The days seem to be slipping by faster than ever -- I ran into Geraldine at the school drop off this morning and she reminded me we have just 18 days left in France! How did that happen?
There is no big news to report -- the week is happily just full of work and school and laundry and life -- but I do have a few fun updates.
* Maitresse Maud mentioned that Katie spoke French spontaneously in class Tuesday. And just what were the first freely spoken (i.e. not prompted by Mama or Daddy) French words out of her mouth?
"Je suis la!" (I am here!).
I don't know if that is incredibly deep and meaningful (some kind of existential awareness of her place in the universe) or simply a response to the roll call. At any rate -- we're pleased with her progress.
* Both girls have been singing a LOT these days, both songs that are recognizable, as well as those they make up. Today, at lunch, Livie was sweetly singing one that started like this:
"On your birthday, it's hard to be twins..."
I tried to get her to expand on that thought, but she slipped off into another song about how you have to be kind to Santa. Ah, the brain of a nearly five year old...
* I had a great talk with Jack's teacher on Friday. She said that she and the whole class would be so sad to see Jack leave -- that he has really become a remarkably integrated part of the classroom fabric (or something like that). She also said they would all -- ALL -- cry when he left.
She also mentioned that she thinks he will be VERY bored in school next year, as he is easily picking up concepts that are difficult for any student, whatever language they speak at home. In some cases, I think she will be right. For example, his class here has blazed through the past, imperfect, future, and conditional verb tenses... and he gets it! I don't think they even start some of those until next year at his French immersion school. Of course, there will also be a few (several!) gaps... he still hasn't learned how to conjugate "ir" or "re" verbs (something they hadn't started in Canada when we left but had already finished here), and who knows what else. I am sure we will encounter many of these gaps when we return. Thankfully, he seems to pick up these concepts so quickly.
And the best thing of all (even better than him bringing home a good mark on a test none of us even knew was coming up, which also happened this week) is to listen to him speak French with his friends. It just comes so naturally... so easily... so fluently. I don't know when or how or in what context he will use the French language later in life... but I do know he has a fabulous grounding in it at this point, and both John and I feel that is such a wonderful gift (especially since the process of learning it was so much fun).
* John and I had petit-dejeuner at our favorite cafe this morning. The topic of conversation -- just how the heck we can come back to Burgundy some day. Yes, it is going to be hard to leave and you can expect some emotional and possibly pathetic postings (very pro-France) over the next 2+ weeks!
* Here's just one of the things I'll miss... how French people seem to touch each other more than North Americans. I love the French cheek-kiss thing (faire la bise), and every time it happens I feel like this is a very sane and wonderful society. The owner of the restaurant in Nuits-St-George where we go for galettes every two weeks or so came out when we stopped by with Mom on Monday, and before I knew it, he was kissing my cheeks and then Mom's before explaining and apologizing that the restaurant was closed for a private function. A cousin of Franck's who lives in our village (and who we see at the school drop-off) nows greets me with both a warm bonjour and a quick cheek kiss. John gets a handshake -- it seems that men only kiss men who are family or very old friends -- but otherwise, it's kisses all around. Jack's friends kiss me, my friends kiss me, I kiss my own kids... what a wonderful way of life.
Showing posts with label Jack. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jack. Show all posts
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
Back to Burgundry, having loved the Loire
Health update: Jack did, in fact, have his sisters' bug, but weathered it fairly well and was back to his usual silly sweet self by Sunday afternoon (and in pretty good spirits the whole time). I do sometimes wonder about the competitive spirits of our children, though. There was a lot of comparing of who threw up how many times in France (Katie had the edge on the other two thanks to her earlier stomach bug the day of our French fiesta). Such pleasant, pleasant conversation. The good news is that all three kids appear fully healthy and are back in school this morning. It also appears that Jack grew two inches or so during his illness... seriously, his pants on Sunday morning were two inches too short!
Loire update: Oh my goodness. The Loire blew us all away. I don't know why, but I hadn't imagined it would be quite so.... big, magnificent, huge, beautiful, incredible, and (at times) excessive (makes you kind of understand how that whole French Revolution could have happened). I had (naively) planned for us to see two chateaux a day. Yeah, right! Even without slightly sick kids, the most we could have taken in was one a day... and even then, we left without examining every corner, every room, every masterpiece of art or architecture. There was just so much to see, and our brains could not process all of the beauty and awe. Nice problem to have, isn't it?
On Saturday, we visited Chambord, a "hunting lodge" constructed by King Francois I in the 1500s (to be near his mistress) which many consider to be the greatest of the chateaux of the Loire (what with its 440 rooms, 365 fireplaces, and 84 staircases, including a famous double-helix rumored to be designed by Leonardo Da Vinci). A bit of history courtesy of Wikipedia:
Exhausted and overwhelmed, we happily drove about 75 minutes to our next destination... a chateau that has been converted into a hotel! This was mom's wish... to spend a night in a chateau. We sent lists back and forth, and settled on one she had found online, the Chateau de la Bourdaisiere. It dates from the 1400s, although its current look is much smaller (a more manageable size for a chateau, bien sur).
Although *not* a part of the chateau's general information, I just read that the beautiful building and its grounds were the site of the first Joe Millionarie television show! Oh my!
One better known (and better publicized) aspect of the hotel-chateau's more recent history is that it is owed by the same Prince who bought Deyrolle -- the amazing last taxidermy shop in Paris -- and helped ensure its survival both at the time of its purchase in 2001 and after the fire in 2008. The prince (apparently "just" a courtesy title these days) is also doing much to preserve and cultivate heirloom vegetables and plants. According to the hotel-chateau's website, the prince and his wife want to "transform the estate into a prime example of eco-renovation of an historical monument and lead the way to a sustainable management example for both the hotel and garden and the park. The Princess is in charge of the decoration, which will obviously be the transcended mix of Le Prince Jardinier, Deyrolle and their common curiosity."
Did I mention it was really, really cool?
We lingered at our castle, watching the kids run around the beautiful grounds, until checkout time, then headed to our second "big" castle of the weekend, the Chateau de Chenonceau. If Chambord is considered the "greatest" of the chateaux of the Loire, Chenonceau is often considered the most beautiful. It was designed by women for women. According to its website, Chenonceau is known as "Château des Dames as recorded in the French history books, [and] owes a large part of its charm to women: it was built in 1513 by Katherine Briçonnet, then made even more attractive by Diane de Poitiers and Catherine de Médicis, and saved from the rigours of the French Revolution by Mrs. Dupin."
The scale of this chateau was much smaller (and maybe more pleasing) than Chambord, and many of the rooms had the bedding and decoration of the different women who lived there. From the fabulous kitchens to the graceful views on both sides of the river to the incredible gardens (including a huge labyrinth the kids wanted to play in all afternoon), this chateau, too, was more ... everything... than we expected.
We took three tired but happy kids (and three tired but happy adults) back to our rental car at about 4 p.m. and headed home through many small rain showers, which had the unexpected benefit of creating at least a dozen rainbows along the road home (really!). John said it was a kind of relentless beauty... and it got even more beautiful as we came back to Burgundy. We decided we still do like it best here... but we would be happy -- very happy -- to return to the Loire one day.
I think I will upload the photos in four sections: the Abbey, Chambord, the hotel-chateau, and Chenonceau. Don't know how long that will take (we shot a mere 588 photos!) but hopefully sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we are going to head out to one last lunch with Mom, who leaves from Lyon tomorrow morning. It's been a wonderful visit, and we all will miss her so much. We are also starting to count down as it suddenly became May -- which means we have just 20 days left in our fabulous French home. Talk about people and places we will miss...
On Saturday, we visited Chambord, a "hunting lodge" constructed by King Francois I in the 1500s (to be near his mistress) which many consider to be the greatest of the chateaux of the Loire (what with its 440 rooms, 365 fireplaces, and 84 staircases, including a famous double-helix rumored to be designed by Leonardo Da Vinci). A bit of history courtesy of Wikipedia:
Chambord is the largest castle in the Loire Valley, but was built to serve only as a hunting lodge for François I, who maintained his royal residences at Château de Blois and at Château d'Amboise.
...The château was never intended to provide any form of defense from enemies; consequently the walls, towers and partial moat are purely decorative, and even at the time were an anachronism. some elements of the architecture - open windows, loggia, and a vast outdoor area at the top — borrowed from the Italian Renaissance architecture — are less practical in cold and damp northern France.
The roofscape of Chambord contrasts with the masses of its masonry and has often been compared with the skyline of a town: it shows eleven kinds of towers and three types of chimneys, without symmetry, framed at the corners by the massive towers. ...When François I commissioned the construction of Chambord, he wanted it to look like the skyline of Constantinople.
...One of the architectural highlights is the spectacular double-helix open staircase that is the centerpiece of the castle. The two helixes ascend the three floors without ever meeting, illuminated from above by a sort of light house at the highest point of the castle. There are suggestions that Leonardo da Vinci may have designed the staircase, but this has not been confirmed.We all loved the staircase, and chased each other up, up, up and down, down, down, marveling at the beauty of the symmetry and design (well, we marveled... the kids simply thought it was "so cool!"). I loved wandering the rooftop and looking over the landscape, walking amid the towers and turrets and dream-like design of the place. I don't know that the pictures will do it justice... maybe it's one of those things you have to see yourself. If that's the case... well, I can solidly argue that this is worth seeing. It's incredible to believe that humans could have constructed such a thing.
Although *not* a part of the chateau's general information, I just read that the beautiful building and its grounds were the site of the first Joe Millionarie television show! Oh my!
One better known (and better publicized) aspect of the hotel-chateau's more recent history is that it is owed by the same Prince who bought Deyrolle -- the amazing last taxidermy shop in Paris -- and helped ensure its survival both at the time of its purchase in 2001 and after the fire in 2008. The prince (apparently "just" a courtesy title these days) is also doing much to preserve and cultivate heirloom vegetables and plants. According to the hotel-chateau's website, the prince and his wife want to "transform the estate into a prime example of eco-renovation of an historical monument and lead the way to a sustainable management example for both the hotel and garden and the park. The Princess is in charge of the decoration, which will obviously be the transcended mix of Le Prince Jardinier, Deyrolle and their common curiosity."Did I mention it was really, really cool?
The scale of this chateau was much smaller (and maybe more pleasing) than Chambord, and many of the rooms had the bedding and decoration of the different women who lived there. From the fabulous kitchens to the graceful views on both sides of the river to the incredible gardens (including a huge labyrinth the kids wanted to play in all afternoon), this chateau, too, was more ... everything... than we expected.
I think I will upload the photos in four sections: the Abbey, Chambord, the hotel-chateau, and Chenonceau. Don't know how long that will take (we shot a mere 588 photos!) but hopefully sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we are going to head out to one last lunch with Mom, who leaves from Lyon tomorrow morning. It's been a wonderful visit, and we all will miss her so much. We are also starting to count down as it suddenly became May -- which means we have just 20 days left in our fabulous French home. Talk about people and places we will miss...
Friday, April 30, 2010
The lovely, lovely Loire
Health update: Kate is almost back to full health (her version of the Bug was faster but just as furious as Liv's) and so we took off this afternoon toward the Loire Valley, home of France's famous chateaux. After a few hours of enjoying the company of three nearly healthy kids, Jack started drooping at dinner and now seems to be battling a milder version of it at this moment (at least we hope it's a milder version!). Ah, kids. And germs. And the unpredictability of life. They all just kind of go together, don't they?
Loire update: Wow! We aren't even "officially" there yet, and all six of us are blown away. The drive here included some kind of bland countryside once we left Burgundy, but as soon as we headed off the autoroute down to Beaugency, a town along the Loire just west of Orleans, the superlatives started.
Tonight, we have the incredible thrill of staying in a former Abbey right along the Loire (although I have to tell you, if the monks who used to live here lived as well as we are living tonight... well, it's a pretty good argument for the monastic life!). We climbed up stairs where the stone has been worn away by hundreds of years of footfall; we walked down a hall toward our rooms ("Frere Victoire" for us, "Frere Perceval" for Mom) on sloping terra cotta-colored tiles. The huge wooden beams along the ceilings and the huge windows overlooking the Loire are all simply stunning. And the view... we threw open those huge windows and stared out at the lovely Loire.
Once we had a snack, we decided to explore the town a bit. As you probably know, I have become quite the fan of Burgundy in general and Beaune in particular. I was beginning to think that no where else in France could match it. But (I hate to say this), I *could* be wrong. Beaugency, a gorgeous town with its 14th century bridge, was freed by Joan of Arc in 1429. And its twisting streets and narrow lanes and flower-filled windows and soaring stone towers literally took our breath away. As Mom said, "There just aren't enough words".
I had planned to post some of the hundreds of beautiful photos we took today, but John's computer is uploading them sooooooo slowly that I am tempted to toss it out the window. In the interest of his beloved Mac, I will just leave you with a few. I can't believe the *real* spectacular stuff still awaits us tomorrow...
Loire update: Wow! We aren't even "officially" there yet, and all six of us are blown away. The drive here included some kind of bland countryside once we left Burgundy, but as soon as we headed off the autoroute down to Beaugency, a town along the Loire just west of Orleans, the superlatives started.
Tonight, we have the incredible thrill of staying in a former Abbey right along the Loire (although I have to tell you, if the monks who used to live here lived as well as we are living tonight... well, it's a pretty good argument for the monastic life!). We climbed up stairs where the stone has been worn away by hundreds of years of footfall; we walked down a hall toward our rooms ("Frere Victoire" for us, "Frere Perceval" for Mom) on sloping terra cotta-colored tiles. The huge wooden beams along the ceilings and the huge windows overlooking the Loire are all simply stunning. And the view... we threw open those huge windows and stared out at the lovely Loire.
Once we had a snack, we decided to explore the town a bit. As you probably know, I have become quite the fan of Burgundy in general and Beaune in particular. I was beginning to think that no where else in France could match it. But (I hate to say this), I *could* be wrong. Beaugency, a gorgeous town with its 14th century bridge, was freed by Joan of Arc in 1429. And its twisting streets and narrow lanes and flower-filled windows and soaring stone towers literally took our breath away. As Mom said, "There just aren't enough words".
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
A quick Jack story
So, Elise was asking Jack at lunch what subjects he has after lunch. Le mathematique et l'anglais, he said. Math and English.
That reminded us of one of our favorite Jack stories which I had been meaning to write about. A few weeks ago, Jack was telling us about an English lesson, and he mentioned that the teacher always asks him to repeat a word after she says a word, and the class says a word. "Say it like Jack says it," she tells the class.
The only problem is this. In the midst of telling this story, he was giving us a few examples -- "classroom", "brother", or "friend" -- and as he did, he spoke with a CRAZY accent that was part-pirate and part-Scottish Highlander, full of rolled r's and lots of music. "Is that how you say the words to the class?" we asked him, horrified. He nodded immediately, and then when he saw our faces, said "Oh, no, of course not."
What to believe? I do *not* want to ask the teacher about it. But if, in 15 or 20 years, you encounter a young person from Burgundy who speaks English like a pirate, we will all know who to blame.
That reminded us of one of our favorite Jack stories which I had been meaning to write about. A few weeks ago, Jack was telling us about an English lesson, and he mentioned that the teacher always asks him to repeat a word after she says a word, and the class says a word. "Say it like Jack says it," she tells the class.
The only problem is this. In the midst of telling this story, he was giving us a few examples -- "classroom", "brother", or "friend" -- and as he did, he spoke with a CRAZY accent that was part-pirate and part-Scottish Highlander, full of rolled r's and lots of music. "Is that how you say the words to the class?" we asked him, horrified. He nodded immediately, and then when he saw our faces, said "Oh, no, of course not."
What to believe? I do *not* want to ask the teacher about it. But if, in 15 or 20 years, you encounter a young person from Burgundy who speaks English like a pirate, we will all know who to blame.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Smitten for mittens
Thanks to my friend Kellee for pointing out that the mittens Jack gave at the birthday party are all the rage in Vancouver and beyond (even Joe Biden and Cindy Crawford have them!). Check out this story on Yahoo.com.
Our own kids were the proud recipients of the same gloves for Christmas from our friend (and John's colleague) Hillary. He is the first one who told us how cool they really were (you can count on Hillary to know what's cool!). Thanks again, Hillary!
And... Jack just gave me permission to tell his funny birthday party story! (His response: :"OKAY -- as long as no one writes me back about it"). So... here it is.
First, some necessary backstory. For the first 7.5 years of his life, people have liked Jack. He was a happy baby who was willing to let anyone hold him, a cheerful toddler with sparkly eyes, a chatty preschooler who had a good sense of humor, and now a nice kid whom most people -- boys and girls -- seem to like.
Girls, especially, seem to like Jack. One day in kindergarten, he came home and in giving an account of his day, mentioned all of the girls at his snack table were fighting over who was going to marry him. I asked who HE might want to marry. He said he was going to move to Alaska with one of his best friend's, Thomas, and raise sled dogs. There have been countless other instances of little girls longing for Jack -- most of which involve Jack being clueless about it all. Such is his life.
So...the party. As you know, about 10 days ago Jack had been invited to the birthday party of a classmate. A little girl. A très belle, très French little girl.
We wanted all of the details when he got home, and he did as good of a job as a 7-year-old can at telling us what they did, what they ate, and what presents were opened.
Later that night, though, just before he fell asleep, Jack told me one more thing that happened at the party. The birthday girl, he said, told him something. She said that she does NOT have des copains (friends who are boys). No, she told him, she only has des copines (friends who are girls) and des amoureux (lovers).
(Can you imagine? Eight-years-old and such a sense of her womanly self! LOL!)
I asked him if he knew what an amoureaux was. He nodded shyly and said "Someone who is loved?"
I said that the birthday girl must think he is a very nice friend, indeed. And then I said I *had* to tell his daddy. He said "OK, but you can't put it on the blog! Or Facebook, either!"
So I didn't... until today, with his permission -- and his pleasure that his friend now possesses the hottest Olympic gear available.
Thanks, beloved Jack!
And... Jack just gave me permission to tell his funny birthday party story! (His response: :"OKAY -- as long as no one writes me back about it"). So... here it is.
First, some necessary backstory. For the first 7.5 years of his life, people have liked Jack. He was a happy baby who was willing to let anyone hold him, a cheerful toddler with sparkly eyes, a chatty preschooler who had a good sense of humor, and now a nice kid whom most people -- boys and girls -- seem to like.
Girls, especially, seem to like Jack. One day in kindergarten, he came home and in giving an account of his day, mentioned all of the girls at his snack table were fighting over who was going to marry him. I asked who HE might want to marry. He said he was going to move to Alaska with one of his best friend's, Thomas, and raise sled dogs. There have been countless other instances of little girls longing for Jack -- most of which involve Jack being clueless about it all. Such is his life.
So...the party. As you know, about 10 days ago Jack had been invited to the birthday party of a classmate. A little girl. A très belle, très French little girl.
We wanted all of the details when he got home, and he did as good of a job as a 7-year-old can at telling us what they did, what they ate, and what presents were opened.
Later that night, though, just before he fell asleep, Jack told me one more thing that happened at the party. The birthday girl, he said, told him something. She said that she does NOT have des copains (friends who are boys). No, she told him, she only has des copines (friends who are girls) and des amoureux (lovers).
(Can you imagine? Eight-years-old and such a sense of her womanly self! LOL!)
I asked him if he knew what an amoureaux was. He nodded shyly and said "Someone who is loved?"
I said that the birthday girl must think he is a very nice friend, indeed. And then I said I *had* to tell his daddy. He said "OK, but you can't put it on the blog! Or Facebook, either!"
So I didn't... until today, with his permission -- and his pleasure that his friend now possesses the hottest Olympic gear available.
Thanks, beloved Jack!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Eagerly awaiting the arrival...
Kate and Liv have been busy all morning preparing for the arrival of much beloved guests -- Grandpa Jay and Grandma Judy.
Their part of the preparation includes making LOTS of artwork, valentines, notes, and more artwork and a promise that they will help me find the prettiest flowers at the market. They have also promised to help with my part of the preparation (cleaning and laundry), but we'll see how that works out. They have to finish their artwork first, apparently.
John and Jack went to Paris yesterday (what a crazy thing to write... it just has a different ring than saying "John and Jack went to Medicine Hat yesterday") to pick them up. John used the day in Paris to get quite a bit of work done (and he's been on a streak of great progress on new research projects... which is good news. He's trying to not get too frustrated that his lingering projects seem to be, um, lingering... but that's another story). Jack apparently was a trooper (oooh, The Museum of Immigration! Just what every 7-year-old loves...) and would apparently get his wish to see the Eiffel Tower last night or this morning.
We've had some great adventures with both sets of our parents during our travels and times of living in differents parts of the country and world. In 1996-97, when we were living in Cambridge, England, we met Jay and Judy in Rome for the Christmas break and traveled to Cinque Terre, Florence, Siena, and then on to Switzerland, France and back to England. One of the best memories of that trip (in addition to seeing historic sites, incredible artwork, and a beautiful countryside) was the frantic grocery store trip on Christmas Eve where we bought delicious bread, tomatoes, garlic, cheese, sausage, fruit, basil and wine, and had a feast in our hotel room that night before going to Midnight Mass at the Duomo in Florence. We didn't have all of the kitchen tools needed to prepare such a feast, of course, so we used Jay's knife and a very LONG boot-horn Judy had received with her newly purchased Italian leather boots to serve up the tomatoes when preparing the bruschetta. I *think* we may have taken a picture (but I don't have it on my computer)... and maybe it's the picture I remember, or the real thing -- but I know there were smiles all around (and a bit of self-satisfaction) as we dug into our Christmas dinner that night.
We haven't made firm plans yet of what adventures await during their time here now, and we know they plan to take a few trips on their own, but whatever happens, it is sure to be fun (although most food prep should be able to take place in a kitchen this time around). And on that note, I should probably sign off as the girls are bouncing up and down, begging me to start mopping (maybe they WILL actually help!). On verra!
Their part of the preparation includes making LOTS of artwork, valentines, notes, and more artwork and a promise that they will help me find the prettiest flowers at the market. They have also promised to help with my part of the preparation (cleaning and laundry), but we'll see how that works out. They have to finish their artwork first, apparently.
John and Jack went to Paris yesterday (what a crazy thing to write... it just has a different ring than saying "John and Jack went to Medicine Hat yesterday") to pick them up. John used the day in Paris to get quite a bit of work done (and he's been on a streak of great progress on new research projects... which is good news. He's trying to not get too frustrated that his lingering projects seem to be, um, lingering... but that's another story). Jack apparently was a trooper (oooh, The Museum of Immigration! Just what every 7-year-old loves...) and would apparently get his wish to see the Eiffel Tower last night or this morning.
We've had some great adventures with both sets of our parents during our travels and times of living in differents parts of the country and world. In 1996-97, when we were living in Cambridge, England, we met Jay and Judy in Rome for the Christmas break and traveled to Cinque Terre, Florence, Siena, and then on to Switzerland, France and back to England. One of the best memories of that trip (in addition to seeing historic sites, incredible artwork, and a beautiful countryside) was the frantic grocery store trip on Christmas Eve where we bought delicious bread, tomatoes, garlic, cheese, sausage, fruit, basil and wine, and had a feast in our hotel room that night before going to Midnight Mass at the Duomo in Florence. We didn't have all of the kitchen tools needed to prepare such a feast, of course, so we used Jay's knife and a very LONG boot-horn Judy had received with her newly purchased Italian leather boots to serve up the tomatoes when preparing the bruschetta. I *think* we may have taken a picture (but I don't have it on my computer)... and maybe it's the picture I remember, or the real thing -- but I know there were smiles all around (and a bit of self-satisfaction) as we dug into our Christmas dinner that night.
We haven't made firm plans yet of what adventures await during their time here now, and we know they plan to take a few trips on their own, but whatever happens, it is sure to be fun (although most food prep should be able to take place in a kitchen this time around). And on that note, I should probably sign off as the girls are bouncing up and down, begging me to start mopping (maybe they WILL actually help!). On verra!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Party of five, and an 8-year-old's party
If you are partnered with someone and considering the number of children you might want some day, and if you plan to travel extensively in France ever in your lives, I feel it is my duty to suggest you might choose the following numbers of offspring: one, two, or six.
But whatever you do, don't have three.
You see, finding a hotel where five people can sleep in the same room in France seems to be nearly impossible. A railway employee in Beaune yesterday spent about 15 minutes looking for a hotel that would allow the five of us to stay in one room near Charles de Gualle airport in Paris. She failed. I had failed at the same search on my computer the night before.
Any of the hotels she (and I) found that allowed four people in a room (a rarity in itself -- most rooms are doubles) would not allow a fifth. We would have had to book a second room. And, my thinking goes, if you have to pay for a second room, you may as well fill it with people! (Note: this belief does not leave me with any plans to go out and have triplets, just to make the most of a second hotel room).
We have asked at several hotels if the children could just all sleep in one bed (or, as the reality would be, if Olivia could sleep in between me and John, where she ends up most nights anyway as she is prone to bad dreams). It seems it just can't be done. And because they ask outright for the number of children and their birthdates, and because I don't know the system well enough to know just how rigid these rules are, we seem stuck with paying for two rooms, at least for now, or amending our plans so that only one parent and one child are traveling (as will happen later this week when John and Jack go to Paris to pick up John's parents).
While it's making me a little crazy, I wouldn't trade in my party of five for the most beautiful, affordable hotel room in the world. A number of people have told us since arriving in France that three children are the perfect number to have, and we *have* met a lot of families here with three children. That leaves me wondering just where they stay when they travel. Probably with family or friends (which is what we do on most of our North American travels), or maybe there are secret codes French people give when booking hotel rooms for five. Maybe they just sneak the youngest in (if this is the case -- let me know!)
We have started exploring other options for when we travel. In addition to vacation rentals by owner around the world, France has a system of gites, which are a cross between bed-and-breakfasts and furnished short-term rentals. It's not as good if you are looking for a one-night stay before catching an early morning flight somewhere, but it does seem to be a good option for a long weekend or week's visit somewhere.
We also are planning more and more day trips (or planning hotel stays for when we have visitors, so that the cost of the second room doesn't seem as ridiculous!)
And in the meantime, we'll be on the lookout for the secret handshake that gets the third child in!
***
In other news -- Jack had a very good time at the birthday party yesterday. After observantly telling us that the birthday girl seemed to like cats (as she had one on her invitation, her backpack, and some of her notebooks at school), we found a set of little cats at the toy store. He added that to a pair of Vancouver 2010 Olympic mittens, and headed off to the party.
A few differences: when we showed up, the only other children there at that time (the birthday girl and a boy) were dressed in costume (princess and Robin Hood-type character). The invitation said nothing about dressing up, and we wondered if that's just a given at French parties. Jack said none of the other children wore costumes, and that the two who were dressed up changed into regular clothes at some point. He added that he didn't feel out of place being dressed in his regular clothes. It's funny to go through much of life here being SO unsure of the rules of the game (vs. partly unsure of the rules of the game, which is how I go through parenting life in Lethbridge).
Another difference: the party lasted from 2:30 to 6 p.m.! Most of the parties Jack has been to last about two hours. That reality led us to do something we should have done several weeks ago: called the mechanic to fix the lights on the car we are using. Yes, my fear of talking on the telephone had kept us driving only during daylight hours the last weeks (and knowing we had rented a minivan to use while John's parents are here, and, embarassingly, that the days were getting longer every day.) But since we'd need lights to get Jack home from the party, I faced my demons, dialed the number of the garage that Franck and Laura had given us, and arranged to bring the car in.
What was I afraid of? John had checked and knew it wasn't a fuse (and looked up all of the specific vocabulary before I called), so I was able to explain that to the mechanic; he seemed to understand me on the phone; I understood *most* of what he said; and we were able to find our way there with no problem. He replaced the low-beam bulbs and had the lights fixed in 10 minutes. Pas de probleme.
We returned to find a happy Jack bouncing on a trampoline and heard that all five children (two boys, two girls, and the birthday girl) had a great afternoon playing inside and out, going to a goat farm where new kids had just been born, and returning to a choice of cake or crepes. Jack picked cake. He said the cake was different than Canadian cake, but couldn't give more details than that.
He also told me the most hilarious story from the party that he promised me to NOT report on the blog. If he ever gives his approval, I will write about it. For now -- even though it's killing me to NOT tell -- I will have to keep it to myself. Sigh. It's such a good story.
We took Kate and Liv to the carousel and for chocolat chaud while Jack was at the party (among other errands). I don't think we'll get tired of that magical place!
The kids are enjoying a two week break from school, and we are getting eager to see John's parents, Jay and Judy. They are in Italy now and will be flying to Paris tomorrow night. We're not sure of all of their plans yet (they want to do some travelling on their own), but we are planning a Saturday Beaune market for sure and some nice walks around the vineyards (aka, the neighborhood) this weekend. We can't wait.
But whatever you do, don't have three.
You see, finding a hotel where five people can sleep in the same room in France seems to be nearly impossible. A railway employee in Beaune yesterday spent about 15 minutes looking for a hotel that would allow the five of us to stay in one room near Charles de Gualle airport in Paris. She failed. I had failed at the same search on my computer the night before.
Any of the hotels she (and I) found that allowed four people in a room (a rarity in itself -- most rooms are doubles) would not allow a fifth. We would have had to book a second room. And, my thinking goes, if you have to pay for a second room, you may as well fill it with people! (Note: this belief does not leave me with any plans to go out and have triplets, just to make the most of a second hotel room).
We have asked at several hotels if the children could just all sleep in one bed (or, as the reality would be, if Olivia could sleep in between me and John, where she ends up most nights anyway as she is prone to bad dreams). It seems it just can't be done. And because they ask outright for the number of children and their birthdates, and because I don't know the system well enough to know just how rigid these rules are, we seem stuck with paying for two rooms, at least for now, or amending our plans so that only one parent and one child are traveling (as will happen later this week when John and Jack go to Paris to pick up John's parents).
While it's making me a little crazy, I wouldn't trade in my party of five for the most beautiful, affordable hotel room in the world. A number of people have told us since arriving in France that three children are the perfect number to have, and we *have* met a lot of families here with three children. That leaves me wondering just where they stay when they travel. Probably with family or friends (which is what we do on most of our North American travels), or maybe there are secret codes French people give when booking hotel rooms for five. Maybe they just sneak the youngest in (if this is the case -- let me know!)
We have started exploring other options for when we travel. In addition to vacation rentals by owner around the world, France has a system of gites, which are a cross between bed-and-breakfasts and furnished short-term rentals. It's not as good if you are looking for a one-night stay before catching an early morning flight somewhere, but it does seem to be a good option for a long weekend or week's visit somewhere.
We also are planning more and more day trips (or planning hotel stays for when we have visitors, so that the cost of the second room doesn't seem as ridiculous!)
And in the meantime, we'll be on the lookout for the secret handshake that gets the third child in!
***
In other news -- Jack had a very good time at the birthday party yesterday. After observantly telling us that the birthday girl seemed to like cats (as she had one on her invitation, her backpack, and some of her notebooks at school), we found a set of little cats at the toy store. He added that to a pair of Vancouver 2010 Olympic mittens, and headed off to the party.
A few differences: when we showed up, the only other children there at that time (the birthday girl and a boy) were dressed in costume (princess and Robin Hood-type character). The invitation said nothing about dressing up, and we wondered if that's just a given at French parties. Jack said none of the other children wore costumes, and that the two who were dressed up changed into regular clothes at some point. He added that he didn't feel out of place being dressed in his regular clothes. It's funny to go through much of life here being SO unsure of the rules of the game (vs. partly unsure of the rules of the game, which is how I go through parenting life in Lethbridge).
Another difference: the party lasted from 2:30 to 6 p.m.! Most of the parties Jack has been to last about two hours. That reality led us to do something we should have done several weeks ago: called the mechanic to fix the lights on the car we are using. Yes, my fear of talking on the telephone had kept us driving only during daylight hours the last weeks (and knowing we had rented a minivan to use while John's parents are here, and, embarassingly, that the days were getting longer every day.) But since we'd need lights to get Jack home from the party, I faced my demons, dialed the number of the garage that Franck and Laura had given us, and arranged to bring the car in.
What was I afraid of? John had checked and knew it wasn't a fuse (and looked up all of the specific vocabulary before I called), so I was able to explain that to the mechanic; he seemed to understand me on the phone; I understood *most* of what he said; and we were able to find our way there with no problem. He replaced the low-beam bulbs and had the lights fixed in 10 minutes. Pas de probleme.
We returned to find a happy Jack bouncing on a trampoline and heard that all five children (two boys, two girls, and the birthday girl) had a great afternoon playing inside and out, going to a goat farm where new kids had just been born, and returning to a choice of cake or crepes. Jack picked cake. He said the cake was different than Canadian cake, but couldn't give more details than that.
He also told me the most hilarious story from the party that he promised me to NOT report on the blog. If he ever gives his approval, I will write about it. For now -- even though it's killing me to NOT tell -- I will have to keep it to myself. Sigh. It's such a good story.
We took Kate and Liv to the carousel and for chocolat chaud while Jack was at the party (among other errands). I don't think we'll get tired of that magical place!
The kids are enjoying a two week break from school, and we are getting eager to see John's parents, Jay and Judy. They are in Italy now and will be flying to Paris tomorrow night. We're not sure of all of their plans yet (they want to do some travelling on their own), but we are planning a Saturday Beaune market for sure and some nice walks around the vineyards (aka, the neighborhood) this weekend. We can't wait.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Thinking about thanks
So... it's still snowing. Still. And my children still don't have proper footwear (and are wearing many, many varied (some would say bizzare) layers of clothing to school).
Well, on Friday, one of the wonderful teachers at Kate and Liv's school mentioned that she might have some old boots at home (she has older girls) and wondered if we might like them. I tried (poorly) to explain why people who live in Canada should come to France with rainboots and not the world's heaviest coats, and that really we have snowboots (and snowpants and warm coats and more hats, mitts, and scarves than we know what to do with) back at home but that we were limited with the number of bags we could bring and that this has been the coldest and snowiest winter here in a long time... and then it all got jumbled up in the subjunctive and past tense and conditional -- so I just said that'd be great, merci beaucoup.
Yesterday on the fieldtrip to Dijon, she mentioned that she had forgotten the boots that morning but she'd bring them today. I said no problem, merci beaucoup.
And today she showed up with boots, slippers, and a giant, overflowing bag of warm winter sweaters, turtlenecks, heavy pants, tights, two coats and more for us to use while we are here. And... although I wanted to explain that really, REALLY, I can provide clothing for my children, that really it's almost embarrassing how many clothes these girls have in their closet at home in Canada, that really I can just go and buy new boots and heavy sweaters... instead I just put away my pride and said merci beaucoup.
It's not always easy to just give thanks or to accept help. And for me, it is harder being on the receiving end of this sort of kindness than being the one doing the kind deed. If the tables were turned, I would do (and have done) the same thing as she did. If I heard in Lethbridge that someone had just moved from out of the country and didn't have enough warm winter clothes (regardless of their financial situation), I wouldn't think twice before putting together a big bag of clothes. We have always passed on all of the kids clothes once they are outgrown -- I am always SO happy to get them out of the house! -- and we have gathered coats, hats, and more for families in need in our own town.
And while I don't think of us as a family IN NEED, we are a family that, at the moment, is in need of winter boots (that they may only wear this weekend -- or perhaps that is just wishful thinking at this chilly point?). And however hard it is to accept help from other -- we are grateful for these (thick, heavy, suitcase filling) clothes. More than grateful -- the girls were THRILLED! They dressed up all afternoon, picking out their favorites and putting entire French outfits together.They looked so cute too -- very French (I think). That's Liv in the first picture (you can't see the fabulous purple skirt or bright tights) and Katie in a long-sleeved cat shirt (which she had smartly paired with a dog cardigan earlier in the day).
Sometimes, the limitations of langauge are good. It was just too hard to try to explain all that I was tempted to explain when she handed me that bag. Sometimes, only being able to say thank you ends up being the best thing to say. So to the wonderful teacher at Kate and Liv's school, we all pass along a warm merci beaucoup tonight.
***
In other exciting news -- Jack came home from school today with an invitation to a birthday party of a classmate for next week. He is SO excited. Anyone know what 8-year-old French girls might like for a gift?
Well, on Friday, one of the wonderful teachers at Kate and Liv's school mentioned that she might have some old boots at home (she has older girls) and wondered if we might like them. I tried (poorly) to explain why people who live in Canada should come to France with rainboots and not the world's heaviest coats, and that really we have snowboots (and snowpants and warm coats and more hats, mitts, and scarves than we know what to do with) back at home but that we were limited with the number of bags we could bring and that this has been the coldest and snowiest winter here in a long time... and then it all got jumbled up in the subjunctive and past tense and conditional -- so I just said that'd be great, merci beaucoup.
Yesterday on the fieldtrip to Dijon, she mentioned that she had forgotten the boots that morning but she'd bring them today. I said no problem, merci beaucoup.
And today she showed up with boots, slippers, and a giant, overflowing bag of warm winter sweaters, turtlenecks, heavy pants, tights, two coats and more for us to use while we are here. And... although I wanted to explain that really, REALLY, I can provide clothing for my children, that really it's almost embarrassing how many clothes these girls have in their closet at home in Canada, that really I can just go and buy new boots and heavy sweaters... instead I just put away my pride and said merci beaucoup.
It's not always easy to just give thanks or to accept help. And for me, it is harder being on the receiving end of this sort of kindness than being the one doing the kind deed. If the tables were turned, I would do (and have done) the same thing as she did. If I heard in Lethbridge that someone had just moved from out of the country and didn't have enough warm winter clothes (regardless of their financial situation), I wouldn't think twice before putting together a big bag of clothes. We have always passed on all of the kids clothes once they are outgrown -- I am always SO happy to get them out of the house! -- and we have gathered coats, hats, and more for families in need in our own town.
And while I don't think of us as a family IN NEED, we are a family that, at the moment, is in need of winter boots (that they may only wear this weekend -- or perhaps that is just wishful thinking at this chilly point?). And however hard it is to accept help from other -- we are grateful for these (thick, heavy, suitcase filling) clothes. More than grateful -- the girls were THRILLED! They dressed up all afternoon, picking out their favorites and putting entire French outfits together.They looked so cute too -- very French (I think). That's Liv in the first picture (you can't see the fabulous purple skirt or bright tights) and Katie in a long-sleeved cat shirt (which she had smartly paired with a dog cardigan earlier in the day).
Sometimes, the limitations of langauge are good. It was just too hard to try to explain all that I was tempted to explain when she handed me that bag. Sometimes, only being able to say thank you ends up being the best thing to say. So to the wonderful teacher at Kate and Liv's school, we all pass along a warm merci beaucoup tonight.
***
In other exciting news -- Jack came home from school today with an invitation to a birthday party of a classmate for next week. He is SO excited. Anyone know what 8-year-old French girls might like for a gift?
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Weekend update
I wish I had taken a picture from our house on Thursday night. It would have shown John on Skype, talking on to Franck (one of the owners of this house), who was on his computer in Canada and who then did a conference call with his father at his computer in a house in our little village, who was (thankfully!) talking on his phone to Monsieur France Telecom about our telephone and internet woes. It was an impressive feat of technology – trying to solve our technological problem.
Apparently, it is a problem with the line to the house, and France Telecom will need to fix it. Now, we’ve only been here two weeks, but already I know enough to not hold my breath that France Telecom will be able to do that any time soon (I figure if you set the bar of expectations VERY low, you can only be pleasantly surprised). And I am so grateful to Laura and Franck for arranging a native French speaker to talk to French Telecom on our behalf. I am feeling pretty OK about my language skills for most conversations (and am remembering so much more French every day), but the telephone is SO hard. So three cheers to Franck's father!
And no one knows why we still can get Skype when we can’t get a dial tone on the phone or a regular internet connection – but we do seem to have Skype (lisnjohn1) if you need to reach us urgently, and a French cell phone if the schools need to reach us. I figure it’s a bit of a safety net to keep us connected to the world, and I'm not going to complain about it even if no one understands why we are getting it.
In the meantime, Franck and Laura have hooked us up with an internet connection at another location, where John or I go (briefly) once or twice a day to check in with the outside world. It’s working for now – and one unintended consequence is that instead of turning to my usual daily must-reads (The New York Times online, The Globe and Mail online, etc.), I have looked instead to the many wonderful books in this house and started devouring those.
Oh yeah, books! I remember you! First I enjoyed a fluffy and fun read called Entre Nous about finding your inner French girl (full of lots of useful tips including how you can’t really buy coffee to go in France (no kidding!), advising buying fewer items of clothing but the best quality you can afford, and extolling the virtues of sayin "no" (or "non") from time to time). Then, I picked up the wonderful writing guide/inspirational tome by Anne Lamott called Bird by Bird. You know how there are books you need to read at a certain place and time? Well, this is one of those books. She strikes just the right note of teacher/friend/editor/fellow writer sharing the lessons learned... and it was just the bit of inspiration I needed – the kick in the pants to get back in the habit of writing *something* every day. We’ll see how long her pep talk lasts – and feel free to email me and encourage (harass?) me as I try to get back into the world of writing again.
The kids had a good end of the school week, although we had more snow which meant that the bus for Jack was cancelled Friday (he had taken it for the first time on Thursday and loved it) and that the kids are not properly shod for the moment. I had considered long and hard what winter wear to bring and, it seems, I made the wrong call on this one. France is generally more temperate than Canada (I can't help laughing a little as a write that -- most places in the woirld are a bit more temperate than Canada!) and often there are winters with very little snow. This, however, appears NOT to be one of those winters. So we have been putting the kids in lots of layers (which works) and sending them to school in their rain boots and two pairs of socks (which mostly works, sort of). I know I could go buy new snow boots – but what if it doesn’t snow again?
We braved the snow and bad roads to go to check email briefly Saturday morning and then (more importantly) to head to the Beaune market. At several points I thought we should turn around and go home – the roads were quite slick and it was looking worse by the minute. But when we arrived at the market, I swear you could almost hear the harps of heaven strum and the angels sing as the grey skies broke and the sun and blue skies cascaded down on all the market goers! Clearly we were meant to be there -- and we had a wonderful outing. The kids and John returned to the carousel (bien sur) and I did a quick tour to pick up a few things we needed. It wasn’t as big of a haul as last week, but still pretty good considering how little time I actually spent there (we wanted to get home as we didn't think the blue skies would last long -- and they didn't).
Pictured above, you can see the haul: six apples, eight pears, four avocados, four containers of strawberries (on special this week because the vendor wanted to go home), tapenade, walnuts, hazelnuts, dried apricots, dried strawberries, olives, a new cheese of the week (again, I didn’t catch the name... I need to bring a pen next week!), salami dried with goat cheese (DELICIOUS!), a quarter of a roasted turkey and some French beans, a Florentine baguette, the most delicious tomatoes I have ever had in January (grown in a nursery in the south of France), an umbrella, and local honey. Pas mal, n’est pas?
(Oh, and Katie and Livie are in tank tops because we were doing their laundry and pretty much EVERYTHING else was dirty.)
And a few other observations from the week:
* We passed by a high school at some kind of morning break and were surprised (although perhaps we shouldn’t have been) at the number of students smoking. Crowds of teenagers, all wearing black and grey jackets, of course, but also school backpacks, were huddled in the cold, smoking, smoking, smoking. It feels like the U.S. and Canada are quite different in this area... even when I was in high school (way back then), you wouldn’t have seen this kind of number of students with cigarettes. I wonder if they are taxed as heavily here? It would be interesting to find out if there have been any changes in who smokes (and how much they smoke) over the last few decades.
* Like in Lethbridge, it is not always easy to get details out of Jack about his day. But we did manage to ask just the right question the other night to elicit a response about the behavior of kids at school. He said the kids are wilder on the playground but calmer in the classroom. He said he’s been a little surprised at some things – seeing kids (boys and girls) throw snowballs at each other, fight, kick, wrestle, pull hair, etc. – but all of the kids involved seem to *want* to be wrestling/fighting/throwing snowballs, etc., and no one seems to be upset about it. He said none of it’s been directed at him, either, and that he’s been happy to be playing tag, hopscotch and other games with boys and girls. He added that the students are unsupervised for most of their breaks. The flip side is that he said things in the classroom are very, very calm. There has been only one time where one student was acting out in a way that Jack noticed this last week and where the teacher had to raise her voice a bit. His own classrooms in Lethbridge have been pretty calm, I think (when considering have twenty children together in a confined space), so for him to comment on this is pretty telling, I think.
* On Thursday, when I was waiting for Jack to catch the bus, I was talking to a girl in his class. She told me (unprompted... I had only asked how old she was and hearing she was almost eight, asked if she knew Jack) that Jack is a quick learner and hard worker... that there is something he doesn’t understand one day, and then he does the next. Bravo, Jack!
* We pushed our luck a bit with Kate and Liv and had them try heading back to preschool for an afternoon on Thursday. The afternoon program sounded wonderful – lots of time spent reading books and painting and playing. While they were fine, they were SO tired when we picked them up. So for now, we will have them go only in the mornings. They both are having so much fun there. We are feeling VERY lucky about how well it’s all going for all three kids at school.
* On Monday, I will get to accompany Kate and Liv on a field trip to Dijon. In the morning, the class will go to the museum. They will have a picnic lunch, and then see some kind of puppet show (I *think*... I could be completely wrong about all of it, too!). They are very excited about this, and I am excited to get back to Dijon.
* Speaking of the beautiful city to our north -- I have exchanged emails with the Harmels, the family I lived with in Dijon in 1993, and am going to try to get together with their daughters (who have many children) this week and with them in a few weeks (they have been travelling quite a bit lately). I am so excited to see them -- I look back at my time in Dijon and so many of the wonderful memories took place at their apartment, at the kitchen table with Christine, as I learned about France, French, and more.
* Two of the kids (Jack and Kate) have picked up the cold I heard actively in both classrooms when we went to visit our first week here. Sigh. I know it's inevitable (between travel, weird sleeping schedules, and new germs they haven't encountered before), but I don't like it anyway! Kate had a rough night but seems to be a lot better this morning. Jack had a rough night and seems to be about the same today. Neither has a fever, headaches, or body aches, and Jack's doesn't sound like it's tranformed into his asthma cough (and he says it doesn't feel like his asthma cough)... so I am hoping it's just a regular old cold. Fingers crossed for their quick recovery!
And I think that's about it. Sorry for such a long post... and apologies, too, if you email and we don't reply right away... we are mostly just checking in and making some travel plans (Jay and Judy are coming to visit next week!), and hoping for the best for France Telecom to fix the phones.
Apparently, it is a problem with the line to the house, and France Telecom will need to fix it. Now, we’ve only been here two weeks, but already I know enough to not hold my breath that France Telecom will be able to do that any time soon (I figure if you set the bar of expectations VERY low, you can only be pleasantly surprised). And I am so grateful to Laura and Franck for arranging a native French speaker to talk to French Telecom on our behalf. I am feeling pretty OK about my language skills for most conversations (and am remembering so much more French every day), but the telephone is SO hard. So three cheers to Franck's father!
And no one knows why we still can get Skype when we can’t get a dial tone on the phone or a regular internet connection – but we do seem to have Skype (lisnjohn1) if you need to reach us urgently, and a French cell phone if the schools need to reach us. I figure it’s a bit of a safety net to keep us connected to the world, and I'm not going to complain about it even if no one understands why we are getting it.
In the meantime, Franck and Laura have hooked us up with an internet connection at another location, where John or I go (briefly) once or twice a day to check in with the outside world. It’s working for now – and one unintended consequence is that instead of turning to my usual daily must-reads (The New York Times online, The Globe and Mail online, etc.), I have looked instead to the many wonderful books in this house and started devouring those.
Oh yeah, books! I remember you! First I enjoyed a fluffy and fun read called Entre Nous about finding your inner French girl (full of lots of useful tips including how you can’t really buy coffee to go in France (no kidding!), advising buying fewer items of clothing but the best quality you can afford, and extolling the virtues of sayin "no" (or "non") from time to time). Then, I picked up the wonderful writing guide/inspirational tome by Anne Lamott called Bird by Bird. You know how there are books you need to read at a certain place and time? Well, this is one of those books. She strikes just the right note of teacher/friend/editor/fellow writer sharing the lessons learned... and it was just the bit of inspiration I needed – the kick in the pants to get back in the habit of writing *something* every day. We’ll see how long her pep talk lasts – and feel free to email me and encourage (harass?) me as I try to get back into the world of writing again.
The kids had a good end of the school week, although we had more snow which meant that the bus for Jack was cancelled Friday (he had taken it for the first time on Thursday and loved it) and that the kids are not properly shod for the moment. I had considered long and hard what winter wear to bring and, it seems, I made the wrong call on this one. France is generally more temperate than Canada (I can't help laughing a little as a write that -- most places in the woirld are a bit more temperate than Canada!) and often there are winters with very little snow. This, however, appears NOT to be one of those winters. So we have been putting the kids in lots of layers (which works) and sending them to school in their rain boots and two pairs of socks (which mostly works, sort of). I know I could go buy new snow boots – but what if it doesn’t snow again?
We braved the snow and bad roads to go to check email briefly Saturday morning and then (more importantly) to head to the Beaune market. At several points I thought we should turn around and go home – the roads were quite slick and it was looking worse by the minute. But when we arrived at the market, I swear you could almost hear the harps of heaven strum and the angels sing as the grey skies broke and the sun and blue skies cascaded down on all the market goers! Clearly we were meant to be there -- and we had a wonderful outing. The kids and John returned to the carousel (bien sur) and I did a quick tour to pick up a few things we needed. It wasn’t as big of a haul as last week, but still pretty good considering how little time I actually spent there (we wanted to get home as we didn't think the blue skies would last long -- and they didn't).
Pictured above, you can see the haul: six apples, eight pears, four avocados, four containers of strawberries (on special this week because the vendor wanted to go home), tapenade, walnuts, hazelnuts, dried apricots, dried strawberries, olives, a new cheese of the week (again, I didn’t catch the name... I need to bring a pen next week!), salami dried with goat cheese (DELICIOUS!), a quarter of a roasted turkey and some French beans, a Florentine baguette, the most delicious tomatoes I have ever had in January (grown in a nursery in the south of France), an umbrella, and local honey. Pas mal, n’est pas?
(Oh, and Katie and Livie are in tank tops because we were doing their laundry and pretty much EVERYTHING else was dirty.)
And a few other observations from the week:
* We passed by a high school at some kind of morning break and were surprised (although perhaps we shouldn’t have been) at the number of students smoking. Crowds of teenagers, all wearing black and grey jackets, of course, but also school backpacks, were huddled in the cold, smoking, smoking, smoking. It feels like the U.S. and Canada are quite different in this area... even when I was in high school (way back then), you wouldn’t have seen this kind of number of students with cigarettes. I wonder if they are taxed as heavily here? It would be interesting to find out if there have been any changes in who smokes (and how much they smoke) over the last few decades.
* Like in Lethbridge, it is not always easy to get details out of Jack about his day. But we did manage to ask just the right question the other night to elicit a response about the behavior of kids at school. He said the kids are wilder on the playground but calmer in the classroom. He said he’s been a little surprised at some things – seeing kids (boys and girls) throw snowballs at each other, fight, kick, wrestle, pull hair, etc. – but all of the kids involved seem to *want* to be wrestling/fighting/throwing snowballs, etc., and no one seems to be upset about it. He said none of it’s been directed at him, either, and that he’s been happy to be playing tag, hopscotch and other games with boys and girls. He added that the students are unsupervised for most of their breaks. The flip side is that he said things in the classroom are very, very calm. There has been only one time where one student was acting out in a way that Jack noticed this last week and where the teacher had to raise her voice a bit. His own classrooms in Lethbridge have been pretty calm, I think (when considering have twenty children together in a confined space), so for him to comment on this is pretty telling, I think.
* On Thursday, when I was waiting for Jack to catch the bus, I was talking to a girl in his class. She told me (unprompted... I had only asked how old she was and hearing she was almost eight, asked if she knew Jack) that Jack is a quick learner and hard worker... that there is something he doesn’t understand one day, and then he does the next. Bravo, Jack!
* We pushed our luck a bit with Kate and Liv and had them try heading back to preschool for an afternoon on Thursday. The afternoon program sounded wonderful – lots of time spent reading books and painting and playing. While they were fine, they were SO tired when we picked them up. So for now, we will have them go only in the mornings. They both are having so much fun there. We are feeling VERY lucky about how well it’s all going for all three kids at school.
* On Monday, I will get to accompany Kate and Liv on a field trip to Dijon. In the morning, the class will go to the museum. They will have a picnic lunch, and then see some kind of puppet show (I *think*... I could be completely wrong about all of it, too!). They are very excited about this, and I am excited to get back to Dijon.
* Speaking of the beautiful city to our north -- I have exchanged emails with the Harmels, the family I lived with in Dijon in 1993, and am going to try to get together with their daughters (who have many children) this week and with them in a few weeks (they have been travelling quite a bit lately). I am so excited to see them -- I look back at my time in Dijon and so many of the wonderful memories took place at their apartment, at the kitchen table with Christine, as I learned about France, French, and more.
* Two of the kids (Jack and Kate) have picked up the cold I heard actively in both classrooms when we went to visit our first week here. Sigh. I know it's inevitable (between travel, weird sleeping schedules, and new germs they haven't encountered before), but I don't like it anyway! Kate had a rough night but seems to be a lot better this morning. Jack had a rough night and seems to be about the same today. Neither has a fever, headaches, or body aches, and Jack's doesn't sound like it's tranformed into his asthma cough (and he says it doesn't feel like his asthma cough)... so I am hoping it's just a regular old cold. Fingers crossed for their quick recovery!
And I think that's about it. Sorry for such a long post... and apologies, too, if you email and we don't reply right away... we are mostly just checking in and making some travel plans (Jay and Judy are coming to visit next week!), and hoping for the best for France Telecom to fix the phones.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Vraiment incroyable (truly incredible)
OK. So I was clearly overreacting and overemotional and over-everything. We arrived a little early to pick Jack up at school for lunch, so I listened at the door a bit. At one point, I heard the teacher call on Jack. He answered (correctly, I assume, because she said "tres bien, Jacques"). And when he came out, he had a smile on his face.
It was all just fine. He did great. She came out and said "il apprend tres vite!" (he learns quickly!) and that he did very, very well. She said she is letting him print his work (glad she didn't make him use cursive, as we only worked on writing "c", "o", and "a" last night while recognizing all the others) but that she is glad he is working on it at home. And she said she'd be interested to hear what he thought of the class.
He said it was great. Hard at times, but mostly good, and he was pleased that he received 4 out of 10 on the dictee (the spelling test, with words he had never seen or studied before), and pleased that he understood a lot of what the teacher said. The kids were nice, the teacher was nice, and he thought it was a great first day.
Whew.
We celebrated by going to a park the girls had seen in the village with the amazing boulangerie. It was a bright, sunny day and all three had a great time being outdoors. We grabbed some quiches and other snacks at a charcuterie and then took Jack back to school nearly two hours later.
He amazes me.
He also said he was glad it was the weekend after today!
It was all just fine. He did great. She came out and said "il apprend tres vite!" (he learns quickly!) and that he did very, very well. She said she is letting him print his work (glad she didn't make him use cursive, as we only worked on writing "c", "o", and "a" last night while recognizing all the others) but that she is glad he is working on it at home. And she said she'd be interested to hear what he thought of the class.
He said it was great. Hard at times, but mostly good, and he was pleased that he received 4 out of 10 on the dictee (the spelling test, with words he had never seen or studied before), and pleased that he understood a lot of what the teacher said. The kids were nice, the teacher was nice, and he thought it was a great first day.
Whew.
We celebrated by going to a park the girls had seen in the village with the amazing boulangerie. It was a bright, sunny day and all three had a great time being outdoors. We grabbed some quiches and other snacks at a charcuterie and then took Jack back to school nearly two hours later.
He amazes me.
He also said he was glad it was the weekend after today!
A little bit of a broken heart (or, Jack's first day of school)
We just got back from dropping Jack off for his first day of French elementary school. He looked so nervous, but so brave at the same time. We had met with his teacher yesterday after school (Maitresse Nathalie), and at first she seemed a bit hesitant to have Jack in her class. He hadn't learned cursive writing (to read or write himself yet -- they don't start that until Grade Three in Canada) and that is all they do in French schools. He didn't know the grammar the class was working on (it was pretty impressive stuff for 7 and 8 year olds, too -- more than my students in Writing 1000 know!). And he wasn't saying much (because he was nervous).
I started saying that we'd be OK if he was in the other class, but that Maitresse Isabelle heard him read and thought he'd be better suited in her class. So she had him read. He did great -- really flawless and perfect! She asked him questions about the reading. He was able to answer (in French, in complete sentences). Her face visibly relaxed. She said he will be fine -- that, in fact, he can read better than many in the class.
We talked a bit more about what he had done and where he might be ahead (reading, apparently; much more in math than the France class, which is just starting subtraction; and writing his own stories) and where he might be behind (adding numbers up to 1,000, which he hasn't done much in school although has done on his own; handwriting; grammar). Some things will be familiar -- about 10 spelling words a week. And some things will be new and we'll just have to tackle them when we know what they are.
We were then handed a list of school supplies and told to bring him today at 8:30. He enjoyed picking out the supplies (a compass! a new fancy eraser!) although that process has now officially overwhelmed me in Canada, Japan, and France.
And last night he enjoyed starting to practice some cursive writing with the help of a book I bought at a bookstore near our favorite (or at least familiar) E. Leclerc. More importantly, we talked about how to read the (sometimes strange, at least to us) French cursive writing and numbers. Last night, he was excited to go to school. We were too.
And then this morning, he woke up tired (we all still have some jetlag) and nervous. We took him to school and I waited with him outside. Kids were running around and playing tag. I pointed out that it looked just like the way he played tag at Agnes Davidson. I mentioned a good friend of his in Lethbridge who moved to Canada from Romania and how happy that friend is now, even though the friend didn't know ANY French when he started at Jack's school. I reminded him how well he did in Japan -- and how much harder that language was. (Yes, it does seem like I was the one who needed more reassurance!). At one point, we were just listening to the kids talking and playing, and I asked if he understood what they were saying. "Nope," he said, without panic, just honesty, in his voice.
Then a group of girls started stealing looks at him, so I asked their names and introduced Jack. We talked about how old everyone was (most of them were eight), and that Jack comes from Canada. When it was time to line up and go in, he joined the other students (standing by the girls he had been "talking" with earlier), biting his lip and smiling reassuringly at me. I talked a little with his teacher and said he was a bit nervous. She said that was to be expected And then it was time to go in. I asked him if he'd be OK if I left him there (that seemed to be both his and the teacher's preference) and he said yes. I said "je t'aime" (I love you) and left him and cried all the way to the car.
I am sure he is fine -- or will be fine in a few days. But that doesn't make it any easier (for him or for his emotional mama). We'll pick him up today for lunch (their lunch break is one hour and forty five minutes!) so should get an update fairly soon.
We'll go through the same thing again on Monday when Kate and Liv start preschool. But somehow the stakes feel lower there. For one thing, they have each other. That's an important difference. Also, there is no expectation that they will be able to speak any French. And their teacher speaks a bit of English. The girls and I visited their preschool yesterday morning and it went quite well. The teacher taught the class a few songs in English (including a favorite -- Head, shoulders, knees and toes in both languages) -- and was very kind to the girls (although a bit stern with a handful of the students... after class, she told me to reassure Kate and Liv that she has to be tough with four students in particular, but that she will not have to be that stern with them).
The whole handwriting thing is amazing me too. Katie and Olivia's class is a mix of four and five year olds. Yesterday, while Kate and Liv and a few four year olds made a snow man from clay, the five year olds were practicing their cursive. And the different pictures in the class are labelled in cursive writing as well. It just goes to show how children learn whatever they are taught. Clearly, five year olds are capable of writing in cursive... it just seems "foreign" to me because it's not my experience or the experience of my children.
And while Jack is taking a crash course in cursive, Kate and Liv are having to relearn how to print their names. Apparently, when they do teach printing (to four year olds) in France, they only use capitals (I suppose if they are only going to print for a year, why bother with the lower case?). Kate, especially, was stressed a bit that she didn't know the "right" way to do it. So last night, they had a LOT of fun writing their names in all capitals so they, too, will be ready for school. I cringe a bit at this -- I know from talking to my aunt (a grade one teacher) and the teachers at Lethbridge schools that they like children to print in capitals and lower case letters... so they will have to "unlearn" this habit when they come home. Oh well. C'est la vie, I guess!
All in all, it's kind of been a stressful few days, at least for me and John. I don't think the kids have felt it (except for Jack this morning), but all of the paperwork, the meetings, navigating new and tiny roads, the last remnants of jetlag and the additional remnants of fatigue carried over from the crazy last weeks (and months, and year) in Canada preparing to leave... it's a lot to juggle. Both of us are just very tired. I even had a moment last night (filling out even more paperwork for Jack's school) when I thought "yeah, it would have been easier to stay in Lethbridge." Not better -- but at this point, definitely easier. I am sure a weekend of walks and time at home and no meetings will help -- as will time. At least that's what we plan to tell Jack today if he finds the start of school was hard, too.
And in between all of this we have managed to fit in some fun -- we had lunch at a wonderful brassirie yesterday (Cafe de France in Beaune) and found Franck and Laura's favorite boulangerie this morning. The man selling the bread was so charming. We chatted back and forth a bit and then I asked how much bread a family of five (with three small children) would need for a day. He suggested at least four baguettes! Really?! I said. Well, three is OK, he said, but four is better. For you, maybe, I thought... or maybe this is what all French people do? At any rate, I bought three and will report back on how French our family can be with its bread consumption. Again... I kind of think this is a chance to make up for all of the bread NOT eaten in Japan. But FOUR baguettes. That's a lot of "pain".
Oh, and yesterday we bought the girls new hats at a children's clothing store in Beaune (Katie's had become too small, and it is next to impossible to buy only one new item of clothing for the girls). We said it was in celebration of their first day of preschool (even though Monday is their "official" first day). They were on a big sale and sooooo cute (and quite French, I think).We really like Beaune and can't wait for the market on Saturday.
I started saying that we'd be OK if he was in the other class, but that Maitresse Isabelle heard him read and thought he'd be better suited in her class. So she had him read. He did great -- really flawless and perfect! She asked him questions about the reading. He was able to answer (in French, in complete sentences). Her face visibly relaxed. She said he will be fine -- that, in fact, he can read better than many in the class.
We talked a bit more about what he had done and where he might be ahead (reading, apparently; much more in math than the France class, which is just starting subtraction; and writing his own stories) and where he might be behind (adding numbers up to 1,000, which he hasn't done much in school although has done on his own; handwriting; grammar). Some things will be familiar -- about 10 spelling words a week. And some things will be new and we'll just have to tackle them when we know what they are.
We were then handed a list of school supplies and told to bring him today at 8:30. He enjoyed picking out the supplies (a compass! a new fancy eraser!) although that process has now officially overwhelmed me in Canada, Japan, and France.
And last night he enjoyed starting to practice some cursive writing with the help of a book I bought at a bookstore near our favorite (or at least familiar) E. Leclerc. More importantly, we talked about how to read the (sometimes strange, at least to us) French cursive writing and numbers. Last night, he was excited to go to school. We were too.
And then this morning, he woke up tired (we all still have some jetlag) and nervous. We took him to school and I waited with him outside. Kids were running around and playing tag. I pointed out that it looked just like the way he played tag at Agnes Davidson. I mentioned a good friend of his in Lethbridge who moved to Canada from Romania and how happy that friend is now, even though the friend didn't know ANY French when he started at Jack's school. I reminded him how well he did in Japan -- and how much harder that language was. (Yes, it does seem like I was the one who needed more reassurance!). At one point, we were just listening to the kids talking and playing, and I asked if he understood what they were saying. "Nope," he said, without panic, just honesty, in his voice.
Then a group of girls started stealing looks at him, so I asked their names and introduced Jack. We talked about how old everyone was (most of them were eight), and that Jack comes from Canada. When it was time to line up and go in, he joined the other students (standing by the girls he had been "talking" with earlier), biting his lip and smiling reassuringly at me. I talked a little with his teacher and said he was a bit nervous. She said that was to be expected And then it was time to go in. I asked him if he'd be OK if I left him there (that seemed to be both his and the teacher's preference) and he said yes. I said "je t'aime" (I love you) and left him and cried all the way to the car.
I am sure he is fine -- or will be fine in a few days. But that doesn't make it any easier (for him or for his emotional mama). We'll pick him up today for lunch (their lunch break is one hour and forty five minutes!) so should get an update fairly soon.
We'll go through the same thing again on Monday when Kate and Liv start preschool. But somehow the stakes feel lower there. For one thing, they have each other. That's an important difference. Also, there is no expectation that they will be able to speak any French. And their teacher speaks a bit of English. The girls and I visited their preschool yesterday morning and it went quite well. The teacher taught the class a few songs in English (including a favorite -- Head, shoulders, knees and toes in both languages) -- and was very kind to the girls (although a bit stern with a handful of the students... after class, she told me to reassure Kate and Liv that she has to be tough with four students in particular, but that she will not have to be that stern with them).
The whole handwriting thing is amazing me too. Katie and Olivia's class is a mix of four and five year olds. Yesterday, while Kate and Liv and a few four year olds made a snow man from clay, the five year olds were practicing their cursive. And the different pictures in the class are labelled in cursive writing as well. It just goes to show how children learn whatever they are taught. Clearly, five year olds are capable of writing in cursive... it just seems "foreign" to me because it's not my experience or the experience of my children.
And while Jack is taking a crash course in cursive, Kate and Liv are having to relearn how to print their names. Apparently, when they do teach printing (to four year olds) in France, they only use capitals (I suppose if they are only going to print for a year, why bother with the lower case?). Kate, especially, was stressed a bit that she didn't know the "right" way to do it. So last night, they had a LOT of fun writing their names in all capitals so they, too, will be ready for school. I cringe a bit at this -- I know from talking to my aunt (a grade one teacher) and the teachers at Lethbridge schools that they like children to print in capitals and lower case letters... so they will have to "unlearn" this habit when they come home. Oh well. C'est la vie, I guess!
All in all, it's kind of been a stressful few days, at least for me and John. I don't think the kids have felt it (except for Jack this morning), but all of the paperwork, the meetings, navigating new and tiny roads, the last remnants of jetlag and the additional remnants of fatigue carried over from the crazy last weeks (and months, and year) in Canada preparing to leave... it's a lot to juggle. Both of us are just very tired. I even had a moment last night (filling out even more paperwork for Jack's school) when I thought "yeah, it would have been easier to stay in Lethbridge." Not better -- but at this point, definitely easier. I am sure a weekend of walks and time at home and no meetings will help -- as will time. At least that's what we plan to tell Jack today if he finds the start of school was hard, too.
And in between all of this we have managed to fit in some fun -- we had lunch at a wonderful brassirie yesterday (Cafe de France in Beaune) and found Franck and Laura's favorite boulangerie this morning. The man selling the bread was so charming. We chatted back and forth a bit and then I asked how much bread a family of five (with three small children) would need for a day. He suggested at least four baguettes! Really?! I said. Well, three is OK, he said, but four is better. For you, maybe, I thought... or maybe this is what all French people do? At any rate, I bought three and will report back on how French our family can be with its bread consumption. Again... I kind of think this is a chance to make up for all of the bread NOT eaten in Japan. But FOUR baguettes. That's a lot of "pain".
Saturday, January 16, 2010
We made it!
OK, so this post is a bit late in coming. We've actually been settled into our wonderful new village home for about 27 hours... and we love it. Getting here -- now that's another story. But we are thrilled, delighted, amazed, impressed, and in love with La Maison des Chaumes, a perfect French house in a wonderful French village. I plan to be writing a lot more about it (and Villers-la-Faye, our village) in the coming days and weeks.
As for the getting here. Wow. What a journey. We finally boarded our plane (a new 777 -- very impressive) about four hours later than scheduled -- but we were relieved to be boarding it at all. The kids did pretty well with the wait. I cracked out some of the toys and surprises I had planned for the flight, and we figured if we kept them awake til 9 p.m. (well past their regular bedtime) there was a chance they'd sleep through the flight.
Kate and Liv did just that. They crashed before the plane even took off (hmmmm... crash, plane, and take-off are not usually spoken of so cheerfully in the same sentence. Sorry about that!). Jack stayed awake for a bit but fell asleep pretty quickly too -- and so John and I had a much less stressful trip than the Japan one (where we were awake all flight with one or more kids).
The weirdest worry this time was a TON of TSA people at our gate. They were walking around the waiting area, staring at people, and when it came time to board, about 10 of them were there (looking ready to search anyone who looked at all sketchy). Maybe they had just gotten out of a training session and used our flight as a way to practice new-and-improved profiling skills... maybe there was someone sketchy on our flight. But as someone who has had a huge fear of flying (tied to my time covering the crash of United Flight 93 in Shanksville on 9/11 and having kids), it did not do much to instill comfort (although I supposed I should have been relieved they were at least checking people out).
We boarded early, so I didn't see if they took kept anyone off the plane. I did find myself looking at the other passengers with greater intent than I usually do -- and thought of how much things have changed in the way we travel in the last decade or so.
At any rate -- it was a pretty good flight... but we arrived, not unexpectedly at that point, four hours late in London. We rushed through customs, plopped the kids on a subway to the train station (where several different people told us at several different points how "brave" it was to be traveling with three children. At first, I was pleased, then I wondered if they really meant "crazy".) All three fell asleep on the subway and looked very sweet... and then we rudely woke them to race to King's Cross/St. Pancras to catch the Eurostar. Jack wanted to take a detour to search for Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters (having just finished another Harry Potter book) but we had to promise him that when we return to England.
We knew there was little chance of making our scheduled train, but we had slim hopes it, too, was running late. It wasn't. Thankfully, we were able to get on the next train to Lille -- but that one, if it arrived on time, would give us just minutes to catch the TGV (fast train) to Dijon. With four large checked bags, two rolling carryons, three small backpacks, one stroller, and three jet-lagged and travel-weary kids, we knew it'd be unlikely. But we took it anyway and made our way to the very lovely fast-train that, to Jack's delight, travels UNDER the English Channel.
The Eurostar was about seven minutes late arriving -- and that seems to have made a difference. A very kind man waiting to disembark with us saw all of the luggage and offered to help us race to the connection... but even with that help, we just missed the TGV. We were told to talk to a ticketing agent to see about rescheduling. I thanked the kind French man (whose named I asked but have forgotten in the haze of travel) and joined a new line.
This began a kind of hilarious exchange of what I have heard people talk about (how the French love bureaucracy, but also love to find a way around it if it suits them). I spoke to the man in French, and explained (or so I thought) how we had just arrived from the Eurostar and missed our TGV, which would have been a direct train to Dijon (skirting Paris -- a deliberate choice on our part). I rambled (in French... see, I can do that in TWO langauges) about snow in London, beaucoup de baggage, un avion that arrived 4 heures late, and so on. I smiled. Sweetly. Desperately. And... he looked at me and said there was nothing he could do. Moreover, since John and I had insanely cheap tickets (purchased back in October when no one knew about the coldest winter in Europe in 30 years), we'd have to buy new, extremely expensive TGV tickets for a train tomorrow.
And, he added, looking even more somber... unless we wanted to wait 24 hours, we'd have to travel to Paris, change rail stations from one in northwest Paris to one in southeast Paris (with four large bags, two rolling carryons, etc.), and get a train to Dijon.
I sighed. I asked if there way ANYTHING we could do. He said that if it was the fault of a train, they'd be happy to help us. But since it was the fault of a plane, little could be done. However, he said he'd talk to his "chef." He did. He returned from the boss. He said there was nothing to be done. I sighed again. I asked if, since we were clearly une famille nombreuse (a large family -- a class of family that exists for train travel in France), perhaps we could get a discounted ticket that way? Alas. No. I mentioned that my husband -- gesturing to the exhausted looking man sweetly entertaining three patient, well-dressed and equally exhausted children -- was a professor. Perhaps there was a discount for teachers? He said, with a bit of sadness, il n'y a rien a faire (there was nothing to be done).
I pulled out our tickets and sighed again (sighing seems to happen a lot in France, at least so far) and said it was dommage (too bad) that we weren't able to take our original Eurostar train... as we wouldn't have had any trouble making our connection.
He grasped the ticket. "Quoi?!" he said (what?!). Apparently, in my rambling French, I did not make it clear to him that we were late because of a train (I thought I had, but hey -- whatever works). That was a very important point, he said. He would talk to his chef again. There might be something, just something, he could do.
And the lovely French ticket agent returned from his boss with a huge smile on his face -- and said, since the Eurostar was seven minutes late arriving, they would be happy to book us (at no additional charge) the next day. I called John over to figure out times. John asked if, instead of making the dreaded change in Paris, and not wanting to wait til 6 p.m. to leave, perhaps we could take a direct trip to Lyon (1.5 hours south of Dijon by train) and come back north on a local train.
Quelle bonne idee, he said! Then, he asked, would we like help booking a hotel. Bien sur! He looked at all Lille hotels in the region and found two -- one (expensive one) across from the train station, and another (fairly expensive one) near the airport. We picked the train station hotel (not wanting to have to endure any extra travel), started gathering up the kids, and realized it would be great to be getting to a bed at 7 p.m. local time.
But as we were wrestling Kate and Liv into the stroller, they bonked heads/faces. Not a big deal usually, and I think it's been happening since they were in utero. But it caused a complete, full body melt down from Liv, and an unbelievable bloody nose from Kate (and the first major meltdown of the whole trip, which, all things considered, was pretty impressive). But oh, we looked pathetic. Dragging all those suitcases, seeing Katie covered in blood (we only had a handful of tissues and they were soaked), carrying a limp and sobbing Liv, we made it to the hotel. When we walked in, the front desk people looked like they might possibly turn us away however much money we might be willing to pay.
Undaunted, I approached the woman at the front desk. This did NOT go as well as the conversation with the ticket agent did. Part of the reason for the expensive price the ticket agent gave us was that, as a family of five, we had been booked into two rooms. I pointed to the girls and noted they were tres petites (bloody and bawling, sure, but small). Didn't matter. Four people could stay in one room. Five could not. I didn't think that appealing to her "chef" would make much of a difference, and we figured that what we had saved by NOT having to buy new TGV tickets could just go to the very fancy hotel.
So we took our two adjoining rooms, and I asked for one more favor -- please, please, would it be possible for her to call the hotel we had been planning to stay at in Dijon to cancel the reservation for us (phone calls in French are tricky at best, and I was feeling far from my best). She literally rolled her eyes. She sighed (see, I'm not the only one... although all of my sighs were sad and pathetic and hers was, rather, well, witchy.) S'il vous plait? I said. C'est difficile avec le telephone....
She said, basically, just this one special time she will help me out... but I better not ask for anything from her ever again in my entire life and even if she sees me stranded by the side of the road one day with four flat tires, she will just drive on by because this is the last time she will EVER help. (Ok, my translation might not be exact, but I've captured the gist and tone pretty well).
And then she sweetly made the call for me, and said "pas de probleme" as long as I emailed the hotel, too, through the online booking website I had used.
After several sweet and heartfelt "mercis", and wondering if for future French conversations I should talk to the men and John should talk to the women, we made it to our rooms. They were beautiful. Fancy. And large enough to each hold a family of five, but whatever. We quickly hooked the kids up with a free on-demand movie in English, I emailed the Dijon hotel as well as our parents and Laura and Franck (from whom we are renting this gorgeous house and who were helping with taxi arrangements the next day), while John took a wonderfully long shower. He gave the kids some food while I took a wonderfully long shower. And we collapsed.
But we made it!
The next day was was smooth sailing. We slept til 7:30 a.m. I went out to a boulangerie for breakfast food and coffee to bring back to our lovely rooms. We repacked, and woke the kids, and made our way to the train station.
And it was a great day. We took the fast train three hours south to Lyon, then had a VERY easy transfer (just to the other track) to a local train back up to Beaune, a city of about 22,000 that I had visited during my time in Burgundy in 1993. The countryside began to look familiar (and in a good way). We arrived to find a minivan taxicab waiting in the queue -- and he happily took all of us -- and our luggage -- to our new home.
I'll write later about our home, our village, and the region, but wanted to get the details of the trip down before it starts getting fuzzy (which could happen sooner than usual given the state of exhaustion). I also hope to post some pictures in just a minute or two.
But before I do, I want to thank anyone who was sending us good travel vibes the 13th to 15th. We needed all of that good energy -- and appreciate it.
I also want to say how I am simply in awe of our kids. They continue to be such great travelers. And if I had had extra hands, I would have loved to have gotten pictures of Jack racing while pulling the two small rolling bags to Kings Cross, of Kate and Liv skilfully handling escalators and subways, of John navigating with the four big bags (two in each hand with one strapped on each) and even of me struggling with an unweildly stroller, piled with carryon luggage and sometimes two wiggly girls. It was truly a sight to see.
And it is so good to be here. We can't wait for the adventures ahead.
As for the getting here. Wow. What a journey. We finally boarded our plane (a new 777 -- very impressive) about four hours later than scheduled -- but we were relieved to be boarding it at all. The kids did pretty well with the wait. I cracked out some of the toys and surprises I had planned for the flight, and we figured if we kept them awake til 9 p.m. (well past their regular bedtime) there was a chance they'd sleep through the flight.
Kate and Liv did just that. They crashed before the plane even took off (hmmmm... crash, plane, and take-off are not usually spoken of so cheerfully in the same sentence. Sorry about that!). Jack stayed awake for a bit but fell asleep pretty quickly too -- and so John and I had a much less stressful trip than the Japan one (where we were awake all flight with one or more kids).
The weirdest worry this time was a TON of TSA people at our gate. They were walking around the waiting area, staring at people, and when it came time to board, about 10 of them were there (looking ready to search anyone who looked at all sketchy). Maybe they had just gotten out of a training session and used our flight as a way to practice new-and-improved profiling skills... maybe there was someone sketchy on our flight. But as someone who has had a huge fear of flying (tied to my time covering the crash of United Flight 93 in Shanksville on 9/11 and having kids), it did not do much to instill comfort (although I supposed I should have been relieved they were at least checking people out).
We boarded early, so I didn't see if they took kept anyone off the plane. I did find myself looking at the other passengers with greater intent than I usually do -- and thought of how much things have changed in the way we travel in the last decade or so.
At any rate -- it was a pretty good flight... but we arrived, not unexpectedly at that point, four hours late in London. We rushed through customs, plopped the kids on a subway to the train station (where several different people told us at several different points how "brave" it was to be traveling with three children. At first, I was pleased, then I wondered if they really meant "crazy".) All three fell asleep on the subway and looked very sweet... and then we rudely woke them to race to King's Cross/St. Pancras to catch the Eurostar. Jack wanted to take a detour to search for Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters (having just finished another Harry Potter book) but we had to promise him that when we return to England.
We knew there was little chance of making our scheduled train, but we had slim hopes it, too, was running late. It wasn't. Thankfully, we were able to get on the next train to Lille -- but that one, if it arrived on time, would give us just minutes to catch the TGV (fast train) to Dijon. With four large checked bags, two rolling carryons, three small backpacks, one stroller, and three jet-lagged and travel-weary kids, we knew it'd be unlikely. But we took it anyway and made our way to the very lovely fast-train that, to Jack's delight, travels UNDER the English Channel.
The Eurostar was about seven minutes late arriving -- and that seems to have made a difference. A very kind man waiting to disembark with us saw all of the luggage and offered to help us race to the connection... but even with that help, we just missed the TGV. We were told to talk to a ticketing agent to see about rescheduling. I thanked the kind French man (whose named I asked but have forgotten in the haze of travel) and joined a new line.
This began a kind of hilarious exchange of what I have heard people talk about (how the French love bureaucracy, but also love to find a way around it if it suits them). I spoke to the man in French, and explained (or so I thought) how we had just arrived from the Eurostar and missed our TGV, which would have been a direct train to Dijon (skirting Paris -- a deliberate choice on our part). I rambled (in French... see, I can do that in TWO langauges) about snow in London, beaucoup de baggage, un avion that arrived 4 heures late, and so on. I smiled. Sweetly. Desperately. And... he looked at me and said there was nothing he could do. Moreover, since John and I had insanely cheap tickets (purchased back in October when no one knew about the coldest winter in Europe in 30 years), we'd have to buy new, extremely expensive TGV tickets for a train tomorrow.
And, he added, looking even more somber... unless we wanted to wait 24 hours, we'd have to travel to Paris, change rail stations from one in northwest Paris to one in southeast Paris (with four large bags, two rolling carryons, etc.), and get a train to Dijon.
I sighed. I asked if there way ANYTHING we could do. He said that if it was the fault of a train, they'd be happy to help us. But since it was the fault of a plane, little could be done. However, he said he'd talk to his "chef." He did. He returned from the boss. He said there was nothing to be done. I sighed again. I asked if, since we were clearly une famille nombreuse (a large family -- a class of family that exists for train travel in France), perhaps we could get a discounted ticket that way? Alas. No. I mentioned that my husband -- gesturing to the exhausted looking man sweetly entertaining three patient, well-dressed and equally exhausted children -- was a professor. Perhaps there was a discount for teachers? He said, with a bit of sadness, il n'y a rien a faire (there was nothing to be done).
I pulled out our tickets and sighed again (sighing seems to happen a lot in France, at least so far) and said it was dommage (too bad) that we weren't able to take our original Eurostar train... as we wouldn't have had any trouble making our connection.
He grasped the ticket. "Quoi?!" he said (what?!). Apparently, in my rambling French, I did not make it clear to him that we were late because of a train (I thought I had, but hey -- whatever works). That was a very important point, he said. He would talk to his chef again. There might be something, just something, he could do.
And the lovely French ticket agent returned from his boss with a huge smile on his face -- and said, since the Eurostar was seven minutes late arriving, they would be happy to book us (at no additional charge) the next day. I called John over to figure out times. John asked if, instead of making the dreaded change in Paris, and not wanting to wait til 6 p.m. to leave, perhaps we could take a direct trip to Lyon (1.5 hours south of Dijon by train) and come back north on a local train.
Quelle bonne idee, he said! Then, he asked, would we like help booking a hotel. Bien sur! He looked at all Lille hotels in the region and found two -- one (expensive one) across from the train station, and another (fairly expensive one) near the airport. We picked the train station hotel (not wanting to have to endure any extra travel), started gathering up the kids, and realized it would be great to be getting to a bed at 7 p.m. local time.
But as we were wrestling Kate and Liv into the stroller, they bonked heads/faces. Not a big deal usually, and I think it's been happening since they were in utero. But it caused a complete, full body melt down from Liv, and an unbelievable bloody nose from Kate (and the first major meltdown of the whole trip, which, all things considered, was pretty impressive). But oh, we looked pathetic. Dragging all those suitcases, seeing Katie covered in blood (we only had a handful of tissues and they were soaked), carrying a limp and sobbing Liv, we made it to the hotel. When we walked in, the front desk people looked like they might possibly turn us away however much money we might be willing to pay.
Undaunted, I approached the woman at the front desk. This did NOT go as well as the conversation with the ticket agent did. Part of the reason for the expensive price the ticket agent gave us was that, as a family of five, we had been booked into two rooms. I pointed to the girls and noted they were tres petites (bloody and bawling, sure, but small). Didn't matter. Four people could stay in one room. Five could not. I didn't think that appealing to her "chef" would make much of a difference, and we figured that what we had saved by NOT having to buy new TGV tickets could just go to the very fancy hotel.
So we took our two adjoining rooms, and I asked for one more favor -- please, please, would it be possible for her to call the hotel we had been planning to stay at in Dijon to cancel the reservation for us (phone calls in French are tricky at best, and I was feeling far from my best). She literally rolled her eyes. She sighed (see, I'm not the only one... although all of my sighs were sad and pathetic and hers was, rather, well, witchy.) S'il vous plait? I said. C'est difficile avec le telephone....
She said, basically, just this one special time she will help me out... but I better not ask for anything from her ever again in my entire life and even if she sees me stranded by the side of the road one day with four flat tires, she will just drive on by because this is the last time she will EVER help. (Ok, my translation might not be exact, but I've captured the gist and tone pretty well).
And then she sweetly made the call for me, and said "pas de probleme" as long as I emailed the hotel, too, through the online booking website I had used.
After several sweet and heartfelt "mercis", and wondering if for future French conversations I should talk to the men and John should talk to the women, we made it to our rooms. They were beautiful. Fancy. And large enough to each hold a family of five, but whatever. We quickly hooked the kids up with a free on-demand movie in English, I emailed the Dijon hotel as well as our parents and Laura and Franck (from whom we are renting this gorgeous house and who were helping with taxi arrangements the next day), while John took a wonderfully long shower. He gave the kids some food while I took a wonderfully long shower. And we collapsed.
But we made it!
The next day was was smooth sailing. We slept til 7:30 a.m. I went out to a boulangerie for breakfast food and coffee to bring back to our lovely rooms. We repacked, and woke the kids, and made our way to the train station.
And it was a great day. We took the fast train three hours south to Lyon, then had a VERY easy transfer (just to the other track) to a local train back up to Beaune, a city of about 22,000 that I had visited during my time in Burgundy in 1993. The countryside began to look familiar (and in a good way). We arrived to find a minivan taxicab waiting in the queue -- and he happily took all of us -- and our luggage -- to our new home.
I'll write later about our home, our village, and the region, but wanted to get the details of the trip down before it starts getting fuzzy (which could happen sooner than usual given the state of exhaustion). I also hope to post some pictures in just a minute or two.
But before I do, I want to thank anyone who was sending us good travel vibes the 13th to 15th. We needed all of that good energy -- and appreciate it.
I also want to say how I am simply in awe of our kids. They continue to be such great travelers. And if I had had extra hands, I would have loved to have gotten pictures of Jack racing while pulling the two small rolling bags to Kings Cross, of Kate and Liv skilfully handling escalators and subways, of John navigating with the four big bags (two in each hand with one strapped on each) and even of me struggling with an unweildly stroller, piled with carryon luggage and sometimes two wiggly girls. It was truly a sight to see.
And it is so good to be here. We can't wait for the adventures ahead.
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