A tale of travel and being tired

Oy.

I just have to say it. Traveling can be hard. Traveling with small children can be hard. And I am really, REALLY tired.

Not that I expect anyone to feel sorry for me. It's not like someone is forcing us to pack up and move homes, not like we didn't have a choice in all of this. But that doesn't stop my muscles from aching all over.

And however tired, there is also a feeling of relief -- because we made it!

The journey started early Sunday morning. I took the last load of recycling to the bins (as an aside, during our entire time in France, we never, ever, saw anyone else dropping their recycling there. We wondered if we were, in fact, the only people in the entire region using those bins, or if everyone else did it at some set--and unknown to us--"recycling hour") and then I took one last load of frozen food, clothes for Adele, and a bag full of things that didn't fit in our suitcases to Geraldine's, including two bottles of our favorite wine.

She is holding all of it hostage until we come back (and has permission to drink the wine if we don't make a quick return!). We had one last hug, and I cried on the way home. That's just the kind of week it was, I guess.

Meanwhile, John was doing a last flurry of packing, weighing, redistributing, and organizing of le baggage. Oh my. The luggage. What a nightmare. We had found unbelievably cheap tickets on one of the newer British start-up airlines -- EasyJet -- but they have strict luggage limitations. Each person can pay to take a maximum of 20 kilos (44 pounds) of checked luggage, not the usual 23 kilos (50 pounds). And if you go over that limit, they charge an additional 12 Euros PER KILO... so we wanted to be very sure of our weights.

You might be thinking to yourself right about now -- what's the big deal? A few kilos? Why is she writing about this? Well, it doesn't seem like a big deal, but when it came to five people, a half-year's worth of gear, more than 20 kilos of books, papers and articles for John's work, and a LOT of presents for friends and family back home, well, I can tell you we missed having space in our checked bags for those 15 extra kilos. Mostly because they all ended up on our backs and arms, in the carryon luggage.

Sadly, EasyJet also has strict carry-on limitations as well. Each person is limited to one bag. One. Not one and a laptop, or one and a purse. Just one. When we doing the last flurry of packing, we realized we could find a little space by wearing lots of layers (John had his sport coat, I had a sweater and long sleeved shirt, Jack tied a sweater around his waist)... but even that wasn't enough. So we plucked out our coats, and when the time came, even though the sun was hot overhead and the un-air conditioned airport sweltering, we forced the kids (and ourselves) into them, drops of sweat pouring down our backs, because in addition to being dressed for February, we were carrying the world's heaviest carry-ons you've ever encountered.

For the most part, John and I did the heavy lifting (although all of us did the sweating). But when it came time to load, we made Jack carry his crammed-with-books-toys-art-supplies-snacks-and-more backpack down the long walk and up the stairs to the plane (and back down again, too). What a trooper. He only complained a little.

And I need to back up just a bit... because we couldn't have arrived and been sweaty at the Lyon Airport without the fabulous John M. On a glorious Sunday morning when he could have happily stayed home with his wonderful wife, Alli, and terrific daughters, Lauren, Claudia, and Penelope, he instead came to our house, helped load up the car, and filled a two hour drive with laughter and great stories and the warmest affection for our kids. He took us to the right gate, helped us load up our carts, and even convinced Kate and Liv to change from their mismatched, casual outfits into their pretty dresses, something I had failed at that morning (as another aside, we have found that looking "fancy" when you travel, especially with children, goes a long way when dealing with all the various airline people. I have even been known to do something I do not do any other time -- play up their identicalness -- in hopes of a kind smile and extra bit of patience from busy flight attendants and security guards. Yes, I felt like a terrible, terrible person the first time I did it, but I have clearly gotten over it. It's a card we only play when traveling by air, and I don't know how much longer they'll let us do it. At any rate, the morning we left, Kate and Liv were in a VERY casual, colorful, mismatched, goofy, slightly-stained mode. John M's sweet encouragement of wearing a pretty (matching-ish) dress did the trick, and they looked adorable all day.)

Where would we be without friends? In these last days, we have talked so much about how lucky we were to have met such warm and generous people during our short time in France, and what a difference those people made in our experiences. Yes, the castles and convents and cobbled streets would have been as charming, the villages as quaint, the landscape as lovely -- but the memories that linger most in my mind usually involve the people of Burgundy, and not just the places.

So here's one last thank you to John M. and his family, and to all of our Burgundy friends. We miss you already.

And before the tears start again, I'll go back to that smelly, sweaty airport. It was not a lot of fun. The flight was delayed by about 90 minutes, which probably doesn't sound that long. But it is. Especially to young kids. But they endured (and we did too) and at last we were loaded, and before I knew it -- we were flying away from France. We flew over Paris, over Calais, we could even see the white cliffs of Dover. We landed at Stansted airport, the smaller of London's three main airports, and a little more waiting ensued (customs and immigration) but all went well, and voila. Welcome to England!

We had planned to take the train to Ely, but the sight of all of that luggage Sunday morning spurred us to splurge on a one-day minivan rental. So while John was doing the paperwork at the airport for that, I searched for some quick food for the kids -- in their time zone, it was 7 p.m. and they hadn't eaten since lunch. The best option -- truly it was -- was (ugh) Burger King. Well, at least it was fast. It filled our bellies. And it served as a culinary reminder that we weren't in France anymore!

By this point, John and I were SO tired. The kids were SO wired. And despite all of that, we managed to safely make it here, with John in the difficult position of suddenly driving on the wrong side of the road on top of everything else, in a giant van that wasn't what you'd call maneuverable, responsive, or even very safe (poor sight lines, etc). He did so well (thankfully) on the one-hour drive, and we were thrilled to arrive at last and find a warm welcome from Ken, owner of the flat we will be renting the next 3.5 weeks.

We love it here. It is SO different from La Maison des Chaumes, and SO different from our home in Canada. But, like both of those homes, this one is just right, too. It is a crooked house -- built on a crooked street very near the center of Ely, which is home to an amazing cathedral and is, I have just learned, the third smallest city in all of England (population of about 15,000). We used the rental van to get some groceries this morning and John braved the drive back to the airport solo this afternoon (he made it safely and is on his way home by train right now). Mostly, we've just been hanging out, eating, napping (the kids anyway) and relaxing. We will explore the city a bit more tomorrow and in the weeks ahead -- today needed to  be a down day. And tonight, we'll have a visit from an old friend, Jason, a friend from our time in Cambridge 13 years ago. We have only seen him a few times since then -- he used to come to Philadelphia for work -- and we can't wait to see him tonight.

I had planned on cooking something tasty tonight for Jason -- but I noticed that Ely, this place which is one-fifth the size of Lethbridge, has a Thai restaurant that also does takeout (something neither Lethbridge nor Villers-la-Faye can offer). This exciting development helped me get over the shock of the slim pickings of cheese at the grocery store this morning. And even that wasn't as bad as one might think -- because I did find a beautiful brick of sharp English cheddar... a taste that you don't find at any French fromagerie.

So clearly, we are adjusting. We made it. And we found cheese.