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I was walking around in what is called Centre Ville in Nantes, what I translate as “downtown.” I wasn’t heading anywhere special, just exploring, and a name caught my eye. I went to investigate and took this picture.

Apparently, this is the office of Peter Puget, a realtor in Nantes. I was tempted to go in and talk about my connection to the name, but passed. I figured that it’s pronounced very different here, more like Pew-shay than how it’s said back in Seattle, which brings up an interesting thing. Over the 16 years of Puget Sound Community School there have been countless instances in which people in other parts of the United States have, shall we say, demonstrated creative ways of pronouncing the word “Puget.” Perhaps upon our return to Seattle we should adopt the French pronunciation? Ah, maybe not.

If this post doesn’t seem terribly interesting, I apologize. I’m finding that I’m starting to think in a kind of morphed English-French language (Franglais?) so things like this catch my attention. I think it’s happening to Melinda and the girls, too. I find it both exciting and disconcerting, as it’s making my thought process a little muddled. And no, it’s not the Bordeaux…

When we moved in to our Seattle home in August of 1998 I was thrilled to discover the many trails in Ravenna Park just a few steps from our front door. I thoroughly enjoyed heading out to explore them that August, sometimes with toddler Ella on my back. I’ve been doing the same kind of exploring in Nantes this August, venturing out for long walks and using the knowledge I gain from them to piece together in my head a map of the city. No, Ella has not been on my back but she has accompanied me for some of the walks, powered by her own legs & feet.

On Wednesday night we made dinner for Christine, Bernard and Celeste and during dinner I commented how I had found a shortcut path to both the library and a useful bus stop. I asked Bernard about the trail I found and he pointed out that there was another path, even shorter from our house, I could use. This path had a little wooden footbridge over the creek. Of course I set out Thursday morning to find it, and did so easily enough. Upon arrival at the bridge, I snapped this picture. I also took a few others of the path and one of a tree covered in ivy, all eerily familiar despite me seeing them for the first time.

Back home I told Melinda about it, how excited I was to have found and learned the trails near our house. Significantly, I told her I was reminded of Ravenna Park and when we first moved to Seattle.

A reminder, comments are now on so feel free to speak up.

This afternoon I managed to capture in photo form a mermaid as she emerged from our pool. After careful investigation, I determined that her name is Celeste, she is French, and she is 10 years-old. I understand that her parents are Christine and Bernard, and that she has two older brothers and one younger sister. Their house has been in disarray lately due to a significant remodeling effort taking place (which probably explains why this mermaid was taking a dip in our pool).

Apparently, Celeste is an excellent Monopoly player, can assist American teenagers with their French and in buying cheese at the grocery store, and is a fan of the Twilight series. She has had recent run-ins with a cat and an orthodontist. My observations of her has led me to conclude that she is an exceptionally sweet mermaid, one who is always welcome in our house (and pool). I must admit, however, that in my head I sometimes want to call her Cosette instead of Celeste, despite not catching any glimpses of Jean Valjean. I will keep looking…

By the way, I am turning on the comments feature of the blog so if you want to respond to this or future posts, feel free. I’ve been hesitant to do this, wanting to keep things very simple so let’s look at this as a test.

I like people. I really like nice people. Add in kind and I’m over the top. Remember my French baker girlfriend who told me the pain au chocolat was hot and could burn my tongue? And what a smile.

Well, today I’m introducing you to my latest French hero. She didn’t necessarily save my life but she contributed to it being so much easier than it might have been. You see, a little over a week ago, after regular banking hours, I was using my brand new French credit card in an ATM, trying to make a cash deposit into our French bank account. There were so many things I was trying to do simultaneously that I forgot my card for a minute in the machine. As a safety measure, apparently, if you don’t retrieve your card in a certain amount of time the ATM gobbles it up. And that’s what happened to mine. I was quite upset with myself. We had worked hard to get these cards and they were going to make our lives easier. Now mine was gone and who knows what efforts it would take to get it back.

When the banks next opened I went in to the branch where the ATM was located and was greeted by this young woman with her warm smile. To boot, she speaks English. To boot further, she had my card in an envelope with my name on it on her desk. I could have kissed her (which may not have been that odd here in France, who knows).

Yesterday I went back to the branch on another errand and there she was. Not only did she remember me, she remembered my name. And she has such a nice way of saying Monsieur Smallman. Silly me, I didn’t get her name.

Last night Ella and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. Part of our discussion was about where we should next go on our quest for the best cheeseburger in Nantes. We settled on trying Quick for today’s lunch, clearly a fast food restaurant. Click here for a Google street view of the place we went. If you are savvy enough with your mouse, you can even walk up and down the street. To see the way we arrived (on foot), keep clicking on the right arrow for Rue Crébillon.

The expert ordered a Bacon-Cheeseburger (Melinda wasn’t with us this time). It came with two patties and a longer bun, kind of like a Hoagie roll. It had what looked like Thousand Island dressing-style “secret sauce” along with the patties, cheese and bacon. Ella liked it well enough, would eat another in the future, but said it was really nothing special. The service was excellent, however. The line moved quickly and the young woman who served us was efficient and worked with me on the communication thing.

Those of you in Seattle interested in good burgers should read this article from Crosscut, the online magazine started by David Brewster, formerly of The Weekly. Ella and I chatted about it last night and know we’ll have some catching up to do in Seattle next year..

The house we are living in is truly spectacular. If you’ve followed the blog recently you know it has an outdoor pool (Chloe was making use of this particular feature just a couple of hours ago). But it has more than that. There are 5 bedrooms, all upstairs, 4 of which we have access to, and 4 bathrooms. The living room is quite large and comes with a huge TV. Add in the dining room, kitchen and basement, and it starts to feel like a mansion, making me feel a little like Jed Clampett upon his arrival in Beverly. Hills, that is.

Today’s photo is from the “master bathroom.” I challenge you to make sense of it. To help, let me tell you that there are multiple mirrors and two sinks. And, oh, I took the picture myself by holding the camera away from my body. I decided on the tooth brushing theme to give the photo an action feel, much like those Topps sports cards in the 70’s. You know, “Tommie Agee in Action.”

That’s literally “Street of Peace, ” but you might know it better by its American counterpart, “Boardwalk.” I just a minute ago took this picture of the heated game of Monopoly taking place in our dining room right now. The action is fierce, as Ella moves past Celeste’s properties under the watchful eyes of Chloe and Laura. For those of you keeping score at home, Celeste is Christine’s daughter, a member of the family around the corner remodeling their home (Melinda’s helping install kitchen cabinets today). And Laura is our next door neighborhood, back from vacation with her parents for a few days.

Chloe, um, suggested to me that I point out that she is, um, winning, and that she, um, won last night’s game. So let it be known that I have dutifully reported her, um, suggestion. UPDATE: Chloe goes down as Celeste, age 10, wins!

Want to know what Park Place is called in French Monopoly? Avenue Des Champs-Élysées, of course!

A week or so ago I was having a Skype chat with my mom. She had the new issue of Ode Magazine, which features a two page spread about the online kindness classes I facilitate. I had no idea that the magazine was intending to print such a huge picture of me along with its article. She held it up and seeing it, I joked, “Oh, my. I’m a centerfold!”

Being the good mother that she is, my mom sent me a copy of the magazine which arrived today. Seeing it, I had a similar reaction as I did when she held it up on the screen last week, with some pride tossed in for good measure.

So I present it here as a shameless act of self-promotion, along with a link to my new website, andysmallman.com. And if you are interested in participating in one of the upcoming kindness classes, let me know through my website. To get a taste of a class, here is a summary of what a past participant had to say about her experience.

No, I hear you saying, that’s not a picture of Chloe’s back. That’s a picture of some people’s feet! Okay, okay. Allow me to explain.

We all just returned from the Nantes train station, Melinda, Ella & I having gone there to meet Chloe who spent the last week in Royan. So you see, today’s photo is a close-up of Ella and Melinda as they stood waiting for the arrival of Chloe’s train at the station. The family resemblance is remarkable.

While waiting we discovered we could actually meet the train at its assigned track. This experience took Melinda and me back to the days when you could go all the way to the gate at the airport to meet people when they arrived. We spotted Chloe as the train slowly moved past us and were able to hustle to a spot so we’d be the first people she saw as she got off.

Expect some kind of summary of Chloe’s experience in Royan to show up on her blog. I’m glad she’s back, and that Melinda and Ella have such nice feet.

Earlier this week I was having a conversation with Ella about how to cultivate opportunities in life. One suggestion I like is the “accept every offer” lesson. You learn this in improv and I think it applies to life in general, within reason. If you want to consider this idea further, check out the Presentation Zen blog, one of my favorites.

So I was waiting for the bus relay outside the library today and this man came and sat next to me. He saw I had a Michael Moore DVD in my hands and started up a conversation. We talked about Michael Moore, George Bush (both of them), Charlton Heston, schools, families and more, all in French. He even let me take this picture of us at the bus stop. We sat next to each other on the bus and after hearing my difficulty pronouncing R’s in French (I told him my Ricard story), he invited me over to his house for a pastis tonight. Considering my conversation with Ella, I accepted and just a few minutes ago returned home.

What did I get? I had a lovely 90 minute French immersion lesson with my new friend Michel, his wife, and, for the last 15 minutes or so, his wife’s daughter from her first marriage. They were so, so kind and generous. I told Melinda that I felt a bit like her father, Dwight. One of Dwight’s great gifts in life is to accept offers like this.

So this Ricard is toasted to you, Dwight!