My D-Day Hero

Why am I posting such an ugly picture of myself over at A Year in Fromage? It's a story that's well worth a little humble pie.

 

I've met a fair number of very (very) famous people in my time, and rarely have I been so star-struck, and never have I been so moved. It's the 70th anniversary of the Normandy Invasion:

 

 

For the full story, click here.

Game Theory

I've talked about Ticket to Ride, a board game about trains around Europe. But that's just the tip of it. We're big into family game time, especially on cold, rainy winter weekends, and we especially love games that tie in thematically with our lives here.

Memoire de France is a memory-match game with special places around France, including many Paris spots we know and love -- one of which we can see from our window, and exactly half of which we can walk to in five minutes or less:

 

To read about more great French- and European-themed games, check out the post at A Year in Fromage.

Faster than a Bullet

It's a plane! It's a train! Actually, it is a train. And it's not really faster than a bullet. Or even a bullet train. But it is, in fact, very super. It's the train system throughout France, and Europe, and we've made good use of it, especially thanks to our "Carte Enfant +" which is a card we buy in Pippa's name for 70€. It lasts one year, can be re-purchased annually till she's 12, and means that up to four people who travel with her by train get a discount -- minimum 25% and often 50% -- on rides in France. There are other discount tickets available (frequent business traveler, retiree, large family, etc). The prices can be so low, they're shocking.

 

For example, our two hour train ride to Normandy costs me and the girls about 30€. They're not all this cheap, of course, but it's still a great way to travel -- and nearly always cheaper and faster than going by car. Just this summer alone, the girls and I trained to Normandy, Paris, Avignon, Cinque Terre Italy, Florence, night train back from Munich to Paris, Auxerre Burgundy, Joigny Burgundy, Paris, Bretagne, Paris, Aigle Switzerland, and one final trip back to Paris. Anthony flew or trained to meet us and travel with us for various parts of it, but had to work, so we often came through Paris for the weekends he couldn't join us. It was a confusing and utterly exhausting summer, to say the least.

 

 

All that train time means snacks at the train station, snacks on the train, card games, story time, snuggle time, sleep time, video games, and even the occasional (mild) motion sickness.

 

 

While most of our trips are on the high-speed TGV (in general running up to 320kmph or 200mph), our trip to Avignon is on the new Ouigo train. It's equally high-speed, is owned by the national train lines, but is being positioned as the People's Express/Southwest Airlines of French trains in terms of pricing. The downside of the Ouigo is that the "local" station is not actually in Paris but rather a half hour train ride outside of the city at Disneyland, and you have to wait on a long line to check in. It only runs to a few cities, but they are key ones down South. The upside is the price of the tickets: the trains are clean, fast, and comfortable, children cost 5€ each at all times, and my ticket costs 30€ -- for a 3-hour high speed train ride all the way across the country. My ticket would only have cost 10€ if I hadn't been picky about the time and day.

 

As we train around Europe, our girls recognize many of the names from one of our favorite board games. We call it "the Train Game," but its real name in English is "Ticket to Ride," and the French name is "Les Aventuriers du Rail" (Adventurers by Rail).

 

 

After all those train rides, we feel like we really need a vacation from our vacation. But exhausting and exhaustive as our summer travels are, we remain thrilled by how much better it is to travel by train than by plane. Even in 2nd class, we're traveling in style.

Four Cs of Languedoc

If Normandy and the Dordogne can both be defined by their four Cs, why not Languedoc, in Southern France? It's the land of Carcassonne, Catharism, Collioure, and Catalan.

Catalan:

Our next Cathar fortress -- Salses -- doesn't have the pizazz of Carcassonne, especially since we are forced to take an hour-long tour in a French so thickly accented with Catalan that not even the girls or I can understand it. Well, we're pretty sure it's French.

 

In architecture as well as language, there's a definite Spanish/Moorish flavor here. I love the arches and doors at the 11th century Abbey de Fontfroide, where the assassination of a monk was the catalyst for the crusade that wiped out the Cathars (they were Christian -- just not Catholic):

    

Cathar castles:

 

Suffering from castle-overload, we only have the heart to visit one real Cathar castle, but it's a doozy -- the nearly unpronounceable Peyrepertuse, which was built high in the Pyrénées Orientales starting in the 11th century. It's pretty easy to see why it was a good defensive spot. It's practically impenetrable even with a car and admission tickets. In order to get up to the top, there is sweating, and some whining, involved.

 

 

Collioure:

The girls' favorite part of the whole trip is at the end: two really magical days in the Mediterranean beach town of Collioure. Anthony works on all-important rock-skimming techniques with the girls, and Pippa decides it is of utmost importance to collect every possible piece of sea glass. She goes at this task with the dedication of an athlete training for the Olympics. She is a champion sea-glass-finder. It's a charming town and, frankly, we are glad for the respite from education and castles -- so much so that we never even manage to step in the 800-year old Château Royal here, though we walk by it dozens of times and certainly photograph it enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

SOME BONUS Cs: COLD & CLASSMATES:

In this unbelievably rainy and cold spring (throughout all of France), Collioure is a bright spot, quite literally. It's warm enough to hang out on the beach, but only a child could go further in the water than their ankles. I once got hypothermia (true, profound hypothermia) by scuba diving just a tiny bit further south from here in a Spanish small town with a big name -- Torroella de Montgrí i l'Estartit. And I'm not about to make that mistake twice. Don't believe what anybody says about the Mediterranean; if you want to swim, it's South Pacific all the way, baby. This sea is cold!

We are starting to feel like real Frenchies: We are about as far south as one can go and still be in France, over 800km from Paris, yet Gigi runs into a former Parisian classmate on the beach.

   

And now goodbye to the cultural Cs and the cold seas, and we're on our way back to the land of the four Ps: Paris, pollution, and pavement. Yes, I know that's only three.
 

Four Cs of the Dordogne

Normandy is known as the land of the four Cs: Camembert, cider, Calvados, and cream. But I think Dordogne could easily be the land of the four Cs as well: castles, canoeing, caves, canard (duck), and climbing. Yes, that's five.

 

We've already covered castles (last year) and caves (this year) and canard (both years till it's coming out of both ears). That leaves canoeing and climbing. We also did those last year -- canoeing on the Vézère by the prehistoric sites and a ropes course called The Indian Forest, and this is the one absolute must re-do on the girls' vacation list. The girls love all the climbing and swinging, since they are part monkey/ part mountain goat.  And now that they are taller monkey-mountain goats, they are excited to see what else they can do on the course.

 

  

A lot, it turns out. Gigi can do everything but the course meant for 15 year olds and up. She gives that one a try too, but it is immediately too big and hard for her. Pippa meanwhile, gets off the green and blue courses she did last year and is able to do the entire red course and part of the black course. Her greatest success, however, is not throwing up in the car on the way to the Indian Forest, and after we pass the infamous vomit spot and the store where we bought emergency clean clothes, she lets out a big victory cheer.

Even I can't do the whole ropes course, since there's one part of the black where the staff member -- who is taller than I am, naturally -- says he has to go on tiptoe. Only Anthony, who is part Tarzan/ part Spiderman, can do the whole thing.

 

 

Yes, our legs, backs, and stomach muscles are sore for days.

We pack in two activities in one day: We manage to sneak in an end-of-day canoe ride down the Dordogne itself. This time we float by many castles. The thing that amazes me the most, however, is the amount of green, undeveloped land we pass. I can't imagine an American area in the shadows of a great tourist area with all this prime river-side land just sitting there, wild.

 

 

 

Your French Doppelgänger

Today, while walking along Parisian streets, I see my friend Kevin from San Francisco. Mysteriously, his wife Michelle and three children have been replaced by a different wife and children. Upon closer look, it is clear that Kevin is not living a double life but, rather, that I have encountered his doppelgänger, his evil twin, roaming the Latin Quarter eating street crêpes with his children (how dastardly!).

So I think of you frequently, my friends and family, but how can I miss you when I feel like I am still seeing your lovely faces? Check out my cousin Neal, and you can see why I do a double take when I walk by the portrait of Henri de Lorraine, duc de Guise (1549-1588), dit Le Balafré (a.k.a. "Scarface") painted by François Quesnel, hanging at the Musée Carnavalet. If, in a former life, Neal lived as a nobleman in 16th century France, then my poor cousin; the Duke was at one time considered likely to ascend the throne of France, until he was assassinated by King Henry III (who was, in turn, assassinated a year later). My God, how I would love to photoshop in a big ruffled collar over Neal's T-shirt.

 

 

Wait, wait a second. Quick lesson from my dad on how to (ab)use photoshop. Here it is...

 

 

In the metro, I am regularly greeted by a larger-than-life sized poster of singer Ben Mazué and feel like I've got my dear friend Rey right there with me.

 

  

Ben Mazue photo from:http://blogs.paris.fr/pousseleson/2011/09/14/ben-mazue-je-parlerai-quand-meme-un-peu-de-toi-ici/

 

One day while dining with my new very good friend Béatrice (whose country home I visited in Bretagne), it suddenly occurs to me that one of the reasons I must be so drawn to her is that she reminds so much of my old very good friend Trina, back in the Bay Area. In this case, it's not just how they look, but also so many other things about them: their family backgrounds, warmth, humor,  attitudes, professional interests and experiences, parenting styles (they've got 9 kids between them!). Really, it's uncanny, and once it hits me, I feel like I've known Béatrice for a decade. I expect that they'll meet someday. Will they see the similarities? 

 

 

 

My real mom (below left in red) and my French "mom" (that is, the mom of my friend Christine, who hosts us when we go to Normandy) are both retired teacher/school directors, and they remind me so much of each other in terms of demeanor and interests. I believe they will have a chance to meet this spring here in France, and that means I have half a year to improve and correct my grammar in both English and French.

 

 

 

And if you know my daughters, and know that they occasionally model, you can understand why I do a double take in Picard, when I see this face peering out at me from a cookbook.

 

 

In this case, her doppelgänger (left) got the modeling fee and the glory that should have been Gigi's (right). Bummer.

 

 

 

So when will I next see your smiling face, and where? Only your doppelgänger knows...