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Monday, July 21, 2014

A Boy's Life...in France

The two months here have meant different things to each of us, but I have not said much about the youngest two; Charles, 10 and Gael, 6, who just do boy stuff, like at home, but different.

Here are a few photos from their day to day here, starting with summer's favorite pastime, lucanus cervus, or stag beetles:





     Killer beetle attacks huge ship:



The beach, a favorite spot:




Charles, Gael and I learned about cow-fighting, or "la course landaise" during the town festival.+ After a class for children on this tradition (using inner tubes and balls as cow substitutes), I am longing to see it for myself. As much as I hate bull-fighting (and yes, I have actually been to 2 corridas), because it ends in torture and murder (sorry, traditionalists, but yuck!), the demonstration of how one jumps over a cow, feet together, or swings away from a charging animal at the last micro-second, was beautiful. Add the costumes and the show...you have the soul of the town festival here; "Fete de la Madeleine." What a phenomenon to try to describe; music and tradition during the day, debauchery all night. The young bucks after the running of the bulls, um, cows,


The kids had their own "encierro" or bull run. They used to do it with very small calves, today (I think litigation has reached France) there are adults pushing wheel barrows dressed up like cows with horns:


In the arena for the class; red scarves for all:




Photos of photos of the ecarteurs (dodgers) in action:


Charles turning 10...too fast!


And the summer is not over, neither is our trip to France; but as C. said this morning; "We'll be home in our own house with our dog and our friends next week!"

+As to why no one else was at the class; first of all, it was geared to children. Second of all, we'd been out to the night time part of the town festival the day before, and even with the best of intentions, had only made it home at 1am. We danced, listened to music and wandered the streets, all together, along with hundreds of other families. It did not seem as wild as I once remembered it being, but then again, we left "early." The only ones I could drag out of bed in the morning for the cow event were the youngest.

Friday, July 18, 2014

Bordeaux...Friends Married to Frenchmen

Lucky for me, I have friends with such determination and powers of persuasion that I end up escaping for a minute (or a couple of days) to make the trip to see them all together each time I come. I met the first of them, Dede, at the grocery store when I had just moved to Bordeaux, pregnant with Duncan who is 16. I later met Janice, who introduced me to Caroline and Catherine, who ended up being my neighbor when I moved to a little town on the seaside. With each passing year, I value much more the friends who have made my life a richer, better one. They are also the ones with whom one can share, cry and howl with laughter for hours on end. I got to see this lovely gang in Bordeaux a couple of weeks ago. (We sandwiched it in between the baptism and the wedding.)

Here is a special group of women; Americans married to Frenchmen. It takes a special sort of person and makes you into another sort, to live with and raise children with someone from a whole other culture. If you don't think French is "really different" from American, that's OK. We know better. Thank you, ladies! For being there for me, for your good humor, perspective, and positive outlook, for keeping the faith. I am so grateful!

The best spot in Bordeaux for a fabulous glass of wine (Bordeaux mostly does marvelous wine only.):


New sculpture; it may be leaving soon, as it is for sale and the price was out of range of even fund-raising Bordelais.



Janice has become a tour guide in Bordeaux, so she led us to the beautiful night spots and plazas that have been renovated since I last lived here. Dede is a city girl at heart and knows how to get anywhere on tram or on foot. Between the two of them, I had a splendid outing. Caroline and Catherine knew the best off-the-beaten-track restaurants, and we ended up eating at an astounding, delicious Lebanese restaurant. This was my first foray into Middle Eastern cuisine; I felt like Toad who was on the great River for the first time with the Water Rat (Wind in the Willows); "oh my, oh my, oh MY!"


Cate came with me for this short trip. We had a quick tour of Bordeaux the next morning. We moved here when she was 10 months old and stayed in the area until she was 4. This photo is in the little regional train that put-puts back and forth between Bordeaux and the towns further south. Some major improvements have been made in these little trains! Back in the day...really, though, these were the cattle cars with seats I took every day to school in a small town from an even smaller town. Today; luxury, light-filled wonders.





The Cathedral of Bordeaux, St.Andre; I have always loved this cathedral. Not only is it a beautiful place to pray and hope, it is also nice and cool on a summer day. Cate first came here as an embryo!



So much for the perfect Madonna and baby; the expressions on the faces of these two crack me up. The Virgin looks like she is holding a mildly bothersome toddler who does not belong to her, and he looks like there might be a snake on the ground.



Thank you, for still being there, dear friends, I will miss you! I sorta even miss Bordeaux. A bientot!

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Friends!

Another part of my post, the most important part of all, was a tribute to friendship, love and kindness, without which there would be just an abyss of pretty and ugly.

Meeting up with my friend Katie in Mannheim, was the highlight of my days that week, (we must allow for Thierry being the main event of the whole trip.) It was so much fun to spend the only sunny day with her, exploring the gardens of Luisenpark and the rest of the town. Thank you for making the train trip there!

Germany: Heidelberg

Here is the town that somewhat drew a line through my previous musings on architecture and national character. Of course, Mannheim was largely bombed and rebuilt, whereas Heidelberg retains much of its original 16th-19th century construction. It is cute, and full of tourists, consequently. First, there is a castle; a big, fortified castle, with sections that are still being rebuilt after bombings and disasters, I think. I can't read German and signs were not ever written in anything but German. But it is pretty, all over.

At Heidelberg Castle:


On the way up or down from the castle:




 
Down in the streets of the town of Heidelberg:



View from our nice, dry cafe at lunchtime during a punishing downpour: (the suit of armor is for the boys)


View from the castle:



Germany; Mannheim

I've started this post over twice now; first time; it needed rewriting. Second time; Blogger crashed. Third time, a charm?

The car trip itself was a door into a world I had forgotten existed; a long drive without children. There was yarn to knit, the GPS to check, scenery, incredible scenery, to see, a Dan Brown book on audio and a handsome driver. Paradise.

It rained, most of the time. This was only a problem for the mist that covered the mountain tops I would have liked to see and the speed my chauffeur had hoped to reach on the Autobahn in Germany. Here is one of my hopeless attempts to capture scenery in a moving car. I felt much better once I gave that up.

The hotel was completely distinct from the grandeur of the French chateau, but massive in its proportions and with a fabulous view and location. A few shots: Outside: (ours was the balcony on the far right, second floor):


 Inside:



Around the outside:




I explored the residential neighborhoods, finding these beautiful, solid houses that I thought maybe embodied what was essentially the German character; reliable, lasting and not many frills. Then I spent a day in Heidelberg and saw a whole other side to German architecture. Conclusion and caution: a week is not enough to be able to grasp a culture. (The pastries really are quite massive though; and bring back memories of a trip to Berlin when I was 19. My friend and his family treated me to a fresh and different pastry from the bakery down the street every morning. They were so kind to me; taking me to every possible distraction and historical monument in Berlin as well as East Berlin. I was welcomed, cherished, happy...but I dreaded that morning pastry, knowing it must be eaten.









There were some flowers on balconies, but this did not prove itself the affair of national pride as it is in France or Italy. Naked balconies here are maybe a sign of "I have better things to do."

Next up; the cute little town of Heidelberg.

Knitting and France

 If you stumbled upon this earlier; sorry! I was trying to write a little tribute to the following book:
 French Girl Knits Accessories: Modern Designs for a Beautiful Life by Griffin-Grimes, Kristeen, from my Kindle, which I clearly lack the skills to use.

This is a beautiful book. The author has such a love for France and the ways of her people, that I fell in love with the extracts from it and had to have it. I wanted to knit something "French" while I was here. I've chosen 2 projects, starting now on number one; "la Morgaine", a hooded cowl. I found the yarn in Germany, on a rainy day with a lot of time to spare in a yarn store. I had planned to first knit "la Gitaine", a lacy shrug, but I have yet to find the yarn I need for it.

Other knitting projects the past month and a half:

Gaël's beanie, aka; airplane knitting:


Hotel room floor blocking with straight pins lace: (car knitting, no kids, and it will have to be re-blocked)



And, most frequently, but apparently with an almost absolute amnesia of photography, a series of "girlfriend market bags" for my French friends who have to make sure they always have a bag on them. Supermarkets no longer give out bags and even downtown merchants have stopped. I had to stick a $9 bottle of nail polish remover (yes, 6 Euros) in a pocket of my purse and hold it nice and upright until I got home one day. The first one was beige with a bright blue stripe and handle, the second beige and bright red, and this, the third, was for my sister-in-law in her fave colors. It is such an easy knit to have in your bag and work on anywhere.


For photos of the pretty projects and an extract from French Girl Knits Accessories, click here:

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Germany: Mannheim...and Ponderings on Travel

Who we are affects how we travel. I had only thought of this in the broadest of terms, as, years ago, I firmly believed that travel (and reading) were the best ways to broaden one's horizons. Then I met the former owner of our first house at the signing of the final papers. He was someone who had lived abroad and had nothing nice to say of the native population of the countries he had been in. He was also vulgar, inconsiderate AND stole the ladder leading up to the upper story of the old granary in front of our noses. Pah. I guess you have to be somewhat interesting, and interested in the world for travel to make you more so. So much for my theory. (see below)

This morning, however, I realized the effect one's nationality can have on how you act in another country. Thierry and I left together and had a coffee on his way to the office today. He walked in to the bakery/cafe and spoke in English, just as I was formulating my sentence in German. Neither of us speaks German, but he tried English right off the bat, as naturally as I will struggle and do my best to explain in the local language until the dead horse has either been brought back to life or completely perished. 

He is French; English, for him, is just a tool, a fairly universal way of communicating.

I am American; English means imperialism, an expectation that I can go anywhere and get by with nothing but the language that comes most easily to me. Why make an effort? "Everyone speaks English."

I had a moment.            I love having moments.

My theory: experiencing another way of life opens up your mind to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there is not only one way to do things. Other people make it work other ways. Travel, like reading great books, seeing great works of art and hearing great music, learning another language, is not a necessity. They are all ways though, of making one's life a little richer, a little deeper, giving you a little more to think about on a rainy day.

I am going to dash between raindrops today to try to take a few photos. Here is what I see from the hotel room balcony, it is the only place I have dared use the camera so far. The Facebook shots (if you do Facebook) are all from my phone.