Le Poste Ennuyeux

I think I have reached the point that my posts may just bore you to tears.  Life continues as it does on all continents, as we have crafted it in the decisions we make.  Here we are plunging deeper into the local customs which we like to refer to as The Many Rules of France.  

The predominant concern at present is signing up for stuff in Septembre.  One must inscribe oneself (and pay) in whatever activities one would like to do for the entire year in the month of Septembre.  This sort of all or nothing mentality makes for long lines, empty banque accounts and a lot of scrambling.  Unfortunately we missed the climbing class for Jasper but managed to get Bob inscribed for the climbing gym.  Jasper is has been successfully signed up for tennis after much miscommunication and stress pour moi and the young man whom resembled strongly Sacha Baron Cohen (especially when trying to speak english (which mind you was leagues above my trying to speak french, which I probably reminded him of Flo of Mel's diner)). 

I managed to sign myself up for a gym, a first for me.  Of course I need to find some appropriate gym wear because frumpy really doesn't go well here.  I have also pseudo signed up for African dance, art and French lessons.  I'm not sure how we are going to pay for it or how I am going to keep up with lunch, dishes and laundry.  Did I mention that we have no dryer.  Zero.  Doesn't sound like that big of a deal right....try it sometime.  Ps, it has started raining with frequency.

Other not so exciting to you, but to us news is that Micah has started swimming lessons on Wednesdays at school.  My quiches are improving. We have finally long term rented a car that will start in the next couple of weeks.  (I am slightly saddened in the prospect of not walking as much hither and yon.  I am gladdened at not having to shop EVERY day and carry heavy bags through town because I don't want to buy the little cart thing.)  Jasper is signed up for a Minecraft course in Lyon in a couple of weeks.  Bob is running a marathon in Lyon this Sunday.  

Bored yet?

Let's get to the pictures.  We visited our local castle which we can see from our dinner table.  We also visited a close by town called Villefranche.  Lovely sight seeing.  Fun shopping.  Nice people, nice weather.  We also got invited to our neighbors' house whom live on the same property, the brother and sister-in-law of our landlords.  They are very locally active folks and spend much of their time running a non-profit organization that provides aid for Haiti.  They lived in Haiti for 6 years have also spent years living in Cameroon and he (and our landlord) were born in Algiers.  These folks have an AMAZING collection of Haitian, Cameroonian, and Algerian art in their basement.  I had to take some photos of that as well.

A prochaine semaine!

Top of the local castle pointing at our house

Anse 

One of the cozier rooms in the castle

Treats from the local bakery that we pass every day to and from school

Delicious creation by Bob.  There's a name for it...

Local honey from the local Friday market.  Shout out to Dr. Strange et al

The cage known as l'ecole

Waiting for the stupid bus, not knowing if we are in the right place.  We were and we weren't, it came, but it was a long wait.

Can you see the invisible wall?

Villefranche

Shout out to Andy the beer drinking viking

Cuz if there's one thing that spells fun, it's public toilettes.

Villefranche.  This pic doesn't quite catch how cool this street is.  It's full of shops and people and food.

The church in Villefranche. We are in Europe, we do have to check out the churches.

Train trumps bus, hands down.  

Paul and Maguey's basement studio

Haitian metal work, made from old oil drums.

La quiche de resistance

Le Cirque et la vintage

I really should be working on my French, not this blog.  Is it possible that I am getting worse at speaking the language?  I believe so.  

This week marks our first month over here on this little adventure.  It's beginning to feel more like an ordinary sort of life where everyone thinks that you are a mute idiot but you don't care because it's so gosh darn pretty.  I still can't get over how good all the food tastes.  There are three street markets that I have been frequenting. The veggies, bread and cheese are pretty fantastic, especially the fresh goat cheese. I still haven't had the nerve to buy meat from the vendors, there is something a little unnerving about flayed bunny.

A "circus" came to town.  It seems that it was actually just one family, some camels, llamas, donkeys and bulls.  I didn't go, I am always wary of circuses but Bob went with the boys.  I perhaps should have gone, the animals seemed to be treated fairly, I guess it was really the 3 performing sons that maybe had it the hardest, lots of pressure to perform.  But such is the life of a carny I suppose.  They came in and papered the whole town with signs and fliers and drove up and down the streets in their little car with a loudspeaker and a ringmasters spiel blaring at all times of the day.  Cultural.

As you probably know, we are living in the Beaujolais region of France. Apparently it's not the best wine in the world but it seems to go down pretty nicely.  I am obviously an expert.  I do know, however, that domestic wine in France is not specified by grape type, but by region.  For what that's worth.  If you want more information on what this means, ask someone else, like Bob.  So anyway, it being fall in the wine region, the harvest is on!

This last weekend our friends/host/neighbors invited us to go to a "vintage" with them.  Their dear friend, Bob (what are the chances), a dermatologist by day, co-owns a vineyard with his brother that has been passed down to them through the generations.  Every year they have a grape harvesting and pressing party weekend.   Friends and family from all over the region come and pick and drink and have a rowdy good time for the weekend.  This is not for the thin-skinned person, pardon the sort of pun.  Luckily we didn't understand most of what they were saying because no one was spared a good ribbing.  Bob went early with our friend Aime (imply an aigu on the e, I'm sure I'll get my keyboard frenched up by the 3rd month) and helped with the harvest.  I came in the afternoon with Catherine, Aime's wife, and the boys.  We arrived to find Bob having a farm style lunch with 50 or so folks eating quiche and chicken and other varied delicious fatty things.  We watched the pressing of the grapes with an old style press.  We had to watch Micah so that he did not drink too much juice from the grapes, the consequences of which would be disastrous we were told.  The boys stomped on the grapes.  One of the guys had a drone with a go-pro camera set up taking photos, and another guy set up a 100 meter slackline a couple of meters in the air.  No one but him seemed to be able to do it.  We didn't try.

So, in all, a huge highlight of the trip thus far.  

Micah at the neighborhood playground.  Sometimes we call him Rusty.

Google it.

Le Cirque

Le cameau dit <<BOF>>  Excerpt from the french translation of How the Camel got it's Hump.

The Vintage de Bob

The press

The drone

Aime and Bob

Bob was asked if they could take his picture because the running shorts he chose to wear were so dorky...this from a nation where men wear speedos and capris....the shorts probably were dorky though.

Speaking of dorky....I harvested at least 6 bunches of grapes.

Break time

Time for the press

The farmhouse

The slackline

Sights from around the town of Leynes.

Catherine

An appropriate end no?