Seventeen years

It was 17 years ago, almost to the day, that I arrived at a sprawling pink apartment near Place Wilson in Dijon and met the family with whom I would live during my semester in France. Although they called me their "quatrième americanne", as I was the fourth American student they had hosted, by the time I left in June, I felt a bit like their "sixième enfant", their sixth child.

I returned to that apartment yesterday (bringing my family with me instead of beaucoup de baggage), and in many ways, it left like nothing had changed. Denys and Christine were as warm and welcoming as they were that first night in 1993; their apartment still had the magnificent floor to ceiling windows throughout; they served delicious gâteau au chocolat and champagne; they looked like they had not aged at all; their French was wonderfully clear and articulate and so easy to understand.

But a few things had changed. The little grandchild I knew who came regularly to visit was not a wobbly 3-year-old toddler, but instead a tall (very tall) university student staying in the room I still think of as "my room". Denys and Christine now have 21 grandchildren living throughout France. Denys is now happily retired. They travel often to visit their children and grandchildren. They no longer host foreign students.

They had some funny and poignant and interesting stories about the foreign students who have lived in "my room" over the years, though. All told, they welcomed about eight students from my university, and another half dozen or so later from the business school in Dijon. Among the more memorable were "the vegan" (VEGAN! the way they said it was as if they could maybe see why someone would choose to not eat meat, but they could never, ever understand how someone could forego French cheese) and the student from New York City who arrived days before the Sept. 11 attacks and could not reach her family for more than 48 hours.

The time with them passed so quickly. Katie and Livie and Jack felt quite at home, as Denys immediately showed them to the playroom where many fabulous toys (loved by all those grandchildren) awaited them. When the time came to have cake, the kids were SO well-behaved and sweet (whew!). Jack and Christine talked a bit and Christine was impressed that Jack spoke French without an accent. They offered to babysit any time, and later said that although they hoped no one fell ill, if someone did we should call as they had not one but TWO sons-in-law who were doctors in nearby towns. Two of their daughters (and about 10 grandchildren) live within 15 or 20 minutes of me, and although they are out of town this week (for the school holiday), we are planning to get together soon after their return. We invited them to come for a snack or a meal at our village house soon, too.

On the way home, I thought a lot about the role of luck in shaping life's experiences. What if I had ended up with another family? How would it have changed my whole experience? If Denys and Christine hadn't introduced me to all of the beauty of Burgundy, would we have been as eager to return for this trip? I guess all we can know is that it was a good day, 17 years ago, when I first came to Denys and Christine's. And it was a good day, Sunday, to come back.

Chateau de Savigny (and, in praise of Laura and Franck)

Bien sur, we did end up doing something fun yesterday afternoon (after working, cleaning, cooking, and (for the kids) watching French television cartoons in the morning) -- we took a drive to an amazing castle about 10 minutes away, called Chateau de Savigny.

But I can't write about that without writing first about how amazing Laura and Franck are (note: I am not receiving any kind of kickback for saying these things. I am merely giving a sense of how many of our conversations here go: "can you believe how amazing Laura and Franck are?"). Seriously -- if you have ANY plans to come near France in the next few years, you should consider a week (or more) in one of their rentals. In addition to choosing from one of four beautiful home in beautiful villages, they have collected the best information for seeing the sights and for getting a real sense of this region.

For example, yesterday, we decided we wanted to see a chateau. So we looked in their folders and found their list of nearby chateaux to choose our destination. They had described the Chateau de Savigny as being a beautiful local chateau owned by a slightly eccentric man who has, in addition to the requisite vineyards, populated his castle grounds with 80 fighter planes, nearly 300 motorcycles, 20 fire engines, 2,400 model airplanes, 30 old vineyard tractors, 35 models of a particular kind of sportscar (the ABARTH, which he apparently used to also race) and more. They said it's a great place for adults and kids.

And it *was* amazing -- perfect for the kids and for the adults, and REALLY something to remember.

And then, in another section of their thick folders, they had suggested a pretty way to get there, from Magney-les-Villers through Pernand-Vergelesses (a village we want to return to) and on to Savigny-les-Beaune. And during the drive, we were overwhelmed with the take-your-breath-away kind of beauty that I don't think John and I would have stumbled upon unless we had lived here for years. We drove up and down twisty lanes (nerve-wracking, of course, but these were not as heavily traveled so some of the danger seemed diminished), past perfectly plotted vineyards and centuries-old stone walls, into villages with historic buildings hugging the sides of the street, and down into our destination: the castle.

The kids were thrilled. It looked just how a castle was *supposed* to look. There was a moat and there were towers and then -- wait -- are those fighter planes in the distance? Yes -- 11 Russian Migs (brought back memories of Top Gun), 13 aircraft from the U.S., 4 from France, and even a RCAF fighter jet along the way.We stayed until the place closed, leaving just enough time to buy two bottles of a red 2005 (Katie and Livie's year, which was an especially good vintage for this region and for us) and a promise to return (if only to do a wine tasting of the castle's own vintages).

Oh, and if that wasn't all good enough -- it was a beautiful day and today is even prettier. 

So --here's a bit of what we saw. It's hard to do justice to the weird juxtaposition of a centuries-old castle surrounded by modern fighter jets, of what must have been stables or storage at one time that now houses sportscars, of huge gathering rooms where knights and dukes and even kings might have walked now filled with model airplanes... but this is our best attempt.

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 

  

  

Small victories, and how we ended up here

Among the small victories of the day were:

1) signing up for a cell phone
2) getting *almost* all of the paperwork for the kids' school in order (and introducing them to the thrill of having a picture taken in a photo booth)
3) filling out paperwork for a grocery store's loyalty program (and sales); and
4) buying insurance

Now, these tasks are not what you would call especially thrilling. When done in your own language, none would take very long, and it's doubtful that any would merit a phone call to your parents (or a posting to the world). But in a second language, all of these mundane things become so much more challenging -- and so when you have accomplished them, it actually does feel like a victory of sorts.

It's kind of a weird victory, but I'll take whatever I can get!

We returned from a day of sleeping late and running errands to the beautiful Maison des Chaumes, and I continue to feel so lucky that we found this place. It happened in a roundabout way. A year ago, when John needed to decide if he was applying for the grants, etc., needed for a study leave out of the country, when we were still jetlagged from Japan and didn't want to go anywhere farther than the grocery store, we arranged to meet for coffee since we weren't making any good plans at home. The idea of organizing another BIG trip sounded horrible -- but we had also heard from enough of John's colleagues that time away to do research (and recharge) is one of the best benefits of what can be an often gruelling, never-really-ending job. We had been talking about France but weren't sure where to go -- and so said "why not Paris?"

And indeed, why not? It's a wonderful city that we had both visited several times back in 1993 (and on earlier trips), and we loved the museums, restaurants, music, and nightlife. And that became our mantra for a few weeks -- why not Paris?

So I started looking on a website that, to anyone who loves real estate and travel, is a bit like how I'd imagine taking cocaine would be -- addictive, thrilling, and with the potential to be very expensive (why stop at France? Look at what's available in Italy! And Greece! And London!). It's called Sabbaticalhomes.com and lists short and longer-term rentals around the world (usually furnished, often but not always posted by other academics also on study leaves). I started looking in Paris. There were tons of beautiful places there -- but many of them were, at most, one-bedroom and more importantly (as we had been living in a one-bedroom place in Japan), many of them stated explicitly that children were not welcome.

We did find a slightly bigger and child-friendly place we liked just outside of Paris, and started looking around at what it would cost for Metro tickets for five (as the girls are *just* old enough to require their own tickets), where they might go to school, what daily routines might be like, etc. And we started thinking more practically about what our life is like these days -- not one of dashing to museum openings and concerts and late night dinners with friends, but rather one filled with long walks and family meals and day-trips.

And we decided that if you are young and in-love and childless, Paris is probably THE place to be. But if you are not-so-young (but still very much in-love) and have three energetic kids... it might be wise to expand the search.

So out of curiousity and because I loved it 17 years ago, I plugged in DIJON in the Sabbaticalhomes search engine. And this website came up. It looked perfect. I got in touch with Laura and was thrilled to find out the place was available. She and her husband immediately began helping us as we made our plans. Laura (who I've never met in real life but feel like I know quite well thanks to her blog about life running four vacation rentals in Burgundy (as well as wonderful stories about her husband and children)) is a Canadian who went to France right out of high school and fell in love with a French man. I believe we were both in Burgundy around the same time (I like to think that we passed each other on the street or in a smoky brasserie); we both have three kids, write, love Burgundy (the region and the wine) and juggle family and travel and more.

And everything just fell into place -- but even so, all of the pictures and descriptions and emails didn't prepare me for the beauty that awaited us in Villers-la-Faye and at La Maison des Chaumes.

The village of about 400 is a 10-minute drive north of Beaune (which, when I was Dijon, was described to me by many French people as the wine capital of the world... not France, but the world) and probably a 30 minute drive south of Dijon (we haven't made the drive yet... so I am not quite sure). It's nestled in vineyards, and to get here you wind up a hill along a twisting road bordered by rock walls and grapevines for a few miles. Laura has left some history of the village that I will add later -- but just walking through town, you get the sense this place is OLD. Apparently, it was built at the intersection of five Roman roads... and that sense of history, of life and stories and tradition -- all of that is evident by stepping out the front door, or looking out any of the windows over the valley of villages and vineyards below.

And about that front door and those windows -- well, I don't know the whole story of this house, but I know that Laura and Franck had renovated much of it and made it their own family's home while running their other vacation rentals in Burgundy (and before returning to Victoria last summer). It feels like a real home. It is sunny and bright, with lovely tile floors and huge windows that open up onto a large wrap-around deck and amazing views in every direction. The kids felt at home immediately here, and John and I did too.

Well, if I ever hope to get past this jetleg, I should probably leave it at that for the night. Tomorrow's big plans include a trip to the Mayor's office for that necessary signature and a meeting with the directrice of the schools tomorrow evening to make sure all of the paperwork is in order. We're hoping Jack can start school quickly -- maybe Thursday? -- and we will ease Kate and Liv into it perhaps next week (if all goes well of course, and given French bureaucracy, I am counting on a few things perhaps not going quite as planned).

Bon soir!

This is not a boondoggle. Really.

When John and I first talked about possible travel plans for his study leave, I knew the logical choices would be to head to Japan again, or perhaps a university library in Chicago, LA, or New York. But he's the one who brought up going to France. France? I reminded him that he teaches BUDDHISM and Japanese religions. How, exactly, was he going to sell the university on a plan to pack us all up and go to France.

You see, at the University of Lethbridge, study leave isn't a given, and you *do* have to "sell it". Professors can apply for a study leave (or sabbatical) after six years of teaching and once they receive tenure (which John did in March 2009). But the professor has to have a well-designed research plan -- a clearly outlined course of work that will take place during the year off of teaching (rumors are that this requirement, or enforcement of it, was put in place after a prof in the 70s remodeled a house during a study leave).

So John put his application together and demonstrated that this plan to go to France fit with his overall professional development since grad school. He did it by emphasizing his growing expertise in Buddhism in the West (outside of Asia). His PhD dissertation was on the introduction of Buddhism in the U.S. in 1893; he has recently co-edited a book on Buddhism in Canada which will be published this year; and he did work on Buddhism in England during the year we spent in Cambridge. So clearly (CLEARLY), the natural progression was to look at Buddhism in France.

And there are some interesting things to study. For one thing, Buddhism is poised to overtake Protestantism in France in the coming decade (who knew?). Additionally, John thinks there could be some interesting comparisons in the way Buddhism is practiced in England vs. France and the types of Buddhism most popular in each place (reflecting the practice of Protestantism and Catholicism in each country). And Thich Nhat Hahn, who is kind of a rock star among Buddhist monks (I think I can say that -- John probably would have a better way to describe the Vietnamese Buddhist poet, scholar, and peace activist) teaches in Plum Village, France, a Buddhist monastery for monks and nuns and a meditation center for lay people.

After receiving the leave, he applied for a small grant to support some of the research costs (including the travel he will need to do once we are there) as well as a U of L study leave relocation fund. We were thrilled when he received both -- and in the comments on the grant, the outside reviewer (a scholar or expert in the field from outside of the U of L) said that John's proposal is a fascinating project that is long overdue, and in fact, the reviewer's only concern was that "Dr. Harding" might be too ambitious in his plans.

See. Not a boondoogle (def: scheme that wastes time and money). Really!

But deep down I also think of this trip is a bit of a love letter from John to me (and the kids). I have wanted to go back to France for an extended stay since I left Dijon in 1993 and now we are. Who knows where we'll be in seven years (the next time he'd be able to take a full-year's leave) and what work I'll be doing by then and how easy it'd be to convince kids who are 14, 11 and 11 that we should leave home. And it's such a good fit for the kids now, too. Jack's French immersion school is thrilled he's going (he is, too), and Kate and Liv will get a headstart on their French and be more than ready for kindergarten in the fall. The kids still like to be with us, and we are eager to do a bit of exploring together. We feel incredibly fortunate that the pieces have all fallen in place like this.

So there you have it. The Buddhist professor is heading to France.