Paris afternoon (June 8th, still, 2008) Day 10 (yes, still) Part II, yikes!

**May 28, 2011**Yes, do not adjust your monitors...this is a repeat post...but it is all about our family of five's first Paris afternoon (way back in '08).  Hello and Welcome to anyone stopping over from Castles, Crowns, and Cottages for the Paris Party!

Thank y'all for visiting and your kind comments.**


We left the apartment about 5ish, extremely hungry, and gladly lighter (sans mucho luggage) in order to track down a restaurant in the Latin Quarter. Paris, just in case anyone wonders, is divided into 20 arrondissments (neighborhoods) with the lower numbering in the center spiraling higher outwards. The Latin Quarter is found in the 6th arrondissment and called such because in the olden times (very technical term) the students of the Sorbonne near by frequented the cheap eateries and cafes in this area speaking in their educated language--Latin. Or so I have been told. Well inexpensive eateries, cafes, food stalls and tourist trap places still abound but it is still to me a distinctive and lively area to visit as a part of the Parisian experience.

Again, I was nostalgic because, having been blessed to have stayed in Paris two separate times before, this area of Paris was very familiar. I guess, being me, I have to regress and explain that I was in Paris 1993, and 1997 with Campus Crusade for Christ. During those mission trips (lasts about two months in the summer) we were busy amongst the students of the Cite Universitaire (14th arrondissement). In those times I definitely got an everyday feel of Paris, student life, but actually had only small opportunities to explore the grand city of Paris. While doing ministry and friendship building with the international students we met, we explored some the the notable sights of Paris, quite a few times: Notre Dame (near the Latin Quarter), the Louvre, and of course the Eiffel Tower. But I just barely scratched the surface of getting the distinctive feel of the neighborhoods. Now it is apparently an itch I've got to scratch. Poor David.

Well, back to our dinner. The Latin Quarter was in full swing with tourist crowds in mass movement, but being it was a somewhat early European dining hour, the restaurants were uncrowded . Goody for us. I expected my family wanted something a bit familiar and I knew I wanted pizza. Then I saw what I hoped to see. The restaurant our mission group defaulted to each time we wanted a real pizza was still in the same spot and open. The hosts were attentive in seating us, helpful with our slow ordering (in France at times your run the risk of indecision causing you to have to wait a long while before you see your waiter again). We waited on our sidewalk table quietly (yes, Sophia was snoozing away in her tucked under the table stroller, again) and each of us was absorbed in unabashed people watching. And Paris is the place to do it.

A street musical troop started up nearby and entertained us while we oohed and ahhed over our meal.

After being refreshed by our sit down meal we headed out for our walk. We crossed the Seine River (the strong lovely river that splits the fair city in two (Left bank, right blank, I guess that is obvious?) and Notre Dame came into full view as just as reverent choral singing echoed around us. It reminded me of Versailles musical gardens and the background symphonies that created a surreal atmosphere. But the origins of the singing was revealed as we approached the square in front of the majestic hundreds years old Catholic Church. The square was crammed with seats and people taking in a mass outdoors of the capacity filled church via big screen.

What a sight. What sounds. I took a picture and then a tap at my shoulder brought me face to face with another kind stranger. An American mom (family in tow) offered to take a picture of me with my crew with Notre Dame in the background, remarking that "the picture taker rarely gets in any pictures". I thanked her and, ridiculously, I think I teared up in appreciation of this kind gesture in a day filled with them.
We walked past the crowds, over bridge with its solo street musicians, handful of street performers and sprinkling of easels with busy painters capturing the early evening sun on the busy Seine, towards the small elegant island in Paris called Ile Saint-Louis. I was navigating my crowd towards the palette pleasing Berthillon ice cream stand on the Ile. Actually my opinion is that its flavors are definitely delectable but I notice I enjoy most the ice cream/sorbet stands throughout Paris equally. I am thinking, because, well, their flavors are usually more than 31 and heck, I am in Paris eating an ice cream cone--delicious.

Here I had another pinch myself moment (yeah, I am fairly bruised by now). We got our Boules (scoops) and ate our cones (Sophia too) as we leaned on the bridge overlooking the Seine, with a street musician on accordion playing songs from Amelie (movie from 2002 that oozes Parisian charm). Ahh. L-O-V-E-L-Y.

As we slowly left the bridge we crossed back over the bridge in no certain direction, but got drawn in by the peace and small rose garden behind Notre Dame. Sophia bounded around freely and we noticed there was an area for children to play. I had never noticed this small garden before but in as tightly a laid out large city as Paris it is notable that there are always open green patches for the Parisians to take in the natural beauty in the midst of their bustling city. Sophia was certainly appreciative!

At this point I pushed us one bit further. We found our closest Metro stop and got off at the Trocadero. My family knew we were headed to the Eiffel Tower but their response was a lackluster "Okay." Okay? We were climbing the steps up to the street level outside the Trocadero plaza and a chattering group of identically sundress clad American sorority girls huddled near us over a map. I could hear them "I don't see it, Tiff." "the map says is it near here, I know" "Where do we go, do we ask someone?" So I leaned over to them and offered directions to the place it was obvious they were looking for. They ran just ahead of us and made a moment for us out of their own. They passed the sight blocking building we were in front of, looked to the left and caught sight of THE TOWER and squealed for joy, jumping up and down. Our girls giggled as they watched the "old/older" girls overcome with the experience. Now it was their turn. And here is my picture of my crew caught by surprise.

WHOA!

No, no jumping up and down (not their style). David remarked that he hadn't expected this familiar world renowned sight to give him pause but it did. We posed and posed, and posed. Then we rode the nearby carousel---dreamy.

Anna got a crispy sweet Belgian waffle and Sara had her Nutella Banana crepe--messy, yummy goodness, right by the Tower.

And then the Tower lit up for us--de-LIGHT-ful!

I should have known not to push further but at 8:30ish I made my dear family get on a Bateau Mouches (Seine River Cruise) in order to get an idea of the city's layout and unique view of the sights. I loved it. The whole crowded, windy, loud (tour groups partying around us) ride, but David and Anna slipped drowsily in and out of sleep while Sara, Sophia, and I took it all in. My crew was tired but Paris was in full swing as we even passed a quay filled with people dancing tango to Latin rhythms--my oh my.

The walk was surely long to the Metro and to our apartment. But in retrospect it was our most full day. The last day I would be able to check every box off on my itinerary. My fearless crew was hitting a travel wall. Paris was wonderful but no match for a tinge of homesickness, 10 days of go-go-go, new experiences, different languages, and a lack of everyday comforts. I was the energizer bunny trying hard to push my worn out loved ones. Sleep, and a slow morning was the order for our next day, Day 11.

Frenchy is having another giveaway and party...

I have posted a link on her blog about our last day in Paris (back in June of '08).  I do have to confess that I am seriously nostalgic about this lovely trip.  Here's hoping we will be able to travel abroad again.  Frenchy's blog is choc-full of good crafty ideas and her love of homemaking, family, and her French roots is evident.  I hope to be back to blogging soon.  This summer has had a few unexpected challenges/turns but we are all thankfully doing fine and simply getting busy as school comes on.  Happy summer to my dear bloggy buddies and I do get encouraged reading y'all's posts and thoughts.  Keep them coming.

French-y getaway/giveaway

This is actually going to be a brief post. Dear Frenchy at Le Chateau des Fleurs blog hosts a monthly French Obsession Party linking Franophiles to new interesting blogs and generously sponsors a giveaway the 1st of each month.  Stop over at her site:

French Obsession Party

and enter the giveaway by simply commenting or just join in the fun by visiting the links (hint, I added a link to part of our June '08 visit to Paris).  Happy June and Summer dear bloggy buddies!

Paris, Day 12 (June 10, 2008) What's happening here?

We actually woke up early this day (7:30am). And it must be said we did not have a bad weather day in Paris. The early summer days were wonderfully chill in the AM, sunny and warm in the afternoon, and then cool in the evenings. What roused everyone out of bed this morning was looking forward to an "American Breakfast" as promised by Rick Steves. No, he wasn't there in person but on the 7th arrondissement, Rue Cler neighborhood, near the Eiffel Tower there was supposed to be a cozy cafe he recommended that not only served a breakfast with the obligatory croissant, coffee/hot chocolate, but also threw in an orange juice (fresh squeezed of course), and an egg (TA DA!) David and the girls were ready to meet the day that included an egg.

We walked through this neighborhood from the Metro stop and quietly took in all the early (well early for us) morning sights we had been missing: Trucks unloading goods for grocers and restaurants, people in business attire heading to work and small hushed crowds at the cafes having their petit dejeuner (breakfast). We joined the early morning club at the recommended cafe, sat outdoors in the sweet morning coolness, and I ordered our breakfasts from the waitress showing her our Rick Steves guide (Steves' readers are supposed to get a 5 Euro discount!)

See our family breakfasting around the small cafe tables. Sophia, not hungry, again.

It was all delicious. I ate it all plus the hot chocolate from the bowl (I love this French habit). We were all pleased and I was ready to linger in the cafe setting but Sophia was restless, and the crew knew we were heading to the Eiffel Tower for our fist sight and they were itching to get a move on. I hurriedly gave my card for payment and as the waitress walked off I noted that the amount on the bill did not have the discount.

Now,dear reader, at this point of travel I had noticed some pricing mistakes (whether meant or by accident)along the way. A Euro here and few bits of change there and not usually in our favor. And prior to this I had kept the mistakes to myself in order to make things easy on us. But for whatever reason this was not going to happen this time. As I approached the lady at the counter she was just finishing up the charge and in my patchy French, and as politely as I could, I stated the miscalculation to her and she simply looked at me and handed me the receipt to sign. "Pardon madame" and I explained I would not sign without the change. A Frenchman at the bar turned his head to take in the scene with a slight scowl (probably thinking "ugly American"). She still paused a bit, then stated that she had already run the amount through the machine, what could she do? "Well" I paused, thinking that in the states, no matter how annoying, the customer is always right. In France it is all a matter of respect, yet I knew I was not trying to be annoying, I was just tired of getting the short shrift as a tourist. Then a thought came, and again piecing together a language not my own, the coherent thought came out that she could run it through as on the receipt and I would sign it, if she gave me the change in Euros instead of credit. The man at the counter actually smirked (entertaining as it all probably was to him), and the lady actually breathed out "Humph!" and handed me the change.

Triumphant, but weary I walked out to David and the girls who wanted to know what had happened. I reflected a bit too much on my morning grumble until a couple of blocks from Rue Cler the Tower came in to view. All annoyances melted away. I have tried and tried to think what about the Tower causes awe. I have kinda of figured out that for me it is the fact that in growing up in mostly small town Texas and dreaming that one day I might be able to travel out of state, that international travel was just not in the realm of possibility for me. Paris was a place to be seen in Lifetime shows and romantic movies (Sabrina, French Kiss, Forget Paris). Now Paris was all around me and better than the movies. And even better this time was that I was sharing it with my loved ones and could see their delighted responses.

By the time we arrived crowds were just starting to form so David and the girls immediately got in line. I realized we all would not be able to go up since Sophia had fallen asleep during the stroll to the Tower and getting the stroller up the stairs would be an ordeal up the steps. The elevator line was extremely long and pricier. I convinced the girls and David that I had been to the second level more than a few times before and tho' the view is a must I would much rather take time with Sophia and save us some money by my sitting it out this time. I was truly okay with this but I knew I was gonna miss their first time awe at the view. A neat plus was that we had scribbled out a few postcards over breakfast and the girls were going to send them out at the first level post office on the Tower. They actually stamp the Tower on the mail that goes out--what a treat for loved ones at home.

All in all my wait was not long (about an hour) and Sophia got in a respectable nap and snacked a bit before we regrouped. David took the camera and got some impressive pics:

This is my fave. They are touching the Tower. Look at the painted fingernails....how cute.

Next on the agenda was Musee Rodin. I had missed this famous sculptor's museum on my two previous trips and had heard raves about the lovely gardens and well-known sculptures. As we approached the line came into view before the museum and this was our first encounter with amusement park like crowds and lines at a major site. I think the waiting killed my family's desire for the museum. We waited about 45 minutes. Not a tremendously long amount of time but when you add the hour or so they hung about as I lingered amongst the sculptures reading the stories and history it was all too long for them. Yes, I loved it. Here's the kiss,


the hands,


the thinker.
And for some dreamy reason could picture myself touring it all slowly, quietly, in the fall season when the crowds are far fewer. Maybe for another time? We shall see.

But at this time it was hot in the mansion that housed the sculptures, crowded, and the girls were hungry. Sophia wanted to run about. We attempted to eat in what Rick Steves described as a well stocked garden cafe, but when I ran in with Anna to get an idea of what was available her hopes were dashed as it was all vegetarian friendly, with mostly unfamiliar veggie salads, cold pre-packaged meat sandwiches filled with un-Sara and un-Anna fillings. So we turned around and I announced that a Mc Donald's could be found on the Champs d'Elysees and it was a location of some cool shopping (mostly the window variety) and the Arc D'Triomphe.

It was such a lovely walk down the Champs d'Elysees toward the McDonald's near the Arc de Triomphe. The sidewalks were streaming with people but not overly crowded. We ordered our hamburgers and big icy drinks and surprisingly found a table for us all in the very busy and ultra crowded Mac Doughs. Hmm. The French detest the American fast food you say. I think maybe "non!" I have since heard that France is the country with the second largest consumption of McDonald's food after the US and that soon there will be a MacDonald's in the Louvre! Oh, my. But actually I am not a McDonald's fan. It is not a social protest. It is just personal preference. I find our Texas Whataburger hamburgers and fries to be exceptional and probably only get something from Mickey D's about once a year at most. But overseas, each time, I have noticed it is a welcome sight when unfamiliar foods have disappointed and cost us more than the few Euros for a combo meal.

Once done our energies were flagging. Oh, no. I suggested the also familiar and decadent Haagen Daz across the Avenue. Everyone perked up enough to get the treats and then Anna felt uneasy. She liked her ice cream but knowing that the Arc de Triomphe was almost 3 blocks away I could see her calculating the energy she didn't have to walk there and then on to another Metro and so on to our apartment. She said she wanted to nap. I didn't want to be uncaring but I suggested that we were so close to other things I wanted to show them, Laduree (a elegant and landmark patissierie/tea shop), Sephora, um, Sephora. Maybe a small rest would help? No. Then she said that she wasn't feeling well tummy wise and I knew we were trudging back to the apartment. Later both girls regretted this but Anna says that she knew at that moment she needed to rest. And she is not usually a girl to poop out.

When we returned to the apartment David, Anna, Sara, and Sophia vegged in the living room and picked a kid friendly movie from the stack provided by the apartment agency. I could feel a cloud come over me. Selfishly I whined in my head that if I was touring Paris on my own I wouldn't waste a moment. But I knew in my heart that if I was taking in Paris on my own it would be sad indeed because I love sharing these experiences with my crew. I needed a getaway. Yes, I would take a stroll. I asked David if he minded if I strolled and took in a cafe. He drowsily said that sounded great, that he and the girls would nap/chill. I think I skipped on my way out the door ready to spend a couple of hours exploring on my own.

This was thrilling to me. I knew I would simply amble about the neighborhood. Ah the stairs of Montmartre.
Then this cafe invited me in.

It was neatly tucked around the corner and I found a quiet tiny table in the midst of the chattering, visiting French. It was perfect. I ordered my Kir (dry white wine with cassis) and nuts were the companion nibble provided.

I wrote in my journal, planned (well trimmed down the plans) our next day,s schedule, and just took it all in. The thought came to me that all the delightful Parisian characteristics around me: cafes, cobblestones, old architecture, were the Everyday things to most all the French people around me. This was some one's everyday. Man, oh, man.

I stirred from my daydreaming revelry in just enough time to hurry back to the family at the apartment. They had just finished their movie and wanted to slip in another when I rounded them up to find a place for dinner. No one wanted to sit about a table and wait when they could pick up something and enjoy it at "home". But first we wanted to see the beautiful Paris landscape at one of Paris's sights that was only a few minutes away by foot--Sacre Coeur Cathedral.

We walked past our restaurant from the night before.

We walked past the artists all set up with there easels. We spotted one of these fanciful water fountains that actually flows with water you can drink, just fill up your water bottle.

We found the steps teaming with people around the church....

all taking in this view.

Talk about a spot that Parisians and tourist alike sit and share. Sacre Coeur is not remarkable because of its age. It is only over a hundred and some years old. A baby compared to the likes of Nortre Dame, and the Louvre. But its perch on this hill in Montmartre, its luminous white exterior, its beautiful mosaic ceiling, and grand view of the entrancing city of lights all make it a notable sight to see.

But the girls took a look, said, "Cool" and were ready for some dindin. So we set out to find some food "to go" and after some trepidation on what would suit us we found a small four table restaurant whose outside menu also said "emporter" (take out). Yippee.

The more we studied the menu, the more we wanted. The gentleman taking our order (Middle Eastern looking) smiled kindly as I added one item on top of another..."one sausage, no, make that three sausages, 3 orders of fries, no make that 4. Two Belgian waffles, no, make that one waffle, and one banana nutella crepe (of course), some roast chicken"...and he chuckled at me trying to interpret as my crowd was calling out to me what they wanted and how they wanted it. Then he asked where we were from. See, I am decidedly Hispanic looking and in Europe actually get mistaken for being Italian or Greek. Mexican-American is not on the local radar. He wondered because David and Anna, and Sara are so blond, blue-eyed and German looking and Sophia is a blend. He asked the French version of "What's up with that?" And I appreciated his honest curiosity and stated our little family was a melting pot and very much all-American. He nodded away apparently tickled at the answer and tossed in a few ketchup packets and a couple of drinks for free (I guess he heard the girls asking us for both as we waited for our order). What an opposite scenario from my morning's quibble over our overcharge for breakfast. We all uttered Mercis as we waved goodbye. Again, a small kindness buoyed our spirits. Ah, Paris.

We got home and unpacked all the surprisingly delicious goodies (Thank you chuckling man and thank you Lord) and watched The Holiday with Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet. I so truly enjoy this movie for more than one reason. David and I always tear up at the part when Cameron Diaz's character surprise visits Jude Law's character (a widow) at his home and is surprised herself to discover that he has two adorable small girls. When David and I met (family set blind date) I was not surprised by his two adorable girls, but the night I met them for the first time was so much like that part of the movie. We all loved each other from the start. Thank the Lord. The girls gave the movie two thumbs up (we fast forwarded a couple of parts) and we actually rested our heads at a most decent hour. Well honestly......

At night, I organized our packs and outfits for the next day. I packed some items up hoping that the next night I wouldn't be overwhelmed with getting us completely packed to leave. I watched as Sophia and David slept soundly, listened to the sounds of the neighborhood from our opened windows that allowed the cool night air to waft through. I walked over to the sleeper sofa and watched the girls, sleeping almost head to head and thought how astoundingly sweet was this Paris moment. We only had one more day in this dreamy city.

Day 5: Castle Chenonceau, back in the Loire

Here is a view of the garden patio out of our room windows/sliding doors. When I woke up this Tuesday morning I was so looking forward to the full breakfast included in the price for the room. Breakfast was listed in our room information booklet as being provided generously from 8am-10:30am. We hustled and packed ourselves up and we readied for the delightful breakfast in the old mill house off the garden. As we walked into the mill house breakfast room, we saw about three other families and I was happy to see it all seemed as sweetly described on the website. So imagine my disappointment when a harried and blustery French woman appeared from the kitchen, with a phone cradled to ear with her shoulder because her arms were flailing and she was telling us, "no, no, no, no!" What had we done? I was thinking. In quick shrieking French she ushered us out. I looked at my watch that showed it was only just before ten. The incident drew the attention of the others in the room who looked as clueless as us. Realizing that we were not exactly understanding her words she paused and told us in broken English that we need to go to the cafe next door. I still stared at her wondering how to ask if it was still included in the room rate when she seemed to read my mind and said, "He knows you no pay more." A-okay.

A little put off by this seeming rejection, but not wanting my disappointment to match the gloomy day and weigh down my troops I said, "Well this should be interesting" And thankfully it was. We walked in the "coffee shop" as it stated in English on the outside sign and were met with a very friendly and welcoming Frenchman who owned the small three table cafe. He already had our table set with breads, spreads, milk, and fresh squeezed orange juice. How encouraging it all was. He spoke a little English to welcome us and set a carafe of hot coffee on the table and asked the girls if they wanted hot chocolate (a staple for breakfast for French children--not so much for our children) Sara said yes, just to try it. He made Sara's day by automatically providing crepes and then topped it off by having Nutella available when we asked for it. Then to top it all off, when the girls pined for the possibility of finally having some eggs for breakfast, he overheard and noted it would cost extra (not offered on the menu even at the B & B) but he would be glad to make us an omelette. We ordered some up and I noticed only paid a fraction of what eggs cost most anywhere else. Sophia, again, refused to eat but enjoyed herself running around the cafe (no one else was there at this late morning hour) feeling freed from the stroller.

Once we were done, I had hoped we could stroll around the nooks and crannies of Honfleur, but the easy rain of the early morning had turned into a constant downpour. If it had been just David and I, this stroll would still have happened, but with three kids who didn't want to see the town in the rain and the possibility of physically getting under the weather we (much to my dismay and one of my few regrets of the trip) left the town of Honfleur hoping to return and enjoy it in the future.

At this point Sophia still had not eaten yet. So we had to find a McDonald's. Chicken nuggets were the order of the day. So I mustered some of my French hoping McDonald's was understood as a name universally. Lo' and behold I hit another language wall, and was corrected. The helpful lady at the B&B pointed out that they didn't call it by it's full name, it had been Frenchified to McDo's (pronounced: Macdough's). So to McDo's we went and stocked up on nuggets for Sophia for the day and headed back South to the Loire ready to tour a castle or two.

I read up on the choices in my Rick Steve's guide and chose Chenonceau. A beautiful castle on the River Cher by the town of Chenonceaux built grandly in the 1400s. Called the "The Ladies Castle" because of it's illustrious history of housing not only the King Henry II's mistress, Diane de Poitiers, but then once he passed on, his powerful Queen kicked out the industrious de Poitiers (moving her to a slightly less grand chateau) and moved in with grand plans of her own extending this castle over the river (quite a marvel). Versailles of course is the most grand castle to be visited in France, but the girls thoroughly enjoyed that they saw every inch of this well displayed castle and took pictures of each of the bedrooms four poster beds dressed with their elaborate draperies.

We toured the pretty grounds and gardens and enjoyed getting around on foot after all our time in the trusty station wagon. There was even a hedge maze that entertained the girls until we all realized our hunger was growing and so the search for food was on. Again I turned to Rick Steves, our intrepid guide, and found our answer in Relais Chenonceaux, located in the town near the castle. Now, I could have just left it out of our tale but it is necessary to mention it as it provided us our second best French eating experience. The restaurant was situated in a very quaint and heavily timbered hotel. The ten or so tables were nearly all full yet, as our crew tromped in I noticed the utter quiet of the full room. We sounded like a herd of goats, girls bickering, me knocking the stroller against the walls of the almost too tight entry, and David carrying our wiped out, sleepy Sophia. Um, we most certainly stood out and I had that moment of, "hey lets just back out and find a McDo's again", as the whispering dining crowd looked up at us.

But I knew we were all too hungry to walk back the car we parked in a lot a block away in this small little village. I just had to suck up the fact that we were about to give all the French folks a tale to tell of the stereotypical rowdy Americans that interrupted their lovely evenings. Our waitress was abrupt and unfriendly (yikes) but, when the co-owner served the drinks and helped us in her near perfect English make out the menu a wave of relief washed over me. Sophia slept through the meal (yes, I wanted her to eat but the quiet was blessing). The girls ordered from the kids menu, a plate of sausage and fries (they deemed it the best of the trip), with an ever so cool short skinny glass of Coke (they longed for refills, but that again is an American convenience), and a dessert of their choice (Sara-B&N crepe, of course, and Anna always ice cream). Then I did a foolish American thing. I dared to ask for the possibility of a sausage meal to go. I had baggies and knew later would have a hungry toddler. I should have just casually ordered an extra plate and left off the "to go" part but the unamused waitress answered me with a "Pffft! Non." Point 1 French Waitress, Point 0 entitled American. So, David and I ordered two different meals and subtly split our tasty baked fish, and chicken. But before I had a chance to dig in I got the opportunity to make a huff with said waitress. I noticed not a smudge, but a hunk of dried food on my fork, and as I satisfactorily brought it to her attention she looked a bit aghast and quickly returned with a perfectly clean fork and a softer attitude. All Points even and done with-yea! We downed it all with a bottle of wine (our splurge for the day) while the girls finished off a bottle of water and shared our desserts (apple tart and ice cream). It seemed on cue that Sophia woke up as we were finishing our desserts. She sat on David's lap staring bleary eyed at the surroundings, silently taking it all in.

As we left the restaurant with a kind adieu from the proprietress, I stole some more glances of the small well situated village. I was, as many times before, so thankful for all our experiences as the distinct privilege they were, to be spending these adventures (however small) together, in some of the most beautiful surroundings France could provide. We chilled at the gite and again enjoyed cookies, leftover pastry, and Gilmore Girls before we headed to bed, ready to sleep in a bit the next morning.