Oui, le vin est bon!

The room was packed, and people of all ages crowded on benches and leaned on tables. The smell of couscous and lamb mingled with the aroma of wine and sweat and rain. The band played over the laughter and conversations, and suddenly I heard the beginning of Chevaliers de la Table Ronde, a song I actually knew (courtesy of Madamoiselle Sullivan and my high school French classes in Colorado).

From the first verse:

Chevaliers de la table ronde/ Knights of the round table
Goutons voir si le vin est bon/ Let's taste and see if the wine is good
Goutons voir, oui oui oui/ Goutons voir, non non non/ Goutons voir si le vin est bon

through the tenth and last:

La morale de cette histoire/ The moral of this story:
C'est à boire avant de mourir/ Drink before you die!
C'est à boire, oui oui oui/ C'est à boire, non non non C'est à boire avant de mourir!

the crowd of people at the open house of a neighborhood winery sang, and drank, and laughed, and danced, and at one point (in between singing the "oui, oui, ouis" and "non, non, nons"), I looked around and just marveled at what I saw, the people, the music, the laughter, the wine. It all seemed so...French... and so very, very fun. I wished I could somehow bottle up that one moment and take it home with me, because it captured so much of what I have loved about our time in France -- friends, food, joy, wine -- and although we tried to get some pictures, I think we will have to rely mostly on our memories most for this one.

It was a great weekend from start to finish. After my quick market morning, we spent Saturday afternoon celebrating Penelope's 2nd birthday at our house. Kate and Liv absolutely adore Penelope (and Jack loves playing with her big sisters, Lauren and Claudia) and they had decorated the house with balloons of every color. After a few years of being the youngest, I think they are VERY happy to have someone else take on that role; they proudly showed off their mature, nearly-five-year-old-girl skills (like helping Penny put on her shoes, and picking up whatever she dropped).

And all five of the kids spent part of the visit trading Pokemon cards (Jack, Lauren and Claudia most seriously, although Kate and Liv got into the game). This is a mixed bag for a parent... the next morning, Katie proudly showed me a card and said "I traded my strongest card for this one because it's just so cute!" Hmmmm... she was happy, so that should have been fine, but we are wondering exactly how you teach a child to barter, bargain, and bluff, too (Jack had no trouble learning these skills). Not an easy task!

At any rate -- after the gouter (snack) and delicious birthday tarte, we all headed to Claire Naudin's, of Domaine Naudin Ferrand in Magny-les-Villers. The local winemaker, a friend of Franck and Laura's (and mother of a classmate of Jack's), was holding the annual winemaker's "open house" in the next village just one kilometer away.

As usual, John and I had no idea what to expect. And as usual, we had greatly underestimated just how great it would be. I think I had pictured it being a time to sample a few kinds of wine, and then we'd eat mediocre food prepared for the masses.

Instead, we arrived to a room filled with wine, yes (from seven different winemakers) but also crafts, locally grown food and specialty items (homemade jams, spice breads, salt), hot crepes, music (the band played off and on the whole evening and into the  night), and a craft corner and facepainting for children. The couscous dinner was delicious, and the wine was, of course, divine. We saw many people we knew -- one of the perks of living in a small village! -- and had dinner with Geraldine and Thomas as well as the parents of Laurie, a "big girl" who Katie has labelled as her best friend.

 

And the music and singing really capped the whole fun evening off. Aside from a Christmas carol or Auld Lang Syne on New Year's Eve, I can't recall a dinner where people starting singing (with great enthusiasm) drinking songs! Clearly something else we might need to bring back to Canada...

We all slept in on Sunday (which means til about 8 a.m.!) and although it wasn't officially Mother's Day here (in fact, it seems I will miss Mother's Day this year... it is at the end of May in France, was in March in England, and was yesterday in North America), John and the kids doted on me all morning, bringing coffee and food to bed, and leaving me alone to indulge in the weirdly addictive Twilight Series (why oh why did I start these vampire tales?).

We took a walk after lunch and came back to prepare a tarte aux fraises (strawberry tarte) for the gouter with my host parents, Denys and Christine. They LOVED the village and our France home, and marvelled at the beauty that surrounds us. Liv seemed to instantly bond with Denys, and spent much of the visit on his lap. I had asked Christine if she would bring her recipe for my favorite gateau au chocolat, and she took me through the process, step by step.

This is what we ended up with. Pas mal, n'est pas?

Denys also brought with him a painting he had done of me, from a picture I had sent them 17 years ago. It is black and white watercolor, and just amazing to see in real life. I am amazed at anyone who can create things with their hands (art, music, food) and will treasure this gift always.

And we returned back to regular French life this morning, with school for the kids and a work trip for John. The kids and I stopped for croissants on the way back from the train station since we were a bit too early for school, and I had to brush the crumbs off all three before sending them into their classrooms. They certainly have taken to French bread (big surprise there, eh?)

This afternoon, the girls (for who knows what reason) asked to hear the lyrics of O Canada on the computer. That led to a good half hour of listening to national anthems from around the world. If you find yourself with a bit of time, it's pretty interesting to read all of the lyrics as well as listen to the songs. The U.S.'s anthem, besides being r-e-a-l-l-y difficult to sing (Livie was NOT impressed with my "lan-and of the freeeeee!"), is SO focused on battle. I rarely thought about that when singing it growing up -- it just always did and still does give me chills when I hear it -- and often makes me cry. But I had never spent much time actually listening to the words (and who knew there were four verses?). Anyway... my other problem is that I always want to end it with an enthusiastic "Play ball!". I wonder if that instinct will ever go away!

France's anthem, La Marseillaise, always brings to mind that wonderful scene in Casablanca, but I had never read the English words until today. It is also a very bloody, bloody song. As the national anthem website explains:

The lyrics, speaking of bloody battles and a call for citizens to take up arms, have been debated endlessly whether to alter the words to suit the more peaceful times that France currently enjoys, but the original words, capturing the spirit of the French revolution, remain. This is probably due to the fact that "La Marseillaise" is now inexorably linked to France in the mind of the world.

The first verse of England's anthem is all about the Queen (later verses touch on everything from confounding the politics of its enemies and frustrating their knavish tricks). Croatia's is all about the land. Poland's anthem speaks to its tumultuous history of partition and preservation (Poland has not yet Perished). And Canada's anthem, which is so wonderfully easy to sing, has such different words depending on if you're singing it in French or in English.

Such interesting stuff.

Tomorrow should be a good day for Kate and Liv -- their class is going to ride ponies. And it will be a stressful (but hopefully satisfying) morning for me -- another haircut. Fingers crossed that it goes as well as the first one!

Whoops I did it again.

I went to the market this morning with a very short list. Fruits and vegetables. Fruits and vegetables. And some fresh spaghetti for the kids.

I would *not* be swayed by the siren call of the basil-olive tapenade, by the succulent smell of the roasted, marinated tomatoes, by the smooth shell of a perfectly formed tortellini. Most of all, I would NOT yield to the temptation of any kind of fromage.

Well, I got my fruit.

I got my vegetables.

And I was on my way to get my spaghetti for the kids. But when it was my turn to be helped, the vendor wouldn't let his new assistant serve me. He told the new assistant: "She is my special friend -- I will get her spaghetti -- did you know her kids love this stuff?" And then when I told him that after today, I had just two more Saturdays at the market before "quitting" France, he didn't believe me. He looked so very, very sad. And he said I would always have a special place in his heart, and he hoped he would always have a special place in mine.

So of course I had to buy the tortellini.

And then, on my way to buy flowers for a gouter with friends this afternoon, I walked by my favorite cheese vendor. Or should I call her my dealer. She is, after all, the one who on my first visit had the nerve to suggest I try a new cheese she was offering that day, a tasty, salty gruyere that is made high in the mountains by cows that, I am sure, receive regular massages and manicures. What other explanation for the the price -- 44 euros per kilo? Yes, that's right, there is a cheese in the world that costs about $30 a pound -- and it IS that good. Really.

That first taste was free, of course. It  always is. And like a good junkie, I've been dutifully coming back each week to see what the latest specials are (although I only ever buy a small slice of the most delicious, expensive kind on the Saturdays she has it). So clearly, CLEARLY, when she stopped me this morning to say bonjour, when she said she missed seeing me last week, when we talked about chateaux and the Loire and a new cheese she had -- well, really, I had no other choice. Before I knew it, I was walking away with three small packets of cheese in my bag, and my wallet noticably lighter. The only saving grace is that she didn't have my (crazy expensive) gruyere this week. Otherwise I might not have been able to face John when I got home.

And finally, I had everything on my list (and then some). I was almost free. I was walking toward my car, almost all temptations behind me, and who do I see? The olive-tapenade-tomato vendor -- another of my favorites where I usually stop at every week but had purposefully walked by this morning. He caught my eye. He gave a warm bonjour.  How could I say no?

(Does it help that he gave me a good deal on it? Probably not.)

Clearly, I have a problem...and what a wonderful problem to have. But for the sake of our budget and our cholesterol, it is probably good we only have two Saturdays left.

Sigh.

Two Saturdays left.

This won't be easy.

More pictures of the Alps

Here are some more pictures from our great trip to the mountains, these from our "little" camera (which John usually carries) as well as Alex's camera. First, at our picnic on the Autoroute of the Titans.

And here is our Chamonix chalet:

Kids who are ready to go swimming:

And photos from our trip up the mountain. The first is the restaurant where we had our cheesy-lunch (as well as photos of Alex's meal, tartaflette).

Heading down the mountain:

The snow caves from the outside, and then many wonderful ones from the inside, and then the last one from the inside looking out:

And then a few our last morning on the deck in the sunshine.

A Montanan (and his family and friends) heads to les montagnes

The train strike continues to remind us that we are indeed living in France. Thankfully, after learning Kathy and Alex's scheduled trains to Paris were canceled yesterday, we were able to help them get on an earlier train and they made it to the airport after a bit of reorganizing (we kept talking about how you have to be flexible when you travel... this train strike is proof of that!). They should be on their way home right now.

It was a great visit -- and I think the highlight for our family was the trip to Chamonix-Mt Blanc in Les Alpes. (As an aside, Jack has been learning in school of all of the mountain ranges in France, and spent much of the trip describing not only where we were -- "Oh, we are now in Les Juras!" but describing the geography and history of the area (granted, some of his measurements were quite a bit off -- he told us, quite confidently, that Mt Blanc was 8,400 meters... when in fact it is closer to 4,800 or so). Still, I continue to be impressed with the schools here and all he is learning.)

It was Alex and Kathy who suggested heading to the Alps... we hadn't considered going there (just so many places to choose from), and now are so glad they did. Our friends John and Alli recommended heading to Chamonix, the site of the first winter Olympics and one of the four main cities of the region (the others-- Grenoble, Annecy, and Chambery, are much larger). Because they haven't steered us wrong so far, that's where we went. Since we are in a shoulder season (not the prime skiing time, nor the gorgeous summer mountaineering time), I was able to find a great deal on a little apartment right in the town, complete with small kitchenette and an indoor heated swimming pool (virtually guaranteeing that our kids would be thrilled, mountains or not).

To get there, we had to drive through The Autoroute of the Titans. Now, I am coming to believe if someone has taken the time to give a road a really great name (I'm thinking more "The Going to the Sun Road" versus "The New Jersey Turnpike"), it probably is going to be a great drive. That theory held up here, as we soared high above the valley on a road that included 12 viaducts and three tunnels and that did seem to be built by, or for, giants.

We had a picnic lunch at a beautiful rest stop on the amazing autoroute and headed into Chamonix in the afternoon. The mountains seemed to swallow us up as we drove into town, and with the high clouds, we couldn't see the tops of them. Our kids went swimming while Kathy and Alex went off to explore town.

The next day, after a morning swim and a bit of clearing of cloudcover, we decided to head up a cog railroad to Montenvers (and I mean UP, straight up), where we had a cheese-filled lunch before riding a gondola halfway down a mountain and then climbing down 300 steps into an ice cave drilled into a glacier.

Yes... the adventure involved: train travel practically straight up a mountain, a gondola ride straight down the other side of the mountain, a precarious walk down hundreds of stairs, and an adventure in an ice cave, which is slowly moving along with the rest of the glacier. It's like they made it just to make kids happy.

The glacier is called Mer de Glace (Sea of Ice) and it's the largest glacier in France (the picture to the left is from Wkipedia -- we didn't get that kind of view or blue skies on our trip -- but it shows the wavelike look of the grand glacier). The caves were incredible (and a tiny bit creepy... would they *really* stay up?) and the depth and vastness of the glacier as well as the markers that show how much it has receded in the last decades were awesome in that "awe" sense of the word (versus the Valley Girl sense).

We saw some skiers making their way down the glacier and then back up all of those stairs, despite all of the ice and melting snow. I think John contained his envy quite well -- this is one of the first years in the last 34 or 35 that he hasn't been skiing. I told him we'd come back, just us, to ski and explore more some day. I really hope we do.

After marching back up those 300 stairs (Jack said he counted just 296), we rode the gondola back up the mountain in clouds, had a chocolat chaud in the cafe, and rode the cog railway back down (down, down) the other side of the mountain. Dinner for the kids followed, then one more swim, and the kids were out. That's when John and I found the non-cheesey Japanese restaurant and enjoyed a rare date night.

The next morning gave us our best views of "the mountain", Mont Blanc, which is the highest mountain in the European Union. We could easily have spent the whole day watching parachuters landing outside of our window with the beautiful background of mountains.

We could even see the mountains from the pool . As another aside, Kate and Liv have made huge strides in their swimming during these two April trips we've made... by the last day, both were floating on their own with no life jacket or arm floaties, both were plucking pennies off the floor of the shallow end, and both were jumping into the deep end without holding on to our hands (we were there to catch them, of course... but until now both were nervous about jumping in without a hand to hold on to).

We reluctantly said goodbye to Chamonix at noon, and decided to take a bit of a scenic way home. John plugged some coordinates into the GPS, and at first I thought it was leading us far, far astray, and up a precarious tiny road that seemed to be zigzagging to the summit of Mont Blanc! With complete calm, John just kept driving up and up and up (while my fingers returned to the well-worn grips in the same minivan we rented when his parents were here and we zoomed through the autobahn in Germany) and eventually the road started gradually going down and down, through some of the most beautiful small mountain villages and countryside I have seen.

We stopped for a picnic lunch in a small village along Lac d'Annecy, then went into a cafe for dessert, coffee and bathrooms. (Yes, that is a tattoo of Dora the Explorer on Liv's head. Sometimes you just can't prevent these kinds of things from happening).

A few hours later, and we were "home". We are definitely thinking of this house in Villers-la-Faye as home, and are trying to block out all the thoughts of how hard it will be to leave it in just a few weeks. But they will be good weeks, at least (not that the last weeks and months have been so bad!). The kids will return to school Monday, and my mom and our friend Sharon will come for a visit in late April, and more and more flowers and trees are blooming each day. And the best part of all -- we have no train trips planned for a while!