Thanksgiving in France (a guest posting by Dan F)

My friend Dan is leading a team, similar to the one I am part of, at a company near Bordeaux, France. He and his wife Trish, being braver than Ceil and I, are home-schooling their three children (so... braver on at least two counts). Dan sent this note along describing their Thanksgiving celebration. I thought you might enjoy it...

We celebrated Thanksgiving this past weekend and as you can imagine, it was a bit tougher to put together the traditional meal in a foreign country. With some perseverance and a bit of luck, we managed to do it though. This year we celebrated the event on Saturday, since both Thursday and Friday were work-days in France. We invited our landlords to enjoy a Thanksgiving feast. They are from England and we had a great time explaining to them what Thanksgiving was all about. We even had the boys do some research on the first feast as part of their school work and write a report to give to our guests.

The first part was getting the turkey…not as easy as it sounds. We started a couple of weeks ago calling butchers to reserve the bird. No luck…turkey is not available here until Christmas time. After many attempts, one of the people in the office here was able to arrange a special order from her hotel chef. The chef had to drive 30 miles each way to get the bird and we made a special trip north to pick it up on Friday. With the special order, tip, etc, the bird was about 70 Euros (about $85) and weighed somewhere around 15 pounds. Trish cooked home-made stuffing with French bread, spices and toasting it in the oven. All in all, it turned out very well.

The next part was the dessert. Trish made an apple pie, but we wanted pumpkin as well. No luck finding pumpkins in the local stores, but when we mentioned our dilemma to Ruth and Ken (our landlords), they said that their neighbor had a pumpkin on their doorstep. When they asked about it, their neighbor gave it to us for our dessert.

The rest of the meal was much easier…and we enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings.

I write then next part knowing that you have had miserable weather for the past few weeks [in Seattle]. On Sunday, the weather turned from windy and rainy to warm and sunny. It was mid-60's with a nice breeze coming from the SE. We decided to go a local island called Ile de Oleron which is about 10 miles from where we live. We it the beach, played in the sand and flew a kite. It was a beautiful day and we enjoyed the fresh air.

I hope that you are doing well, that you enjoyed your Thanksgiving and that you are smoothly gearing up for the Christmas season.

Take care,

Dan

Martha and Betty Leave, the Gavins Arrive

On Tuesday, I drove my mother and sister to the airport -- a close-run thing, given the unexpected (by noone but me) traffic around Paris. But we got there with many minutes to spare, and I found a parking spot (on the side-walk) and the ladies got checked-in quickly. By all accounts, it was a long journey home, but they arrived safe and sound, warmed by memories of Miles and Lee.

Miles and Lee, meanwhile, spent the day whipping themselves into a frenzy of anticipation: THE GAVINS ARE COMING TONIGHT!! Indeed, our friends Adam, Maureen and their kids Joey and Katherine, arrived in Chateauroux at 7pm for a five day stay.

The Gavins flew in a week or more ago, and having spent a few days in Paris, they decamped to London for five nights. They traveled from London to Chateauroux yesterday, and we will all leave today for a long-weekend in Boredeaux. (They have wine there? I'm shocked...)

It was great to see the Gavins at the train station. Clearly, it had been a long day for them, but as clearly, they have enjoyed their vacation, and the kids jumped about, twitching with tics of joy at being re-united. We took them back to our place in Arthon (they thought the journey ended in Chateauroux... ha!) and had a great dinner, debriefing each other on the events of the past four months.

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Just to relate one scene from the Gavin's journey from London to Chateauroux:

The EuroStar train from London arrives at Gare Nord in Paris. The train to Chateauroux leaves from Gare Austerlitz -- across town, but an easy, 10 minute cab ride. On most days.

Adam, Maureen and the kids have about 1 hour to make the connection. They catch a cab, the driver speaks no English, and for that matter, very little French, but by pointing at maps, guidebooks, and railway time-tables, Adam makes himself understood. The cabbie sets out towards Austerlitz.

But the traffic is terrible. Gridlock. Lots of police cars squeezing past, up on the curb in some cases, all heading in the same direction. Even the guys on scooters, who normally drive between the lanes imperiously, and seemingly, imperviously, have come to a stop.

The cab moves forward a bit, and then stops; then forward a bit, and stops. The cab driver, gesturing wildly, speaking unintelligibly, makes himself understood -- "This is not the usual Paris rush-hour... we may not make your train... sell me your wife and children...name a price."

After 30 minutes, the Gavins have covered about 5km of the 7km journey -- they've packed light enough that walking the rest of the way is an option, but their sense of Parisian geography is dicey... do they take a chance and head-out on foot? Dare they stay with the cab any longer? Decision time.

Man-of-action, Adam tells his clan, "All right, we're walking." (I can only imagine the look of incomprehension and indignation from Joey at this point... "let me get this straight: we're abandoning a perfectly functioning automobile to walk for 2km? I'm reading here... I've got my Gameboy going... you want me to do what?")

Dolling out pearls of encouragement to his kids, and waggling his two fingers at the cab driver to indicate "proceed on foot", Adam makes himself understood (alas, in the cabbie's country of origin, this gesture means, "That's a fair price, I accept your offer, you may have my wife and children; do you want them now or shall I bring them around?"). Train leaves in 25 minutes.

And so our heroes set out. They march past three blocks of immobile traffic, push through crowds of people on the sidewalk, ignoring "walk / don't-walk" signs (as is the way in Paris).

It's important to your correspondent that you have a clear mental image here -- a small caravan of Gavins, heads-down, suitcases in tow, Adam in the lead, Maureen and Katherine close behind with looks of concern, Joey lagging slightly, his head swiveling in search of bookstores and/or places to eat. Adam will not be denied -- he's squeezing past folks, "s'cuse me, s'cuse me, out of the g-dd--m way-Frenchie! Joey, keep up! Katherine, stop crying! C'mon!" Train leaves in 15 minutes.

And suddenly, they burst through the crowd and find themselves in a patch of open ground -- daylight! Thrilled, they break into a ragged sprint... "we're gonna make it!" Train leaves in 10 minutes.

I can only imagine the next few moments, and unburdened by actual facts, I'll weave a tableau largely based on how I hope it happened:

Joey, still on the lookout for a mid-day crepe or maybe a fresh baguette, notices a phalanx of policemen, dressed in riot-gear, arrayed on their right... "Hey, dad..."

Katherine, deeply concerned about their fate, should they miss the train, notices a rather large and unruly crowd on their left: a crowd of folks busily building a pile of trash and wooden pallets, some of whom are carrying bottles with rags hanging out the top... "Hey, dad, what are those..."

Maureen, still a bit unsettled by the looks she was getting from the cab-driver, and curious about what Adam and the cabbie were negotiating, notices the cops and the rioters simultaneously... "Holy s--t, Adam, you've lead us into the middle of..."

And Adam, spying the clock atop the train station, less than 100 yards away, is filled with hope... "We're gonna make it..." The train leaves in eight minutes.

All four realizations come crashing together in the collective Gavin-mind, and as one, they form-up, tightening their ranks, and in a stunningly graceful, swift parade ground maneuver, they wheel right, facing the riot police -- the last obstacle between them and the train (and, I might note, the closest protection from the rapidly forming riot on their left). Adam and Joey in the fore, heads lowered, Katherine and Maureen close behind, like half-backs following lead-blockers through the line -- they form a family-sized flying wedge and put on speed, surging towards the line of shield-and-baton-wielding, visor-and-helmet-wearing riot police.

The police commander is stunned. He came out today, expecting to face unruly Parisians -- but he now faces a more formidable foe, a foe bread of sturdy mid-Western US stock, a foe unified by a common goal, a foe unwavering in their commitment... in short, a foe which will stop at nothing until they reach their objective. He was not expecting this.

The police commander opens his command manual to page one, and reads aloud to his charges: "Surrender! Run away! Hide! We give up!" (Not sure how many pages there are in the commander's manual -- tomes on French military strategy tend to be slim.)

And so the police line parts, the Gavins pass through, triumphant. Flush with adrenaline, they make the last two blocks in record time... arriving with time to spare. (Joey: "Can we get a snack to eat on the train?")

Unbeknownst to Adam et al, in their wake, the rioters are also suffering a crisis of confidence. "Mon dieu! Did you see that, Jacques? Those four folks were crazed! What the heck can we do that compares with that? Maybe we should call this thing off... oh, hey, look, a cafe serving that smelly cheese I like... c'mon, let's go... yes, now... I'm hungry! It's lunch time anyway: you can't riot during the lunch hour." The mob, chastened by the example of the Gavins, dissolves in moments.

And, thus, the Gavins set out on the final leg of their journey to Chateauroux.

And if you don't believe it, click here. It turns out that the Gavins had gotten between the cops and a group of 10,000 French firemen -- on-strike, demanding a pay-raise, retirement with benefits at 55, and a dramatic reduction in the amount of open-flames and smoke in their work-place.

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All for now... we're off to Sarlat-le-caneda and then on to Bordeaux. Back on Sunday with pictures, hang-overs and more tall tales. Peace.

Martha and Betty Arrive

My mother and sister arrived on Friday for a 10 day visit. I wanted to go to the office on Friday, so Ceil and the kids went ahead to meet our visitors at the airport. We'd rented a van for the month -- affording us more space to transport our guests -- but alas, no GPS. Ceil did a fine job using directions from Mappy.com, fine that is, until the last little bit. Lee was calling me on the cel phone periodically throughout the journey:

"We're almost there, Dad. Mom is fine."

"We're getting close, Daddy, I can see the airplanes. Mom is okay."

"DADDY, WE'RE LOST!... COME FIND US... yes, Mom's okay, BUT I'M NOT!!!"

All was well in the end... Ceil found the terminal and she and the kids met Betty and Martha right as they entered the terminal. They had a quick rest for pictures and then back into the van to battle rush-hour traffic into down-town Paris. Ceil and Betty reported that the drive was VERY frustrating, but that Martha, ensconsed in the back of the van with her grand-children seemed utterly content.

After checking into the motel, Martha turned in for a late nap which became an early bedtime. The rest of us connected with our friend Camille who is spending her junior year in Gonzaga's Paris program.

We spent the next day in and around the Louvre. Not sure of Martha's stamina, we brought a wheel chair along, and right away, it paid dividends, as the security guards escorted us to the head of the line waiting to enter the museum. Miles and Lee took turns pushing Grandma. Although there were a couple of near-misses, rumors that Miles bounced Martha down some steps are wild exaggerations. Or so Miles assures me.

More naps in the afternoon followed by dinner with Camille (Japanese food) and a walk through the Latin quarter for freshly-made crepes. I was pleased to make it back to the room in time to watch the second half of the New Zealand vs. France rugby match, which the All Blacks won handily.

We we're up early (by Betty and Martha standards) the next day. Ceil, Miles and Martha took a couple of hours in the D'Orsay museum. Martha felt perfectly strong enough to walk, but Miles had no intention of waiting on lines and INSISTED that she get back in her chair.

Lee, Betty and I took a driving tour through Paris, in search of Diddl paraphernalia, to pass the time.

It was a long drive home. There's a post in the offing about French White Trash -- rest-stops are a great place for viewing the phenomenon. Give me a few days to pull my thoughts together.

We got into town late, but not too late for a tour of the place and some take-out pizza.

Thanks to all who have said prayers for Martha and Betty during their trip -- they arrived safe and sound, with luggage intact, and no hassles from security along the way.

Peace.

Ok... I think we're up and running

As fate would have it, we cut our Italy vacation short to rush home and... sit in the dark.

Around 8pm Friday night, the power cut out. Thankfully, Ceil had stashed some matches and candles, and I had exercised enough foresight to empty several bottles of wine, so we had ready-made candle holders. The kids we're a bit anxious, but I re-assured them that we had plenty of candles, and that I was capable of creating more candle holders quite rapidly.

The gas cook top continued to work, so instead of roasting potatoes, we pan-fried them. We cooked up a kilo or two of mussels, and hauled ice cream out of the freezer. We gorged ourselves by candlelight. Ceil led the kids in a few hands of cards, while I double-checked the supply of candle-holders.

The blackout gave us an excuse tp try out one of the fireplaces in our house. The landlord has several cords of firewood stacked behind the barn. After a few trips to the woodpile, and a setting light to a week's worth of the International Herald Tribune, we had a roaring fire. We kept it going most of the night, and re-lit it early the next day. It was very therapeutic. And we're really prepared for the next outage, having set aside several new candle-holders.

On Saturday afternoon, we managed to call the house-keeper -- a lovely woman with less English than I have French. It's hard enough to communicate in person, but speaking with her over the phone feels like playing charades in a very dark room. I seemed to get my point across, however, and she drove out to meet us.

Turns out it was not a general power failure, or wild-cat strike by the local utility workers -- the problem was limited to our house. Apparently, we were running too many appliances (and laptop computers) simultaneously, and managed to trip the main fuse for the property. Madame Gerrard showed us the fuse box (about 40 yards down the drive-way), and we re-set it.

As I walked back to the house to see if the lights were back on, I heard some terrifying shrieks through the windows -- I feared the worst: some accident involving a child catching on fire, or worse, one of my laptops being broken. But not to worry: the sound I heard was Miles celebrating our return to the 20th century -- running through the house, hooting and flipping switches on and off.

So, we're back on the grid: Internet, electricity, running water. All the comforts of home... except the ability to pick-up the phone and speak to someone in English... sigh.

Miss you folks.

Oops! I spoke too soon...

We have no electricity!

We were thrilled to have the internet up and running this morning, but at this point, we'd settle for the ability to heat our house and refrigerate our food! Not sure what the problem is, who I'd call, or how I'd make myself understood... but we've got a fireplace and plenty of ice cream to get through before it melts. What goes good with ice cream? Red wine. Thankfully, we've got plenty of that.

More to follow once the power comes back and I can re-charge my laptop.

Hosanna! Internet access in Arthon, France

We are (finally) on-line!

Just got back from our tour of Rome and Florence -- flight was delayed, four hour drive from the airport, nearly slammed into a pack of wild boar on the road into town, staggered through the door at 3am... and still had to check if our Internet issue was resolved during our sojourn...

... and, mirabile dictu, it was!

More to follow in the coming days -- for now, I predict a decline in sales at the Chateauroux McDonald's, as we will no longer be using their free wi-fi hotspot.