I realize that I am about a week (or is it more) behind in my posts, and the reason for that is that I’m starting to get a little worn down. I know this won’t draw much sympathy given the context, but it is difficult and wearing to deal constantly with foreignness, even if the foreignness is a foreignness you have a great affection for. Class is four hours a day, five days a week, and it simply isn’t possible to space out (even a little bit) and still follow what is going on. It requires complete, fairly intense concentration all the time. And while my French has improved a ton, the problem is the same one well-known to golfers … the better you get, the more you expect, so that a level that would have satisfied you completely a month ago now seems insufficient. Or perhaps that is simply part of the human condition. In any event, what was a vacation seems a little like (sorry, no other way to say it) work now: Up at 6 a.m., on the Metro at 8 a.m., class 9 to 1, lunch sometimes with classmates (very fun, no doubt about it, but difficult to, dealing with people you barely know from countries you barely know in a language you know barely but not much more than that), and before I know it, it is 4:30 and the kids are back from school and the day is almost over. Plus it doesn’t seem like I’m getting enough sleep, and by the end of the week I feel really, really worn out.
But, it’s not all a grind here (I should note, as I’m sure you figured out already, that I absolutely love the classes, notwithstanding their difficulty, both for the pure love of learning a new language, which is intellectually and emotionally satisfying in a way I haven’t experienced before, and for the opportunity to meet so many different people). Last weekend, for example, we had one of those “I can’t believe that this is happening to us” experiences.
When we were trying to decide where to stay in France during our time off, we had corresponded with a family who lives in La Rochelle, a city on the Atlantic Coast north of Bordeaux, about exchanging houses for a year. We eventually decided we wanted to stay in Paris, but we kept in touch with them, and as they were finishing up their year in the U.S. (they ended up in Portland, which they loved), they visited us in Santa Rosa for an evening, along with two friends of theirs. We hardly did anything for them; they wanted a typically American restaurant so we took them to Kal’s Kaffe Mocha on Airport Boulevard and treated them to the grossly large portions. They told us to be sure to write them when we got to France, so we could come for a visit, and so we did, and the date was fixed for last weekend.
In an ideal world, we would have taken the train, as there is a TGV (Train de Grande Vitesse, or high-speed train) between Paris and La Rochelle, but the cost for the four of us was prohibitive, so we rented a car (a great, small Renault Scenic, which was a six-speed diesel and which got about 40 miles per gallon) and drove the long, long way down and back (a little tiring, but it was almost all freeway). When we arrived on Friday evening, the husband of the couple (Alain) was packing up his car so we could stay at their house on the Ile de Re, which is (we discovered), a very pretty and very upscale vacation/resort area just off the coast of La Rochelle.
When we got to the house, we were amazed. Alain is a builder, and he had built this house a few years ago, and it was exactly the kind of house that Suzie and I would build if we had the time, the inclination, the money and, perhaps, a little more experience in interior decoration. The house was at once both interesting and understated, warm and calming, obviously expensive and yet completely comfortable and unassuming. Pretty much, it turns out, just like Alain and his wonderfully friendly wife Isabelle, who treated us, the entire weekend, like we were very important long lost friends. They made us a huge, delicious dinner on Friday evening, followed by a huge, delicious breakfast Saturday morning, followed by a trip to the nearby village, where they had a huge market, including the largest selection of fresh seafood I have ever seen in my life (much of it still jumping around!), and where they purchased fresh oysters and mussels and small shrimp for dinner that evening.
After returning home, we all took advantage of one of the most outstanding features of the Ile de Re, its many kilometers of bike paths. The island is perfectly flat, and with the many bike-only paths, biking around the island is easy and pleasurable. Our main stop in the morning was the the village of St. Martin de Re, a walled city and port dating from the 15th century, whose fortifications are a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The village has pretty narrow streets and a picturesque harbor, in addition to the huge fortifications along the Atlantic.
After that little excursion, we returned to their house, and then went with the boys to the beach. It was only a 5 minute walk from the house, and at the low tide there was a wide, wide expanse of sand, sun, and, of course, water, which the boys found very chilly.
After the beach it was time, yet again, for eating, this time a brief snack of shrimp and pistachios. After an hour or so, during which the boys swam in the pool, the adults went out for a bike ride east, the the “marais,” or swamps, which are now used for the production of salt. (The boys, including Alain and Isabelle’s son Arthur, occupied themselves with a Wii game, which they all loved.) The bide ride took us through several small villages and finally into the marais, with its mudflats and its salty, rich smell and large avian population.
Here’s a nice picture of the four of us, taken by a reluctant older lady who really didn’t want to hold or operate my camera, but did so anyway. You can see what a beautiful day it was; we didn’t see a cloud the entire time we were there.
After returning home, we all went to the beach to watch the sunset, drink champagne, and eat Pringles and pistacios. This beautiful photo of the sunset is courtesy of Alain.
That evening we had a very late dinner, consisting of oysters and mussels and rice and bread and, as always, cheese … five different types of excellent, wonderful, mouth-watering delicious cheese, followed by the rest of the rhubarb crumble that we’d slowly consumed over the past two days, followed by dark chocolate, just to show that we were all really, really decadent. I slept that night like a rock, unmoving, thanks not only to the exercise and the sun and the food, but also to the absolute dead silence of the night, so different from Paris.
The next day we were up and out relatively quickly, for a tour of La Rochelle. First stop (after their house) was the market,
where we were treated to a butcher who wanted to show, apparently, that these really, really were ducks he was selling.
After the market, we headed toward the harbor. On the way we passed City Hall (the Hotel de Ville), which was open to the public this weekend because of the Journees European de Patromoine, during which the public can enter and view buildings not normally accessible. The City Hall was magnificent, both inside and out.
From the City Hall, we walked down narrow, narrow old streets to the harbor, where we were presented with stunning views of the harbor and the towers protecting it, as well as the city itself:
After touring the city, it was time, once again, to eat! Alain and Isabelle bought a roasted chicken and potatoes from the market, which we ate along with fresh bread, wine, cheese, coffee, and, to finish the whole trip off … more dark chocolate.
Then sadly, we had to leave to drive back to Paris. This was not much fun, as it was almost 500 kilometers, the freeway was not very interesting (although we continue to marvel at the rest areas), and we hit a huge traffic jam about 20 miles outside of Paris, in which we were more or less stuck for over an hour. I dropped off Suzie and the boys at the apartment and took the rental car back to Montparnasse, safe and sound. (As an aside, when I rented the car I dealt with a very nice woman who told me, after our transaction was over, that my French was very good, which I believe was a lie, but which she claimed was the truth, and which made my afternoon.)
As usual, there are more pictures collected in a set on Flickr here.
The entire weekend, we absolutely marveled at the friendliness of our hosts. Why did they take so very much time and effort for us? We basically used up their entire weekend, and they cooked enough food to feed a normal family for a week and a half, and they were at all times simply wonderful to be around: intelligent, funny, kind, hospitable, and easygoing. I have a standing joke with Suzie; when we come from situations like that (which seem to happen to us more often, frankly, than we probably deserve), I tell her that the people must really, really like her, because it’s hard for me to see how I could draw out that kind of attention. (Those of you who know Suzie and who know me will have to grudgingly admit that there is more than a little truth there….) We appreciated so very much all they did for us, and are sad to think that we may not be able to return the favor for a long, long time.
Whew, you can see why I’m behind in my blogging … that was only three days! I’ve got a lot of things saved up for you (sort of coming attractions, if you will), including Suzie’s interesting experience at the stake competition, our latest interaction with the bureaucracy regarding our residency card, our meetings at the kids’ schools (and more generally, how the kids are doing in France), plus other posts yet-to-be-named. So stay tuned, I will try to not go a week between posts!
Categories: France, Travel -- France
Tags: France "La Rochelle" "Ile de Re"