Coming Home

I’ve now arrived back home, and had a fairly uneventful car/train/plane/plane trip from France (with the exception of getting my bag searched at O’Hare because the foil wrappings enrobing the enormous amount of chocolate I was bringing back created a suspicious image on their machine), and am recovering from jet lag quite nicely.  I enjoyed witnessing my niece's first take-off and landing; I’ve shown her the highlights of our town, fed her the biggest ice cream sundae she’s ever seen, and set up a language-exchange cake-making outing for her.  I realize that soon we’ll embark on our journey in the Midwest, and I want to vicariously enjoy her experiences here, so I’d better wrap up my own trip abroad; subject, of course, to change.

So…what have I missed?

There was the trip to the lake in La Ferté-Bernard, where there was a nice little beach and tons of games for the kids.  Audrey and Sebastian met us there with their little girls Pauline and Julie.  On the way Aurélie and Gaël were fussing with their grandmother about allowing them to keep the windows wide open as we sped along the highway; when their grandmother threatened to stop the car and let them walk, Gaël crossed his arms in front of himself and said in a perfect French accent, “C’est pas marrent.”  “That’s not funny.”  He can certainly speak French quite well when he puts his mind to it.

Cousins

There was Amy and Stefaan’s visit to Marolles-les-Braults.  Amy had “dragged” me on a long, hot walk on country roads around Kessel-Lo when we visited her in Belgium, a walk that would theretofore be referred to as the Kessel-Lo Death March.  I teased her that the favor had been returned when my in-laws drove us to the town of Bellême and around the countryside near their former farm in scorching temps, and I called it the “Orne Death March.” 

First stop in Orne, picnic at L'Etang de la Herse; the boys posed for an "album cover" moment

Amy enjoying the old section of Bellême

The following day we went on the “Marolles-les-Braults Death March”; I guess we had to one-up them!  I did discover a park and a recreation center that I had no idea existed in that tiny town, so I guess it was worthwhile.  Amy’s three boys and Gaël chose the walnut tree in the back yard as their retreat from the heat; they dragged out water bottles, pillows, books and snacks, claiming it was cooler up in the leafy boughs than anywhere else.  

Gaël, Felix, and Gillis hiding further up

Marie-Claire and Joël came for dinner on Sunday, and we spent the day as most French people spend their Sundays:  at the table.  Marie-Claire is always so much fun, and we talked and laughed despite the smothering heat.  Amy managed to convince Stefaan to stop at Giverny, the Monet house and gardens that inspired all those water-lily paintings, on their way back to Belgium.  That place is definitely going on my list for next time.

And…speaking of lists for next time…not sure when “next time” will be.  My mother-in-law always says the house seems too empty after we leave, and even more so when we’ve been there long enough to become part of the daily rhythm.  She told me not to strip the bed or neaten up the bedroom, she wanted to leave it the way it was for a while; I smiled and assured her I wasn’t dying, I was just going home.  I have to go home, I said, so I can come back.

And come back I will.  I have more friends to visit in Germany and Spain, have been told about places I must visit in England and Scotland, and I realized with people visiting Marolles that there are so many places in France I still need to see.  (At some point, I really need to have a Purely Paris trip as well, since so many people assume that’s what I’m referring to when I say I’m going to France).

It seems that, exhausting though it may be, this mid-life crisis travel thing is pretty addictive.  I may not have any money left after it’s all said and done, but I’ll certainly have plenty of photos. 

And memories.