Travelers, yes. Vacationers, not so much

On Wednesday we drove to Beauvais airport, north of Paris, and caught a RyanAir flight to Rome to begin a 10-day vacation in Italy. Our initial plan to stay a couple of nights in Rome, Florence, and Venice, with a side-trip to Pisa on the way back to Rome seemed peripatetic and overly ambitious, so we had scaled back and decided to divide our time between Rome and Florence.

With the advantage of hindsight, the initial plan was better. The kids have been willing (to a point) to walk all over a new city, provided the sights along the way are compelling. But after a couple of days in Rome, they were jaded to the notion that a building might have been constructed before Christ walked the earth; it became tougher and tougher to forestall outright mutiny each afternoon.

The situation in Florence was eased and complicated by the availability of internet in the hotel room (a first on our journeys – perhaps my Grandmother, during her life-time, came to take in-door plumbing for granted; I, on the other hand, had forgotten what a blessing it is to be able to connect the to web, and place a telephone call without the assistance of others.) The kids’ morale improved, but so did their determination to remain in the room, arguing over time on the laptop, instead of walking out to marvel at the ancient splendors of Michelangelo, Donatello, etc. By yesterday, they were immune to all cajoling, hectoring, threats and bribes… Mom, we’ve had gelato twice a day for a week now… why can’t we stay in the room?

Last night Ceil and I took a command decision and re-scheduled our flight back to Paris for Thursday, rather than Saturday. Miles and Lee responded with howls of protest – we like it here, France is boring – a keen observer, though, would translate this as: we have internet here and you’re going to make us go to school if we go back to France. Ton pei. I, for one, will be glad to get back to our rustic abode outside of Arthon, and I will be glad to be home in time for market-day.

Goin' down to Geneva... to get my passport stamped

So if you want to work in France for six months, you'll need to get a visa... but that itself can take four months or more, so if you're in a pinch, go ahead, hop on the plane and head over... just make sure you leave the country every 90-days so as to maintain a visitor or tourist status. Apparently you can keep this up for quite some time -- extending your visitor status for six months or more.

My first 90 days ended quite unexpectedly last week.("Hi, I'm here to teach your company about planning, organization, and the importance of maintaining rigorous schedules... oh, wait, holy crap! I've got to leave the country... excuse me.") No problem, I thought, we're going to Italy at the end of the month. Au contraire mon frere -- it turns out that you need to leave the European Union, not just the country -- so we needed to find another destination for a quick get-away.

Where to go... where to go... A quick scan of the map reminded me that I am clueless about the European Union, who's in and who's not, so I began asking around... Switzerland was the unanimous reply -- get thee to Geneva for a day or two. Alrighty then.

Geneva is about five hours away by car; 4:15 if you're willing to violate the speed limits egregiously -- something which is quite rare in France. The fines for speeding escalate exponentially, culminating with the loss of license at offense number four -- which explains why so may folks are happy to drive 25-horsepower Renaults from 1972. I was only too happy to flout the traffic laws, and we careened down country roads and high-ways alike at break-neck speeds, blasting our way through the iPod's playlists once, then twice before we finally arrived.

First thing we noticed was that the GPS navigation system in our car does not cover Switzerland; the next thing we noticed was that we've become utterly dependent on the GPS navigation system in our car. Over the past months, I've been only too content to type in the address of our destinations, and then "follow the pink line" super-imposed on the map displayed on the dashboard. Now, suddenly, there was no pink line... in fact, the map was ominously blank... I confess to having a few moments of cognitive dissonance as I tried to reconcile the blank screen with the physical reality of the country-side we were driving through. Part of my brain wanted to see blank country-side to match the blank expanse on the map!

My atavistic male navigation skills kicked in rather quickly, and in rapid succession, I made three wrong turns, swore at each of my children in succession, and decided that instead of asking for directions, I would follow a city bus displaying an advertisement for fabulous lingerie and the 21 year old girls who wear it.

We found the border crossing and despite the guards best efforts to wave us through without so much as a glance at our passports, we demonstrated enough confusion and lack of a second language that he directed us to the side of the road and pointed to the office of his supervisor. Now we're getting somewhere, I thought... surely this guy will stamp our passports.

No. The guy behind the counter asked us if we were carrying any chemical weapons, plans for Iranian nuclear reactors or quantities of low-quality American milk chocolate, and sent us away.

We eventually made our way downtown, found a place to park, and set about the task of passing an afternoon and evening in a new city. Geneva is a lovely place -- if you've been to New York, think Park Avenue and the upper east side, and you'll have a sense of the place. Blocks and blocks of high-end shops and high-end people to shop in them. The side-walks were crowded with very well-dressed and attractive folks, all of them, seemingly, loaded down with dozens of boxes and shopping bags.

We had a wonderful and wonderfully expensive lunch -- naturally, this being the gateway to Bavaria, the children insisted on pasta, pizza and gelato for lunch. Afterwards, I headed off in search of a hotel while Ceil and the kids went to see what damage they could do to our credit report.

Coming to a city without any sort of plan, let alone hotel reservations, was a new experience for me, but it turned out remarkably well. At the second inn I visited, the ladies at the desk were only too happy to rent me a room with four beds for 195 Swiss francs per night.

I find it's easier if I research the exchange rate after a trip -- in my mind, 195 sf was a bargain for one large room with a twin bed and a set of rickety bunk-beds... and we had our own bathroom -- a luxury not afforded to most of the other guests. (As you will have suspected, 195 Swiss francs is worth about $250 US dollars, so the accommodations were a bit dear, as it turns out.)

Having eaten lunch like kings, we decided to pass on dinner (surely a sign that the end-times are upon us), and after a walk, settled in for an evening of bickering, recrimination and airing of intrafamilial grievances.

The next morning couldn't come soon enough, for my tastes, and I was out for a pre-dawn walk before the rest of the troops were up. Again, I was struck by the beauty (and wealth) of Geneva. The litter was quite atrocious, but by the time I finished my walk, a small army of municipal workers in miniaturized street sweepers was out in force.

We had another Laurel-and-Hardy-esque moment on the way out of town: I had parked in a public garage about 10 minutes north of the hotel, and having told Ceil to pack up the kids while I went for the car (how much longer will she let me get away with that?) I started off. I was flummoxed though, to discover that the machine where you pay for the parking would not accept credit cards, and I had no currency, Swiss or otherwise. So I reversed course in search of a cash machine... finally finding one after re-tracing my steps back to and beyond the hotel. Being Geneva, the machine dispensed 100 franc notes!

I found my family encamped by the side of the street as I doubled back (again) towards the garage. Ceil was not interested in waiting there amidst our luggage, so we decided to walk together and carry our gear. (The photo to the left depicts a key moment in our discussion, with Lee making an impassioned plea for a new plan involving mechanized transportation, and Miles contemplating applying for adoption by another family with stronger logistical skills.)

So we marched off, stopping every thirty yards as Lee wailed, gnashed teeth and flailed her arms.

When we got back to the car park, naturally, the machine would not accept any bill larger than a 20... pissed, I decided we'd get in the car and crash through any barricades blocking our exit. As it happens, there were no barricades, but there was a very friendly guy in a kiosk who was only too happy to let us pay by credit card. The whole circus had been for naught.

For whatever reason, I was possesed by the urge to spend the 100 franc note before leaving town -- the only place open early on Sunday was the local Starbucks-- a happy coincidence. Again, we gorged ourselves, and reveled in conversation with some other American families we met while waiting on line.

And finally, around 12pm, we were off. Again, crossing from Switzerland to France we had to make every effort to arouse the suspicion of the border gaurds who would much rather have waved us through without so much as glancing at our papers. The guy behind the counter had to rummage around in his drawer to find a stamp for our passports ("They still use those?") -- but in the end, we were successful.

Anyway, the experience confirmed our hypothesis that the first visit to a new city is gauranteed to be a touch stressful and dysfunctional... and that future visits go more smoothy. Here's looking forward to our next trip to Geneva!

Peace.

Ceil Entry #1: ZooParc de Beauval

Hi everyone. I know you have all been enjoying Andy’s wonderful stories but I thought it was time to catch you up on some of the fun things we have been doing that haven’t made the blog to date. It may be because Andy has had to work and wasn’t able to experience some of these adventures.

So going back to August 30th the week before school started Miles, Lee and I spent the day at ZooParc de Beauval. At the time we were living in Bourges and it was about an hour drive northwest. We spent about 7 hours at the zoo that day. The kids were in charge and enjoyed telling me where we were going. They also loved being photographers for the day – nothing better than having complete control of the camera.

We saw some animals we have never seen before – white lions and tigers, koalas and okapi, as well as old favorites – elephants, giraffes, orangutans, gorillas. And great fun was had at the family farm. We made two visits and our second visit included popcorn so we could feed the goats, or rather the goats could stampede the kids and devour the popcorn.
One of Miles’ memories is watching 4 gorillas race around their habitat beating their chests and giving their king of the jungle roar (or whatever it is that gorillas do). Lee enjoyed watching the red pandas walk along the log. We rarely see the red pandas when we go to the zoo at home.

The zoo was beautiful and had lots of animals but the habitats were not as large or as natural as the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle.

Ceil Entry #2: Bourges

The kids and I spent a lot of time in the cathedral in Bourges. Our first few days in Bourges it was easy for me to guide the kids to the cathedral on our walks. But they soon began to recognize landmarks and knew I was taking them out of the way of our intended destination just so we could spend a little more time in the cathedral. It is a beautiful cathedral not as large as Notre Dame but similar in design and vivid stained glass windows and the best thing about it is that we were sometimes the only people there. Ok maybe we were not the only people in the cathedral, but rarely was there more than 20 people, compared to the thousands that were part of our Notre Dame experience. I felt this was like my own personal cathedral.

We also went on “Le Petit Train” that Andy dissed in an earlier post. We enjoyed the city driving tour with our English headset for translation of the history of the town and buildings. We chose to do this on Monday afternoon the day after we arrived in France and the jet lag got to us a little and we all started to fall asleep during the end of the tour.

Other memories of Bourges include buying a soccer ball and playing soccer in the park. Our first trip to the park, we were the only ones there. Looking back I now realize that it was 1:00pm and everyone else was home eating lunch but in our American way we had eaten lunch in 20 minutes and had walked to the park to play. Miles and Lee had fun playing with each other that day. On our second trip to the park to play soccer we went later in the afternoon and there were a group of boys playing soccer. They saw Miles (and his new soccer ball) and invited him to play. There wasn’t too much of a language barrier once they started playing.

I just asked Lee what she remembered about Bourges and she said, “We always walked everywhere.” Her next memory was of her favorite restaurant La Scala and luckily there is also one in Chateauroux. We went often when we first arrived in Chateauroux, so much so that they started to not charge for her meal of plain pasta. Now we have expanded our favorite restaurants and also go home or pack a lunch as often as possible.

Ceil Entry #3: Chateau Visits

Weekends that have not been spent in Paris are usually spent exploring chateaus and small country towns (or going to school and birthday parties). Our first trip was to Parc & Chateau de Valencay http://www.chateau-valencay.com/. Being the first castle tour you would think there would be great excitement but the kids were not too interested in the audio/walking tour of the castle. But after a heart to heart talk they had a change of mind (there was probably some bribery involved about no more pain au chocolate) and grudging followed us. They weren’t too impressed by the elegant decorations, the story of Talleyrand life and his political connections to Napoleon or the magnificent paintings but by the time we hit the kitchens and wine cellar they perked up a little. After the inside tour we went outside and visited the Children’s Farm and fed the goats – not popcorn this time but real goat food out of a machine. There were also turkeys that were very happy to pose for pictures.

We had a picnic lunch in the park and a peacock enjoyed most of Lee’s lunch that she generously shared with him. After lunch we played on the playground and tested our skills in the maze. Napoleon’s Great Maze was large and complicated and at certain points they had questions and a keypad to enter the answer and unlock the door so you could continue to the end of the maze. They had the questions translated into English but you needed to know the answer in French for the door to open. This was ok when the answer was a numeric date but a little more challenging when you could not remember how to say sea in French. But they had the default push here button that automatically opened the door. Andy and Lee were ahead of Miles and I and they reached the end of the maze first. The end of the maze ended in a look out point where you could watch all the other maze goers attempt to reach their goal. Andy and Lee pointed and laughed at us but didn’t give away any clues. We reached the end without any help. By the end of the day the kids said they had a fun day and were looking forward to the next castle visit.

Our next castle was Chenonceau http://www.chenonceau.com/. This castle is a little more impressive than Valencay as it expands across the Cher River. Again amazing furniture, tapestries, and paintings. The gallery, the long room that extends over the river was beautiful. Looking out the windows we saw fish in the river and several canoes and kyacks. Outside the Chateau are two huge gardens and another maze. This maze was simple in comparison to the maze at Valencay and the race to the end took about 30 seconds.

Chambord http://www.chambord.org/ was next. Chambord’s highlight was the double helix open staircase where those going up never meet those coming down. They also said it was large enough for horses to go up and down. The rooms were large and drafty and it did not look like a comfortable place to live in. Miles favorite room was the room with all the deer antlers and the look out hut that looked like a loft bed/room. We also toured the 2,500 acres of the national wildlife reserve. The tour was all in French but enjoyable nonetheless. We didn’t see enough wildlife. Saw deer at a distance but didn’t see any boars.

Most recently was Chateau of Cheverny http://www.chateau-cheverny.fr/. Readers of Tin Tin may be familiar with this Chateau. Miles tells me that this is the house that Captain Haddock lives in, Chateau of Moulinsart, in the Tin Tin stories. This chateau isn’t as large as the others but is the most richly furnished and the most home like.

Ceil Entry #4: First Weekend in Paris

We have been to Paris three times so far. I must say that I loved L’Open Tour and highly recommend it as an introduction to the sights of the city. Our hotel was right on one of the loops so we used the tour bus as our main mode of transportation.

Saturday, our first full weekend in France we woke up early and walked (yes we made the kids walk 4 blocks) to the train station and caught a train to Paris. It was about a two hour train ride and our first stop happened to be McDonald’s right across the street. Very kid friendly food to set a positive tone for the weekend. I keep asking myself where is the French food. We checked into our hotel which was near the train station and got ready to explore Paris. We stopped at the front desk and got directions to the metro and headed out – yes more walking. The metro is clean and very easy to use. Interesting to compare it to NYC especially since we were just there the week before Paris. Some world travelers Seattle, NYC and Paris all in the same month.

Our first stop was shopping – this was Andy’s desire. We went to Galleries Lafayette and he went to the Men’s level and I took the kids to the children’s clothing because Lee of course just had to buy something – it doesn’t matter where we are or what store it is she can always find something that she must have. We looked at beautiful winter coats for $250 - $350 euros and we really enjoyed looking at them but we bought a small Tweety Bird key chain and she was happy. Andy wasn’t successful in his shopping efforts, just not ready to pull the trigger and buy anything. We left the amazing shopping center – 8 floors of stuff and headed back outside to walk. Everywhere we turned we saw L’Open Tour Buses – double decker tour buses. Andy hates tour buses and I love tour buses. We stopped to have lunch in a French café and I had a French meal pate and duck salad it was yummy and this restaurant just happened to be across the street from the L’Open Tour Bus offices. It was our destiny. We decided it was time to jump on a tour bus and see as much of Paris as we could from the top deck. Lots of sitting and no walking who in the Erickson family wouldn’t be happy. I loved it, there was so much to see and it is nothing like I have every seen before. We pull around the corner and there is the Louvre. Place de Concord was amazing and driving down the Champs de Elysees was amazing as well. Of course we drove around the Eiffel Tower too. We spent the afternoon on the tour bus and conveniently one of the loops had a stop near our hotel. We went back to our room to refresh and regroup and headed back out for dinner. We jumped on the subway and made our way back to the Eiffel Tower. We found a café to have dinner and than walked to the Eiffel Tower to see it all lite up at night. The lines were long and we knew we were going to be back so we decided not to stand on line and go up. Instead we called Andy’s mom and dad but they were home so we left them a message and than we talked to my mom. We jumped on the subway and went home and to build up our energy to do more the next day.

Sunday was our trip to Notre Dame and my personal sickness experience that we often joke about. Every corner seems to have a pharmacy, bus stop and café and Lee is always saying this is where you got sick. We also visited an English bookstore, where we had no problem spending money.

Ceil Entry #5: Second Weekend in Paris

The Boeing team came to dinner Friday night and we had a late night party and hence got a late start Saturday morning. Our first task was to drive to the airport and exchange Andy’s rental car. By the time we accomplished this and had a fun city driving tour to get to our hotel it was late afternoon. We checked into the hotel and headed out to find food. We had a great lunch at a sidewalk café and talked about the plan for the rest of the day and night. There wasn’t much support for walking and exploring so I was ready to send the family back to the hotel and set off on my own. Somehow Lee ended up with me and we started our walk and just next to the hotel was a kids mall, toy stores galore. She went into shopping mode and we didn’t make it much further. After her shopping adventure she wanted to go back to the hotel. I was close to being alone. Upon returning to the hotel room and Miles seeing what Lee had he was interested in going shopping too. I finally got a little walk in and headed back to the hotel to see what the plans for dinner were. The family plan was go to Pasta Papa and eat what else but Italian. I will admit that the pasta was amazing but I am still left thinking where is the French food? That night we stayed in the neighborhood and went on a night time walk.

Sunday we had breakfast at Starbucks, it was just like home. After breakfast we went on a boat tour. I will have to find my brochure to check my facts but there are lots of bridges in Paris and we got pictures to prove it. Also interesting to see the sights from a boat vs. a tour bus. After the boat tour we walked along the Seine and looked at all the artists and their work on our way to yes eat again. Lunch was at a typical French café along the Seine. After lunch we continued on our walk and went to the Louvre but didn’t go in and found our way back to one of the English bookstores. Made more purchases but not as many as our first visit. We stopped for an afternoon treat and coffee for the coffee drinker in the family and than headed to the car for more city driving tour on our way home.

Ceil Entry #6: Third Weekend in Paris Weekend

Bruce and Katie Pieper are coming to town of course we will come to Paris to meet you for dinner. I really don’t need a reason to go to Paris but this is a good one. The Van Avery’s, the other American family here, were also planning to go to Paris this weekend to celebrate their youngest daughter, Taylor’s, birthday. Jen took on the task of finding hotel accommodations for four adults and five kids at a time when there were many things going on in Paris that weekend – car show, fashion shows etc. But she was successful and Jen and I took the kids out of school after lunch and caught a 3:00 train to Paris. The train was very crowded and we weren’t able to find a private compartment but we did find 7 seats close together. Everyone got settled and we were on our way. At the third stop a woman got on and came up to me and said that I was in her seat. Between some of my French and some of her English I learned that we were in reserved seats. I got up and found a seat in the next car and watched as people got on at the next stop but for whatever reasons no one else came to claim the seats that the kids were in. Once in Paris we jumped on the subway and headed to the hotel. We checked in and got settled and thought about waiting for Andy and Eric who decided to drive up after work. We didn’t wait too long before making the decision that they can call find out where we are and meet up with us. We went back to the subway and got off at the Place de la Concorde. This is a great subway station, recommended by Sarah Wirz, and it is everything she said it would be. You can see the Eiffel Tower, Champs-Elysees, Jardin des Tuileries and the Louvre. We started our walking adventure to the Eiffel Tower. Yes this might have been a little adventurous with 5 children but we were successful. We found a sidewalk café to have dinner. The appetizer was milkshakes for the kids and red wine for the adults. I was hoping that we didn’t have much further to go and to my surprise we were only two blocks away so a very quick walk after dinner. By this time we had spoken to the husbands and they were still in traffic and it didn’t look like there was much hope of them making it to the Eiffel Tower. Andy will have to do a blog entry to do justice to his experiences that night.

Jen took lots of pictures because my camera was with Andy. There was no line and we went right up to the ticket window and purchased tickets to go all the way to the top. We stopped at the first stage and enjoyed the view but were very excited to get to the top. The views were amazing and enjoyed by all. We called the dads and said hello from the top of the Eiffel Tower and were sad they couldn’t be there. It was time to head home we caught a subway and got to the hotel right at midnight when Taylor turned 8. Saturday Lee spent the day with the Van Avery’s and went on the L’Open Tour. Miles, Andy and I went to the Louvre. We saw all the famous pieces, Winged Victory, Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo and many of the French paintings. Andy was in a creative mood and was giving the behind the scenes stories of the paintings to Miles. There was lots of laughter. We also saw Napoleon’s crown, Louis XIV rooms and history of the Louvre. Miles is interested in going back to see the Egyptian art. He is also interested in going to Musee D’Orsay, which is one of my top see items.

After the Louvre, more walking around, eating at a sidewalk café and another visit to Galleries Lafayette. And yes we purchased a movie and gourmet treats to bring home to the Van Avery’s who were going to watch the kids so we could go meet Bruce and Katie. We went to dinner with Bruce and Katie and Katie’s cousin Mary and her husband Christian. We were a little late and Bruce and Katie were a little late but we all made it. We had amazing French food and champagne, white wine and red wine. There wasn’t enough time to talk about everything but we were very happy to see them. Bruce and Katie were on their way back to Seattle after their biking backroads trip through Italy. I was a little sad that I wasn’t getting on a plane and going to Seattle the next day but moved though it.

We jumped in a cab and retrieved our children and went to bed. Sunday we went to the Arc de Triumphe and hiked up many stairs. I know I could never survive the bike trip Bruce and Katie went on, because I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it to the top of the Arc de Triumphe. Miles kept saying we’re almost there and psychologically I was done but the stairs kept coming. I need to work a little harder in my aerobics class…

Lots of pictures, lunch at a sidewalk café, drive down the Champs Elysees and visit yet another English bookstore, have an afternoon treat, watch the filming of a dance video at Place de la Concorde and more driving around Paris on our way home.

Sorry for the quick overview of weekend number but I am running out of time and need to get this posted. I will write again soon.

The Year of Eating Promiscuously

Among the best bits of advice I’ve received since arriving in France is, “try the plat du jour”. Almost every restaurant has a small chalkboard by the door listing “the plate of the day”, and often there are a couple of choices. Entrée du jour; plat du jour; dessert du jour.

I’ve tried to abide by this adage – Qu’est-que c’est le plat du jour, I’ll ask. The rapid fire response is usually lost on me: blah, blah, le blah, blah de beouf, blah, blah avec frites. All I got was “beef” and “with fries” – but how bad could it be? (Well, pretty bad, if I put my mind to it, but it’s unlikely that stewed beef brains in pureed ochre with fries” would be a big seller, so I set my suspicions aside.) Voila, c’est le plat du jour pour moi. Merci.

And I’ve rarely been disappointed. There was one incident involving some strange sausage: andouillette sounded to me like andouille sausage back-home, but having eaten both, I suspect this is a coincidence. The andouillette I had was indeed a sausage, but the casing was obviously recently removed from some animal’s digestive tract, and the coarsely chopped meat it contained had a certain “wang” to it which whispered “kidneys” and “tripe” in the back of my mind and pit of my stomach. The frites were excellent, though, and I cleaned my plate.

But such misadventures have been rare: usually, the plat du jour is a savory cut of pork roast, or a grilled steak from some lesser region of the cow.

I know other folks who prefer to order a la carte – off the menu – and purposefully pick the item which they understand the least: I admire these souls, and will take such risks myself, but only at a Chinese restaurant when known quantities such as beef & broccoli or fried rice will be there as fall-backs should the unintelligible item also prove to be indigestible as well.

I’ve enjoyed exploring the dozens of patés for sale at even the modest modest grocery store; foie gras is a delight, despite my clear understanding of it’s true nature (if you have to ask, don’t); I’ve even brought home seafood, despite the fact that the nearest salt water is at least a day’s drive away.

But, dear readers, I regret to admit that I was undone by my cavalier attitude this past Tuesday night, and I’ve had plenty of time to contemplate the pro’s and con’s (and con’s, and con’s) of this approach, during my hourly sojourns to la toilette during the past 48 hours:

The story begins with an incongruous sign posted by the side of the road on my drive home: Pizza, Tuesdays, 6pm. No restaurant name, no phone number, no date– just the simple announcement that pizza will be available somewhere on Tuesday night at 6pm. Hmmm…

A few weeks passed, before I noticed a woman walking down the street in Arthon carrying three pizzas; a bit further on, I discover her source – a small panel truck parked in the town square: PIZZA written on the side. Hey, I thought, it must be Tuesday.

And I was smitten with this idea – let’s have pizza on Tuesday!! “Where,” asked Ceil. At the panel truck parked in the town square! “Sounds…. Umm… great, dear.”

So I counted the days, until Tuesday. Ceil was the last one home so I called and asked that she pick up the goods as she passed through town. She arrived at 6:30p empty handed – our pizzas would be ready at 8:15pm she explained. Wow, I thought, this must be a popular spot – this is gonna great! We scrambled to feed the kids something, while we waited for our dinner.

By 8:30p, Ceil had gone back into town and returned with two pies.

First, let me say that when you order a four cheese pizza in France, the cheeses are readily recognizable from their melted shapes – there’s brie, blue cheese, goat cheese and… hmm.. I’ll guess mozzarella. I would have expected Parmesan or Romano to get the nod, but it’s France, and there you go.

Second, let me also say that the rumors you’ve heard of Frenchmen cracking a raw egg into the middle of pizzas just before serving them are TRUE. Ok, ok… Deep breath…I’m being open minded… trying new things… trying new things… (but c’mon, who was the first guy who thought “I know what this needs: a raw egg!” How would that even come up?)

So we sat down to eat… and it wasn’t bad. Anything served piping hot on freshly baked crust is going to taste okay, and this was better still. In addition to the four cheese pizza, Ceil had ordered ground-beef and onions on the second pizza (an instance, I’m sure, of the palsy which overcomes one when faced with an unintelligible menu and the expectant glare of a guy standing behind a counter).

My woes began late that night… after several trips to the loo, I wandered downstairs for a bottle of water. Opening the fridge, I got a nose-full of the leftover pizza – and I went reeling back to the john for another round. Ugh.

I’ll fast forward and say that I’ve now lost two days of work as a result of my adventurous eating, and I’m sorely concerned about my ability to get back on the horse. Even the simplest restaurant fare sounds unappealing at the moment, and given the housekeeping standards in my own kitchen, I can’t see eating-in either.

It’s getting late… but tonight the only plat du jour for me is a banana and a glass of tepid water.

Ugh.

An update on the kids and school

Lee and Miles continue to do well in school – or rather, we have no clue about how the kids are doing in school, and we continue to assume everything is fine.

That’s not true, exactly.

Ceil had a terrific visit with some of Miles’ teachers a couple of weeks ago. We learned that the kids in each grade are ranked, top to bottom, at the end of the school year, and this ranking determines which classroom they will attend the following year. A kid in the “A” class is at the bottom of the list; the ambitious over-achievers are rounded up in the “E” class.

Miles is enrolled in the “E” class. (Sorry, I should have warned you before saying that. I too did a spit-take when I heard that – I’ll give you a minute to clean off your computer screen.)

This made sense at the time, as the “E” class spends more time working on foreign languages, world history, etc. The principal rightly assumed that a non-French-speaking kid would have a better chance in this environment. And I think Miles is doing fine, though this casts his stories about the outrageous perfectionism of his classmates and teachers in a different light.

During Ceil’s meetings with the teachers, it was agreed that although he did not score well on the start-of-the-year tests (which, Miles hastens to add, were in French! No excuses, kid) he would stay with his classmates. While the class studies English, he goes to the library to study French with one or two other kids. The school has just hired an intern from Pennsylvania, and she’s going to do some additional work with Miles, and help him keep up academically. But, we all agreed, the main goal of this affair is for Miles to learn French – and if he falls behind in other topics, so be it. We’ll sort that out when we get home.

Ceil had a meeting with Lee’s teachers yesterday afternoon, and made a similar discovery. Because French schools assign kids based on the year (and not the month) of their birth, Lee has been attending the equivalent of fourth grade – not, as we had assumed, third grade. This was a cause for relief on the part of Lee’s teacher, who has been concerned about Lee’s performance in mathematics: “oh, so that’s why she can’t do linear algebra with the rest of the kids.”

Ceil and the teachers agreed that Lee would continue in the current classroom, and begin studying French with a teacher at a different school for one hour each afternoon. This gave be pause, as it threatens to complicate Ceil’s day even further.

Ceil is forever shuttling back and fourth between the two schools to pickup the kids for lunch (some days with her, some days at the canteen), after school (different times each day of the week) or if a teacher at Miles’ school calls in sick (no substitutes). Our house is simply too far away to justify making the trip home after dropping the kids off, so Ceil and the kids are often at loose-ends, needing to kill two or three hours in town before returning to school. Ceil made a break through a couple of weeks ago when she found a gym to join, and a pool with ‘open swim’ each morning – but this new requirement to take Lee across town for an hour each afternoon seems to exacerbate the situation.

So we’ll give it a shot. Despite her nightly hystrionics (“I don’t want to go to school – I can’t understand my teacher and she has bad breath!”), Lee is quite happy at the end of the school day and has made many friends. This weekend, in fact, she’s off to her first birthday party at the local McDonalds… and kudo’s to me for making the RSVP call to the other kid’s parents entirely in French.

Ok; time to run. Miles just handed me a form I need to translate, sign, and return. I think it’s a request for a meeting with the math teacher; or it maybe a permission-slip for a field trip to the gonorrhea clinic. Hmmmm…

Apres le pleuvoir, le deluge

After the rains, the flood

I miss the rains that fall in Seattle at this time of year – the soft, misty, drizzle in which one (theoretically at least) can go for long walks without getting soaked. By contrast, the rain squalls which sweep across this region in Central France release huge, thick, weighty drops of rain – think water balloons and you’re on the right track.

A few weekends ago, we had a particularly stormy day, and I was utterly drenched after a thirty yard dash from the cover of an awning outside a store, across the parking lot to my car – and I want to emphasize this: drenched. As in, “Perhaps I’ll go back into the store, purchase some bath towels and a robe and wait this sucker out.”

The next morning, we were surprised (being city-folk) to see that the level of the creek running through the field behind our house had risen quite a bit. What had been a meandering stream, five to ten feet wide and less than a foot deep in most spots, was now showing more ambition – small rapids, foam, and enough strength that when Miles slipped in the mud, I rushed quickly from my seat in the back yard (leaving behind an excellent Bordeaux and a hunk of foie gras) to help him to his feet, lest we be swept downstream.

After we extricated Miles from the muck, we stood by the river discussing the level of the water. I sagely pointed to a few places along the bank and trunks of trees and said, “See kids, sometimes the water gets even higher.” Call me Huck Finn or The Riverman.

Fast forward two weeks to Monday night when the rains began to fall again – it being dark, we could not see the sheets of water falling outside our window, but the sound of the drops on the tile roof was enough to keep Miles and I awake. The rains were still falling when we drove to school / work in the morning, and though there are no windows in the factory where I work, we could hear the wind and rain through the roof. At lunch, a party of six bundled up and head out to “Mama’s Place” – a short-drive away. When they returned, soaked to the skin, it seemed just as likely that they had sailed round Cape Horn in an open skiff.

Later that afternoon, I met Miles after school and as we drove home we saw many cars parked by the side of the road in the forest surrounding our town (Arthon). A couple of guys walking along the road with large baskets, and concluded that they were hunting for mushrooms – a very popular past-time in this area; conditions must have been excellent, because there were dozens more cars by the roadside.

We were also struck by the standing water covering many fields and pastures on the way home – what had been newly tilled soil just the day before, now looked like a rectangular reservoir. I enjoy guessing what the farmers are planting and harvesting as we drive past them in their tractors – but the sight of all this water made the game more complicated: soybeans, winter wheat, Chilean Sea Bass…?

But none of this prepared us for the sight which awaited us as we pulled up in front of our house. The small creek with occasional ambitions at river-hood had swelled to well over two hundred yards wide and now covered the entirety of the pasture behind our house. The smallish rapids we had seen a few weeks ago were now the real thing, threatening to over-take a dilapidated foot bridge which crosses the stream at one point. Think “National Geographic documentary of the first kayakers in the foot-hills of the Himalayans” and you’ll be getting close.

Before





After
Miles was strangely energized and excited by the transformation – and Lee, upon her arrival, was positively hysterical. She ran from one side of the house to the other, alternating between improvised dances of glee and fearful shrieks about the prospect of our house being washed away. I assured her that the house was still forty feet or more above the water-level and we were in no danger – but perhaps my credibility in area of hydrography and water-sheds had slipped a bit.

I too, was struck by the change. We enjoy a bucolic view from our kitchen window and I gaze out at the meadow, trees, birds, etc. as I wash the dishes. (Or at least, I enjoyed it the one time I washed the dishes, but I digress.) Last night though, all evidence of the pasture was gone, and in its place, a wide, fast-flowing river of brownish water, carrying small pieces of debris. Truly, if you came to visit and arrived last night, you might have said, “Wow, what a great spot! I’ve always wanted to live near a body of water. Do you do any fishing?” We had gone from Irish Highlands to Mississippi Delta overnight.

The rain let up before sunset, and the sounds from the roof were replaced by a mild roar from the rapids. I listened to the sounds well into the night, trying to imagine the sheer weight of the water moving past, and estimating how wide an area might be draining into this one creek – where does the water go? What happens to all the wildlife in the fields? What about the cows? Would Anderson Cooper be stopping by with a CNN camera crew? Would the President of France make a fly-by in Air Force Une (a picture of a thumb painted on the tail to avoid confusion with Air Force Deux)? Maybe Lee was on to something – perhaps I should bring a few of our belongings upstairs?

It’s morning now, and as I write this, the sun has yet to rise, but from the kitchen window, the sound of rushing water continues, unabated. I wonder if the library has any translations of Mark Twain?

Peace.