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!

The French Revelation

Though I didn't expect the garden would be in the same condition as when I left it last year, I did expect that the perennials I planted would return in some state. It was a surprise and disappointment to find only two -- yes, two! I could not understand why. Then, a few days later the mystery was solved when I was talking to Christian about it.

Did you follow the instructions I sent? I asked.

- No.

I see.

- Perhaps we should follow them this time?

Yes, because you asked for them. And you should listen to me since I do know something about gardening.

- Yes, in fact, I think that you do.

Did you at least water them?

- That was Matthieu's job and he didn't do it.

Ahhh....

So, a bit later I am speaking to Matthieu:

Matthieu, the reason the flowers did not return is because you didn't water them.

- Ahhhh -- you must water them?

Yes, I said so in my instructions.

- Even when it is raining, you must water them?

No, not then, but when it does not rain, you must.

- I see. Okay, we will do that.

I think that would be a good idea.

THE FRENCH REVELATION -- if you water them, they will grow!

Sometimes, it's not much different than teaching junior high (lol).

So -- off to Jardinland we went for more plants -- this time buying some that were even more indestructible (let's hope). And after some archaeological weeding, I found some of the plants which had made a valiant effort to survive long enough to be rescued by me. A tiny balloon flower popped up as if to say, "I'm here! I'm here! Amy, I'm not lost -- just very thirsty! And by the way, please give those naughty Frenchmen a stern talking to!"

In the meantime, it is hot and humid here -- which puts a bit of a kink in productivity as you are a melting, sweaty pile of goo within 20 minutes or less. I made a shadow puppet show to entertain us in the hot evening and distract us from the mosquitos (which have bitten me so badly that I think I'm down at least a quart). If I can, I'll film it and post it later. As it turns out, Matthieu has a collection of about 50 Indonesian shadow puppets which he has promised to show me. Very cool -- especially after taking that course on shadow theater a few weeks ago.

All for now -- blogging is a bit hard on a French keyboard. Hope you are all well.

Amy

It's good to be here.

I arrived last night at the Chalon station where a smiling Christian was waiting for me. It is so good to see him and Mattieu again -- and to be at Germolles; a place I love dearly. It is very hot but the evenings are nice and we had a nice meal prepared by Matthieu's friend; who was visiting. Christian's mother is also here and she insists I call her Rachell, not Madame. *

This french keyboard is difficult so that is all for now:

Life is good!

Apparently, rather good.

"What are the chances?", I thought, that I'd see the Cat Man again. For those of you who don't know (or do know and forgot), last year when I was in Paris I went to the Montmartre Cemetery. In a rather surreal moment, I met a man who feeds the 100 cats that live in the cemetery. We started talking about cats, he asked where I was from, and then he said, "follow me, I want to show you something". Now, some people would think that was a bad idea but the guy is about 75 years old, and probably 5' 1" on a good day, so I figured I could take him. He lead me to a crypt and opened it. Inside were bags and bags of cat food. I asked him if it was his family's crypt. "No." What a surprise the real owners will have if they ever pay a visit, I thought. Anyway, a moment later he asked me for a donation to pay for the cat food, I gave him a few Euros and he was gone... like a ghost. "He'll probably become a character in my next play," I thought, shaking my head. Well, he did. He became "Marcel", the Cat Man in "The Ghosts of Montmartre". And that scene was written into the script.

I often thought when I had the opportunity to return to Paris that I would love to find him again and tell him what he inspired. Seriously, though, what are the chances I'd find him again?

Apparently, rather good. Creepy good, because just as I turned toward the cemetery to search him out, who should I see walking toward me! I couldn't believe it!!! I stopped him and asked if he was the man who fed the cemetery cats -- he was, and had about 20 pounds of cat food in bags to prove it. I reintroduced myself and asked what his name was -- he replied, "Marcel"! HOLY MERDE!!!! I was just about beside myself. He asked if I would have a coffee with him. Heck yeah! What a great "part two" this will be, I thought. There was a cafe just ahead... oh, but he meant at his apartment. Well... a little strange but as I said before, I figured I could take him.

His apartment was neat and had so many things to look at that I can't even begin to describe them. There was beautiful wood paneling and a tiny kitchen where he made the coffee. We chatted for a bit, distractedly. He has an enormous cat of his own, Felix, who makes Stacey's cat Jimmers look like a petite little thing. He asked if I would take our photo, and one of Felix. I did and he gave me his address so I could send him a copy. Really, how could this story get any more amazing? Well... hmmm... let's just say grand pere made a pass at me. He is French, after all... and, as I said before, the senior citizens of Paris seem quite taken with me. That was my cue to exit, which I did quickly -- making sure to avoid "un bise" (kiss on both cheeks) while giving him a donation for the cat food and saying goodbye.

Paris is an interesting place -- with interesting people to be sure. And, if nothing else, they give me lots of good stories to tell. :)

Apparently, I'm big with seniors.

My first meal in Paris (aside from a quiche de champignons for a snack) was a fresh baguette, some marvelous stinky Cammembert, mirabelles (plums), a fantastic dessert called Sully, and a beer. Yes, I know I probably should have been drinking wine to be truly French, but the beer was cold and the wine was not. Besides, after a very hot and humid trek through the Metro stations with luggage, a beer sounded really good. My hotel is just two blocks from Rue Cler -- one of the best places to get picnic supplies -- and a block from the park near the Eiffel Tower -- so while I could have gone to a restaurant, a park bench with the view of the tower wasn't too shabby.

On a bench across from me, an older bearded gentleman talked with a cyclist. The bearded man thumbed his guitar. After the cyclist left, he came over to me. He spoke as he played, low and incomprehesible. The only words I understood were "what is it" and "timide". When I said I didn't understand, he went back to his bench, thumbed his guitar again, without playing a single song, and nearly without making any noise.

On another bench sat a stout man who was eating all his popsicles in one go. I counted them... one... two... three... four... five? Yes, five, I believe. The whole box, chocolate and yellow -- whatever flavor yellow is... vanilla? Citron? Banana? I think banana. I have never seen anyone do that, and it amused me.

Later, I took a walk up to the Tower and the Trocadero. I practiced my French when another gentleman came to sit beside me on the bench. He was pleasant enough, older. He thought I was Portugese. Russian? Funny how I think I must stick out as an American yet I've been asked if I'm Spanish, Brittish, and several other nationalities. When monsieur asked if I wanted to get a drink I said I didn't understand, then politely made my excuses. Hmmm... where are the handsome 39-year olds? :)

Got a bit of a late start today. My body seemed to think it was time to be awake at 2 am. No. Finally up and out for a coffee at about 10:30. Met one of the locals who asked if I liked dining all alone. I think that is what he asked me. Anyway, I said, "yes". Well, when you're traveling by yourself, you better like eating alone. :) After several mix-ups and closures on the Metro/RER I finally made it to the Musee D'Orsay. I enjoyed the shadow theater exhibition from Le Chat Noir, and the collection of Guimard's Art Nouveau work. Spent the rest of the afternoon wandering.

Tomorrow I'm off to the cemeteries. Hope to see the cat man again. Having a great time in Paris.

A bientot!
Amy

Je suis ici!

I am here! Despite not sleeping at all on Sunday or Monday (brain was too excited) I'm feeling good -- thankful for small blessings like the open seat next to me on the flight from Liberty to Paris so that I could stretch out some. Thankful for getting to check in early at the hotel and for a shower and nap. Thankful that the cyber cafe is open since most everything else is not. Paris is quiet and everyone seems to be on vacation elsewhere. I guess even those who live in one of the most fantastic cities in the world like to have a change of scenery -- go figure! :) Looking forward to something to eat and drink, and walking around. No real plans, aside from Montmartre (to see if the cat man is there) and a few museums -- and that is the way I like it.

All is well. I am safe and happy.

Amy

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

Vegas, Baby!

Two of our Travelgals (plus one) left for Vegas today. I dropped Tristan and Stacey off at the airport and they got on their prop plane... I'll let them tell you about that later. They have informed me that they're in Paris (as in Hilton?). Well, Paris Las Vegas. I think this picture says it all -- they're having a fantass time!

Tis the Season

It's summer, and you know what that means -- the Travelgals are back. Some of us are traveling near and some of us far, but we're excited to hit the open road and air.

The first to travel will be Stacey and Tristan -- who are joining forces with Alix for a trip to Las Vegas. Vegas, baby! I decided not to go -- Vegas has never had that kind of pull for me. I've never been to a casino and, up until last night, had never played poker (which perhaps I should, because I won!). Anyway, I'm a little jealous of all the fun I will miss with them, but had resigned myself to the fact that this was my summer to stay at home and tend to matters here. Yep, back to pulling weeds and hitting the books -- and hopefully getting one published. So, no travel for me -- be sensible, fix the fence (which is really falling down now), finish a few house projects (that have been waiting 5 years), etc..., be sensible.

To hell with sensible -- I bought a ticket. August departure, Paris first then back to my beloved Germolles to pull weeds and tend to matters there, with my wonderful friends Christian and Matthieu. I can hardly wait!

Welcome back, Travelgals! Here's to adventures near and far!

Partir demain

Today is my last full day at Germolles. There probably won't be much gardening today as our sunny day has turned to thunder and hail. Balzàn -- the younger of the two labs -- spent the morning in the kitchen with me, making flower arrangements for the various halls in the chateau. He was a perfect angel -- not his usual naughty self -- I think he knows I am leaving and he'll have one less person to steal bread from during dinner ;)

Had a wonderful visit with Niels, David, and Niels' sister (Gemia); Matthieu's friend, Dominique, is here from Paris -- as usual, there is always something going on at the chateau. I will miss it.

There will be more posts and memories when I return. Looking forward to being home again with you.

See you soon!
Amy

Finally! Dessert!

After days and days of "La Guerre on the Square", I finally got to actually PLANT something yesterday!!! It was a day of much rejoicing for me. The "carre au fleurs" -- square of flowers -- as it is called has been a bit of a battle that I came to refer to as la guerre (war) on the square. Christian would ask how the battle was going -- truly I had a formidable enemy. Today I managed to weed most of the remaining corners -- and made another trip to Jardinland for more nice things to plant. The clerk remembered me (I had quite a haul the day before) and said, surprised, "encore?!". Oui, encore.

I feel like after gagging down lima beans and brussels sprouts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner that I finally -- finally -- got to have dessert!

Victory is sweet!

Things feel like they are wrapping up here... I'm seeing Niels and David tomorrow morning and we have dinner with some locals in the evening. Thinking about being home soon... a bientot.

Time Warp

Being in a place where multiple centuries collide at every corner can put you in a bit of a time warp. I realized I'd completely missed the fourth of July (though I posted that day). We are a day ahead here, but most times I'm not really sure what day it is.

Pretty much everyone and everything is friendly at Germolles, from the fish in the moat, to the chickens and quail in the farm yard, to the butterfly that fanned my back the other day or the bat that came in to see my bedroom last night. It was a very polite bat, kindly asked to be let out, and then fluttered around while I opened the enoromous windows.

There is always something to do here, another reason to lose track of days. Hard to believe it has been a week already. Dinners are late here -- very late -- and it was nearly 1 am by the time I climbed the spiral staircase to my room. Christian is quite a ham -- and his "chou croute lady" is a continual source of amusement. It is easy to see why he and Matthieu love Germolles. It's the kind of place where you could be very happy -- maybe forever.

(not to worry though... I'm still coming home).

La vie du Chateau Germolles

It is really quite incredible to be here. I find myself in the garden glancing up at this 14th century place and I can't believe this is where I am. There is so much to tell about. I'm getting the hang of the french keyboard -- but am still a bit slow at typing -- frustrating when there is so much to write about.

I arrived on a hot Burgundy afternoon -- the kind that had me wondering why I bothered to pack long pants, banana sweats (yes, I brought them) and my waterproof jacket. I was glad I did as we had a storm the other day where the sky turns black and the wind whips around in a way that makes all the birds and bugs nervous. It reminded me of the storm in "Under the Tuscan Sun" where Frances finds an owl in her bedroom. Apparently, that had happened before in my room, so I half expected one. Mother Nature put on quite a show with great cracks of lightning and a torrent of rain that lasted most of the next day. With the rain pouring in buckets, gardening was a bit of a challenge -- though this Oregon girl made a valiant effort. Finally I resigned myself to some cooking -- I made some jam with rhubarb from the garden and a gallete of peaches, raspberries (or RAPSberries, as Christian calls them) and apricots.

The kitchen -- which is a mix of every century from the 12th to the 20th -- is one of my favorite places. The pantry next door smells of wonderful stinky cheese -- sometimes I go in there just to smell it. While the rain isn't ideal, being inside wasn't awful.

This morning Matthieu had a tour in English, so I went along. The history of the chateau is fascinating -- and there is something to discover around every corner. My bedroom is on the first floor (actually the second according to American architecture). This was the floor where the nobility largely slept/lived so I've got one of the best rooms in the house! Though the bedroom where I sleep was redecorated/changed to a more Parisian style, underneath there are the original paintings of Marguerite and Phillipe's initials. It is believed that the Duke Phillipe the Bold gave Marguerite of Flanders Germolles as a gift -- and her influence is everywhere. I'll write more of that later.

Today was beautiful weather for gardening and I spent most of the day in the carre du fleurs -- the wild garden behind the Orangerie (greenhouse). I am taking some before and after pictures -- hopefully the "after" will meet with Marguerite's approval. :)

All for now -- all is well.

Exotic Alaska

This travel gal headed to Alaska for her summer vacation and what a trip it was! I have always wanted to sea kayak so when Kendra asked me if I wanted to go, it was kind of a no-brainer. Originally I was picturing the Puget Sound... orcas, birds, mountains (you get the picture) but Prince William Sound? Who knew it could be even more beautiful!

I am so fortunate to live in this lush, green, make-me-happy place.. and Alaska is even better.

We stayed in a forest service cabin on Paulson Bay. It was a 45 minute water taxi trip from Whittier to the cabin, provided by an attractive local who gave us beer at 11 am :) Getting to Whittier is an interesting experience: picture 2 miles under a mountain with a single lane road. Getting in or out is all based on a well honed system of departures (the train also uses the road as it was originally on accessible by train until recently). Here are a few pictures of my travels, see my blog for more if you're interested.

I spent almost 2 weeks hanging out with my friends, eating at all my favorite places and riding a borrowed bike on the Kincaid Trails for pleasure and in preparation for the Livestrong ride the weekend I got back. A total highlight was spending time with Teagan and Anna. They are absolutely precious! Teagan is 12 months and Anna is 3. We made rhubarb cobbler and played with her dolls... yes, I did.

While this summer is very different than the past two (France, Germany, Italy, Scotland, England.. ahhhh...) it has been equally fun so far. Adventures come in all different shapes and sizes~ yeah! Can't wait to hear Amy's stories when she gets home.

Thank GODDESS!

I would write about the drive from Strasbourg to Blienschwiller -- but I'm not ready to think about it yet. Let's just say I got there and that the car was in one piece. Thankfully, the trip to Germolles went better. I am so happy to be here. Christian and Matthieu are wonderful, the place is more amazing than I remembered and all I can say about the room I'm staying in is that I think I gasped. The chateau is beautiful, and there is so much more to say but it's finally cooled off and I'm headed to the garden.

:) Amy