Cotignac March 31

What's the definition of a good kid?  I'd say some people are pretty hard on kids and perhaps find kids irritating in general.  So they might define a good kid as one that doesn't exist or one that makes their existence inobtrusive in the extreme.  Although I'd never call my self a kid-person, I'd say a good kid is one that, while you are riding in the backseat next to them on a winding, narrow road in rural Provence, asks you where that plastic bag is in just enough time for you to find it and bring it up to the good kid's mouth before his breakfast makes a second appearance.  And, mind you, then asks for a tissue to wipe his mouth rather than indiscriminately wiping said mouth on one's good black wool coat.  A good kid saves the day and a trip to the dry cleaners.  It's worth remembering.

Cotignac March 30

Today I moved from the big house into the guest house.  I prepared for the move early in the morning before the children had gone to school, but the actual move did not occur until much later.  I've been staying in Jasper's room which means she has been sleeping in the same room as her brother.  She has been incredibly gracious about this. However, this afternoon when she returned from school, I only had to take one look at her face and I knew that her expectations had not been fulfilled.  My things were still in her room.

Mark left early this morning to take his mother to the airport in Nice.  The rest of us slept restfully until about 8:00 AM which left getting ready for school a bit of a mad dash.  Mark returned about 9:30 AM to a peaceful house and two women reading.  Quincy has been feeling puny, so Mark and I went to the weekly market in town to stock up on cheese, fruit, vegies, and bread.  The clouds were dark and it was beginning to shower a bit by the time we left.  When we returned and were preparing lunch, the  bottom fell out of the clouds and we had a full force gale to contend with.  These old stone houses are marvelous for their stability though.  It poured and thundered and lightening-ed (ok, knock it off) and poured some more.  And we women read and Mark wrote. 

Late in the afternoon, it cleared enough that I took a walk up through the cliffs to the towers and the Chapel of St Martin.  I had just returned when Jasper got home from school and made that face.  My next move was to the guest house.  Thank you, Jasper, for your hospitality.  Please enjoy having your room to yourself again - at least for a day or two.

Cotignac March 29

Is it Monday already?  Yippee! Today was my day to walk little Maddox, age 4, to L'ecole Maternelle.  How sweet is that?  I rose early just to have that privilege.  I've been walking past French schools in Paris and various other French towns, but this was my opportunity to see the inside.  At the playground entrance, the parents were greeted by one of the teachers or teacher's aides with the standard French greeting of two kisses.  Perhaps because I was unknown to the teacher or because I was with Maddox, I was not offered kisses.  However, everyone was nice enough and the whole process from playground entrance to my departure could not have taken more than a couple minutes.  I think I'm going to try it again before I leave and see if I can savor it a bit more.

The next highlight of the day was a trip to a couple of the bakeries in town for bread and an unsuccessful search for almond (or almond/chocolate) croissants.  There were only butter croissants today, but on the shelf just above them were beignets, in apple and nutella!  These were very well received by all and almond croissants were forgotten, at least for the moment.

My walk today took me up to the Notre Dame de Grace, a lovely, if basic, church on a wind-swept hilltop with a view of the surrounding countryside.  It was a relatively warm afternoon so reading as I sat on a bench in the breeze amongst the trees was divine.

Cotignac March 28

Another beautiful day in Provence!  I slept late and was treated to fresh crepes with strawberries for breakfast.  Excitement was in the air regarding the circus that was in town. 

I took off for short walk in the hills above town, a mere 3 kilometers up to the towers above the cliffs.  The walk started at the cemetery and climbed upwards from there.  I could tell fairly early in the walk that 3 kiloometers was a strong under-estimation of the actual length this walk was going to take me.  I had a tendency to meander, starting with going the wrong direction  and ending with a number of do-overs as I tried to find my way back to town.  All in all it was a great walk.  The weather was mild and sunny, I was not tired, hungry, thirsty, or needing a restroom, so all the detours were taken in stride.

My one chore, to buy chevre on the way home, was not accomplished since the stores were all closed by the time I arrived back in town.  Such is Sunday in a small Provencal village.  That they open at all is a miracle!

What might a circus be like in a small village in France?  Well, I had the pleasure of finding out today.  My hostess and I accompanied her two children to Le Cirque in Cotignac this afternoon.  We were able to secure prime seats in the front row of the single ring for a mere twelve euros a head.  The animal acts consisted of a goat, two ponies, two llamas, and a very large snake.  The acrobats were two women, one who could do back dives from up to two meters on to a platform and another who did an aerial act.  There was a juggler (who was also the ring leader and animal trainer) and a clown.  It was great family entertainment - and at the end you could have your photo taken with the ringleader or a llama for no extra charge.  Quelle chance!

Cotignac March 27

Tis spring and I'm in the south of France.  Cotignac is a fine little village just big enough to make you fear that you might get lost, but small enough to allow you to find your way back home.  The house where my friends are staying looks directly out to the cliffs which surround one side of the village.  This shot is taken from the living room window. 

The first walk of the day with Maddox, age 4, took me as far as his school and one of the three boulangeries in town, then quickly back to the house.  The second, and more satisfying walk, with Maddox and his sister Jasper, age 8, was along one side of town to a lovely waterfall where we entertained ourselves playing "save the stick", a game where you throw sticks into the stream, then attempt to retrieve them as they go rushing by in the current.  I had my eyes fixed on Maddox quite certain that he would take a tumble into the cold water, but he's sure-footed and agile.  In the meantime, his sister managed to submerge herself to the waist.  To her credit she didn't complain a bit and we continued the game until we were joined by a group of adults and children and an ill-behaved dog which I was certain would be the "drop to cause the vase to overflow" as far as Maddox was concerned.  Not wanting to return with two wet children, we made our way back home while we were still fifty-percent dry. 

The third walk of the day was to the local grocer with Mark's mother, Kay.  The local grocer is tiny but has a grand assortment of fruits, vegetables, dairy products, and much more.  There was only one large celery which I was needing for a soup I was planning.  I was a bit dismayed at the prospect of having that much celery - I was uncertain how the children felt about this particular vegetable.  When the grocer assured me that I did not need to buy the whole thing, I could simply break-off whatever portion I desired.  Will wonders never cease?

Lyon to Cotignac March 26

Life is good. After sleeping way too late, I picked up the little Fiat Panda from the car rental place and headed south on the A7. The autoroutes in France are actually very easy to use and should be embraced especially if you are interested in getting from one area to another in the most efficient way. If you are interested in the slow lane, avoid them. Entering the autoroute, you take a ticket similar to entering a parking garage. When you leave, you pay based on how far you have travelled. Unfortunately American credit cards don't work in the little machines, but you can pay by credit card by handing your ticket to an attendant.

The trip to Cotignac took about five hours, perhaps a bit less. Lyon was recovering from a thunderstorm, but the south was sunny and a bit warmer. I was able to find the village of Cotignac, and the parking area that my friends had written to me about. The street where their house is located is too narrow for cars, let alone parked cars.

Cotigac is charmingly located below a semi-circle of red clay cliffs that feature dwellings similar to Mesa Verde.

More tomorrow - I think I'm starting to fade.

Lyon March 25

Lyon is a two hour train ride from Paris, a little to the east and a ways to the south. It is known as the city of lights and is also known for the culinary rivalry amongst its restaurants. The city is a manageable size and hosts two rivers, the Rhone and the Saone, a multitude of bridges, some of France's largest open squares, and some stunning architecture. Much of the city center is pedestrian friendly. Lyon is clean, safe, and pleasant.

My hotel is just a few blocks from Lyon's Perrache train station. The train from Paris was non-stop, which seems to be the norm. (May I add that the trains are remarkably quiet.) Even though I was exhausted, I decided to take a walk around after checking into my hotel. I made my way through Presqu'ile (almost an island), then to the Saone river, across one of the bridges to the old part of town, and (why not) up a multitude of stairs and switchbacks to the Notre-Dame Basilica far up on Fourviere Hill overlooking Lyon. What goes up must come down, but making it down by another route is always better. This led me past the ruins of two Gallo-Roman theatres (A.D. 43).

After a much-needed nap, I headed out to see the city of lights at night and partake of the restaurant culture. Place des Celestins, where today's Lyon theatre resides, is also the home of La Francotte, a restaurant where the food is reknowned, the prices are reasonable, and you are made to feel like family.

Paris March 24

Not everyday on vacation has monumental events. Sometimes a simple trip out for a coffee, a baguette, or to the cash machine constitutes enough. The rest of the day is spent people-watching, sleeping, or on the Metro. Such was today.

Paris March 23

Paris doesn't have everything. But for all the things it lacks, it more than makes up for in a wide variety of interesting offerings. Today I paid one euro to use the restroom at the Louvre. Now I have used pay toilets before and I think they are a great idea especially when you have a need. This was no ordinary sterile WC where you gladly pay just to avoid a foul-smelling, sticky-underfoot (or elsewhere), and/or scary facility. This one did not resemble a restroom in any way. I followed the signs and found myself in a boutique. I exited only to find that this was indeed the destination. I returned to note that this boutique offered a wide variety of designer TP, each roll setting you back five euros, and other interesting gift items (I may have to return if I have trouble finding the perfect gift for everyone on my list). I gave my euro to a smartly dressed clerk who did her best to ignore me while directing me to the next available "stall" without making eye contact. I say "stall" because the decor was a cross between a spa and a cafe, all dark wood, scented oils, and brightly colored geometrics. For a slightly bigger pile of euros, one can receive a massage or facial. Perhaps I should consider opening a franchise in the states.

Of course, I'm off topic. I was at the Louvre, not for the art, but to visit the Apple Store. My ipod dock disappeared in transit and I desparately needed a replacement. For the price I paid, I could have replaced the whole ipod back at home. But, again, I digress.

A place that might actually make you consider committing to those airplane and hotel reservations and updating your passport is Le Cimetiere de Chiens d'Asnieres-sur-Seine, the world's oldest public pet cemetery. This is definitely a must-see for those of us who share our lives and homes with animals. My good friend, Rockell, suggested this sight and I'm glad I finally made it. The day was bright and clear but still not overly warm. In addition to the wonderful memorials to those who have dedicated themselves to our companionship, there is a group of almost-ferrel cats which have found a paradise to make themselves at home. Imagine being the living, breathing reminder of Fluffy in a place that brings out our most gentle sentiments. It's genius. This would be a welcome break for any museum-weary child. I want to also mention that it is located right between a park and the Seine, a lovely spot for a picnic on a sunny afternoon. If you've forgotten your picnic supplies, there is a Franprix on the other side of the bridge.

Paris March 22

There is something very wonderful about Paris that keeps you coming back again and again. Sure, it's full of museums and monuments, but just walking through the streets is an endless pleasure. The streets of Paris are not laid out in a grid. They are a conglomeration of "squares", known as "places" here. The streets radiate out from these centers like rays from the sun and intersect with one another like the waves produced when you drop pebbles in a pond. The rays are connected by a haphazard assortment of cross streets which tangle the whole city into an unending variety of pathways. No matter how sure you are of how to get from one place to another, you always seem to take a new way, drawn by the multitude of possibilities. And everywhere you turn there is something interesting from the endless supply of architectural features to the little one act plays produced by the everyday interactions of people on the street, in front of businesses, renovations, schools. Paris is just not boring.