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.

Strategically Placed

Ah Provenceneyland™...land of lavender, poppies, flower-covered markets, flower-covered fields, and even flower-covered cheese.

 

But as Van Gogh knew, if there's one thing that just takes your breath away here in Provence, it's the fields of sunflowers. When you see a big field like this gleaming in the sun, you really must pull over and celebrate the moment. Trina here knows how to stop and smell the roses, so to speak.

Then James goes and makes a joke about me cavorting topless among the sunflowers. And, well, perhaps you know how much I love to titillate (pardon the pun) and how little I care about modesty. So I actually do it. Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist. James graciously returns to the car and Trina's the one who takes the photo, even though, frankly, we're all such old and good friends, I can't imagine any of us would really have cared. Nice sunflowers, eh? Too bad we didn't also take a photo of me strategically holding the two cantaloupes....

In With a Bang

In with a squirt: Pippa welcomes our Bay Area friends to Paris, and France, and Europe by squirting them from our balcony with a water gun upon their arrival one hot afternoon. James and Trina dub it the "Best Welcome Ever," but, alas, Pippa is to hold the crown for less than 24 hours.

In with a bang: The morning after their arrival, we train down to Avignon together, where we will be staying as the guests at the rather wonderful villa of James and Trina's business associates/new friends. We arrive not only to a beautiful villa with a swimming pool, but also to three succulent chickens roasting on the grill, served with some great local cheeses and wine and sparkling conversation. After dinner, the villa's owners drive away, leaving us as kings of the castle. It's heaven and, upon reflection, slightly outshines a water gun and a fold-out sofa bed.

  

In with a thwack: From the villa, it's a quick drive to the medieval Château des Baux, where we all try shooting crossbows. The arrows go in with a satisfying thwack, and nearly all of us at least hit the target.

 

Out with a bang: At the 1100 year-old château, James gets to help wind up the second largest trebuchet in the world (the first being by Loch Ness in Scotland) and then be the one to pull the "trigger" rope, sending a volleyball to its untimely and rather explosive end. He volunteers extremely enthusiastically -- and explains medieval armature to Trina, myself, and the children in such detail -- that I am once again reminded of the difference between boys and girls. As with Anthony in la Dordogne last year, it's also fun to see James'  12-year old self emerge at the prospect of a day spent as a knight.

In with a clang: After the château, we continue our day of testosterone at the 2000 year-old Roman arena in Arles, where the clanging and grunting and sweating (and even occasional bleeding) of gladiators is alive and well. It's fun to think that this was already a thousand year old ruin when the thousand year old château was just being built.

 

 

While there are no deaths, we do notice at the meet-and-greet-and-try-on-equipment afterwards that the main gladiator (the guy holding the pitchfork in the photo) has a mangled, swollen, and bloody hand. All of them have battle scars on their backs, legs, and arms. They take this seriously.

 

 

 

In with a splash: 2000 years ago, while gladiators were battling it out in the arena, the Romans also built this amazing aqueduct, the Pont du Gard. The engineering is impressive for any era: It is the highest of all existing Roman aqueducts. It drops 2.5cm, or just under one inch, over the span of the bridge, and just 17m (56ft) over the entire span from neighboring village Uzès to its ultimate goal in Nîmes about 50km (31 miles) away.



The bridge was built to bring water to the people, but two millennia later, it's bringing people to the water. Besides boatloads of kayakers -- both literally and figuratively -- there are also swimmers and cliff-jumpers. It's hard to beat this as a backdrop for a place to cool off in a heat wave. I wonder what the Romans would think of it all?

 

 

 

Four Updates and a Confession

Four Updates

1) I am me, and only I am me. My identity is safe. After putting the fraud alert on my credit cards, carefully checking them, and discovering no anomolies, I ordered a copy of my driver's license and discovered why a Texas address suddenly appeared on it. Anthony called in our French addresses to update our licenses. And indeed, my French street address on the updated license is correct. But, if you google the 75004 area code, you will notice that it applies not only to the Marais district in Paris, but also Blue Ridge, TX. I figure it was a bureaucrat who entered my new zip code into the standard zip code box, and it automatically generated Blue Ridge. So the Texans are not to blame for my driver's license snafu. Just for some politicians who shall remain nameless.

Meanwhile, in the first theft, I lost my nice wallet. In the second theft, I lost the ugly old black leather man wallet I was using. And now I am reduced to using this, some freebie swag that, at some point, was given to the girls for a toy. It is too ugly even for young children and so is now sitting unused in a drawer and is therefore available to be my wallet. You can imagine how fabulous it looks in a Parisian store when I whip out this baby to pay for my purchase.

While in Maine at Aunt Lisa's house, Gigi uses the sewing machine and makes this little pouch for me, and it turns out by complete coincidence to be exactly the right size. So I am now the proud owner of a hand-made, high-fashion couture wallet, inside which lives the zippered Coconut Creek eyesore.

 

 

 

2) The second family to visit us this summer doesn't eat mammals, and the 10-year old is a true vegetarian, and then we watched the movie Babe. So I figured for sure Gigi would go full veg and start to refuse all pork, red meat, and possibly even poultry. And I have to admit I myself have had vegetarian phases, so all of that can easily set me over the edge, too. But now she claims to enjoy not just chicken and turkey but also lamb, pork roast, ham, and bacon. Go figure.

3) I thought I would get a new cell phone, but instead I went in, got a new plan, and discovered that my existing phone could be re-set. So, now I can actually type texts. Before, I could type in the first letter, but when I typed in the second letter, it would change the first one, and when I typed in the third letter, it would change the previous two. Needless to say, I never got past three letters, since it was rendered complete gibberish. In addition, I had them adjust the clock while I was in there, so that when it says 14:32, it is, in fact, 2:32 in the afternoon, and I do not have to add 2, subtract 12, and take its square root divided by the quotient of a math problem I solved in sixth grade where one train was going in one direction, and another train was going in another direction, and they met in the middle.

4) While I was visiting my parents in Boston, I went to a professional nitpicker and for a bargain fee of $50 got my head checked. I got the official all clear, and any remaining itchiness was, in fact, not on my head but rather in my head. As soon as I knew I had no more nits or lice, the itching stopped. Sitting on a linoleum floor chez the nitpicker was not nearly as pleasant as chatting with a friend poolside, but it did give me the desired outcome.

And a Confession:

5) Virtually none of the postings from the last two to three months has been published on the day it was actually experienced. Here's our actual time line, which may put into perspective why I couldn't write about it as I was living it.

June 3-10: Anthony's brother and sister-in-law in town
June 19: Family #1comes to visit
June 23: Medieval Fair at Provins (published on Aug 5)
June 24-30: Trip to Provence (published Aug 11-22)
June 29: Anthony leaves for business trip
July 2 Family #1 leaves
July 3: Girls last day of school then dinner with my visiting Aunt and Uncle
July 4: Pippa struts the catwalk (published July 5! My one timely posting all summer!)
July 5: I dance on stage for a Hawaiian festival, after intensive rehearsals leading up to it
July 6: Family #2 comes to visit
July 12-13: Family #2 is busy with other friends in town. Meanwhile, Family #3 from San Francisco visit us for these exact two days (published Aug 22)
July 15 at 10am: Family #2 leaves our apartment to return to the US
July 15 at 10:01am: Pippa proclaims, "I'm going to be bored. Starting right now!"
July 18-July 23: We visit Bretagne (published on Aug 26-29)
July 23-July 27: We visit Normandy (published on Aug 31)
July 31: Friends from San Francisco come for dinner; we only overlap with them this one day
Aug 1: Plane to Boston, arrive at night
Aug 2: Dentist in the morning for both girls. Cousin family #1 arrives from NYC for the weekend
Aug 4: College roommate comes to Boston from Philadelphia
Aug 5: Take Gigi to her first sleepaway camp
Aug 6: Pippa starts tennis camp. NYC cousins leave
Aug 10: Anthony arrives from a business trip in Montreal
Aug 11-18: Pick up Gigi from camp, drive to Acadia National Park with sister and family
Aug 19-20: Return with sister for more visiting at her house near Portland, Maine
Aut 21-23: Trip to Cape Cod to see Family #1 again
Aug 23-26: Back in Boston, Cousin family #2 arrives from NYC for the weekend.
Aug 27: See cousins on Anthony's side that live 20 minutes from parents in Boston, yet haven't had one minute of overlap with them since we arrived in USA till now.
Aug 30: Back to France, arrive on Aug 31.

And now you know why I'm talking about sunsets at 11pm when it's almost September, or why the same visitors appear in photos over a month apart. I'll write up some tidbits from our American travels in a separate destination blog -- eventually, and you'll be reading about summer in Maine when there's snow on the ground outside your window. Till then, I'm at least back in Paris and back to real-time. The girls go back to school in 3 days, and I'm looking forward to it at least as much as they are. Summer was fun, but I need the school year so that I can get a break!


 

Normandy, Redux

After Bretagne, since we are "in the neighborhood," we stop by our the Normandy home of our French friends who we first hosted in San Francisco four years ago. At this point, it's pretty much like having French cousins. And since we adore Christine's (the mom's) parents, it's like getting French cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents all rolled into one.

 

  

 

Normandy has a reputation for rain, as does Bretagne. The weather is an issue. Just like people will say they don't want to live in San Francisco because of the fog, many people reject Bretagne et Normandie for the weather. In Bretagne, my friend alternately told me, "It never rains in Brittany"; "In Brittany, it only rains on cons (idiots/assholes)"; and "It's sunny every day in Brittany...but maybe not the whole day." Disregarding the inconsistency, she added, "It's not like Provence, where if it rained the workmen would stop. Here last week it rained all week, but our contractor just kept going." She explained "It's never below 10°C and never above twen....I was just about to say 20°. I meant 30°. It's never above 30°C." (That's between 50°F and 86°F). Just tell that to all the people who vacation here in the freezing rain. This sign, seen in Normandy, says it all.

 

 

However, as you can see, we get nothing but blue skies whenever we're here, and Bretagne was constant beach weather, too, if you notice the photos. Of course, due to well-timed vacations, I also believe that England, Ireland, and Seattle are also sunny spots, so take it as you will.

 

 

 

We are here for a tide that is favorable to shooting off fireworks on the beach (close enough that embers rain down on the nearby buildings, thereby causing the American in me to think of impending lawsuits...). Because the tides weren't right on Bastille Day, Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer celebrates it with late fireworks. I love how old-fashioned and/or small-town it is. We simply walk up to the beach, sit anywhere on the empty stretch of sand -- as close as we want to the launch site -- and watch them go for about twenty minutes. I can't remember the last July 4th fireworks I saw that didn't involve major crowds and transportation hassles. Hooray for visiting small towns!

 

 

 

Naked Night at Villa Funky Fungus

Here's our Provence crew: two families with four girls, three moms...and Anthony. It's Anthony and his harem!


Naturally, what happens with a bunch of kids (especially since they're all one gender) in hot weather is that they strip down to nakedness. So much for all those bathing suits we brought. It turns out when the weather's nice, and you're among friends, clothing is largely optional. Besides Naked Swimming, the activities also include Naked Movie Watching, Naked Crafting, Naked Snacking, Naked Dining, Naked Sleeping, and let us not forget Half-naked Hiking (the concession to civilization outside the villa walls).

  

 

I have photos that perhaps show the high level of nakedness (or low level of clothing?) more clearly but, sadly, I cannot post them for fear of being accused of child pornography.

Naked Mornings and Afternoons naturally give way to Naked Nights, and I'm not talking about orgies. One night, the ladies decide it is simply no fair that the children and Anthony all get to hang around in the heat without constrictive bras and hot T-shirts. And so the only fair thing to do is to finish cooking and to dine together topless. Anthony seems completely unfazed. I later ask him, "Can you imagine if you could go back in time and tell your 20-year old self that someday you'd be eating with a bunch of topless women?! Your 20-year old self would be so excited. Then your 43-year old self would just shrug and say, 'Eh, they're just breasts.'"

Lest you think it's a nudist colony, we do ask Pippa to put her sunshirt back on when she starts to get a small rash that we attribute to sun. After so much flesh, it's shocking to see her covered -- and really covered.



But then one by one, the other girls start getting small rashes, too, and Sarah submits the official diagnosis of "Funky Pool Rash". Though Sarah is not a medical doctor, she apparently has a specialty in diagnosing gross body problems: lice, funky funghi, and I'm afraid to find out what else she knows about. It's true that the water is looking decidedly murkier than it was at the beginning of the week, so perhaps she's right. The filter may be broken, but not the girls' spirit. Fungus or no fungus, they keep swimming and smiling.