OH, THE FRENCH!

It has been some time since you’ve heard from me and I apologize for taking les vacances so seriously this year.

Les vacances is the term applied when everyone in France goes on vacation and everything comes to a halt. While les vacances is generally limited to the months of July and August, once September rolled around I was in the thick of my classes, and it has been hectic since. But we are now enjoying two weeks of vacances scolaires so I have a little more time to myself. The French treat themselves well!

So let’s catch up…

One of the first events of the summer was the passing of the Tour de France through my little village of Montréal en route from Carcassonne to Quillan.

I was able to drive out of the village on back roads and find a quiet spot parking easily. Prior to the nearly 200 cyclists arriving, we saw a multitude of cars with back-up bicycles advancing the group. As the cyclists drew nearer, I counted seven helicopters overhead tracking them, no doubt taking aerial shots for television.

For all the hoopla, it was “whoosh!” They were here and gone. It was thrilling nonetheless.

As far as mes vacances were concerned, I first drove to Nice again mid-July to celebrate my good friend Jennifer’s birthday. It’s becoming an annual thing and a great excuse to drive to the Côte d’Azur.

We did a bit of a whirlwind trip to Genoa, Lago di Como, Lugano (Switzerland) and Lago di Maggiore in Italy before returning to Nice. We decided next time we’ll spend more than one night wherever we travel just to relax. But it was great to see Como once again and explore new areas. We also decided we will definitely return to Italy to continue to explore.

The next week I made a trip back to the US for my mother’s 96th birthday August 1. It was great to see her and spend time with her. But it was also hard to leave as the time was precious and obviously I can’t get there often. Mom is well aside from memory issues. I wouldn’t be surprised if she makes it to 100.

From Florida, I headed up to Atlanta to visit with my sister and her children.

My nephew, Mike, flew up from Florida to join us for a few days as he was just off the oil rig on which he works in the Gulf of Mexico and had missed me in Florida. It was wonderful to have him join us and especially for Thomas, my 13 year-old nephew.

Living with all women, Thomas loves what has come to be called “boy time” where he is in the company of only men for a change. As my sister is a single parent, Thomas misses the male bonding so this makes up for it.

I had Thomas to myself for two days after Mike left as my sister was back teaching and Thomas didn’t start school until the next week. It was awesome. He paid me the highest compliment by saying he enjoyed spending those two days with me. Ditto, Thomas. To know him is to love him. A very good boy.

Hungry for a steak, we visited a reputable steakhouse on my last evening in Atlanta. The meal was good but the fun began when my 3 year-old great niece took over the dance floor. With a live soloist, she danced with her daddy and grandma then came to my seat and said “Uncle Tom, dance with me.” Memories for a lifetime.

I also had the opportunity to gather with old friends just prior to dinner for a couple of hours to catch up. I cherish the memories.

It was difficult to leave the US and return to France. For the first time ever, I wasn’t excited boarding the Atlanta flight to Paris. It was wonderful seeing my Florida family and my Atlanta family and friends. Arriving home there was a letdown that took a couple of weeks to shake. Not once have I regretted making the move (now nearly three years hence), but as I’ve alluded before, the absence of family and friends is real.

Thankfully I was supported by friends here and my resolve has become stronger. Today, in fact, I read this article in the New York Times reviewing the new movie “The French Dispatch.” According to the review, the movie romanticizes all aspects of the French culture using every possible cliché. But it was clear that the author of the review is also in love with the notion of anything French. The review was inspiring.

Oh, the French! They are an interesting lot and we Americans love to romanticize them. But there is much to be said for such a beautiful culture, cuisine, language and country. They have justifiably earned all the accolades.

With regard to the language, I’m making good progress. A friend in Paris told me some 20 years ago “The French language is all about being beautiful.” And I suppose that is why there are so many rules and exceptions. So I trudge along and slowly make my way. I’m getting there and proof is that I understand more and more of what I hear on the radio as I drive as well as receiving positive feedback from the French: “Vous parlez très bien!” or “Vous avez un bon vocabulaire.” I still make mistakes but I am learning from them too.

What pulled me out of the low spot was – believe it or not – reading the obituary of an American woman who moved to a small Burgundian village in 1968 and created a business selling French oak barrels to winemakers in the US. The idea was novel and her business flourished. She lived her own dream happily ever after passing at the age of 84 and never looked back. Raising two sons in France, they eventually became a part of her business and continue to carry on. It was inspiring. She did it and here is my chance to do it too.

It boils down to a romantic notion that softly warms the heart and feeds the soul. I don’t think it’s artificial. I feel it. As I look out my window to the Pyrenées Mountains or to my beautiful sauge plant in the door of the 17th-century convent across the street, the romance is renewed and I count my blessings.

I will be eternally grateful to have made the move no matter how difficult and how much I miss family and friends back in the US. I am living the dream I held for so long. I am feeling settled in my home as it increasingly feels like home. I am slowly but surely progressing to the goal of French fluency and I am making great friends between my neighbors and teaching French to other anglophones. Could this time of my life be any better? I don’t think so.

May the fun continue.