of the return home

Knowing the end of the tour was near, the weather decided to make it easier for us to depart.  The gloomy skies, the drizzling rain, the wet walk to the metro.  They were all leading to a departure that might have been much harder in the sunshine.

check out December weather in Paris

The walk to the metro was wet and mostly silent.  Once again, I realize how much we walk when we are on vacation in Europe.  Our bodies grow stronger and straighter.  Our jaws relax and our eyes and ears perk up.  Leaving the different life will be hard on me.  Much less so for Charles my husband.  He is eager for American television and normal hours.

from the internet

Prior to our departure, we made an assessment of the room.  I longingly gazed at the Marriott the kind of hotel we save forever to be able to pay for stay and enjoy it.  It wasn't quite the same as staying with my daughter, who appreciates a good meal and a lovely dessert, but it was much appreciated that the concierge level had lovely wines to choose from and three English beers and lots of cheese to snack on.  They even had an equestrian magazine about Palm Beach to read.  Good bye 6 star life.

The good news about flying back is you fly all night and it is night when you get here, so you can go right to bed.  The weather was sodden in Tallahassee as well and we arrived back to a gray rainy weekend with miserable animals and more rain than measured in a few years.  The yard had turned a leafy compilation of moisture and sand washed from the hills above us.  The chicken coop cage floor was completely replaced with leaves and muck.  The pools of water around the house almost qualified as reflection ponds they are so long.

Wet, sodden, leaf laden, home is still home.  The bed felt fabulous, not because it is so much better than the 6 star hotel, but because it is mine.  All mine.  And there is something fabulous about going to your own spot.

www.boisemattress.com

Recently, a friend of mine lost his spot.

I don't know for sure, but I think he was living day to day.  Food might have been a luxury.  Then, he lost his car, his room, his bed, his spot.  It is very disconcerting.  Mostly, because the people who stay in that position long, tend not to recover.  They end up on the squares in Boston, Atlanta, Paris, San Francisco.  They end up near bus stations and highway exits.

So for me, coming home to appreciate my spot, allowed me a different perspective  with which to help him with a temporary spot.  And of course help climbing out of his position: a job, a car to borrow, a hotel to stay in for interviews in Orlando.

It is absolutely fabulous that we have the ability to travel to places of far away.  But, it is also important to cherish my earnings and help others who need a hand. No strings.  No judgement.

I hope soon that he has his own spot.  For I want him to feel like there is a special place all his too, at least his while he is getting back on his feet.

I am grateful for the gifts I have, for the ones given to me along the way, and grateful to have enough to share.

Happy New Year everyone.

Adieu Jolie Avignon

This is one of my favorite photos because of the light and the view across the river.  We were waiting on a small ferry that make limited free runs.  We caught the last one for the night.  As Charles walks us through the piloting of the boat and the motor and how the captain must swing wide, he notes that the captain is very good.  He must be quite skilled.  When the boat was tied off by the old deck hand, the young blonde female captain, opened the door to wait for the loading of people.  How refreshing!

He looks French already!

Back at our little apartment, we readied for the trip the next morning.  Another train ride and then four nights in Lyon.

The Train to Lyon

The trip itself was uneventful.  We researched the night before the station and the length of time to arrive at the next apartment.  We had booked with #airbnb all the way through and so far no problems with the reservations.  We also managed to easily find the train and platform, though I must admit it took me twice to comprehend Twelve fifty two in French.  I actually have the numbers down, its just that it is not always easy to hear them as fast as necessary - if that makes sense.

The train turned out to be a double decker and we rode up top.  The view is better but the luggage must be toted up there with you in a small winding staircase.  Sorry guys, I am taking all the small bags.  Meet you up top!

All seated, we took off and the short hour ride was pleasant.  Ears popping as we ascend to the new altitudes.  Charles is dozing and reading.  His favorite way to travel.  Patrick buries his head in a book from Theodore Frank.  I try to concentrate on a magazine, but I find my eyes wandering to the view and then up and down the aisles.  The people are just as interesting. The guy next to Pat is hip hop clothed.  The woman across from Charles sporting a British flag bag.  The young mother walking her chattering young daughter to the water closet (WC).

We arrive and depart the train in the reverse order and walk into the Gare station.  Taxi easy to identify and he drives us right to our destination in ten minutes.  We are early, so we stand on the corner eyeing the neighborhood and waiting for our hostess.  She is just a few minutes late and lets us in quickly.  She is adorable and has relatively understandable English.  You can tell she has done this before.  We gather all our information and then she informs us that all stores and restaurants are closed because it is Sunday.  There is one Exception:

DOMINO'S FR Pizza

So we eat something here that I wouldn't eat at home.  But it tasted good and we split two beers three ways and settled in for the evening.  By 8;30 pm, we are all but asleep.  Good night Lyon, see you in the morning!

Rising to the Occasion of the Disconnected

Yesterday, Charles and I embarked upon a trip to Spain and France.  Ostensibly to pick up Patrick, but also to just tour and see a bit more of the world.

The flight was long and half empty so Charles graciously moved to the middle three seat and let me go to sleep on the two side by side seats that we booked.  We finally slept at 11:00 p.m. and landed in Madrid at 2:30 a.m. our time, 8:30 a.m. theirs.  Early Morning Madrid


We decided we were too tired to attempt the four change metro trip to the apartment that we rented near Santo Domingo.  We took a cab, something I rarely do without good reason.  The driver turned to us and said twice, "malos ojos muy malos ojos".  Then he showed us his glasses which were thicker than my at home magnifier glass.  Full head of grey hair and giant eyebrows peering back at me and in a gruff and almost greek sounding like Marlon Brando yelling for Stella.

We finally take off from the airport and the guy drives like Mario Andretti (actually pretty competently).  We got to the location of the apartment and the old man stopped and popped the trunk and we jumped out happy to be somewhere.  Unfortunately, we did not do a last check and I left my phone (I am pretty sure) in the cab.

After a moment or 30 of panic and notifying my office that indeed my phone needed to be killed, I realized that we would be device free.  Charles decided he would not bring his tablet since I used the phone most often for navigation.  Back to maps!

I will have a phone with the same number again upon my return.  But, great opportunity to remind people to back up your phone!

We listened to our friends Jose and Mary and dropped our things and headed out.  First stop was Museo Del Prado. How breath taking and amazing.  The long walk was energizing after the short sleep.  The day was not so busy and very easy to view the paintings of Goya and Rubens (spell check is changing his name).  The paintings and sculptures, not to mention the incredible size of the works themselves.  It is sheer scope and depth of an entire life time.

But on hour four, I was fading.  I could no longer focus on the placards or read the signs.  I even wandered almost out before the guardians civil told me to turn around.

Charles again, gave up his time to take me back to the apartment for a nap. (sorry Jose, I just needed two hours).  Then off again at 18:00 to see the Navidad markets and festival of lights.  Not to be disappointed!  Sorry no photos but I can assure you any Madrid anyone was on the streets, some with bare legs and mini skirts, some with guitars and open cases, some sporting pelts of fine dyed mink or bunny or fake either.  Boots are expensive here, and it does not guarantee good quality.  We saw boots that were rubber stem to stern and still 59Euros.

Finally, we went to the El Corte Ingles to shop and we were mostly happy but somewhat bummed.  We got the vegetables and stock for the soup I made, but no eggs and no pork I wanted to mix with my cumin.  The lady at the meat counter acted very cold and indifferent and did not even point us to the dried meats, like salami.  She just said no! Tried to engage her but no luck.  Fortunately, ham or jamone is served on almost every block. By the shave cup or cone or package.  Back home with wine and vegetables and some jamone hit the pot and the strange squash, Almost pumpkin almost acorn.  But what a pot! Chicken stock, Spanish onion, carrot, strange squash, potatoes and strange onion with cumin and oregano.  Sorry, I forgot to buy garlic!

Over the phone, over the IPad, doing it the old fashioned way,  MAPS!  More tomorrow.

Rising to the Occasion of Jury Duty

Today, I rose at 6:10 a.m. in spite of my husbands insistence that I go to bed before ten p.m.  the night before.  I awoke at 6:10 a.m. one minute before the alarm, to turn on the coffee and crawl back into my covers for a sacred moment or three. Coffee in and shower over, I proceeded  to tell my husband to let the dog out, but decided to do it myself as his snoring made me distrustful of his comprehension.  He did, however, acknowledge for at least 3 seconds.....that he needed to let the dog out.

It was jury duty day and it was imperative that I report on time. Or at least I thought so.   I had been late once before and the Clerk responded with a new date to start all over.  That was a "no bueno" response for me so I was determined to be out the door on time.

As I dressed, deciding the appropriate jury attire, I contemplated: should I be the best dressed, or the mom of suburbs or the woman on the way to work or the say at home retiree?  Hmmm.  This thought did not cross the minds of most people, tattoos and piercings, spandex are acceptable for court....

I left the house in the business attire with full expectation of being selected.  Funny how things work out.  I arrive early, only to wait longer.  I arrive dressed almost the best, though I am quite sure Vogue would not vote so.  I have to say the little woman ( I mean 100 pounds) next to me,  was very well dressed but very anxious, handing out her cards to everyone who would take one. She is a seamstress and is not going to miss the captive marketing audience.  I admired her tenacity.

As the morning wound down, we were called and assembled and put in our preassigned seats.

The Judge gives instruction and reads from an obviously approved Supreme Court  speech.  Each juror must stand up and answer 12 questions.  The judge listens to them and may ask a question or two.  Then, the State Attorney started first, asking questions of everyone.  There are clarifications of previous testimony regarding each juror's life statements. What do your children do? Have you been arrested before?  Have you service on a jury before?  Clarifications include why you may want or need to be excused or what your perspective is on the trial charges or the people involved.  One woman wanted to be excused as her son is in the national roller skating championships and she is the carpool mom (that would be from Florida to Nebraska- some carpool!)

 One person had a daughter dealing with similar charges as the defendant and two or three had conflicts with the law enforcement community - hated them or loved them, it is sort of the same in conflict world.  Several wanted to go home as they worked the night shift and were oh so tired.  I have to tell you I was duly impressed with the people who stood and told of their crimes and their restoration of rights.  I was also impressed as they stood and told all that their children were incarcerated or their families had multiple convicted felons.  The Judge said many times that if you wanted to tell him in private, you did not have to say it in front of the 60 or so people.  But they stood up and said it anyway.   I would not have said it out loud, had I had anything to report.  I would say this is a generational thing, but they were my age.  Some retired for several years.  It was clearly part of their lives. A couple of jurors obviously had money as the YSL bags and the ivanka-trump shoes were apparent to those who knew!  Of course they are a lobbyists and lawyers.  But, we all had to answer questions.  We all had to stand.  We all had to file in an out on command.  We all were to answer to the judge and the bailiff.

But, the most  shockingly great part of the jury service is the sameness.  Certain situations are just equalizers.  Whether you are on a tarmac on a jet, stuck with no air conditioning on a 95 degree day, or a jury panel answering endless questions... you are the same.  First class has no air and neither does the cattle car seat section.  Money doesn't buy your way out or in for that matter. Good shoes don't either. It is the same with a jury.   Smiles at the Judge don't have an effect.  Though when the man on the jury said he divorced the Judge's cousin twenty five years ago, the judge had a little chuckle.

But, back to the sameness...

When I didn't get picked, my feelings were hurt for a bit.  But getting on the elevator, it was clearly not the consensus.  Listening to conversations, most of the people were glad to get out of serving.  Some were outright enraged saying they would never side with the "state prosecutor" no matter what...

All the judges that we encountered were personable and a little fun and mostly serious.  Except for the black robe, which struck me as sort of a real relic of the past tradition that we the taxpayers could probably live without- they were great.

Out of the 30 or so called, 7 remained.  The rest of us filing out with our thanks for service and community.  Me with a renewed sense of equality.  Like the airplane tarmac analogy, it does not matter if your seat is three inches wider, when it is 95 degrees in the plane and you can't get off.  And you don't buy your way off of jury duty, YSL bag and all (not that she tried).

Nope, on the jury, you are one among many.  Your vote counts the same.  Your presence means as much.  Whatever you bring to the table is as real as anyone else.

What a lovely concept.  Planes and juries...  Maybe that is where we our are best, because there is no advantage....

Wonder how they call juries in France?

Update: my husband received his jury summons, but the check box for law enforcement officer, made his decision easier!

Rising to the Occasion of The Choice to Give

Today, on the way home, I pulled into my local Publix parking lot like usual.  It was 40 degrees and damp and cold out.  I had just driven in from Jacksonville.  There at the end of the island was a woman holding a child with a snow suit on.  A man stood beside her with a sign that said, "Help my family and 3 children".  The sign was made with cardboard mounted on styrofoam.  They stood, with him holding the sign and her swaying with the child who looked heavy.  He should have held the child and her the sign.  First doubt.

I proceeded to the parking area where I usually choose to park.  As I exited the car, I turned to look at the family on the island.  I was contemplating buying them a Publix family dinner.  But, after I grabbed my bags, I stood upright just in time to see the adults running and then stopping to click open the van and jump in.  The man ran back to pick up a Publix sack, then back in the van and they squealed off.  I couldn't tell if it was because he Publix staff had just walked out.

I saw a very similar group at the Fresh Market.  A woman holding a child with a sign and the tenish year old sitting in the grass just staring at the parking lot.  Her sign said simply, "Help Please".

I did give the Fresh Market lady $5.00.  But, when I saw the trio at Publix flee the parking lot, another scenario popped into my head.  It was the warning of my friends and many websites: Don't fall prey to the Gypsies!

Lain Mckell photo on modern day gypsies Huffington Post

When we were in Paris, the Gypsies were the pick pockets, the fleecers, the ones that would take what is yours without sound or feeling.  They also have good tricks.  In an earlier blog I described the ring on the ground as the "catch" to get you distracted, interested and then ask you for money - all for the very valuable but too small gold ring.  It was a very good trick.

There was no trick at Publix.  There was no trick at Fresh Market.  And I don't know who these people are or where they went after they disappeared.  They are clearly not the Tallahassee homeless people that I have seen in the past.  Most of the time the men by the interstate have one sign on cardboard and it may say "help a vet" or "why lie, I want a beer."  Before I say anything  that is construed as stereo typing, I know that homeless people come in all varieties single, families and just unlucky.  I also have met two families that thought it was okay to sit in front of the Publix and ask for organic handouts.

I am not judging the decision or desperation or whatever puts people in this situation.  But I am looking at it differently.  The Gypsies and their tricks gave me a new perspective.  People who ask for things or beg are not all crazy.  They are not all destitute.  Though begging is not a life I would want, surely it could be a choice just as much as the life of tricks and petty theft.  For some people it may actually be a choice.  For me, I can tell you it would be a very desperate situation where I would prefer to stand outside holding a child in the freezing cold, when there is a Publix that could provide shelter 100 feet away.

I did not buy the chicken dinner for the three people.  I wanted to though.  I wanted to help, which is precisely what they wanted me to feel.  I am now more skeptical.  More leary.  I am not proud of this, but I am not proud of the people who were taking advantage of those feelings with a child on curb in a parking lot.

I don't feel indifferent, but I do feel like the trick may have made it to America.

Rising to the New Year's Resolve

I awoke this morning ever so thankful that I did not have a headache or other ailments related to over imbibing, as many others will do.  I did actually stay up to see New Year's Day this year.  Usually, I am in bed by ten.  But I stayed up to ponder as the entire neighborhood was launching firecrackers small grenades and sleep would not be forthcoming.

I thought about all the things I want to do this year: renovate the house, plant a new garden, finish the cottage at the farm, save more towards retirement, help the kids with college, travel back to Normandy France and maybe Italy.

cottage being moved to the farm

I thought about the personal goals: lose weight, eat fewer processed foods, drink less, exercise more.  Meet Peggy Ball (there is another one).  Learn something new and get involved with a community group.  Probably one my mother in law would not approve of, League of Women Voters and one she would, the Senior Center (gosh they have a lot of classes to choose from!).  I would really like to keep up my French learning as well.

Put work in perspective.  While work is important, it is not the reason I am here.  My work contributes to the work of others and is supportive.  I am not the rocket scientist, doctor or IT person, but I am the one who makes sure the rocket scientist has the tools they need.  Budget, purchasing, contract management, finance, investments, 401k's, credit cards.  Not the stuff of legends, but the grease that makes legends happen.  I want to contribute, but I don't want to be consumed.

Lunch with family

Lunch with co workers

As usual, my Publix Grocery Store provides opportunities to meet friends and old friends.  Ran into a former co-worker the other day and we chatted up retirement, traveling and getting together for lunch.  I want to do that.  I am going to work on not just saying, let's do lunch, but actually doing it.
My friend Caroline is the best at trying, even when she doesn't get accepted.  Go Caroline!

So, my home, my family, my friends, my self, and my community.

what counts

My goals this year are to take better care of me, so that I can take better care of others.  I think that is simple enough to not overwhelm, keep in mind, and with a little perseverance, actually achieve.

Rising to the Occasion of the Empty Office Halls

I love the empty office during the holiday weeks.  The halls are quiet and the well trodden carpet can absorb the little noise that drifts down the halls.


I can focus on my office and spend some desperately needed time cleaning and uncluttering the desk, credenza, table and the bookshelf ( I am sure that I had a great reason for saving this, blackmail? documenting some momentous event? cool doodles on the side?)

It is a time to look at the plant given me the week I started seven years ago.  The poor thing would appreciate a tad of fertilizer and a serious trimming.  It is amazing that it has lived this long in a little bowl with no drain and artificial light.  The rings on the desk where the water missed the bowl could use a shining as well.


The positive thing is that the coffee pot is not emptied before you get back, but the burners are turned off by the over protective secretary down the hall.  Geez, we can't have the coffee sit for too long or the building burns down? (does she know I am the fire captain for my area?) I hear her at the receptionist telling her how the coffee pot was full and no one is drinking it and it is such a waste.  The funny receptionist goes on and on about Christmas dinner and the presents her mother gave to the children and nutcrackers are still real in her family and the nuts are really still cracked and the children don't appreciate where all the nuts come from.......  The secretary leaves to get tea.  I will have to remember that strategy.

Since the phones aren't ringing and the internet is faster, I am pretty sure that the amount of real work getting done or left to do is not the issue of the day.  The real issue is that "I am here and others are not.  So, since I have made this monumental sacrifice to stay, I just get to do the office version of couch surfing when the phone doesn't ring" kind of attitude.  People aren't overly engaging, unless you are unlucky enough to run into the secretary or the receptionist.

Lovely though, is the bathrooms are clean and stay that way. And also,the kitchen is clean and sort of stays that way after I load the dishwasher.

I did get time to do the extra thinking, to watch that training video that I have put off for three weeks.  I listened to the the budget class that I paid for, but did not actually watch. caught up on the fleeting last minute to do lists that were left undone by December 23rd ( and we did not get any of that done yet still).

And the best part of the empty office is that I break out my Christmas leftovers and pop them in the microwave and eat them with aplomb.  I savor the sweet potato chipolte dish that I made and no one else liked.  I warm the feta scones that were extra and a piece of ham that was set aside (by me!). And I can eat without a phone or a person asking me something and I am actually reading and enjoying the time.

Yep, Christmas week at work, almost like an extra gift!

Rising to the Return from Vacation

I have not taken a two week vacation in at least 15 years.  It was FABULOUS! The thing about the two weeks is that the first week you still think about work and check your emails, the second week you so don't care!  You stop grinding your teeth and your shoulders relax.  Your hips realign because you are not driving as much as you used to.  I am telling you there is a huge difference between the four day steal that I have done for the last 15 years and the two week vacation.

And then, when I thought I got back into the groove of work,  my daughter calls crying from Switzerland.  The tears were clear in the voice, even with the lag of wi fi conversation.  And I miss her as much as she misses a great plan for mass transit.  She is dreadfully upset with the Euro Rail options for an on the move back packer.

Rick Steves be darned, she is a college grad with a non-plan plan. And Europe is supposed to be aware of her intentions.  Well, not that bad really, but she is very displeased with the limitations of non reserved second class seats.  Though after looking at her pass, she has logged at least 20 rides maybe 30 from one place to another, including Croatia and Hungary as well as France, England and Ireland.  All in all, I think she has gotten her value from the pass and she has gotten value from the experience.  How wonderful she has the opportunity.

So, I miss her when she calls and I want her to be having a great time and enjoying the diversity.  For soon, she will return to Tallahassee, which by comparison, will feel small and not so much like Notre Dame.  But it will feel like home.

Home because her dog is here.  Her kitty is here.  Her horses are here.  And somewhere way down the list are her parents and family members.  And we will embrace her return and wait for the next opportunity to celebrate her announcement.  I for one, am not in any hurry.

But back to my reintegration into the work place...  I have worked now for three full days and I was so tired on Friday!  I went to bed at nine p.m. and slept until five thirty a.m. I got up Saturday morning feeling groggy and hit by a truck.  The fact that my ribs had not healed from the fall in Bordeaux reminded me not to move quickly.

I have to say it felt good to be in my own bed.  And so nice to have my own bathroom back with my things in it and my own towels.  And even nicer to discover that my husband had vacuumed the floor and cleaned the sinks!  lovely homecoming.

I am already plotting my next escape.  I hope before the return to France in 2014 for the World Equestrian Games.  I would love to see Australia or New Zealand or even more of California.  Pennies in a sack, every day, I drop my pennies in a sack....

Glad to be home, so glad to have a home to come home to!

Rising to Leaving It is really hard to do

Leaving our little spot in Bordeaux at 7:30 a.m. was sad.  Sadder yet, because last night, I got up to find the bathroom and before I knew it, down on the ground, banged into the large stone in the bottom of a four foot cave.  I just stayed there for a moment before I realized that I was hurt.  The ribs had smashed into the stone and just bruised and injured before I had a grasp on the wall!

Sorry that I fell, but teeth were yet to be brushed, so I limped to the bath, which has a sink bath combo in one room and a loo in the other.  The entry way to get there is four feet tall.
while the cave feature is a lovely idea, there are some things that one wants to be aware of.

Our room is basically the wine cellar in an old (European Old) home.  The wine is in a glassed off section and locked.  The beds look at the wine and the door to the loo is four foot and wide and wooden like a castle door. And heavy and leads to a four foot high tunnel.  All was well till I missed the step.  Drats!

View from the Bed

View from the Bed to the reading wall

the way out

We left our humble wine abode and cave and headed back to Paris.  Walking back through the Christmas market sort of felt like home.  For the Tallahasseean's it is like having the Market days of Tallahassee on every street of the plaza and then some.  Into our lovely hotel at Champs Elysee, the friendly staff and the interesting atmosphere.  I would say the large part of the residents tonight are of mid eastern descent with lots of special arrangements for them.  Their own reception area in the lobby, quite nice and healthy.  The long outfits that they wear are sure to keep them warm as well.

We checked in, cleaned up and took off for the shopping district.  The whole place is decorated head to toe.  It is more fun to watch people that buy things.  The shopping centers have open to the street doors.  The mall guards are everywhere and the people are 6 deep in every direction.  It is amazing the nonchalance of the parents about the children.  They hardly look back as kids run behind ahead and drift through crowds.  Perhaps too much American TV has turned us paranoid.  Or perhaps, I don't understand growing up in a big city where crowds are the norm.  Either way, the whole city is bustling and alive and shopping.

We had a fabulous lunch at the LaDurre, home of the macaroon.  It was tasty, fancy and French all at the same time.  Morgan had the fanciest sandwich I have ever seen and I had lobster.  The lobster was half the price of the sandwich!  I think I got the better deal.

The walk to shopping was pleasant and day was crisp, but not cold.  I enjoyed the walk after the long train ride in from the "Provence" The scenery was so like Indiana except less wind turbines and more castles, and of course more vineyards.  But lots of wheat and corn growth happens here, remarkable.  And beautiful.

But once on the streets of Paris, one is obliged to stay focused on the streets of Paris.  All around you announcements to avoid pick pockets and tricks and you are warned by every hotel agent.  I didn't have any trouble, but then I have a nifty little handbag with hidden pockets in it (thanks to my husband :) )

The Christmas decor is totally extravagant as you can see.

The buildings are all the old opera or archives or palaces and have been transformed for modern use.  All of the stores are beautiful.. All I have to say is that your wallet better be beautiful too!

For our massive entertainment for the night, we attended a show by Olivier Giraud.  I saw his ad as the only all English speaking comedy show in Paris.  I asked Morgan and she said yes.  Once again there was tension as we could not find our way to the show.  Looking forward and looking down did not allow us to see it was on our left the whole time!  Geez, what kind of fuddy duddy fusses over the show directions?

The guy was great fun and to our surprise, when he asked what cities of America are here, there was only one: Tallahassee! Four of us in the audience and all from Tallahassee.  What fortune! So the show goes on and I will not spoil it for you, but the trailer is on youtube.  He was very funny and all of it ringing with some form of truth.  Towards the end of the show, he picks the Tallahassee lady Rainey to come to the stage.  She does extremely well and applauds abound. 

 When the show was over, they graciously waited and we got to meet Pierre Vivier and Rainey of Chez Pierre, in Tallahassee.  We enjoyed their story of love and adventure.  Pierre, that daring rascal, went to Macon, Georgia with the Allman Brothers Band in the 60's and then off to Tallahassee with his love who was in FSU.  How fun, on this trip around the world, I have met two people with Tallahassee connections (not counting my daughter)!  I couldn't find a lot on the internet to share with you about them, but they apparently sold the restaurant to a relative, who had to sell for health reasons.  That was why Chez Pierre became the Front Porch. But apparently, Pierre is still the king of chocolate. As a funny aside, Morgan said she was backpacking through Europe and Rainey said, yep, I did that in 1966!  What a great connection for life.  Awesome choice young Morgan, awesome choice.

 Rainey had the gleam in her eye as she said that to Morgan.  Wondered if there was more to the nod and and the wink than, yep I know that.  There was definitely a pride thing of, I did it myself.  But I secretly wonder if there was a little community of souls that says yes, I did that.  Just that.  And I made it.

And maybe that is why the bistros in Bordeaux, small with 10-12 tables and limited menus still do well.  Do a few things really well and let others do a lot of things sort of well.  There are many big chains that have the chain thing down.  I just think that we have lost the focus of do less, but do it well.  People will pay for quality, if it is known (Tiffany's of Bern's Steakhouse).  People will pay a lot less for psuedo quality that is known (Steak and Shake or Walmart or Best Buy).

And speaking of doing things well, but in a limited space, I have thoroughly enjoyed my trip. The people were fabulous, the food is wonderful and the time with my daughter is priceless.  I will always appreciate my husband's support.  And I hope that the secret wink and nod, "I did that community" for my daughter will eventually be something she looks back on and maybe even writes about.

I love you Morgan Higman and I love you France!

Rising to Saint-Émilion Vineyards and Gare Saint Jean Jaux

Lolly gagging as usual, we headed off to breakfast at 10:30 a.m. too late for a breakfast reservation and too early for lunch.  We walked town square and ended up at the Christmas Booths along the park.  We ate a lovely ham and onion sandwich on a baguette and it was wonderful and warm.  Followed by Chocolate Chaud (hot choc) and the Morgan had Vin Chaud (hot apple and orange in wine with spices).  Bellies full, we strolled the water line and found the mirror of the City.  It is a place on the park where the water is kept very shallow and reflects off the original brokerages of the town.  The town centers around the river which brings in cargo and takes out wine.  It is a very important part of their history.  After waiting for the food to digest and buying Morgan's friend a Christmas present, we head to the tourist bureau.  Most tours are controlled by the bureau.  There are a few exceptions, but very few.

We sit at the station waiting and looking to see who is going with us.  There are two groups: twenty English speaking (this includes others who do not speak French, but whose English is limited as well) and 10 French speaking.  This makes the tour interesting for on the bus, the guide gets to do it twice. She is obviously French and the English is not her favorite part. I can tell you from my limited French, she did not deliver the same information.  For example, she included the price of wines in some circumstances for the French, but not the English.  Curious.  Our arrival at the Chateau in Saint E'million was greeted by hectres and hectres of vines.  They are planted in very straight rows and range from fifty years old to three years.  They are very reminiscent of the corn fields of Indiana.  But also in a sad way, if you have seen a national veteran cemetery, from a distance it made me think of the ones I have seen.

Back to the vineyards.  The skies were blue and cooperative, but up in the hills, the winds are stronger and whoosh will make you cold all through.

The vines up close look like they are sleeping in the cold.

The young tour guide, who is an employee of the Chateau is a young Asian person with a British accent and fluent Chinese.  She was very professional and very scientific about her presentation.  My only comment was that with such a large group, it was very hard to hear her at times.  But she was most gracious about repeating.

Once inside the vat room, we learned how the grapes are washed and turned and then poured into the vats

The vats are emptied into barrels and the barrels are turned and refilled every two weeks.  It is a very precise set up.

The tasting was chaotic with people struggling to get glasses and then return for another.  It is definitely not a professional tasting.  More of a tourist gets a little extra for the buck kind of tasting.  The ceiling was lined with empty bottles that was very eclectic.

For me the fun part (aside from learning about Chateau life), is the mix on the bus.  There was one Asian guy who spoke little English but flashed peace signs and went into the Dame bathroom even when asked not to.  There was a very American white guy with a huge gut wearing a dirty sweatshirt and pants and a cast on one foot.  He was quite loud.  Then there was a group of French women in their sixties who brought lunch to eat with their wine.  And last was a group of eight or so American college kids from Northern Illinois.  One guy was from Texas and he asked, "where y'all from?"  Made my heart jump a little.  Morgan ended up talking with them as they had a lot more in common.

I am pretty sure that Morgan's favorite part was the purchasing of the macaroons (almond cookies that are full of chocolate) and eating them as she walked.  The ham sandwich had long faded for her.  The tour ended with us back at the station.  We caught the metro to Gare Saint Jean Jaques as we needed to have train reservations for the trip to Paris.  The trains were very full.  After leaving the metro, we ended up getting lost yet again (this would not happen if we had wi-fi), eating Thai food and coming back to pack.  Out the door at 7:30 a.m.  back to Paris, only one more day to be here.....

p.s. Someone commented on Morgan's hat (and the way she chooses to wear it).  Her Father told her she looks Swedish, I didn't think so.  She says it gives her street cred with the hostel crew.  She has other adorable hats, so for the record, this is her choice, her head and we will love her anyway!

No One Can Rise to Saint Mont Michel

We left our tiny flat of 90 square feet and headed out to Rennes at 5:45 a.m. in the cold.  The bus that we were to catch was departing as we crossed the street and we watched it go.  Standing on the side of the road freezing for the next 16 minutes, I reminded myself that this is a vacation!  I can rest in Tallahassee.

Miraculously, we made it back to the Gare Nord in time for the train.  And then off to sleep while we rode to Rennes.

So Caen is the center of The War Memorials and Rennes is the center of industry.  I picked it because I thought it would be lovely to see the region.  I also thought that it would allow us to see more of the life styles.  Rennes is very different that Paris or Caen.  It is a working class environment and has the feel of Baltimore, right before a game of the Orioles.  The City is fast moving but has the feel of people that hang at the line of just making it.  The factories are large and the whole city seems to revolve around where they were built, not unlike the city center of other cities.  It is just different when the feel is newer, and by newer I mean 1950s forward.  For Europe, 1950s is a blip.  I can't tell you I was happy to be in Rennes.  I can tell you that from Rennes, you can take a bus to Mont Saint Michel which I can tell you - you have never seen the likes of before...

Aside from being an island off the shore of Normandy, it is truly unique.  Tide going out adds new meaning as it goes out for miles.  You would not know that it is an island on low tide or even near low tide.  it is surrounded by grey sand and grey water and in winter, grey skies.  Mont Saint Michele sits out in a bay of sorts  and stands alone as a majestic monument to things past.  It will humble you with its steps (over 300) and its steepness.  It will awe you with its chambers and staircases to seemingly nowhere.  The men who lived here were much smaller and the people who waited on them smaller still.

I cannot tell you how glad I am that I did not live here in it's peak.  I cannot imagine the loneliness and isolation that they felt and the cold and the lack of fresh water.  I can only dread the waiting on the King or the Bishop and the total servitude it took to allow their position.  Thanksgiving means never having to have been a serf.

On the up side, Morgan and i truly know what ramparts are.  We also know she likes to walk them and I do not.  So I stand below and take pictures and she goes to the high places and looks beautiful!

Back to our little flat in Rennes, where the only problem is the owner forgot to give us the code to the building.  We stand outside waiting for the post person to open the door, except guess what, she can't so we wait until another person comes down to check his mail.  I now the feeling of "we might be sleeping in the bus station tonight."  The apartment was very cute and considering we were there less than 12 hours, it would have been perfect, if not for the code issue.  Up again at 5:45 a.m. (is this a Morgan Higman thing or what?).  Off to Bordeaux.  If Rennes is the bastion of industry, Bordeaux is the haven of youth and professionalism.

Entering the city is like walking into Portland times two centuries.  There are certain people I can see as Parisians, but there are so many more that I can see as Bordeaux-ins.    The City is old and young, cobblestones and wi fi, cafes and Apple stores.  It has seven musees within walking or biking of Town Center.  There are two colleges on the map.  I am so excited!  Off tomorrow for tour on bikes then Sunday off to a tour of three vineyards.  Sunday night, back to Paris.  But let us not think of that.

For the few who asked what happens after my interview: I will be sent a preference of assignment.  I have several days to accept.  If I do , then all is well.  If I do not, then they write me with offer two or I write them with offer two.  Only three offers are permissible.  So, very structured interview with very structured responses.  We shall see what we shall see, eh?

By the way, we are staying in a "atypical apartment" which is not an apartment but a very old building turned into offices and living environments.  The walls are old stone.

You have to go out a very old four foot door to go to the bathroom and then you share it with the hosts.  the toilet is not in the same room as the sink.  The challenge for me is remembering where I am at three in the morning and not falling or getting lost.  Oh to have had money and opportunity when I was young!

Our hosts are very nice and properly distant.  He is in mergers and acquisitions ( I will talk to Beth later)  and she appears to stay home, though not clear on that.)  And it quite close to city center and all things important.  I am very Thankful that Morgan let met be part of her trip.  And that I had an interview.

Happy and giving Thanks from France!