Friends and fromage

There are a lot of reasons it's good for people to have friends. Friends provide support, love, honesty, a lift when your car breaks down, a laugh when you need it most... the list goes on and on. What is probably not discussed enough is that without friends, you might bring home a cheese from the market that was strongly recommended by the vendor... and to your horror, when you open it up just before your friends arrive, you discover it is covered with something that you are pretty sure is penicillin.... and you are VERY tempted to toss the whole smelly container in the trash.

But the friends arrive just then, so you put the lid back on, put it on the cheese tray and hope no one opens it. During a lovely gouter (where you pepper your friends with important questions that have long been on your mind, such as "can you turn right on red in France" (no), and "do all French people take naps in the afternoon after the amazing and delicious and long two hour lunch" (some take a 20 minute sieste at their desks, in fact) and more)... you ask your friends what's up with this crazy cheese.

They all recognize it. Ah, Mont d'Or, they say. From the nearby Jura mountains. Something you usually eat after skiing.

They do not look terrified. They tell you that you simply have not prepared it yet. Prepared it? The vendor said nothing about preparing it... so you ask just how one turns fuzzy, stinky, toxic cheese into something worth the euros and, well, edible.

And your friend (Geraldine, who came to visit with her husband, their three wonderful children, and a friend from Paris) takes you in your kitchen, stuffs 4 or 5 cloves of garlic in it, pokes a hole in the center and pours some white wine it, and pops it in your oven.

In the meantime, you have some more good conversation (sharing thoughts on Carla Bruni, Barack Obama, the Winter Olympics, teachers at the village schools, why it is so hard to find whole wheat bread, accents (both French and English) and more). The kids play beautifully.

And an hour later you get this:

 

Which quickly becomes this:

 And you think: "Where would I be without friends?"

A great loss

We awoke to beautiful blue skies today and some very sad news. Our housesitter had emailed to say that Mariko LaFleur, the wife of Bill LaFleur (John's PhD advisor and our very good friend for more than 15 years), had left a message letting us know that Bill had passed away Friday morning.

 

Bill was an incredibly accomplished scholar, of course, but he was so much more than that. He had a wonderful sense of humor, a love for his children and wife that was obvious the first time you talked to him, a dedication to his students that lasted well beyond the time they graduated, an ability to make scholarly writing interesting, and a passion for so many subjects that any encounter with him left you wanting to talk more.

I liked him from the first time he and Mariko came to dinner at our tiny Philadelphia apartment in 1995. I was flooded with so many wonderful memories of him this morning as I went to the market -- and I wasn't even the one he worked with. He cared so much for John -- the two had just exchanged a series of emails a week ago about an edited volume John is the editor of that Bill offered to write a chapter for -- and our hearts are heavy at his passing.

The relationship between PhD advisor and student is like little else I know. I have had great teachers in my life and important mentors during my journalism and teaching and parenting life... but there is no one person who I worked with for such a long and important period as John and Bill did. And that relationship has endured well beyond John's graduation. We have kept in close touch over the years -- in addition to regular emails, Bill and Mariko came to Lethbridge in 2006 (to give a paper at the university and meet the girls!) and they even offered to have me stay at their house when I visited Philadelphia last December. Bill was looking forward to traveling to Japan this spring with his older son and that son's family. He mentioned how proud he was of his daughter, a sophomore at a Philadelphia university who had grown to love and care about the city so much, how happy he was that Mariko's work as a teacher was going so well, and how pleased he was last year (but not at all surprised) to learn that John received tenure and promotion.

I am sure the religious studies world (and the Japanese studies and bioethics and Japanese literature worlds... for his work spanned many areas and he had many varied interests) is mourning him right now, and will miss his contributions to the discipline. And in the smaller world of our family living in France, well, we are mourning him too, and will miss his contributions to our lives.

Do you know the way to Vézelay?

I wonder how many abbeys, castles, moats, and cathedrals you need to see before it becomes something that you don't write home about. We clearly haven't hit that point yet, as our trip on Wednesday (no school day!) to another famous abbey left us in awe (again).

We had kept the rental minivan a few extra days after Jay and Judy left so that John could visit some of the sites he needed to for his research (the car that we arranged with the house rental is perfect for around town and in the villages, but not meant for long distance travel)... and one of those trips included stopping by the Basilica of St. Magdalene in Vézelay and the nearby Saint-Pere-sous-Vézelay.

 

 

Although I am generally not a fan of Wikipedia (and teach my students that it is NOT an acceptable academic source), the website does a good job summing up the history and importance of this hilltop town. "According to legend, not long before the end of the first millennium a monk named Baudillon brought relics (bones) of Mary Magdalene to Vézelay from Saint-Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume (in southwestern France).  

"In 1058 the Pope confirmed the genuineness of the relics, leading to an influx of pilgrims that has continued to this day. Vézelay Abbey was also a major starting point for pilgrims on the Way of St. James to Santiago de Compostela, one of the most important of all medieval pilgrimage centres. This was crucially important in attracting pilgrims and the wealth they brought to the town. Bernard of Clairvaux preached the Second Crusade at Vézelay in 1146. In 1189, the Frankish and English factions of the Third Crusade met at Vézelay before officially departing for the Holy Land."

 

  

 

All of this knowledge left us explaining yet around round of questions from the kids that ranged from the interesting (what is a pilgrim? why would someone go on a pilgrimage? what did they do on a pilgrimage? do people go on them today?) to the not-so-easily-explainable (why did people go on a crusade? what happened during it? were crusades good things or bad things?).

 

  

 

And what the general facts about Vézelay can't tell you is the way you feel in this cavernous cathedral. The arches seem to soar impossibly high, and the sunken crypt where the finger bone of Mary Magdelene is still on display today leaves you feeling something between the macabre and the miraculous. 

 

  

(that's her finger in there -- at least according to one Pope)

 
In addition to the beauty of the basilica, I think Vézelay will also always rank high in my memories because of the wonderful lunch we had at a creperie there at the end of our visit. John and I had given the kids lunch before we left and we had hoped to find a cafe en route. Instead, we arrived just as lunch was officially over (and the kids needed the walk up the hill to the church). So John and I were REALLY hungry by the time we meandered down the hill and lucked into a place still open for lunch. The food and atmosphere were equally amazing.

 

  

  

yes, that's a warm and working fireplace in the background

OK. Clearly I need to cut down on the use of my superlatives. But I don't think I want the day to come when I stop finding France "amazing", "incredible", "wonderful" or "worth writing home about". And when your trip ends with this...

 

...maybe you can be forgiven for using an exclamation point or two.

I don't know how they do it (and, the foreigners get haircuts in France)

I had the great pleasure of going out to lunch today with a group of (new-to-me) friends who have been meeting once a month for lunch in Beaune for the last 22 years.

They originally come from France, England, Norway, the U.S. and Canada (and probably other places as well) and gather to visit and speak English. Yes, this is the second time I have been invited to a group that gathers to practice English, and while I am always eager to practice my own French, I am not one to turn down an opportunity to meet new people, eat delicious food, or drink great local wine. (I am also thinking of forming a similar group in Lethbridge, of friends who can gather to speak French, eat good food and drink good wine. Let me know if you are interested!)

The women at the lunch today were just great. One of them has been in France for 40 years, leaving Texas the day after her university graduation to find her way to France where she knew she wanted to make her life. Another grew up in Missoula, Montana, just two hours from where John grew up -- and like a few others now that I have met, she attended the Université de Bourgogne the same time I did. Another lives in Dijon (just a few streets away from where I lived in 1993) and wants to help me get over my fear of talking on the phone in French... by insisting that I call her on the phone and speaking ONLY in French.

It was a lively and fun lunch (with wonderful food and conversation). The only thing I don't understand is how French people (and people living in France) can have these amazing two hour lunchs with appetizers, main courses, dessert, wine and coffee, and not go back to their offices to immediately take a nap? Maybe they all do... if not, I am amazed ANY work gets accomplished in the afternoons in France.

The other adventure of the day was that John and I managed to both get our hair cut. It involved making an appointment, of course (although I did that in person to avoid the phone) and then returning this morning. It's a bit of a nervewracking affair --it involves a new vocabulary, for one thing. Phrases like "no bangs", "smooth", "just a bit off the top", and "not too poofy" are generally not part of one's everyday French conversation. And who knows what you'll end up with?

Well, this is what we ended up with... pas mal, n'est pas? The first is taken by Katie and Olivia (together), and the second two show my cut immediately after exiting the salon. It will never be that well styled again, just for the record.

The delights of petit déjeuner

John and I have had to run into Beaune after dropping the kids at school each school day this week as part of various errands -- and each time we decided to indulge in petit déjeuner at what has quickly become our favorite little cafe.

Breakfast in France is perfect, in my opinion. A strong cup of espresso with warm milk, a glass of fresh-squeezed juice, a croissant and a piece of baguette with cold butter and sweet jam... it's a great way to start the day.


So today, after returning the rental minivan, we stopped at the Brasserie Le Carnot and slipped into a booth. The waitress looked at us and said deux crèmes? (remembering our order from Tuesday) -- and we had that great feeling that comes from being in the same place long enough (or at least coming often enough in one week) to become a regular.


It was easy to take our time as we enjoyed this:

 

Bon appetit!

No man-shoes for me, thankyouverymuch

When I look back at our time in Japan, I have to say one of the most difficult aspects of the whole experience was not my struggles with the language, not the squid guts for breakfast, not when Olivia wanted to write a letter to her class saying she liked precisely four of them (three boys and one girl), not the rock-hard tortillas I made one night in a bread-starved state of despair, and not even taking a small child with a head wound to a hospital in a foreign country.

No, what was truly the hardest part of living there for me (because NOTHING could change it or make it better) -- was that my size nines could not be squeezed into any of the gorgeous Japanese shoes that I saw every single day on every single woman's foot (aside from mine). My quest for beautiful Japanese shoes ended when I inadvertently bought a pair of men's shoes (which are quite comfortable and interesting, all things considered).

Well, that Cinderella problem is happily NOT an issue here in France, where the widely-available size 40 fits like a glove... and to celebrate, I purchased a beautiful pair of leather boots at a good price in Beaune this week.

Needless to say, I am quite pleased.

(EDITED TO ADD: I just looked at the pictures after I posted this and decided that, in fact, these still lovely boots still have a bit of a mannish look to them. Oh dear...)

 

Back to school and back in the groove

After a two-week break, the kids returned to their schools this morning with a bit of apprehension that quickly evaporated with the warm smiles of friends and teachers. And then they all went on to have SUCH good days.

Jack enjoyed his first lunch at the cantine at school, so we didn't see him between 8:20 a.m. and 5 p.m. We were a bit worried ourselves that that might be a tough transition after the break, and I was expecting a bit of a sad and mopey boy to be walking off of the bus... but he had a bright smile and said he loved the lunch (delicious pizza and vegetables that he didn't recognize but ate anyway and more) and that it was a great day. For now, he will have lunch twice a week at school, and twice a week at home. We have told him that after trying both lunch days this week (Monday and Thursday), he can adjust that schedule as he'd like... but so far, so good.

Katie and Livie, too, had nothing but good things to report from their school days -- tales of games and books and artwork created. They do occasionally have to explain to us that, you know, everyone speaks FRENCH at their school and THEY don't speak French yet, so it can be a bit tricky... but on the whole, both of them seem very content and pleased with their school and their work.

The great weather probably has helped everyone's spirits as well.  I went for a run through the vineyards this afternoon and felt like I was smiling the whole time because of the sunshine. There are still many (many!) moments that I can't believe we're really here -- in France! You'd think after five weeks it'd be less of a surprise... but then again, there are still moments (more than five years after the "routine" ultrasound let us know the big news that there were, in fact, two babes in there) when I am a bit surprised to have twins!

I have been grateful to my mom (for many things, actually, but in this case...) for not only always reading the blog but also for reminding us that it *hasn't* been that long, that we've settled in so quickly and already done so much. I feel a pretty powerful sense of urgency, I think... because our time here is limited and there is so much to see and learn and do and experience. But it's good to be reminded that part of the experience is just *being*. So thanks, Mom!

Right now, I don't have too much planned the rest of the week beyond *being* in France.  John may take a one-day research trip tomorow while we still have the rental car (he also visited a huge Buddhist temple about 90 mintues away Sunday afternoon, once his parents were safely on their way). I am trying to work up the courage to call for a haircut appointment, and if that happens, we may go to Dijon later this week. But otherwise -- although it was so wonderful to have Jay and Judy here and see so many amazing places -- it's kind of nice to not have much on the agenda right now. Because even a boring week in Villers-la-Faye is still pretty incredible when you think about it...

Morning at a new market

We decided to check out Dijon's market today, which is held in and around Les Halles du Marché , a 19th century covered market building designed by Gustav Eiffel. Monsieur Eiffel is perhaps more famous for that tower to the northwest, but around here, you can tell there is much pride in the lovely lines of this Eiffel creation.

And while I am glad we went (and I would certainly head back), our Dijon market day made me love Beaune's smaller market even more. It might be simply that we arrived when it was most crowded, or also that I didn't know my way around this market, or that I was a bit reluctant to elbow my way forward at most of the stalls (in fact, I only found courage at, yes, a cheese vendor where I picked up some well-aged comte -- and only after a dapper older French man told me "I *must* approach with more confidence or I will never get my cheese")... but the vastness of Dijon's market was a bit much for me today.

 

  

  

  

 

Still -- we ended up with a decent haul (lovely oranges and fragrant garlic among the most prized finds), had a wonderful lunch right on the market square, walked through town (being sure to stop and rub the little owl on the side of Notre Dame for good luck -- a 700-year-old tradition) and enjoyed a quick visit to the Musee des Beaux Arts.

 

  

  

  

 

 
Katie and Livie had SO much fun showing Jack around the museum. It made me remember a part of my own childhood -- a handful of rare and wonderful moments when I knew something my fabulous older brother didn't. Seeing them lead Jack right to the crazy bicycle, to the kitchen where you can stand in the fireplace, and to the room with the magical ceiling (and being impressed with how much they remembered about their own visit there almost three weeks ago) was quite a sight to see. Oh, and the art wasn't so bad, either.

 

  

 

Tonight I am making onion soup for Jay and Judy's last dinner in Burgundy (they are catching an early train to the airport and will head to Munich tomorrow). We have had such a good visit and have loved showing them this place we have grown to love so much.

Of monks and lemurs and castles and cheese

We had a lovely low-key day Friday, with the kids and grandparents playing cards and watching the Olympics most of the day, and me and John heading to Beaune for a few errands, groceries, and lunch out without kids. That afternoon, though, before the entire day slid away from us in the cozy comfort of La Maison des Chaumes, we decided to drive out to the Abbaye de Cîteaux, a half-hour drive away.

The Abbey was founded in 1098, according to the Catholic Encyclopedia, by Saint Robert of Molesme under the rule of Saint Benedict (which was written by St. Benedict of Nursia for monks living communally under the authority of an abbot). The Abbey was the first monastery of the Cisterian Order and would be the final resting place of those great Dukes of Burgundy.

It is known for great beauty and great cheese. Unfortunately, we weren't able to tour the property (as it was closed for winter hours), but we timed our trip with hopes of hearing the vespers service in the strikingly new and austere church at the Abbey, and (you will be greatly relieved to know), we returned with a nice chunk of monk-made cheese, too.

 

  

  

  

While waiting for the vespers service to begin, we did a tour of the church, which looks quite modern and cold from the exterior but was wonderfully warm and beautiful inside. It was interesting to be inside a modern church (after weeks of wandering through centuries-old places of worship).

 

Then we decided to take off to have a look at a few nearby chateaux.  Only in France (or probably England or Italy or Germany, come to think of it), can you kill a half-hour by checking out whatever beautiful castles happen to be in the neighborhood. You definitely can't do that in Canada.

The two we peeked at were the Chateau de Gilly, which apparently is now a small, luxury hotel where rooms can cost around 500 euros a night, and the Chateau du Clos-de-Vougeot, where the castles vineyards were created by the monks of the Citeaux Abbey (and taken away from the the church after the French Revolution). We would love to go back to both for a better visit.

 

  

We made it back for vespers just in time and all seven of us were quickly drawn in by the chanting and singing and quiet and prayer. 

 

The quiet chanting was interrupted just once, in fact, when Liv pulled Foo-Foo, her small and much loved stuffed lemur, out of John's pocket and pushed his tummy to make him giggle. Who knew such a little lemur could make such a big noise? One friend suggested it served as a good test of the monk's focus on the services, while others have said that they all probably got a chuckle. I hope so. In that instant afterwards, it was slightly horrifying, but hopefully it did no lasting damage.

 

I ducked out of the service just a few minutes before it ended to make sure I could get some of the monk's famous cheese (which was devoured quickly at home) as well as some honey drops that they make at the abbey as well. We will head back for sure to take a tour of the abbey when it is open -- and I think we'll try to leave Foo-Foo at home.