foux du fafa

France. I can hardly stand how beautiful it is here. We arrived in the dark, again, after travelling every mode of transportation for twelve hours (only getting lost twice). This seems to be our travel style, I guess we should get used to it! We passed under cliffs that jutted out over our car, cliffs with lighted windows carved into their sides, castles (everywhere- I’m not kidding) and tiny picturesque villages. The lady we’re renting from, Audrey, met us in Sarlat (don’t even get me started on Sarlat!) and drove with us out to our little mill house, where there was a smoldering fire and bottle of wine on the table. John posted pictures, but it’s an old stone house that used to be a mill, complete with water wheel. Audrey shrugged when we asked her how old it was, telling us that it used to belong to the castle just on the hill so it must be very old. She also shrugged when we asked what was in the basement, saying not much but you can hear the water down there and check it out if you want to. We went down to the stone rooms, on different levels with water running right down the middle under a long opening in the floor that stretched from one end to the other. There was a huge circular groove in the floor (from grinding wheat?) and the kids now use it as their castle. Pretty cool. Lots of spiders and mossy stuff.

Today we just hung out at home, the kids raced homemade boats down the stream, swam in the freezing pool (we kept a fire all day so the house was nice and toasty for them), and made homes for the little orange slugs that seem to like France. All while John ran into town to clear up a $500 car insurance charge we didn’t need. In the end he still wasn’t able to get through (after over a dozen tries, each time being disconnected, misunderstood, or just not answered). Poor John. Poor John sitting by the fire with his wine and his book and his big French self. I think he’ll be alright.

Speaking of John, can I make fun of how he communicates to the non-English for a minute? First of all, he starts with some fake accent from who knows where, annunciating each syllable in a booming voice. HEL-LO! I FROM CA-NA-DA. YOU HAVE PHONE? TEL-AY-PHONE-AY? He’ll throw in a few exaggerated arm gestures and repeat himself a time or two, just to really drive the point home. It’s very cave man, but it’s got character, right? Plus people often do let him use their phones, so he really gets the job done. What’s most important is that he’s our designated talker, leaving me off the hook, which is just where I like to be. John and Alexa both do the talking, actually. As soon as we got off the plane Alexa was trying out her bonjours on anyone who would make eye contact. She’s always the one that wants to order things, trying to figure out how to say it in French and she gets in as many merci aurevoirs as we walk out the door. Funny girl.

Tomorrow? There’s an old 16th century water mill that still presses walnut oil just down the road and apparently we can tour it, and maybe buy some oil (what do you do with walnut oil? It sounds yummy, but what?) Then some exploring and going to Sarlat, where hopefully we can set up one of those long distance phone cards (that’s for you, Mom and Dad!)

Angie