The Land of Oz

It's my last full day at Germolles. As usual, I'm a bit tired, my muscles are sore from gardening, and I'm thinking of my time here. It was different this year, for many reasons, but still a great visit. Matthieu is an intellectual with a surprising kind of child-like humor that I find so endearing. He is a man with his old teddybears still next to his bed, and shoes in the fireplace. He finds beauty and pleasure in many things, as we all should. He is my cowardly lion -- not so much the coward as the big creature with a soft heart. Christian makes me laugh like no one else I know. He is quick-witted and sharp, and dramatic in all the right ways. I am sure we knew each other in a former life, and he is a kindred spirit to me. He is my scarecrow, and it's him I find it hardest to say goodbye too. And then there is the little (well not really) black dog, Balzan, who did not want to leave my side this morning. I think he really does know that I am leaving. He is not as naughty as last year, and still very lovable.

This year we also had Mamùt -- Christian's mother -- what a character she is! Last night she instructed me to eat my spinach because it would "give me a good ca ca (sh*t)". I laughed so hard tears streamed down my face and I couldn't eat. Oh, the meals we have had here! As the French say, "oh la la".

Matthieu and I connected over shadow puppets and last night he showed me his incredible collection -- at least 50 of them. He is just as delighted by my puppet shows with puppets made from cereal boxes and whatever I can find to McGyver a puppet together. He has asked me to put on a great show for the public here at the chateau the next time I come visit.

It's a quiet and picture perfect day at the chateau. I leave tomorrow morning for one more night in Paris, then home. As always, it has been a grand adventure!

In the summer, I am French.

In the summer, I am French. I wake when my body is rested, I drink my coffee – rather than chug it. I go into the garden. I sample whatever is ripe that day. I talk to the cats and the birds, and the bugs. I have a glass of wine at mid-day. I pull weeds and dig dirt and find wonders in tiny things that grow. I eat a lunch without the pressure of a 33 minute period defined by a very rude bell. I talk with the neighbors, I have friends over to visit, I enjoy. Sometimes I don’t care about how I look and instead decide I am beautiful as is. I have night fires with marshmallows, and bottles of beer to cool off an afternoon. I eat peanuts in the shell on the back steps. I think lots of thoughts or none at all. In summer, I am the self I want most to be. I am happy.

In the summer, I am French. I take trips to a place that fascinates and excites me. I eat everything in sight. I nervously order a coffee at the counter in the café around the corner from my Paris hotel – hoping I will blend in more if I do. I know now that those delightful little pastry bites are not filled with pistachios, but escargot, and should be avoided. I know all the other things I like, and that Madame will be kind as I stumble through French exchanges and that she will warm up my quiche avec chevre et champignons for me as I scurry off to Montmartre to visit my old haunts. I sample whatever is fresh at the market. I search for my favorite toothpaste at Casino supermarche. I go to BHV and find endless amusements and sometimes things to buy. I go to the Eiffel Tower. I talk to strangers and feel connected to a bigger world than the one I often live in. I ride the metro like a pro. And occasionally, very occasionally, I am mistaken for something other than American.

In the summer, I am French. I live, for too short a time, in a 13th century castle with two dear Frenchmen who I love as my family. I pull weeds and dig dirt and find wonder in tiny things that grow. I wait impatiently for 9:00 when Christian gets out the glasses to pour the drinks, and we ravenously eat crackers or paprika nuts while dinner cooks. We laugh about the day. Matthieu makes a gratin – again, and I hope it is well done (and does not contain pasta). I think about Thai food, and how I’m not sure they know what that is in Mellecey. I consider myself lucky to have variety. I eat cheese – copious amounts of it, all the while thinking how it always tastes better here, locked in some dark wood cabinet in a forgotten dining room with loaves of hard bread and cartons of milk that aren’t refrigerated. I sneak around the chateau and make secret movies. I wander the grounds and talk to the fish, and birds, and cows. I bring “salad” to the chickens and converse with the goats -- who are not sure what to think of me as they stare at me with their alien eyeballs. I sleep as I never sleep in America – in the bedroom of a princess with the trees singing me lullabyes goodnight. I push Balzan away from my bread at least 14 times in a meal – that stinky, naughty dog. I swear I won’t miss him but do when, on my last day, he won’t leave my side and is a perfect angel. I hold back tears in front of Christian and Matthieu as we say our goodbyes, and let them roll all the way back to Paris. In France, I am the self that I most want to be. I am happy.

This summer has been busy. So much so that I was less French than I hoped to be. So busy that all of a sudden, I am packing to leave for my favorite other place. At this time tomorrow, I'll be too excited to sleep, but wishing I could as the clock ticks by the minutes to departure. In the summer, I am blessed to be French.

I'll be posting as I can. Till then, a bientot!
Amy

Let's wave as we pass each other...

I leave tomorrow!

It's very exciting!

I'm still a little nervous about the driving, but I made it through two driving lessons and my first solo drive without crying. (Woot!). I have, however, told Christian to alert the rest of France that I'm going to be on the road, so watch out! I also heard back from Niels, our fantastic host at L'Orangerie, whom I'll get to visit with when I'm at Germolles. It will be really fun to see him and David again -- they are the definition of lovely people. Niels serves a breakfast that makes a non-breakfast person like me think that maybe breakfast IS the most important meal of the day.

My thanks to Rhonda and Kim for helping me learn to drive -- especially Rhonda, who handled the first part of "Amy grinds gears and burns rubber" like the most fantastic person you ever met. Heart you, lady!

Deb is coming back from Kansas which she reports is "very flat with no trees". Stacey returns home from Alaska tomorrow where she's been having a whole bunch of fun. I'll be taking off so we've decided to wave to each other out the plane window.

Look up tomorrow -- I'll be waving.

8 Days

It's hard to believe in just 8 days I will be in France. It's harder to believe that a year ago, I was only thinking about my first trip to France -- with no idea that I would be returning so soon, let alone to stay at a castle in Burgundy. I am so excited, I can hardly stand it. I keep thinking this is all a dream -- and amazed that it is not.

The chateau website is working again. Click on the "galleries" link at the right side of the main page to see more photos of where I will be for two weeks. Of course, more pictures will follow.

Stacey is in Alaska -- she goes sea kayaking later this week. I'm sure she'll have adventures to tell about when she returns. Deb is hosting out of town guests soon and vacationing in Portland -- which isn't a bad place to be at all! Tristan is road-tripping this summer to mine for opals and turquoise -- and to visit the west.

The Travel Gals are all well, adventure begins! Happy travels!