Little shout out from Amy here! Sadly I have to admit that this is the first time that I've had to revisit the blog. I love the blog and love the way it helped us connect with people and helped them connect to our crazy France life. Now we are living our crazy Davis Square life. We have been home since March 6th (2 1/2 months). It was a whirlwind from the moment we found out we were leaving to the days before we left; packing our lives (9 pieces of luggage and 8 carry-ons), packing the car (Amy laughing at all of our luggage and being a SUPER HUGE HELP with the kids and lending us the locking tie down staps!), saying goodbye to our France life, saying hello to our U.S. life, seeing all our family and friends, moving back into our house, reacclimating to our U.S. life, going back to work fulltime, and oh ya, throwing in a bathroom renovation and a job search for Lance, for the fun of it.
Needless to say, I have been a bit busy. BUT I am back. So my blog tonight is a microcosm of our return home. There are so many stories to tell (and they will be told) but this is what I've got for tonight. It's a story about Cole. In the cab ride home (Les had all our luggage in his car and Team Davis was in a cab together) I was eagerly anticipating Ellie's reaction (as she was the only one who had not been back to the U.S. during the whole time we were in France, and she was older) however, she fell alseep in the cab, they both fell asleep -- it was 2:00 AM for the kids --and I wasn't sure how they were going to be upon waking up at the house. Ellie rallied but it was Cole who provided the biggest surprise. Cole's reaction was priceless. He entered the house and while I was eagerly watching Ellie, out of the corner of my eye I saw Cole lie face down on the floor, rolling around, back and forth, giggling uncontrollably, on our living room rug! Our France house was beautiful but carpet was not a part of any of it, anywhere. It was made of stone floors and stone walls and "soft" or "comfortable" are not a words anyone would use to describe any of it. Apparently, even at 2 years old, there's nothing like a nice wool carpet.
With that, the Blog is back.
"...like an open book for the whole world to read."
Monday, May 18, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
All In My Grill
There are many things I love about our cozy little house in Davis Square. High on the list is the back yard community. We have a tidy little "garden" out back, big enough for even the longest moon shot home run off of a plastic T, as long as the batter is a two year-old.
Bordering our slice of the American Dream is an old chain link fence. A beautiful relic in burnt sienna that, in the summer, dons an English Ivy boa weaved with wildflowers reflecting the finest in ex-urban backyard haute couture. Strategically low for half its span, it allows us an open connection with our neighbors who have an idyllic, over-sized backyard with flowerbeds that would make Martha Stewart stop and take note. Conveniently, the beds also make a stunning backdrop for the fully-lighted sound stage for live bands that they have been known to build for special occasions like milestone birthdays. It's an experience. We love them and always welcome, though occasionally marvel at, the energy with which they make full and celebratory use of their little paradise. God love the Irish... more stories there to follow.
Beyond their lot lay the backyard gardens of all of the houses on the next street over. We don't know these folks as well, being separated beyond any practical "hi, neighbor" over-the-fence chats. Rather, we know the characters by reference, like a post-modern Rear Window with fewer bricks and more patios. It is thus that we noted with sadness the absence of one of the regular characters, Mary, an elderly woman who we only saw on her regular trips to her little patch of concrete, wearing a light blue, flowered dressing gown, to hang or pull down from the line a seemingly endless supply of light blue, flowered dressing gowns.
Her absence was obvious because in her place was a glowing new picnic table with a table cloth and candles, tiki torches, and a shiny, black, old-school, -- fabulous -- charcoal Weber grill. Manning the coals was a man who was maybe 40. I noticed him not by sight but by the unmistakable smell of charcoals heating... getting ready for the main act. The beautiful part: he's been out there, firing up that grill for the past eight nights in a row. Eight nights in a row, cleaning out the ashes, loading new charcoal, building the fire and waiting until the coals are just right. Always just him... with a beer... a man and his grill. Solid.
So, here's to you, Brand-New Grill Guy.
It's great to be home.
Bordering our slice of the American Dream is an old chain link fence. A beautiful relic in burnt sienna that, in the summer, dons an English Ivy boa weaved with wildflowers reflecting the finest in ex-urban backyard haute couture. Strategically low for half its span, it allows us an open connection with our neighbors who have an idyllic, over-sized backyard with flowerbeds that would make Martha Stewart stop and take note. Conveniently, the beds also make a stunning backdrop for the fully-lighted sound stage for live bands that they have been known to build for special occasions like milestone birthdays. It's an experience. We love them and always welcome, though occasionally marvel at, the energy with which they make full and celebratory use of their little paradise. God love the Irish... more stories there to follow.
Beyond their lot lay the backyard gardens of all of the houses on the next street over. We don't know these folks as well, being separated beyond any practical "hi, neighbor" over-the-fence chats. Rather, we know the characters by reference, like a post-modern Rear Window with fewer bricks and more patios. It is thus that we noted with sadness the absence of one of the regular characters, Mary, an elderly woman who we only saw on her regular trips to her little patch of concrete, wearing a light blue, flowered dressing gown, to hang or pull down from the line a seemingly endless supply of light blue, flowered dressing gowns.
Her absence was obvious because in her place was a glowing new picnic table with a table cloth and candles, tiki torches, and a shiny, black, old-school, -- fabulous -- charcoal Weber grill. Manning the coals was a man who was maybe 40. I noticed him not by sight but by the unmistakable smell of charcoals heating... getting ready for the main act. The beautiful part: he's been out there, firing up that grill for the past eight nights in a row. Eight nights in a row, cleaning out the ashes, loading new charcoal, building the fire and waiting until the coals are just right. Always just him... with a beer... a man and his grill. Solid.
So, here's to you, Brand-New Grill Guy.
It's great to be home.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
It's been over a month since our return to the U.S. and, quite clearly, we've not found much time to keep this space current. The small matters of re-integrating into our lives, (one of us) going back to work, and that minor issue of (the other one of us) finding a job, not to mention the daunting and foolish task of remodeling our upstairs bathroom in our "spare" time, haven't exactly allowed the blocks of free time to keep this effort fresh.
Hopefully, that is now going to change. After much discussion and a very flattering amount of encouragement from our readers, we've decided to revive this forum. Without the daily tribulations and inherent comedic trials of our existence in the backwoods of a foreign nation, the material may be more challenging to unearth.
However, I find that life with two small children and about 10 less hours in a day than we need just to accomplish the bare minimum to keep our heads above water tends to provide a regular stream of vignettes that, were we not to find the humor inherent therein, would regularly reduce us to a puddle of tears. So, you know... let's laugh about it.
After all, this is what it's all about, right? A Runaway American Dream?
So, in the coming weeks, you will see changes to this space. A new look, more frequent and (hopefully!) shorter posts, and, well, less stories about French people. If you think we've got it completely wrong, let us know. After all, if you the reader are not entertained, what's the point of putting this all down in kilobytes? We'd be just as well to sit on the couch and chat with each other over a nice glass of (really expensive) wine. Seriously though... the wine. How did we ever afford to drink this stuff? Where's that lady with the gas pump when I need her?
Hopefully, that is now going to change. After much discussion and a very flattering amount of encouragement from our readers, we've decided to revive this forum. Without the daily tribulations and inherent comedic trials of our existence in the backwoods of a foreign nation, the material may be more challenging to unearth.
However, I find that life with two small children and about 10 less hours in a day than we need just to accomplish the bare minimum to keep our heads above water tends to provide a regular stream of vignettes that, were we not to find the humor inherent therein, would regularly reduce us to a puddle of tears. So, you know... let's laugh about it.
After all, this is what it's all about, right? A Runaway American Dream?
So, in the coming weeks, you will see changes to this space. A new look, more frequent and (hopefully!) shorter posts, and, well, less stories about French people. If you think we've got it completely wrong, let us know. After all, if you the reader are not entertained, what's the point of putting this all down in kilobytes? We'd be just as well to sit on the couch and chat with each other over a nice glass of (really expensive) wine. Seriously though... the wine. How did we ever afford to drink this stuff? Where's that lady with the gas pump when I need her?
Monday, March 9, 2009
Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
There was always bound to be things that we missed. Leaving a few months ahead of schedule certainly had the potential to amplify that fact but as we look back, only a few days removed, we see just that... things that we miss -- but nothing that we regret...
1. Family lunch. They send the kids home from school from Noon until 1:30 each day for lunch. They take lunch very seriously here. Nearly every day, Lance "came home from work" to sit down at the table to join us for lunch. It was really nice.
2. Drinking wine that was cultivated, harvested, and bottled by people we know personally and consider our friends.
3. The sweetest oysters you've ever tasted at less than 50 cents apiece, there for you every Wed and Sat at the Market.
4. Hearing Ellie say "Castle!" when she sees the church in Aubarne, as well as her joy at seeing "Kelsey," "her pony" every time I drive her back and forth to school. Although I have not had the heart to break it to her that her pony "Kelsey" is more like Kelsey Grammer than she realizes.
5. Stopping a telemarketer dead in their tracks by saying, "You're calling me in France right now, I am not interested." They are so confused because they are sure they dialed a US number.
6. Dark Dog Energy Drink. Sure it's just a knockoff of RedBull but "Dark Dog" is way cooler to say.
7. The baguettes. Actually, there were a lot of really mediocre baguettes in Southern France but, the good ones... oh the good ones. We will forever be in search for another baguette to match the "Sanilhacoise."
8. The croissants. Do I really need to say anything more? Okay -- just to drive the point home, in France we always needed to buy five croissants: one for each of us and an extra for Ellie. When she'd polished off her two, she'd start lobbying to finish Cole's. So our first morning back here, Lance went to Dunkin Donuts for bagels, coffee, and croissants. As usual, he bought two for Ellie. She sat up in her chair, took one bite, spit it out and said, "yucky, I don't like this croissant!" *sigh* refined tastes are hard to satisfy.
9. The markets. Two days a week, we'd head into Uzes (or whatever other town we'd find ourselves in on Saturday morning) and do some shopping at the market. Now, for most of the winter it was clear that the produce was being shipped in from somewhere -- Spain or North Africa in most cases -- but there was still a certain charm to heading into the Place Aux Herbes and stocking up on your greens and maybe a piece of fish, oysters, or lamb for that night's meal. We will anxiously await the opening of the Wednesday Farmer's Market in Davis Square.
10. Being able to order a demi-pichet of house wine at any little lunch spot and getting a solid, beautiful local wine for mere pennies.
11. The music. Okay, this entry may have a bit of sarcasm to it. While there are a few gems, like Christophe Maé or Asa, there are several hours of pure schlock played on the French radio. But, as though to make up for the suffering they've just put you through, they'll then go and spin some Barry White or Sir Tom Jones... and completely redeem themselves!"
11. The food. This is actually a point of contention amongst Team Davis. While we certainly had many excellent meals in France, Lance insists that nothing we ate there compares with his best meals in Boston. That may or may not be the case but the beauty of the food was the consistency. We could walk into any little place for lunch (which we frequently did) and at the very least have our choice of salads that would feed three people, pizzas that put 95% of American pies to shame, or a "menu" -- the prix fixe option -- that was, at the least, uniformly very good. These people take their food seriously.
12. More than anything else though, we will miss our friends. It's hard to imagine that you could make such close friends over the course of just seven months but when things click, they just click. I know it's easy to say now, just a few short days removed, but I have little doubt that, in this age of Email, Skype, and Facebook, we will remain close, even though we may be an ocean apart. We wouldn't have made it without them.
1. Family lunch. They send the kids home from school from Noon until 1:30 each day for lunch. They take lunch very seriously here. Nearly every day, Lance "came home from work" to sit down at the table to join us for lunch. It was really nice.
2. Drinking wine that was cultivated, harvested, and bottled by people we know personally and consider our friends.
3. The sweetest oysters you've ever tasted at less than 50 cents apiece, there for you every Wed and Sat at the Market.
4. Hearing Ellie say "Castle!" when she sees the church in Aubarne, as well as her joy at seeing "Kelsey," "her pony" every time I drive her back and forth to school. Although I have not had the heart to break it to her that her pony "Kelsey" is more like Kelsey Grammer than she realizes.
5. Stopping a telemarketer dead in their tracks by saying, "You're calling me in France right now, I am not interested." They are so confused because they are sure they dialed a US number.
6. Dark Dog Energy Drink. Sure it's just a knockoff of RedBull but "Dark Dog" is way cooler to say.
7. The baguettes. Actually, there were a lot of really mediocre baguettes in Southern France but, the good ones... oh the good ones. We will forever be in search for another baguette to match the "Sanilhacoise."
8. The croissants. Do I really need to say anything more? Okay -- just to drive the point home, in France we always needed to buy five croissants: one for each of us and an extra for Ellie. When she'd polished off her two, she'd start lobbying to finish Cole's. So our first morning back here, Lance went to Dunkin Donuts for bagels, coffee, and croissants. As usual, he bought two for Ellie. She sat up in her chair, took one bite, spit it out and said, "yucky, I don't like this croissant!" *sigh* refined tastes are hard to satisfy.
9. The markets. Two days a week, we'd head into Uzes (or whatever other town we'd find ourselves in on Saturday morning) and do some shopping at the market. Now, for most of the winter it was clear that the produce was being shipped in from somewhere -- Spain or North Africa in most cases -- but there was still a certain charm to heading into the Place Aux Herbes and stocking up on your greens and maybe a piece of fish, oysters, or lamb for that night's meal. We will anxiously await the opening of the Wednesday Farmer's Market in Davis Square.
10. Being able to order a demi-pichet of house wine at any little lunch spot and getting a solid, beautiful local wine for mere pennies.
11. The music. Okay, this entry may have a bit of sarcasm to it. While there are a few gems, like Christophe Maé or Asa, there are several hours of pure schlock played on the French radio. But, as though to make up for the suffering they've just put you through, they'll then go and spin some Barry White or Sir Tom Jones... and completely redeem themselves!"
11. The food. This is actually a point of contention amongst Team Davis. While we certainly had many excellent meals in France, Lance insists that nothing we ate there compares with his best meals in Boston. That may or may not be the case but the beauty of the food was the consistency. We could walk into any little place for lunch (which we frequently did) and at the very least have our choice of salads that would feed three people, pizzas that put 95% of American pies to shame, or a "menu" -- the prix fixe option -- that was, at the least, uniformly very good. These people take their food seriously.
12. More than anything else though, we will miss our friends. It's hard to imagine that you could make such close friends over the course of just seven months but when things click, they just click. I know it's easy to say now, just a few short days removed, but I have little doubt that, in this age of Email, Skype, and Facebook, we will remain close, even though we may be an ocean apart. We wouldn't have made it without them.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Two of us
Two of us riding nowhere
Spending someone's
Hard earned pay
You and me Sunday driving
Not arriving
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
Two of us sending postcards
Writing letters
On my wall
You and me burning matches
Lifting latches
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
You and I have memories
Longer than the road that stretches out ahead
Two of us wearing raincoats
Standing so low
In the sun
You and me chasing paper
Getting nowhere
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
You and I have memories
Longer than the road that stretches out ahead
Two of us wearing raincoats
Standing solo
In the sun
You and me chasing paper
Getting nowhere
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
We're going home
Better believe it
Spending someone's
Hard earned pay
You and me Sunday driving
Not arriving
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
Two of us sending postcards
Writing letters
On my wall
You and me burning matches
Lifting latches
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
You and I have memories
Longer than the road that stretches out ahead
Two of us wearing raincoats
Standing so low
In the sun
You and me chasing paper
Getting nowhere
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
You and I have memories
Longer than the road that stretches out ahead
Two of us wearing raincoats
Standing solo
In the sun
You and me chasing paper
Getting nowhere
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
We're going home
Better believe it
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Dirty Water
This list was started months ago with a few things that I was all fired up about and really missed at the time. Things that we couldn’t wait to get back to Boston to enjoy. Now, I have to say that I am having a hard time thinking of things to include. As our departure day draws near my mind is clouded with all of the things we will miss here in France and that is making it hard to leave.
* Seeing our friends and family (this has been extremely hard).
* A dryer – soft clothes and towels (crunchy clothes and deformed, stretched-out shirts are not cool).
* Warmth – old stone farmhouses in Southern France are DRAFTY. A room that is well insulated and easily maintained at a comfortable 68 degrees. Heck, I'd settle for 65. We've been living life at 60 degrees. It's chilly. You could store meat in here.
* Not having to work hard to understand the gossip of people waiting to pick up their kid at school.
* Putting the kids to sleep in their bedroom with out having to walk the Somerville equivalent of the distance to our neighbors’ house to get back to the living room.
* Sushi, Greek, Mexican, Indian, BBQ, heck diversity of any kind in terms of food. While we’re on topic of food - a GOOD Steak! Cows over here are grass fed and are just… they’re not good.
* A practically-designed kitchen and OUR cooking equipment and related gear. The beautiful, stylish kitchen with only three burners and minimal workspace that looks like a Food Network studio kitchen is not necessarily the optimal cooking experience for us.
* And speaking of food, plastic wrap with an actual metal cutting edge – they have an inverted bread knife here to cut paper towels but when you buy a box of saran wrap there is but a flimsy cardboard corrugated ridge that is supposed to cut the wrap. It does not, of course, and you end up with a wrinkled ball of plastic in your hand and a mangled pile of cardboard on the floor. It’s not pretty.
* Being able to drive out of my driveway without having to roll down my window. Seriously, we’ve been here almost 7 months and I am the primary driver of this rather large car for European standards – you’d think I’d know it by now. The driveway in our hamlet has a weird turn and it VERY tight in one spot. I have to roll down my driver window and make sure I am not going to hit the side of the house. Now our city driveway is skinny, but not this bad!
* Rolling around on the floor with the kids and not coming away with bruises and a low-grade concussion from the stone floors. A rug… just a nice, soft rug.
* Stepping outside and seeing… life. People, cars, bikes, buses, just some indicia that the rest of humanity did not vaporize overnight.
* TV. I’m sorry but random celebrity talk/variety shows and dubbed-over reruns of CSI and Law and Order SVU does not constitute legitimate television.
I’m sure there has been a list of other things that we’ve barked at each other over the past seven months but somehow we can’t think of any more at the moment. For now, we’re buried in bags and boxes and counting kilograms and sitting on suitcases to get them zippered and it is nice to think about sitting in our warm, cozy living room and flipping on a Sox grapefruit league game. I just hope it isn’t snowing outside.
* Seeing our friends and family (this has been extremely hard).
* A dryer – soft clothes and towels (crunchy clothes and deformed, stretched-out shirts are not cool).
* Warmth – old stone farmhouses in Southern France are DRAFTY. A room that is well insulated and easily maintained at a comfortable 68 degrees. Heck, I'd settle for 65. We've been living life at 60 degrees. It's chilly. You could store meat in here.
* Not having to work hard to understand the gossip of people waiting to pick up their kid at school.
* Putting the kids to sleep in their bedroom with out having to walk the Somerville equivalent of the distance to our neighbors’ house to get back to the living room.
* Sushi, Greek, Mexican, Indian, BBQ, heck diversity of any kind in terms of food. While we’re on topic of food - a GOOD Steak! Cows over here are grass fed and are just… they’re not good.
* A practically-designed kitchen and OUR cooking equipment and related gear. The beautiful, stylish kitchen with only three burners and minimal workspace that looks like a Food Network studio kitchen is not necessarily the optimal cooking experience for us.
* And speaking of food, plastic wrap with an actual metal cutting edge – they have an inverted bread knife here to cut paper towels but when you buy a box of saran wrap there is but a flimsy cardboard corrugated ridge that is supposed to cut the wrap. It does not, of course, and you end up with a wrinkled ball of plastic in your hand and a mangled pile of cardboard on the floor. It’s not pretty.
* Being able to drive out of my driveway without having to roll down my window. Seriously, we’ve been here almost 7 months and I am the primary driver of this rather large car for European standards – you’d think I’d know it by now. The driveway in our hamlet has a weird turn and it VERY tight in one spot. I have to roll down my driver window and make sure I am not going to hit the side of the house. Now our city driveway is skinny, but not this bad!
* Rolling around on the floor with the kids and not coming away with bruises and a low-grade concussion from the stone floors. A rug… just a nice, soft rug.
* Stepping outside and seeing… life. People, cars, bikes, buses, just some indicia that the rest of humanity did not vaporize overnight.
* TV. I’m sorry but random celebrity talk/variety shows and dubbed-over reruns of CSI and Law and Order SVU does not constitute legitimate television.
I’m sure there has been a list of other things that we’ve barked at each other over the past seven months but somehow we can’t think of any more at the moment. For now, we’re buried in bags and boxes and counting kilograms and sitting on suitcases to get them zippered and it is nice to think about sitting in our warm, cozy living room and flipping on a Sox grapefruit league game. I just hope it isn’t snowing outside.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Day Tripper
I suppose all of our trips have been “day trips,” technically, other than the overnight in Switzerland, but we thought it would be fun to call out a few highlights and anecdotes that we’ve particularly enjoyed.
Over the holidays we took the kids ice skating at the "patinoire" that was set up in the "esplanade" in Uzès. They actually truck in a portable rink, together with a small selection of midway rides and games and set it up outside from the circular boulevard that runs in the footprint of the old city walls. Impressive, although the rink isn't exactly Olympic size. In fact, it's probably a lot smaller than dozens of backyard rinks set up every year in the Metro Boston area. Nonetheless, it was close by and the best option we had. The high point was Cole taking to skates like a fish to water and then bringing the house down by flat out grooving to Day Tripper – on skates – as it blared over the sound-system.
A few weeks back we finally got around to visiting the Cathédrale Saint-Théodorit d'Uzès (when it wasn’t packed wall to wall with Christmas Eve worshippers). It’s a good thing it was empty this day because we spent about 20 minutes lying face down on the dank cold stone floor looking for Cole's lost shoe.
We’ve tried to make sure we drove around to some of the less well-known areas near our village… the ones that never make it into the Michelin Guides. On one such adventure, we found ourselves driving from little village to little village trying to find a restaurant open for lunch (we finally had to drive all the way to Bagnols-Sur- Cèze, where we ate Indian pizza… yum). On one back road in between two very not-open villages, we came upon what can only be described as the world’s greatest retirement home for tractors. Yup, you read that right.
Last weekend we headed into the Vaucluse to discover the source of La Rive Sourges. The Fontaine-de-Vaucluse, swollen from the recent rains, was a pretty impressive sight as it mysteriously swells from an unknown source deep inside a closed valley. The whitewater roaring away from the source made for an excellent kayak course and some sort of local club or team was practicing running gates while we watched. It was quite a sight.
That same day, we wound our way south to the village of Barben for a visit to Château Le Barben, the self-proclaimed “most beautiful castle in Provence.” What was amazing about this 10th century castle, other than its dramatic setting, was that, after being in the same family for over 500 years, it was sold in the sixties to a wealthy businessman who opened it up to the public. The amazing part, however is that *his family still lives there!* His daughter and her husband are both in the art/design/history professions and they have kept the Château maintained and open to the public. They live there with their family and on the day we visited, while waiting for our tour to begin, there was a gaggle of grandkids playing soccer in the castle gardens. Some life.
Our tour of the Château went fairly well, having wisely remembered to pack lollypops for the kids. Hard to scream when you have a “sucette” in your mouth. I do think the guide was a bit nervous when Cole decided to heave his pop across the room. Life moved in slow motion as it spiraled towards a 16th century Belgian tapestry. Oops. Sadly, we’d packed but one set of child silencers and as the tour entered the subterranean passages that housed the military defenders of the castle, things went poorly. We told Ellie that the costumed Knight leading this part of the tour was there to save the Princess. “Where’s the Princess??” Um… I think she’s at school. Cole entertained himself by rolling around in the 10th century dirt and throwing rocks at the ancient armaments and shields. “Ooh… sorry… no, I think that dent was already there.” 
Over the holidays we took the kids ice skating at the "patinoire" that was set up in the "esplanade" in Uzès. They actually truck in a portable rink, together with a small selection of midway rides and games and set it up outside from the circular boulevard that runs in the footprint of the old city walls. Impressive, although the rink isn't exactly Olympic size. In fact, it's probably a lot smaller than dozens of backyard rinks set up every year in the Metro Boston area. Nonetheless, it was close by and the best option we had. The high point was Cole taking to skates like a fish to water and then bringing the house down by flat out grooving to Day Tripper – on skates – as it blared over the sound-system.
A few weeks back we finally got around to visiting the Cathédrale Saint-Théodorit d'Uzès (when it wasn’t packed wall to wall with Christmas Eve worshippers). It’s a good thing it was empty this day because we spent about 20 minutes lying face down on the dank cold stone floor looking for Cole's lost shoe.
We’ve tried to make sure we drove around to some of the less well-known areas near our village… the ones that never make it into the Michelin Guides. On one such adventure, we found ourselves driving from little village to little village trying to find a restaurant open for lunch (we finally had to drive all the way to Bagnols-Sur- Cèze, where we ate Indian pizza… yum). On one back road in between two very not-open villages, we came upon what can only be described as the world’s greatest retirement home for tractors. Yup, you read that right.
Last weekend we headed into the Vaucluse to discover the source of La Rive Sourges. The Fontaine-de-Vaucluse, swollen from the recent rains, was a pretty impressive sight as it mysteriously swells from an unknown source deep inside a closed valley. The whitewater roaring away from the source made for an excellent kayak course and some sort of local club or team was practicing running gates while we watched. It was quite a sight.
That same day, we wound our way south to the village of Barben for a visit to Château Le Barben, the self-proclaimed “most beautiful castle in Provence.” What was amazing about this 10th century castle, other than its dramatic setting, was that, after being in the same family for over 500 years, it was sold in the sixties to a wealthy businessman who opened it up to the public. The amazing part, however is that *his family still lives there!* His daughter and her husband are both in the art/design/history professions and they have kept the Château maintained and open to the public. They live there with their family and on the day we visited, while waiting for our tour to begin, there was a gaggle of grandkids playing soccer in the castle gardens. Some life.
Our tour of the Château went fairly well, having wisely remembered to pack lollypops for the kids. Hard to scream when you have a “sucette” in your mouth. I do think the guide was a bit nervous when Cole decided to heave his pop across the room. Life moved in slow motion as it spiraled towards a 16th century Belgian tapestry. Oops. Sadly, we’d packed but one set of child silencers and as the tour entered the subterranean passages that housed the military defenders of the castle, things went poorly. We told Ellie that the costumed Knight leading this part of the tour was there to save the Princess. “Where’s the Princess??” Um… I think she’s at school. Cole entertained himself by rolling around in the 10th century dirt and throwing rocks at the ancient armaments and shields. “Ooh… sorry… no, I think that dent was already there.”
These are but a few of the great places we’ve taken in. There are plenty more and should you find yourself in the South of France, you would do well to visit any of them: the Roman Theatre in Orange, a visit to a winery in Châteauneuf du Pape, the legendary Friday market in Carpentras, and a drive up Le Mont Ventoux as far as the snow-covered roads would allow so Ellie could see the mountain that Daddy rode his bike up. It was sunny an warm enough to enjoy a hot chocolate on the patio at Chalet Reynard… a little Apres-ski, sans ski.
Our last Day Trip was on Sunday and it may be the most amazing thing we’ve seen in France. We drove west to the Grotte des Demoiselles, the Cave of the Fairies. This massive cavern, which you actually have to go UP to get into, was stunning. I spent the bulk of the hour-long tour literally speechless. To say that it looked like a movie set from an Indiana Jones or Lord of the Rings movie doesn’t even do it justice. I had to continually remind myself that it was real.
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