Mommy, what's ham?

Tartiflette - a famous dish in the French region of Upper Savoy, consisting of potatoes, reblochon cheese, and chunks of ham.  I ordered it for lunch during our ski vacation in the Alps, with a plate of ham and sausage varieties on the side. Kids would not touch any of it.

When we moved to Madagascar, we had to be careful about what we ate. Strawberries were a no-no (pig manure possibly containing worms could have been used as fertilizer - the worms can get inside the permeable skin of the strawberries and then you eat them and you could get a worm in your brain). I also stopped buying pork and ham for the family because of sanitation conditions in the local pork industry. This was a radical change from Italy, where prosciutto crudo (cured ham) was a family staple.

Fast forward two years later, and we had move to Kuwait. In Kuwait, just like back in Madagascar, we eat no pork products, not because of sanitation issues, but because we're in an Islamic state where the raising or importation of any and all pork products has been banned.

Last night, I read the Bambino the book Green Eggs Ham just before bedtime. At the end of the book, I asked the Bambino, in a teasing kind of way because he is such an incredibly picky eater, "Do YOU like green eggs and ham?"

"What's ham?", he replied.

This is what I get for not serving my children pork products for a period of five years straight.

To be honest, I did try to serve pork back in France last summer, but the kids didn't take to it. They weren't used to it. They picked the lardons out of the penne pasta with parmesan cheese that I had served them. They wouldn't have any of the organic pork sausage that I had bought at the farmer's market. They've never fancied sandwiches of any kind, so I don't bother preparing them. The Bambino was offered ham sandwiches at his day camp and while he did apparently eat the bread, he wouldn't touch the ham. Didn't know what it was. Didn't want to know.

I tell myself that in the long run, this is better. Pork and ham contain nitrates that have been added as a preservative. That stuff can't be good. And my vegetarian friends never cease to tell me that pigs are smarter than dogs, so we definitely should not be eating them. Still, it makes ordering food at the restaurant in the French countryside or the Alps all the more difficult. They don't eat much of any other meat there and vegetarian main courses are almost non-existent, unless you're in the Alps and you order cheese fondue.

Your kids' jeans made here in the third world

Workers at the factory.  They get paid about 40 dollars a month,
according to the head of the factory.  That's a low wage,
even by Malagasy standards.  Our nanny gets paid about 125
dollars per month.

A couple of years back when we were living in Antananarivo, Madagascar, I had the opportunity to visit a local factory where name brand children's jeans were manufactured for export to Europe.  

Let me just say that I have always been a big supporter of free trade and free movement of capital.  While some people might complain about the loss of manufacturing jobs in developed countries to China, India, Bangladesh, or Madagascar, my reply has always been, "More power to the Chinese, the Indians, the Bangladeshis, and the Malagasy!".  I'm happy for them to have jobs and opportunities.

It is therefore with a bit of sadness that I am revealing these photos.

Outside the factory, tons of eucalyptus wood cut from Madagascar forests
and burned to make hot water to wash and treat the jeans.
The factory head maintained that they contributed to tree replanting too.  I suppose there may be good arguments to use eucalyptus trees instead of say, gas, but I tend to think that the resulting carbon footprint must be huge.

Blue toxic waste is the byproduct of washing, bleaching,
dying and chemically treating the jeans to create the
"stone-washed" and "acid-washed" look (Note to self: don't buy these jeans).  The waste gets
dumped in uncontrolled landfills and leaches into rivers,
lakes, and the soil.

Children's jeans ready for export

As I toured the factory and saw the hundreds or workers labouring over fabrics and machines, I thought to myself, well, at least this factory gives them a job. Many people in Madagascar live in abject poverty and have no employment at all.

"And can I assume the employees get to make a living wage here, unlike so many in this country?" I said out loud to the factory manager showing me around.

"Mais NON ! They earn 80 US dollars a month."

80 US dollars a month would allow you to live in Tananarive, but not very well. You would definitely need other income earners in the family. 

So there you have it. The next time you buy jeans for your kids, let your mind travel to the factory where those jeans were made. I would never suggest boycotting jean purchases, but I definitely don't buy stone-wash or acid wash jeans now. 

Expatriate lunches and dinners, and why I loathe them

If there is one thing that I really dislike about expatriate life, it's all the lunches and dinners.  There are so many of them, at least one a week, and sometimes more.

So why do I continue to go, you ask?  Well, a few reasons.  First of all, there ain't much else to do in Antananarivo, Madagascar on a weekend, unless you leave the city to join nature.  There are no cinemas, no parks, no playgrounds, no museums that have had any upkeep in the past, oh, 30 years.  There are no outdoor cafés.  You can't even walk around town, because apart from the fact that you will be very quickly surrounded by street beggars on all sides, there are no sidewalks, the traffic is scary and the pollution is enough to give anyone instant asthma.

So we visit each other.  (And sometimes the "club olympique", which is just a campout with a swimming pool, tennis courts and some stables with horses - but we don't like the food there).

Visiting each other reduces our own boredom and especially the boredom of our children, who would be otherwise locked in our air conditioned houses watching dubbed Hannah Montana French satellite TV all day long.

Why don't I enjoy these lunches and dinners as much as I should?  It's not like I don't love our dear friends (bless their hearts).  It's just, well, me.

For one, I'm a vegetarian.  Almost.  I do eat beef and duck and lamb and poultry, so you could argue that I'm very far from being a vegetarian.  But I don't each shellfish or any sea creature that lives on the sea floor.  I also don't eat tuna.  I don't eat ham or pork.  I won't touch fois gras (goose or duck liver paté).  And I generally don't eat fish unless I am right next to the sea and the fish has been caught the same day (and it's not tuna, of course).

If I go through this laundry list with my hosts, they will inevitably give me this strange look and try to review each item to understand why I won't eat it.  Since I refuse to get into a long discussion about levels of mercury in tuna with someone who hasn't even read up on the issue, it's just easier to say that I'm a vegetarian.

The problem is when either I forget to tell them that I'm a vegetarian, or they forget that I am one, or (more often than not) they haven't forgotten but (quite understandably) they don't want to have to adapt their fantastic menu to my fastidious tastes.  The French can't imagine a meal without fois gras and the Americans can't imagine a meal without shrimp.  So I often end up just not eating half the stuff that is being served.

The second problem is with dinners - late dinners.  Well before motherhood, my brain was wired to go to bed no later than 10:30 pm.  At 11 pm, I'm a zombie.  Post-motherhood, I'm the same way, plus add the fact that I have an todder who, since birth, has woken me up at 5:30 every morning - for the day.

In Antananarivo, when someone invites you over to dinner, you arrive at 8, you talk for what seems like an eternity, and you start the meal at 10 pm.  At 10:30, I'm ready to hit the sack (keep in mind that I have been up since 5:30 am) but it would be rude to do so, as most people haven't even finished their main course by then (I have though, because I generally have only been able to eat the rice and vegetables).

"Well, then, why don't you explain to your hosts your problem", you ask.

You're right.  But I need to do this when I accept the dinner invitation, so that they are really forewarned.  This is what happened the last time I had to explain at the actual dinner  (I was solo that evening, as the Frenchman was in Paris on business):

Me: "Thank you so much for having me over.  I had a wonderful time."

Hostess:  "You're leaving already?  It's only a quarter past midnight."  (I am not kidding.  She considered a quarter past midnight on a Thursday night to be "early" for leaving a dinner party).

Me: "Well, yes.  My 18-month old son wakes me up at 5:30 every morning so I get tired pretty early.  And I have to get enough sleep in before tomorrow morning."

Hostess (who is French, by the way, which really does explain a lot): "5:30?  This is not acceptable.  Can't you just give him a bottle?"

I'd like to mention here that I don't understand how on earth a bottle solves the problem.  You want me to get out of bed and go to the kitchen and warm up a bottle of milk for my son?  At 5:30 in the morning?  Are you fricking kidding me? 

Back to the conversation:

Me: "Well, I do nurse him when he wakes up but he stays awake after that.  His day starts then.  He's just wired that way."

Hostess, with look of shock in her eyes: "You're still breastfeeding him?  But isn't he is too old for that."

Me, shrugging my shoulders: "er, I don't know.  People don't seem to think that he's too old for a bottle, and breastfeeding is the normal way to feed a baby..."

Another guest, now listening in on the conversation pipes in to say: "So you're a militante."

Me, shrugging shoulders again and trying to smile: "I don't know what that means.  In any event, it's not the nursing that causes my son to wake up.  My six-year old also wakes up at 5:30.  Fortunately, she's capable of taking care of herself.  It's just the way our brains are wired in our family.  And of course, the 18-month old needs to be looked after once he's awake."   

Understand that I don't generally mind being questioned about nursing my 18-month old.  After all, what better way to educate people?  But when I've just told you that I have to go because I am extremely short on sleep, why are we having this conversation?  I told you that i had to go.  I told you my reason.  Why are you now launching a discussion about the fact that I "still" breastfeed my son?

The third problem that I have with lunch and dinner parties is that the conversation generally bores me.  There.  I said it.  I find about 90 percent of the discussion during lunch and dinner parties dreadfully boring.

Am I the only one?  I don't know.  I'll be the first to admit that I'm borderline Asperger's when it comes to small talk - it's not just that it bores me - I am incapable of participating in it.  I have no idea what to say.  And the problem is that most stuff for me is small talk.  I care very little about the hotel you stayed in when you went to Toliar (in the south of Madagascar) last year and certainly not enough to listen to you talk about it for half an hour.  I care not much more about the cute little restaurant that you discovered while you were there.  I'll be happy to talk to you more about that should I ever decide to book a trip to Toliar (which is unlikely ever to happen), but I have no desire to hear all about it for twenty minutes now.  I'm happy to talk about that little boutique you discovered up last week for about, oh,  thirty seconds and then I will try to change the subject.  I don't give a rat's ass about where to buy great shrimp, not least because I don't eat it.

I would love to talk about politics (especially French or US politics) but apparently I'm not allowed to.  Religion is another topic that fascinates me but apparently that's taboo, too.  I'm always happy to talk about someone's kid of whatever age, even if the "kids" in question are already adults.  "What grade?  What school?  What does she plan to do when she graduates this year?" "Where do they live now?"
Fortunately, people are always happy to give forth when it comes to talking about their kids and I never get bored by it, but I can only milk that topic so much.

As an expatriate and a mom of bicultural children, the topic of schools and education fascinates me, but I have the impression that many people aren't so interested in that subject.  Most French people accept that their kids go to the French school, wherever they live, without thinking much about alternatives, and most American people accept the American school in the same way.

I love to talk about the ins and outs of people's businesses.  Give me a factory or store owner anyday and I will ask about how they select their inventory, how hard it is to get and train staff, and who designed their products.  It's not often you get to meet this kind of person though, and when you do, even if he or she is keen to discuss the business in detail, others around the table don't understand why you keep bringing up questions about the nitty gritty of running some store or factory at a dinner party.

Yep, just say it.  I've got Asperger's.  Or I'm just too academic about things.

My saving grace is the Bambino.  He is often present for lunches at people's houses, and I therefore often have to excuse myself from the table because he needs some attention for whatever reason.  It's a great way to escape! If there are other bigger kids hanging around, I like to talk to them too.  At a lunch a few weeks ago, I had a great bunch of French kids asking me all kinds of questions about bilingualism and trying out their English on me.  It was much more interesting than the discussion among the adults about that hotel in Toliar....

Easter on the Island of Lemurs

We spent this Easter in Nosy Komba - the island of lemurs.

The island of Nosy Komby (pronounced nossi koomb)

The dining terrace of our hotel.  

The very unsafe balustrade of the dining terrace.  Tripadvisor will be hearing about this.

The Mozambique Channel

The Bambina took delight in holding a chameleon.

The Bambino loves tortoises, turtles, dinosaurs...pretty much all reptiles, actually...

The Bambino meeting the locals.

We took lots of photos of the lemurs too but the Frenchman has them on his iphone and I haven't had the chance to download them yet.

The positive side of expat life in Madagascar

Expat transfer season is coming up soon.  With that in mind, we can't help but wondering whether we'll stay or be sent somewhere else.  We've had our fill of Madagascar and love the idea of moving to yet another country, but as I contemplate our last two years here, I realise that, however much we complain about the dirt, the pollution, the poverty and the lack of choice for schools in this city, we still have it pretty good.  So if we do end up staying (and the chances are good that we will), at least there'll be more of these positive aspects of life in Tana:

 We live in a residence (some people call it a compound) with streets that are paved and guarded, and kids can walk, run and ride their bikes anywhere they want within the residence.  The residence gives them a freedom that they would never have back home in Paris or in pretty much any other modern city.  My six-year old Bambina leaves the house by herself and takes off on her bike and I don't have to worry about it.

Horse-back riding lessons for children and adults of all ages, at reasonable rates and not too far away from where we live.  The Bambina has a lesson every Sunday morning and the Bambino likes to try out a pony whenever we go. 

Lots of rain and every now and then a rainbow.

 A heated swimming pool in our back yard and lots of opportunity for friends to come over and play - school gets out at 12:20 three times a week.

 Lots and lots of yard space.  

Very cheap manicures, pedicures, massages and haircuts.   A haircut for the Bambina costs about 2 euro.  A pedicure costs about 10 euro.  A message costs about 5 euro for an hour!

Adventures in mud

We often head out to the Club Olympique de Tananarive (the COT) on Sunday simply because, well, there's not much else to do in this city on Sunday.  When we're in Paris, we head to the park.  There are no parks here.  Or we go to a museum.  No museums here either.

So, if we're not exploring this grand island, we head to the COT, play tennis (well, the Frenchman plays tennis), swim, eat lunch, and hang out with friends.

Except that we're in the rainy season.  And yesterday it rained.  Hard.

And since Madagascar has a lot of dirt (red dirt, mind you) and very little pavement, well, there's a lot of mud here after a rainstorm.

Needless to say, our kids had a lot of fun!

Formula marketing again.

Seen in our local Jumbo store:  this sign in the infant formula section.

The manager at the Jumbo store doesn't seem to think it's a problem.  After all, the sign is just there to tell people where the infant formula is.

And what about the cute little white baby sucking down the bottle of formula?  What kind of message is that sending?

The International Code on the Marketing of Breastmilk Substitutes says:

There should be no advertising or other form of promotion to the general public of products within the scope of this Code.

and

there should be no point- of-sale advertising, giving of samples, or any other promotion device to induce sales directly to the consumer at the retail level, such as special displays, discount coupons, premiums, special sales, loss-leaders and tie-in sales, for products within the scope of this Code. 

Interestingly, Article 9.2 of the Code also specifies that:

Neither the container nor the label should have pictures of infants, nor should they have other pictures or text which may idealize the use of infant formula.

I would argue that this sign is a "special display" and that, given that the Code prohibits photos on the containers of the cans, a display sign with a warm and fuzzy photo of the mother with a baby drinking from a bottle should also be considered a "promotional device to induce sales" of the infant formula at Jumbo.

Of course, given that there is no real government or law enforcement agency here in Madagascar these days, I doubt that much if anything will be done about this infraction.

You know you live in a developing country when

1.  You pay top dollar for bottom of the barrel no-name imported brand canned and packaged food at the grocery store - when you can get them.

2.  Your tap water is so full of chlorine that the kids' bath has a light green tint to it.

3. Your kid speaks at least two languages, and sometimes three, depending on what country you're living in at the time.

4. You have grown an affection for scenery filled with dirt roads, gutters and rice paddies.

5. You never walk anywhere anymore and you're no longer used to driving in vehicles that are not 4x4.

6.  You expect to get a stomach bug about once every three to four months.

7. You buy meat the same day that the animal was killed and you age it in your refrigerator.

8. Your definition of a "really good restaurant" has evolved to being a restaurant whose food doesn't make you sick.

9. A chauffeur drives your kids to school every day.

10.  You count down the days to Christmas vacation months ahead of time and can't wait to experience cold and snow.

Things our kids have seen and done this year

Our kids have seen a lot this year.  

This summer, they looked down on this gorgeous view of the Dordogne river in the Périgord region of southwestern France.  Even on a cloudy day, the scenery was beautiful.

They saw the countryside of Madagascar, too, which is beautiful in its own way.

They saw the Eiffel Tower a few times, and took a boat ride along the Seine river in Paris.

 And scenes from a city in the developing world have been part of their daily life this year.

They saw their share of cameleons, tortoises and lemurs.                                                                                                                    

 They've gone for a ride on a taxi "pousse-pousse".

We haven't been able to continue the Bambina's swimming lessons here in Tananarive so instead, the she's been learning to ride a pony.  The Bambino likes to just sit on the pony once in a while.

And they did a fair bit of swimming in the Indian Ocean (the Bambina did snorkeling and diving as well).

Our end of year treat: skiing in the Alps!

Cozying Up to the Lemurs

Sometimes family travels take us to places that we never dreamed of.  These photos were taken during a weekend at the Vakôna Forest Lodge in Andasibe, Madagascar.  The lemurs were so used to having people around them that they regularly surprised us by leaping onto our shoulders, head and back and staying there for a bit.  The Bambina was so afraid when a lemur went to leap onto her shoulder that she stepped backward and put her foot directly in the swamp.

Madagascar: It's less of a shock the second time around

We've just returned from our two-month vacation in paradise boring France to our home in the dirty, polluted, third-world city of Antananarivo on the paradise island of Madagascar.

Seriously though, last year, when we arrived here for the first time, it was a bit of shock for all of us (even, dare I say it, the Frenchman). This time around, I think we're all happy to be back "home" from vacation. Here are thirteen things I love about living in Madagascar:

13. The vast sky - kind of like in Montana or Saskatchewan. It was the first thing I noticed (after the shacks on the street, that is).

12. We may have the odd case of malaria on the coast but there's no yellow fever here.

11. There's no polio, either, and very little typhoid fever, I daresay.

10. There are some very good restaurants and it's been about eight months since I've felt sick from food I've eaten.

9. Cheap domestic help - we have a nanny, cook and chauffeur.

8. Horseback riding, complete with lessons (English saddle though, which kind of sucks).

7. Lots of neat stuff made out of wood, straw and/or pretty stones.

6. It's close to Mauritius and South Africa, among other great places to visit that are hard to get to from Europe and North America.

5. Did I mention that I have a cook? Who stays until 7PM to clean the kitchen while I get the kids ready for bed?

4. Beautiful, clean, white sand, EMPTY beaches.

3. We might not have parks or playgrounds here but we do have an enormous backyard, as do all our friends who host playgroups every week.

2. Real whales at Isle St. Marie (everything we've heard about it, at least - we're waiting for the Bambino to grow a little before we visit).

1. The size of our house - it's about three times the size of our apartment in Paris.

Guest-posting on Infant Formula Marketing in Madagascar

Hey everybody, I'm guess posting on Blacktating this week on the subject of infant formula marketing in Madagascar - Nestlé and Blédina say they don't do it but they do!

Anjajavy

We spent our 24 May long weekend in Madagascar's only Relais & Chateau hotel - Anjajavy - L'Hotel. 

The pluses:

- You eat breakfast while watching lemurs swing from tree to tree.  The kids watch the lemurs in amazement.
- The weather during the winter season is perfect: not too hot and not cold at all.  The ocean water is warm.
- You get to stay in a palisander bungalow with two floors, so the kids get their own room upstairs.
- The restaurant meals are 4-star quality and there is fresh fish every day.  Both Bambina and Bambino gobbled up their fish at each meal. 

- The beach is stunning and you can do pretty much any water activity you want (but you have to pay extra for water skiing).  The Bambina has turned into a real diver and spent most of the time with her mask on.

Some minuses:

- The mosquito net had holes in the top of it, and there was a captive mosquito inside our nets on each of the

three nights we were there.

- Resorts are a relatively new thing in Madagascar - too new for things like kids' clubs or even a fully developed spa.  And the political crisis in Madagascar means that hotel owners won't be making any big capital investments in their hotels anytime soon. 

- Like all Relais & Chateau hotels, Anjajavy is expensive.
- You need a private plane to get there.

Christmas in May

It's poinsetta season here in Madagascar.  This photo was taken at a birthday party yesterday in the backyard where the party was taking place.  These trees are blooming everywhere here, though.  The Malagasy are very surprised when I tell them that for us, the poinsetta is a Christmas plant.

The Bambina shows no amazement whatsoever at these kinds of plants.  I think she's become to used to it all. 

Organic, homeopathic products, dirt cheap?

Do you like to buy beauty products that don't contain parabens, phenoxethanol or other nasty stuff?  Do you find that these products can sometimes be expensive?  What if I told you that you could get all natural, organic beauty products for dirt cheap? 

I've recently discovered Homeopharma.  Homeopharma is a Malagasy company that specializes in homeopathic medicines as well as organic body care products.  And now they are exporting, at least to Europe.  I don't think their products have hit North American or Asian shores just yet.  I have just bought their children's shampoo (see photo at left).  The shampoo contains no preservatives.  The ingredients are mostly plants, although there is some sodium laureth sulfate in it.

I do have a couple of concerns with their products.  The labelling is not top.  Their website says that all their products have been certified as organic by Ecocert, yet the Ecocert label is absent from their beauty products' packaging.  The list of ingredients on the children's shampoo that I bought includes "parfum" (fragrance), with no indication that this fragrance is natural rather than a synthetic one containing phthalates, a harmful chemical known to disrupt the body's endoctrine system.  The label on the product does say "produit 100% naturel" (100% natural product), yet this cannot be true given that at least one of the ingredients is sodium laureth sulfate, a synthetic chemical.

Needless to say, this company needs a little more sophistication.  But it's an interesting start and their products are cheap!  The shampoo cost the equivalent of US$ 3.50.  The homeopathic medicines (a smattering of which you can see in the photo) cost about the equivalent of US$1 each.  That's here in Madagascar - the prices are probably a bit higher in Europe. 

Colours where we live

Sunset over Tana

A store at the marché artisanal

This plant has red leaves - all year round.

The beach at Nosy Bé