Taking a look around

I think we may be starting to take that whole surrounded-by-stunning-vineyards-on-all-sides landscape for granted a bit. But as the woody grape vines come to life with new green shoots each day, as fields start changing texture and color, as the work the vineyard workers are doing has shifted from getting rid of the remnants of last year's harvest to encouraging the growth of this year's (even though those two are very much connected)... well, we decided we were long overdue for stopping to actually LOOK at (and photograph) the vineyards. So, even though it's been raining pretty much non-stop since my mom left (nice timing, Mom!), when Katie wanted to go on a walk after dinner, John grabbed the camera. And this is some of what they saw:
 

Then they stopped at Katie's favorite tree up in Les Chaumes, one she has christened "Coconut Tree" (not to be confused with Coconut Mountain, a.k.a. Mont-St-Victor, on the other side of the village). She loves it for the acorns (a.k.a. coconuts) she collects below it. We know she loves it, and isn't merely pleased by it, because every time she sees it she runs to it, shouting "I LOVE YOU COCONUT TREE!" And then she gives it a hug.

"Je suis la!", and other updates

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.

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...

Fun, fun, fun in France (even with a germ or two)

This afternoon, as Katie was throwing up in the car on the way home from lunch (into a sack and not all over the rented minivan, thankfully), Olivia leaned over and whispered to her Grannie.

"I know why Katie doesn't feel good," she explained. "I gave my germ to her."

And indeed it appears she has. Thankfully, Olivia is back to her usual genki self today (that's the Japanese term for "spirited" and one of a handful of Japanese words that still lingers in our family's vocabulary. We have noticed it is now filled with many new and wonderful French terms, too, including mon coeur (my heart), ma puce (my flea/sweetie), and mon petit chou (my little cabbage/dear). But Katie is clearly in the midst of battling the same bug. At least we know it's not appendicitis, and we're hoping her recovery comes as quickly as her sister's.

And a little sickness didn't stop us from having a good time these last days. We have hung around the house a bit more than we first planned, which is no hardship, and we have also made a few trips into Beaune for various food, shopping, wine, and walking delights. We also had the pleasure of having a gouter with Geraldine and Adele yesterday (who later were joined by Pierre, and the smile on Jack's face when he saw his older friend ride into the drive seemed to illuminate the whole village, at the very least). And today, we kept the girls out of school (this was pre-Kate sickness, post-Liv sickness), said goodbye to Sharon at the gare and wished her bon voyage as she headed north to Brittany to visit dear friends, and then had an AMAZING lunch at a stony cave called L'Incontournable. To all Burgundians... if you haven't been to this fabulous restaurant at 29 Rue Carnot... you should get there as soon as you can!

And in between all of this, there have been tasty meals at home (including a gluten-free goat-cheese quiche I made last night and a Mont D'Or feast tonight), walks to some of our favorite places in the village, and lots of book reading, wine drinking, clothes changing (by Kate and Liv who are thrilled with the sundresses Grannie brought), talking, and laughing. John and I even got our date in last night -- not to Ciboulette, which was "exceptionally" closed on a Wednesday night, but to an Italian restaurant that turned out to be just right.

We're hoping Katie is well enough tomorrow to head out on our Loire trip. Liv was in good form within 24 hours, so fingers are crossed that Kate will be too.

Here are a few fun photos of the last few days. What you can't see in the photo of Katie with the lollipop is that her smile comes not from the sugary sweet, but from the brioche in the bag that I just got for her. She is definitely picking up some French habits. And near the end (I think sixth from the end), you can see mom walking out of my favorite fromagerie in Beaune -- just like me, with a smile on her face.

It's spring! (and the world is puddle-wonderful)

Wow. Burning that bon homme d'hiver last weekend must have really worked, because since then we have been reveling in the glorious weather of spring.

Need proof? I took these pictures this morning, at around 8:30 before the girls went to school. Note the absence of coats, mittens, scarves, hats... and it's just getting prettier as the day goes along. As the poet e.e. cummings wrote, "it's spring, and the world is mudluscious" (and later in the same poem, he called it "puddle-wonderful"). Not a very French description, but somehow fits anyway.

Bienvenue printemps!

Kate and Liv, future art historians? (edited)

Saturday afternoon brought our family's first visit to the Hôtel-Dieu, the former hospital in Beaune that dates back to 1443.  I had visited here back in 1993, but John, the kids, and Jay and Judy had never seen it. It is a beautiful place, meticulously maintained and used over the last half millennium (and then some!).

The hospital has some good history. From the official website:  "The Hôtel-Dieu was founded on 4 August 1443, when Burgundy was ruled by Duke Philip the Good (Philippe le Bon) . The Hundred Years War had recently been brought to a close by the signing of the Treaty of Arras in 1435. Massacres, however, continued with marauding bands ("écorcheurs") still roaming the countryside, pillaging and destroying, provoking misery and famine. The majority of the people of Beaune were declared destitute.

"Nicolas Rolin, the Duke's Chancellor, and his wife Guigone de Salins, reacted by deciding to create a hospital and refuge for the poor. The hospital (known as the Hôtel-Dieu) received its first patient on 1st January 1452. Elderly, disabled and sick people, with orphans, women about to give birth and the destitute have all been uninterruptedly welcomed for treatment and refuge, from the Middle Ages until today."

And from an article in Burgundy Today: "Right up until the 20th century, the sick were cared for by the Sisters of the Hospices de Beaune in the magnificent building. Its reputation spread far and wide and it became known as the 'Palace of the Poor'."

Palace indeed:

 

  

  

 

 

It is truly one of those places you must see to fully appreciate. And what needed to be heard to be fully appreciated were the constant stream of questions from Kate and Liv about EVERYTHING they saw along the way.

For example, when viewing this magnificent stained glass in a chapel at the far end of the room used by the poor, some (and just SOME) of the questions asked by my curious four year olds included:

Who is that holding Jesus? If she's Mary, why isn't she wearing blue (they actually listened to one of my earlier answers about how Mary often is depicted in art wearing blue)? Who is the guy in red climbing up the cross? What do you mean "tempt"? Is that red man naughty? How long would it take to die on a cross? What are those three naked ladies doing in the bucket (that one I couldn't answer)? Why are there fairies (angels?)...

 

There were more. Far, far more questions than this. Each answer only brought out more questions, and eventually, because I was starting to lose my patience, I suggested we move along. Well, we moved along to the room where the wealthy patients were treated.

Included in that room were some creepy 17th century medical instruments, which led to lots of questions of leeches, bloodletting, and if Dr. Steeves would ever do that to them (no, I assured them).  The art in that room --

-- also grabbed their attention. Their questions this time: who is that man in the big hat (me, translating from the French... hmmm... looks like Saint Hugo, maybe, curing two children of plague.) What's the plague? How did he cure them? What are the other pictures? (I translated the titles, which included new concepts such as casting out demons and raising people from the dead. Good times for the literally minded, I tell you.)

The hospice is most famous for a piece of art called the Last Judgment, painted by Rogier van der Weyden. With its image of Jesus watching St. Michael weigh souls on the last day, deciding who would go off to the beautiful sunny buildings of paradise on the left and who would fall painfully into the flames of hell, well, you can imagine some more good questions were necessary.

 

  

  

Why is Jesus holding a plant and a sword? Why is an olive branch a symbol of peace? Could any plant be a symbol of peace? Why is Jesus carrying a symbol of peace and a sword (which, from all of their pirate play with their brother, they know is REALLY good for making war). Who are those people coming out of the ground? Why were they in the ground? Why does St. Michael get to weigh people? Why isn't Jesus weighing them? Who are those people watching? Will they be weighed later? Why are those people rolling into hell? Why does hell have flames? Is that Joseph across from Mary (nope... St. John, I think). Well, where is St. Joseph then?...

At one point, I gave up, and told them to just go ask their father. So they did... and went to him with a much shorter stream of questions. He reported back that they had asked what those people did that St. Michael decided they should go to hell. John said he was tempted to tell that "most of them were little girls who didn't clean up their messes", but somehow restrained himself. Instead he held Katie up a few times to look through the moving magnifying glass that had been positioned just in front of those who were suffering the most horribly and answered her questions about the various torments.

Alas, before long they turned around and came straight back to me. Thankfully, just as the newest round of questions were starting, Judy came up in that amazing grandmotherly way and distracted them (by pointing out a nearby, old-fashioned toilet... which thankfully turned out to be just as fascinating as the Last Judgment!).

So... I don't know if this was the universe's way of paying me back for my own childhood full of similar queries, or for a career full of asking other people an endless stream of questions... I don't know if it means they will be future art historians or maybe it's all just a part of being four.

 

 

But it was a good reminder to me (once I had restored my patience with a lovely glass of Burgundy red) that they ARE learning, and listening, and they are old enough to go to interesting places, too. I think sometimes I don't give them enough credit... and maybe too quickly brush away suggestions of outings that are "too grown-up" for them.

Clearly -- if they can handle the Last Judgment, they can handle almost anything.