Baddy

It's a good thing we went with the German last name for Tristram. I predict that to be his second language of choice. Now when he wants to be picked up, he lifts up his arms and says, "Up-picken!" Also, he really likes badgers now, since we ended up with two library books this week that have them and he saw them on Life of Mammals. He calls them "baddy." He calls hedgehos "hedjy." And he has finally, finally started calling me "mama," much to my delight.

Today we are heading into Paris as soon as Tris wakes up from his nap. I need to go to the Marche St. Pierre in Montmartre. I have once again come up against the extreme difficulty of buying anything in France. I want to line my skirt, as I've mentioned. So I went to the nearest mercerie yesterday, which was hard enough in itself. I couldn't go Sunday or Monday, because everything is closed. (Any business that is open on Saturday closes Monday to make up for it. And it's illegal to be open on Sunday without a special permit that you can only get by showing that you cater to tourists.) Every other day, nothing opens till 10. Tristram, however, goes down for a morning nap between 9 and 10, and yesterday not till 10. He sleeps for one to two hours, so yesterday he got up at noon. The nearest and cheapest mercerie closes for lunch at 12:30. The other place I could have tried is open till 1, I believe, but it takes 30-40 minutes to walk there, so when Tris got up at 11:45 wanting lunch I had no time to feed him and get anywhere before the stores shut down. They open again at 3. He got tired for his afternoon nap at 2. He got up at 4, and I popped him in a stroller and dashed over to the store.

Now, a common thing you will find in French businesses is that, if you ask for something they don't have in stock, they will deny that such a thing exists. I explained that I'd knitted a skirt and needed to line it in a dark red fabric, and they showed me their lining fabrics. I then explained that I needed a stretch lining because the skirt has no zipper. They tried to sell me a zipper. I explained that the skirt is already finished, has no zipper, and needs a stretch lining, and they told me that there is no such thing as a lining fabric that can stretch. I asked if they had anything like the sort of fabric you'd make a slip out of, and they thought I'd decided to make a lining AND a slip, and started explaining very annoyedly why that wouldn't solve the problem. Meanwhile, a steady stream of elderly French women were backing up in the (tiny) store, and everyone was getting more and more annoyed at the dumb foreigner. Oh, and I was also trying to get supplies for my next knitting project, but couldn't get clear answers--e.g., I explained that I wanted a yarn that was machine-washable and dryable because it would be for a baby, and they rolled their eyes and told me that all yarns are machine-washable. True, if you wash them in cold water with special detergent and don't put them through the dryer, but that's not what I asked for and they didn't want to hear any explanation of my request. Plus, my language skills disappear fast in situations of social pressure like that, so I bought some compromise wool and made a quick exit.

Today I'll head into the big six-floor Marche, the fabric capital of France. If they don't have what I want, then I'll come up with another plan--like a cheap white half-slip and a bottle of dye. I'll also head to the knitting store right by it and see if they can be a little more helpful. It seems that stores dedicated to one particular function are the only ones that place a value on customer service and are willing to go over questions and help you find what you want. I am mostly used to the French style of shopping by now, but once in a while it gets annoying--both for the intensive planning required to get there while they're open in the first place and for the difficulty of actually getting what you want. But it's a good excuse to head to Paris, and the Marche St. Pierre will be a lot of fun even if I come away empty-handed.