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!

 

 

 

Table Matters

Our friends are very French. This means that my lovely hostess offers me coffee or hot chocolate in a bowl for breakfast. Since I'm not really a coffee or hot chocolate drinker, she instead makes me tea. In a bowl. This is actually photo-worthy to me, which entertains the French family greatly.

Even funnier to us, however, is cutting our fruit with forks and knives. I am wondering if general American manners make us look like Neanderthals to the rest of the world, since I consider it pretty normal to eat a hamburger, fries, and fruit with my hands. But here among the French, these are knife-and-fork foods. Good think they haven't seen Pippa eat sauteed string beans, which she does by the fistful.

This is our second experience visiting a French family, and they too have a deeply held belief in sugared cereals: Choco Puffs, Frosted Flakes, and Honey Balls. You won't hear the girls complaining. As with the other French family we stayed with in Normandy, cereal is sometimes eaten with milk but sometimes dry. Our sample size of two families leads us to the generalization that this is the norm nation-wide.

 

There is no snacking. This is a nation-wide truism that is even codified into law for schools (after preschool, there is no in-school snack time, sanctioned or otherwise). The only acceptable snack is the 4-5pm after-school gouté which is usually, you guessed it, chocolatey. Since we are on a French family's summer schedule that involves breakfast at 9am, lunch around 2 pm, dinner at 9pm, and bedtime close to 11pm (when the sun goes down here, you see, this far north and to the west of the time zone), you can imagine that the no-snacking policy is very difficult impossible for our American children. At 11am, when we are just packing up to head to the beach, I take my girls aside and furtively feed them bread, cheese, and fruit snacks when the French children aren't looking. I feel a little bit like a drug pusher, but I know that Pippa in particular will show an ugly side if she gets overly hungry (we call it "Evil Pippa" when it emerges), and with lunch starting at 2pm, who could really blame her? Her body is conditioned for lunch at noon, with only a half hour window till evil.

The saving grace for the 9pm dinner hour, beside the 5pm chocolate hour, is that according to French etiquette, the "apero" or "aperitif" is perfectly acceptable. This is not just an aperitif drink before dinner, that allows me to survive the evil more easily, but also a small course of pre-dinner hors d'oevres that allows the evil to be mercifully avoided. Because it's summer, that often means melon, olives, or nuts.

Along with the meal we have, of course, wine. And since it's a hot summer week, that generally means a rosé, often from Provence. Amazingly, these can be literally about as cheap as water.

The proper French meal itself is served in courses, culminating in either the salad and cheese course, or dessert, or both. As a thank you for a great visit, we go to the local patisserie and get a box of treats that we cut into pieces so that we can sample and share. I don't think this is a traditionally French way to do it, but since it means we all get to try four different pastries, our French friends go along with it quite happily.

 

 

When it's just the moms alone with the kids, I also introduce the concept of the meal of simple leftovers, all served at once, with very little fuss. My friend adores this, as it frees her from hours in the kitchen on a summer day, and she vows to continue it whenever socially acceptable. So, perhaps not all American etiquette is caveman. Then again, you should see our family eat chicken drumsticks.

 

 

 

 

 

Tropical Bretagne

We are visiting friends who have a vacation home in Dinard, a small village in Bretagne with a front row seat to the walled town of St. Malo.

What most surprises me is the color of the water, which reminds me much more of the tropics than of the Atlantic beaches I grew up seeing in the Northeast of the US. Technically, this isn't the Atlantic either, I suppose. It's really on "La Manche" -- meaning "The Sleeve", which we know as the English Channel. The water is crystal clear and turquoise, but one thing that isn't tropical is the temperature.  Brrr! It's around San Francisco's Pacific water temps, about 17°C, or 62°F.

 

 

Below: the signature blue-and-white-canvas changing cabanes of Dinard, and the red-and-white-wooden cabanes of nearby Saint Lunaire, a town I keep mistakenly calling Saint Nectaire, which is a not a town but rather a stinky cheese.

 

 

Low tide phenomenon: boats parked on mud. They'll be floating again at high tide.

 

 

Going out at low tide to fish in the tidepools.

 

 

 

Another low-tide favorite: digging their own hot tub. Which is cold. But fun!  

  

Pippa and her school friend, whose family has invited us to stay at their guest house. Her mother is one of my favorite new French friends, and she has an older brother in Gigi's class who plays a mean game of YAHTzee (or, in French, YahtZEE), so it's like a full family playdate! Too bad Anthony's back in Paris at work, because the dads get along famously, too.
 

 

 

 

Invasion Equation

Helpful Math for the Tourist Season

Regular laundry

+Provence laundry

+Guest sheets and towels laundry

=A lot of laundry

Two adults in our family

+two children in our family

+two visiting adults

+two visiting children

+one toilet

=people in the hallway doing the pee-pee dance while waiting their turn

Our kids

+their good friends they haven't seen in a year

=less whining than usual, but less sleep than usual too

Lice

+Harsh lice-killing shampoos

+the thought of still having lice

=very itchy head

Gigi (age 8)

+Pippa (age 6)

+Anthony (adult male)

= 0 good nitpickers

many people to cook for

+not a lot of time to plan, shop, cook

= many meals of pre-roasted chicken or salad/cheese/pâté

lots of people visiting

+visiting lots of people

= total breakdown of regular writing schedule

Here are just some of the dear friends and family who have visited our home over the past six weeks. Well, our home plus our "front yard" -- the pedestrian bridge, the Seine, the Marais, and Notre Dame. 

At Notre Dame:

On the Seine, by day and by night. Messy pastries are involved:

Favorite performers on the pedestrian bridge -- Frédéric and his sometimes-dancers.

Fashion shows with Zoe and henna tattoos with Bella and Talia -- the true Paris fashion experience.

 

The love-locks bridge, where people "lock" on their love. Generally, they throw their key into the Seine, thereby killing a few more fish down there. We lock it on with some of our best friends, two families united forever. We do ours with ribbons, however, so no fish are harmed in the process.

 

 

Final equations:

Kodak child
+digital camera
+photogenic subjects
+Paris backdrop
= ridiculous number of photos

Us

+big (enough) apartment
+great central location
+many things to do and see
+good friends visiting

=Absolutely fabulous times, despite more laundry (see above), more dishes, and less bathroom time (see above). On the other hand, there is also more laughing, more reasons to indulge in cheese (see above), pastries, and champagne, and more chances to create unique memories with people special to us.

 

So...come in droves (but not all at once)!