. We're both involved in our professional association and we're planning some promotional activities together.

But before we got into talking business, we had our own little "meet and greet" since we don't actually know each other that well. I asked him how he got into our profession and he responded with a long and interesting story--at least it was interesting for someone like me, who's in the same field.

There was, however, one thing he said that really struck me, and that perhaps might interest a wider readership:

Back many years ago, my friend was at a crossroads in his professional life and he knew he needed to make a major change. He knew someone who was, as he said in French, a "médium". Yes, it's the same in English: a medium.

As I type this, I can imagine my husband--a scientist and a confirmed atheist--rolling his eyes. And honestly, I wouldn't blame him. Oh, BTW, I am a confirmed agnostic: no one will ever succeed in convincing me that God really does or doesn't exist. You can't fabricate belief. Either you have it or you don't. I just think that, as Shakespeare had Hamlet say in the eponymous play, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

So, back to the medium...

Basically, the medium told my friend that he should ask for guidance every night before going to sleep. Simple as that. He was not telling my friend to consult the "spirits", the "long-departed" or anyone else, for that matter. He was suggesting that my friend open up his mind to his own subconscious world--actually to his own wisdom-- in order to find the answer. This idea really struck a chord with me.

Now that I'm there myself, I realize that the "mid-life crisis" is not an invention of the media or advertisers. I'm feeling it very strongly myself. It has manifested itself in many ways in my life, the most recent and frightening being my Graves disease relapse, which did a huge number on my self-esteem and indeed my relationship with reality. The Graves is under control, but the feeling that I need to make a big shift is still there.

So now, every night as I go to sleep, I'm asking for guidance. I'm not asking anyone in particular (well, sometimes I speak to my late mother...). I'm just asking to find my way. Any results? Definitely too early to tell. This will probably take a long time and results will probably be in no way related to my nightly request. Who the heck knows. I just want a change.

Pictures from Paris!

I now realize that I really didn't take enough pictures while I was in Paris, but here are a few of my favourites!

Couldn't resist this bit of graffitti:

The entrance to the apartment building where I was staying. My little studio apartment was on the top floor, above what you see here:

On every landing, there was a chair to either rest on, or rest your groceries on:

This is a photo of the staircase, taken from the very top of the building, on "my" floor. Every day, at least three to four times a day, I would walk up five flights of stairs. Each flight was 19-22 stairs. Quite the the number of stairs, but actually not too bad. The building dated from the 18th century, a time when people were about my height, so the stairs were rather low and made of beautiful wood, which is very forgiving and easy on one's back:

This is a view of the inner courtyard of my building, taken from the fourth floor. I was on the fifth floor, in a studio apartment that only had skylights for windows, much like the two skylights you see here:

I couldn't resist this photo either. The store's name is  a combination of my two sons' names. Weird.

Most of Paris was rebuilt by urban planner, Baron Haussmann, in the mid-19th century.  Very little of medieval Paris remains, but I did find these two houses, which, according to the plaque on the wall, were built in the 14th century! I found them about 10 minutes walk from my street:

Not surprisingly, there are many plaques on buildings in Paris, noting famous people who lived or died there, famous events that took place or, in this case, a terrible and fairly recent event that should never be forgotten. It reads as follows: "In memory of the little children at this pre-school who were deported from 1942 to 1944 because they were born Jewish, innocent victims of Nazi barbarity with the active complicity of the Vichy government. They were exterminated in the death camps. May they never be forgotten."

Just a little street not far from where I was staying:

The inner courtyard at the Musée Carnavalet, the museum of the history of Paris:

Pinned to the wall of a restaurant: "Friendship is making love without touching one another."

Scene from one of the bridges that crosses the Seine:

It's pretty clear why I want to go back!!

Machinations

I continue to suffer terrible withdrawal symptoms from my trip to Paris. I have trouble thinking about anything else but how to get back there as soon as possible and for as long a time as possible.

The "as soon as possible" part is probably not going to go all that well. It's a long way from home, it's a lot of money, we have to work, tra la la. However, the "as long as possible" part might possibly see the light of day.

In August of 2014, my husband will be on a one-year sabbatical from work, with 80% of his salary. He has to produce some research during that year, but he can go/stay wherever he wants. In September 2014, our younger son will be starting university (this year, he's doing a gap year that includes two months in Europe followed by more or less full-time work) and we'd like to be around during his crucial first year of university. However, by May 2015, he'll have completed his first year (successfully, we hope) while, by that time, older brother will have completed his third year. On May 3, 2015, we will be celebrating our 23rd year of wedded bliss (OK, there have been ups and downs, but the overall balance sheet is very positive) and we're thinking that a great way to celebrate would be to spend the entire month of May in Paris, the city where we honeymooned in May 1992.

Hubby will be able to work on his sabbatical project and I will be able to do the odd translation via the Internet and just hang out in my favourite place in the world, reading French books, going to French movies and generally taking a bain de français à tous les jours ("a bath of French every day"). If I'm lucky, maybe I'll even be able to sit in on some conferences with colleagues and get a feel for the freelance market in Paris, though there wouldn't be a hope in hell of my being able to actually work in Paris without jumping through hoops of fire, filling out interminable paperwork and then making a sacrifice or two to the interpretation gods.

So, now the countdown begins: only 21 months and two days...

P.S. I'll post some pictures as soon as I figure out how to download them en masse from my phone to my computer. Shouldn't be long.

Paris and "To Blog or Not to Blog"

I haven't written a blog post in ages. Well, that's not entirely true. I have written the same blog post over and over in my head. It's the one about how ridiculous this whole weight thing is. It's the one about the fact that some of us are heavier than others, but that quite possibly living in the modern world, any number of food additives (in particular hormones) that weren't in the food chain until fairly recently and most importantly dieting, have made many of us with a naturally chunky build into much larger versions of ourselves than our heredity had ever meant us to be.

That's the short and sweet version of my recurring blog post.

In the meantime, my life has gone on and surprised me more than I ever could have imagined.

I'm writing this post at the very end of an eight-day trip to Paris where I took a week-long course offered by my professional association on French language and culture. The course was, to say the least, fantastic. From classes on current language in the press and on the street, to an amazing cooking class followed by eating the delicious supper we'd made, to a guided walk around an area I never would have visited otherwise (La Défense), to attending an amazingly energetic performance of Beaumarchais's "The Marriage of Figaro" (yes, the opera is based on an 18th century French play) to an explanation of how the French trade union system works (believe me, it's complicated and very different from what we have in North America), plus many, many other topics and discussions, I had one of the best weeks of my life.

Contrary to previous visits, I found Parisians to be quite pleasant and certainly not the supercilious snobs I had met in the past. Is this due to the economic crisis? Do Parisians feel they now have to--how can I say this politely?--suck up to the tourists so they can earn their living? I'm not quite sure. All I can say is that it was an "agréable surprise". Incredibly agréable.

The food in Paris is expensive but fantastic. What surprised me most, though, was the portions. They were gigantic. I really can't remember dishes being so big the last time I was here, over twenty years ago. Most of the time, I was often full long before the plate was finished and left a lot of food uneaten. It was really interesting and very bizarre. Have I lost any weight? Knowing my body as I do, I doubt it. Despite my dodgy hip and knee, I walked a great deal, but that seems to make little difference to my weight. Anyway, we'll see when I get home.

I'm really going to miss Paris. I've often said, with a nudge and a wink, that I was French in a past life. Definitely, I am drawn to France and to Paris in particular. If I only had one more trip left to do in my life, I would come back to Paris. When I emerged from the métro station last week after taking the train into Paris from the airport, I practically cried at how beautiful this city is. I will probably not cry as I leave today, but there will be a certain heaviness in my heart. I'm desperately hoping to come back next year.

Fat Talk

An interesting take on the common and vile habit of "fat talk" in the New York Times: Fat Talk Compels but Carries a Cost. Read it here.

Discuss.

International No Diet Day

What better way to return from my blogging hiatus than to remind my readers that May 6th is International No Diet Day!

I've been frantically busy with work, in addition to experiencing a (hopefully) minor medical emergency (more on that perhaps a bit later--when I have time!).

In the meantime, I hope you're all passing a peaceful day and not obsessing about every morsel of food that passes your lips. And if you enjoy moving your body, do so! I hope that we can all--for at least one day--be at peace with our bodies, no matter what shape or size, we are!

(I had a terrific image to add to this post, but the good folks at Blogger, like all IT types, have "improved" Blogspot to the point where I couldn't add the image. Thanks (major sarcasm), Blogger!) 

Toronto Public Health DOES Get It

This is a poster I saw at a bus shelter a few days ago in downtown Toronto:

It's self-explanatory, but let's go over what it says--and perhaps even more importantly, given the hysterical, anti-obesity environment we're living in--what it doesn't say.

What we see is a public health poster on certain things we can do to prevent type 2 diabetes. It is made up of some text and three pictures. The picture on the left shows a family going for a walk. They're pretty ordinary people, not particularly slim nor fat. Just ordinary folk, not two ripped young people running through the woods, making sure their arm muscles appear to their best advantage.

The picture on the upper right shows a man of about 60. He's a little on the heavy side, again, not some super, lean and mean senior showing off his incredible physique despite his age. The gentleman is holding some fruit. He's standing in front of the fresh produce section of a grocery store.

The picture on the lower right shows a young man drinking from what is clearly a (non-plastic) water bottle. Just an ordinary guy.

The messages are simple, clear and POSITIVE: "be active - eat well - be tobacco-free". The question, "what's your small step?" simply encourages people to do their best.

This kind of inclusive public service message tells us that we can all do something to improve our health, rather than telling us that we are BAD and FAT and destined to be SICK.

Compare this poster with the fortunately short-lived Georgia campaign to stop childhood obesity:

That's a mighty positive message, isn't it (sarcasm alert)?

Contrary to the state of Georgia, I think Toronto Public Health has got it right.