France, Food, Scooters and More

DO YOU NEED A SHOT OF BLUES AND SOUL?

LATEST USA IMMIGRATION NEWS

I've said it before. My liberal friends think that I'm way too politically conservative and my conservative friends think that I'm a wild-eyed progressive. I must be doing something right.

The latest bone of contention involves immigration. The US Supreme Court has allowed implementation of Trump's plan to require that all prospective immigrants demonstrate that they will not need certain forms of public assistance after entry. For something like 30 years, American immigration rules have forbidden recent immigrants from receiving cash payments. The new rules would include such benefits as SNAP, formerly Food Stamps.

I'm conflicted.

Americans can visit France for up to 90 days without a visa. If we want to stay longer, or want to stay more than 180 days in any one year, we have to apply for a long-stay visa. That application includes proof of medical insurance throughout the stay and the demonstration of sufficient financial resources so as not to become a burden to the French state. Folks like us who intended to become permanent residents had to renew our paperwork annually, providing similar proofs each year.

At the time that we began the process in 2014, we thought nothing of it. It's what the French demanded. We had sufficient income and savings to pass the tests. So, while it was an expensive pain in the ass, we trooped to Beziers every year for five years, presented our paperwork, paid what seemed to us to be an exorbitant amount of money, and so were allowed to stay in France for another year. After five years, perhaps in recognition of nothing more than the persistence of having gone through the process, we were granted a full ten years of residency before our next renewal.

Should we have been upset? I didn't think so and I don't think so. Although the right of free movement exists between the 26 countries that make up the Schengen Area of Europe where passport controls at borders have basically been abolished, the French still think of themselves as special and that living in France is a privilege. There's even a test that you have to take during your interview in order to obtain that multi-year residency card that includes knowledge of the language and understanding of the culture, not dissimilar to the test that you have to take to become an American citizen. The difference is that, having passed the test, you don't become a citizen of France. You just get to live there.

So why should it be any different if you want to live in the USofA? Well, I'll tell you why. The French don't have a statue in the harbor of their major port of entry that has a poem tacked to its pedestal that reads: Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Do you suppose that when Emma Lazarus wrote that poem, she expected that the huddled, wretched refuse would arrive with medical insurance prearranged? Of course not.

The United Sates was founded on the proposition that taking in refugees from around the world and giving them a chance to add their talents to our American experiment strengthened us. In practice, that concept sometimes meant that those refugees had to travel a rocky road. Irish, Chinese, Jews, and others often learned that the words of Lazarus' poem were more welcoming than the immigrants who preceded them. Because after all, we are all immigrants, all except those who were in North America before the Europeans arrived and those brought to America's shores by force. Their stories are different, of course. Darker.

My point is that the new rules are not in and of themselves egregious in the modern world. It can be argued that the new regulations are merely sensible precautions. But if they are going to be implemented, it will mean that Americans have decided to change who we are, what we want our country to represent. Having held the door open for the better part of four centuries, admittedly with certain caveats, we have to be comfortable with putting up new barriers to admittance to the American dream.

It's a simple question. Are you OK with changing what America means to itself and to the rest of the world? Because the new regulations don't take us back to some previous, idyllic America. They don't make us great again. Rather, they create a new, smug and self-satisfied America. (Kinda like France!) And that's an America that I don't find particularly appealing.

CHICKEN TIMES BEZIERS: QUICK TAKE

Cathey makes dynamite fried chicken. Dynamite. Once a year. If I insist. Too messy, she says. Makes the kitchen all greasy, she says. Then, today, next to the podiatrist's office, I see a sign.

Fried Chicken.

You're kidding, right?

Wrong.

Real fried chicken. Not Cathey's fried chicken. No, not top tier. But real fried chicken. And better than the local KFC. I tried KFC in Narbonne once. I was desperate. I'll never go back. But I'll go back to Chicken Times in Beziers.

Crispy on the outside, hot on the inside, with just enough grease to let you know that these wing pieces were definitely not oven baked. Real fried chicken. In Beziers. With decent, if pre-cut and frozen, frites.

And Cathey said that her burger was flame broiled.

Real fried chicken. 3 Boulevard Maréchal Leclerc. Cathey visits the podiatrist for a checkup in four months. I can't wait.

SAN SEBASTIAN/DONOSTIA, SPAIN: A FOODIE VACATION (TRIGGER WARNING: FOOD PORN)

The desire to travel in Europe during our active retirement years partly drove our decision to live here in the south of France. Mystery Vacations are a novel way that we have devised to fulfill that desire. Each year, I choose a place to go, make all of the arrangements, and only tell Cathey what the weather will be like at our destination and the type of attire that might be appropriate. Amazingly, she trusts me.

Last year. we spent a long weekend attending the International White Truffle Festival in Alba, Italy. This year, we dove into the distinctive culinary delights of San Sebastian/Donostia, Spain. Given Cathey's pleased expressions, I guess that the planning and execution of the two trips were worth the effort.

Below find a few pics and some commentary concerning our four days and three nights on the Spanish Coast. If I were to pick favorites, I would recommend Hidalgo 56 in Donostia for a pinxtos luncheon and Gandarias in San Sebastian's Old Town for supper. But there's so much good food in those towns, it's hard to pick a loser. And everyone that's been there has their own favorites. Here's a tip. Go early for lunch to avoid crowds at the best pinxtos bars. And you had better believe that dinner restaurants require reservations.

Donostia taken from the San Seabastian side...

View form the balcony of our rental in Donostia...

Cathey's Pinxtos from Hidalgo 56. Just walk down the bar - see below - and pick what looks tasty. Well, they ALL look tasty.

My choices at Hidalgo 56.

The secret is to go early, as they are setting up for lunch. We arrived at one popular place at 1pm and there wasn't a seat to be had, inside or out. But at 11:30...

The anchovies at Gandarias were divine as was the spider crab salad, the roast suckling pig, the lamb, and the tart below..

Cathey's perfectly constructed salad.

Roast piglet complete with cracklin', fork tender.

Lamb sliced thin and seared hot and fast.

Unbelievable chocolate tart...

Separatists marching in sympathy to the Catalans.They beat their pots and pans, blew their whistles, and, for a brief moment, blocked traffic...and our taxi. But the full-gear riot police talked and persuaded instead of being hostile. All good.

The fare at Bodega Donostiarra was more like tapas than pinxtos.

What follows is the fare at two white tablecloth, sparkling silver and crystal restaurants. The food was fresh, respected, and interestingly prepared. The two restaurants were Ikaitz Restaurant in Donostia and Astelena 1997 in Old Town.

Ikaitz Restaurant anchovies with interesting dots of sauces to swab.

Tower of slices of duck breast with roasted leeks

I think that the fish was hake.

Fish soup that Cathey says was closer to bouillabaisse than the shellfish-broth based soup that we get in the south.

Menu said Black Pudding. I asked if that was boudin. The waitress acted surprised, I think because she may not have expected an American to use that term.

STUPID STUFF IS BACK, SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2019: BEETLES, STONERS, GRETA, AND STATUES

Beetle Painted on a Bus. That's all. Just that.

Shakespeare, Dumas, Steven King, Quentin Tarantino, and George Carlin are just a few famous wordsmiths who smithed words while stoned on cannabis. And here I am with just a glass of rosé in my hand. No wonder only three people are reading this.

Greta Thunberg is both smarter and wiser than Donald Trump. That's all. Just that.

John Dillinger's niece thinks that someone else is buried in the grave marked with his name. She says that the FBI shot the wrong guy. The FBI tweeted a denial of the allegation. Tell the truth. Did you ever think that you could read that last sentence and take it seriously? The FBI tweeted a denial of the allegations?

Officials on Easter Island are contemplating ways to discourage visitors from taking pictures of themselves picking the noses of the giant statues. That's all. Just that.

I read trashy novels to pass the time. Another trashy novel, another head-scratching scene. The American good guys seeking an ancient treasure are being driven around the UK by a native Brit, who asks if they want to see a soccer game. OK, you Brits in the audience. When was the last time that you called a football match a soccer game? And that author received money from me, through Kindle Unlimited, for reading that tripe while the three people that are reading this are doing so for free. There is no justice.