Day 69

A gentleman and a scholar.

I thought I would try something a bit different for Thursday's posting.  My hope is that this will provide a sneek peek into our daily lives here in France.  The body of this post will be translated into French.  I encourage you to try to make sense of it without the aid of a translator.  Believe it or not, after only a few French lessons, I am actually beginning to become quite proficient at READING the language.  I still struggle greatly with conversation, but I know that this will come in time.  After several very enlightening conversations with a number of language instructors, it was brought to my attention that there are several kinds of students.  Just like small children learning to speak their first words, there are those that bravely endeavor to speak the language with just a rudamentary understanding and then there are those that wait until they have it perfect before they speak a word.  I believe I fall in the second category, but we will see.  I am after all a lawyer (avocat) and I like to hear myself speak, so I can't imagine I will stay tight lipped for long.

That being said, reading the language is much easier for me and in that I find courage and inspiration.  So, for now, I will share with you the days events in the mother tongue and let you see the world as we see it, if only in brief.  Keep in mind that every written word we encounter looks like this which can make something as simple as picking up some groceries, quite a difficult endeavor.  Hard to say what you are purchasing when you can't read the box.  Have fun and don't get frustrated.  Translation is not an exact science and much of our common sentence structure and slang will not translate correctly.  Give it your best and once you have given up, Google has a nice translation feature that should help you along.  It seems to be the most accurate of any that I have used and will be the means by which I translate most of this text into French.  I now have a few functional verb conjugations under my belt, can order food, tell time, read a calendar and spout off a few pleasantries, but this is far from enough to write an entire blog entry, so we will leave the heavy lifting to the kind folks at Google.  Soon, my hope is that I will be able to write one of these gems in French all by myself.  You will know because it will be written like a three year old and will likely only mention colors, numbers, and a few household items that I know the names of.  Good luck.

Jour 69 a été une autre journée de l'éducation de mon fils et moi de bonne heure et hors de nos maisons d'école respective avec backbacks à la main. Ce sera ma dernière leçon privée avant de commencer les cours collectifs qui seront essentiellement me transformer d'un père à temps plein dans un étudiant à temps plein. Le calendrier va être difficile et je n'ai pas encore compris toute la logistique, mais la promotion des compétences linguistiques sera bien la peine.

Maman faire une apparition cette eveing ​​de son voyage à Milan et nous aurons le dos pour le week-end avant qu'elle retourne à l'Espagne la semaine prochaine. Nous sommes à l'accompagner dans ce voyage, cependant, j'ai quelques doutes quant à cette décision. Après avoir terminé une recherche assidue sur la destination, il semblerait que peut-être cela ne sera pas une bonne destination pour les garçons. Mes recherches indiquent que Barcelone est une ville des voleurs et des prostituées. C'est la façon dont la littérature Voyage fait paraître. Je suis sûr que c'est une exagération, mais il est raison suffisante pour moi de faire quelques extra étude sur le sujet.

Mon après-midi a été rempli avec mes tâches domestiques et il ya quelques avantages de mon travail que je voudrais partager avec vous tous. Nous avons depuis longtemps une maison pleine de toilette personnes formées, cependant, notre plus jeune encore besoin d'aide dans le département d'essuyage.  C'est beaucoup mieux que de changer une couche sale, mais il est encore loin de son travail glamour. Une semaine complète de nettoyage des toilettes softserve et constante m'a repenser le régime le plus jeune de diététique. Comme il s'avère, sandwichs au beurre d'arachide et la banane équivaut à une bombe toilette. Si cela continue, nous allons avoir des vieux Smokey pour débloquer les toilettes à nouveau. Je me sens vraiment mal pour l'enfant, mais je me sens mal pour moi et pour notre toilette pauvres surchargés de travail.

Je viens de remarquer la traduction de la bombe de toilette et de la difficulté à contrôler le rire suffit de taper. Ok, ok. . . Retour à la tâche à accomplir. Comme vous le savez tous, le plus jeune qui parle avec un peu d'un accent britannique, et je suis maintenant avoir à lutter contre cette maladie même avec l'aîné. Son compagnon meilleure nouvelle est un garçon australien. Les deux sont indissociables et l'accent australien est en train de s'effacer. Donc, j'ai maintenant un Australien et un Britannique, lorsque mon espoir est d'avoir deux Français quand tout cela était dit et fait.

Les plus jeunes ne semble pas être le premier à être spontanément à parler en français. Ce n'est pas tout à fait surprenant, et je suis très heureux de voir ses progrès. Il va maintenant mélanger dans un mot français ou deux dans sa conversation et semble les utiliser dans un contexte approprié. Il est vraiment étonnant de voir. En plus du mot ou deux ici et là, il semble être venu avec son propre langauge qu'il crache avec qui est clairement sa façon de travailler sur les nouveaux sons qu'il entend sur une base quotidienne. Son utilisation des sons voyelles, le piratage guttural et rouler la langue est sur place parfaite. Si nous sommes ici depuis assez longtemps, il sera certain qu'il sera en fait couramment. La femme et je l'ai dit l'autre jour que quand tout est dit et fait, quand il se déplace vers les États, il sera probablement pas se souvint de son temps sur la ferme à la maison et ne se souvenir de son domicile en France. Reverse choc culturel? Il sera interessant de regarder se dérouler. Restez à l'écoute et bonne chance avec la traduction. Au revoir.

Day 68

The morning of Day 68 would see mom back on the road and off to Milan, Italy for a day or two.  I would stay my post and add a member to my watch.  As a favor to the Australian physicist's wife,Ii agreed to watch their son for the day while she was on a trip to Paris.  After dropping off my eldest, I picked up the young australian boy and brought him back to the house for a day of play with my youngest.  It proved to be a VERY long afternoon of Scooby Doo and varying other kid type activities that my weary soul found exhausting.  The aussie lad is as wild as a march hare and spent a fair amount of time removing his fingers from his nose to place them promptly in his mouth.  God I love children.  The two young boys played fairly well together.  No major battles, just a mild fire fight or two.

When the eldest returned from school, his barometric pressure was not one that would allow him to warm to the idea of preschool antics.  He stayed to himself for the most part and avoided the whole scene to the best of his ability.  I believe he finished yet another book in his collection.  Seems he knocks out a book every day or two, so I won't complain that his time wasn't well spent.  We finally bid farewell to our guest at around 4 and spent the rest of the evening in recovery mode.  I was fortunate enough to have a cooperative crew and bath time led straight to bedtime.  I crashed hard knowing that the next day would require more of the mental energy that I am so desperately lacking from poor sleeping habits.

I am sorry to keep these last few posts so short and to the point, but life has turned quite busy with the warm weather and I barely have the time to keep myself fed let alone write a dissertation about the days events.  Now that I am close to caught up with life and with my writing, I promise to be a bit more descriptive as there is much to share, but currently not enough time to share it.

Day 67

What day is it?

The past few days have been a blur of child care and French education.  I realized that it is now Thursday and I haven't written a damned thing over the past two days.  I have become quite addicted to the medicinal qualities that writing this blog provides.  Tuesday was the first day back for the boys after a long Easter break and would be the first day that all three of us would have to pack a backpack for school.  The logistics of dropping these guys off and school and then getting downtown for my French classes has become quite an adventure indeed.  I decided that I would drive the boys in and park the car for the morning near their school.  After seeing them into the school house, I beat the streets by foot to the center of town to arrive at my lesson just in the nick of time.   The class would be a solo affair as the Korean gentleman pulled a no show.  Two hours of individual attention is exhausting.  After the lesson, it was right back to the streets for the half hour walk back to pick up the youngest and shuttle him back home in the 206 which had thankfully not been towed away.

By this time I was completely exhausted and did my best to remain semi-consious until it was time to pick up the eldest.  The remainder of the day was completely shot.  I was tired and I didn't accomplish another single thing.  Late nights and a demanding curriculum take its toll on an old man.  I can't party all night and then attend class all day like in the good old days.  My hope was that a good night's sleep might make a world of difference.  Unfortunately, once again I stayed up well past a reasonable hour and the following day would prove to be another sleep deprived struggle.

Day 66

Rockin those slim fits.

Monday was a holiday, so we had mom home for one more day.  We decided that we could separate the boys for a bit.  My wife took the youngest and I took the eldest.  The youngest seems to be awefully attached to his Daddy these days and won't let Mommy near him.  I think there are a few reasons for this.  First, I think it is his way of controlling his world and getting what he wants.  Pure preschool phych 101.  The second is that I think it is his way of letting his mom know that he is upset with her for traveling so often.  Finally, I think that he spends so much time with the old man, that I am like his security blanket.  All these factors put together make for an exhausting parental marathon on my end.  We needed to repair the mother/son bond between these two, so we all spent a fair amount of the day apart.  Early in the A.M., mother and son went to the grocery store to re-stock our shelves.  The eldest and I stayed behind to finish up our morning ritual and to enjoy a little quiet time away from the youngest.

When they returned, the eldest and I ran some errands.  Being a very fashion forward lad, I decided that I would take him along to assist me in broadening my wardrobe.  We had a very nice time updating my kit and came away with a nice pair or two of slim fit pants.  As it turns out, I can wear them now.  I knew that my old Jeans had outgrown me, but this is rediculous.  Either way, I like the new style and hope that my waistline maintains its current girth or these babies ain't gonna fit for long.  The purchase has now convinced me that I too will soon be carrying some form of man purse.  There just isn't anyway I am going to fit my wallet, phone and keys in the pocket of these pants.  When in Rome, right?

After the clothing expedition, we stopped by the garden store to pick up some supplies to continue our revamp of the back yard.  It has come a long way in the past several weeks, but it still has a long way to go before I will be hosting any BBQ gatherings.  When finally we returned from our errands, I was pleased to find my wife and my youngest at play in our playroom, once again best of friends.  The remainder of the day was spent wrecking the inside of the house in favor of tending to our garden affairs.  Tomorrow will be a long day of recovery for the inside of the home.  It is a mess indeed.  We intended another trip to the park, but foul weather rolled back in and the threat of a thunderstorm once again kept us at home.

This too marks the last day of their Easter Break.  It is back to school tomorrow, and I for one am glad.  I need to have a bit of structure back in my life.  It has been a grand holiday, but all good things must come to an end.  Soon enough we will be back on Holiday, so for now I am going to enjoy some peace and quiet.  With the children bathed and ready for their appointed bedtime, the wife and I decided it would be a good time to crack a bottle of wine and start wallpapering the older boy's bedroom.  Thankfully the consumption of alcohol eased the pain of this aweful task.  Scavenging all the necessary supplies from Madame Chabou's garage, it was soon apparent that the paste was too old and we were too late in the eveing for me to give a damn about the project.  Hanging but two runs of paper, a couple of things were clear to me.  First, prepasted wallpaper is the ONLY way to go, and second, I suck at hanging wallpaper.  Perhaps the learning curve is steeper than I had anticipated.  The first two pieces look like Ray Charles hung them.  More than that, it looks as though he was being assisted by Stevie Wonder.  With paste everywhere but on the paper, I decided it was time to call it quits for the day and we headed for bed.  The bed proved to be quite crowded as our eldest son would serve as the cream filling in a Mom, Son, Dad Oreo arrangement on our thankfully King sized bed.  The close quarters was worsened by my Son's usual bed partner, one 735 lb pug . . . STUPID DOG.  I would toss and turn for most of the evening in an attempt to sleep to the three part harmony of my wife and son snoring and the dog smacking his filthy lips.  I am one lucky fella.  Morning would not come soon enough.

Day 65

The Easter Bunny came and all he left me was this bag of goop!

Easter Sunday.  A big day in a predominantly Catholic society.  Our day started off with a bang.  The Easter Bunny got up early and made certain that there was a basket full of goodies awaiting our boys when they woke from a semi-restful night's sleep.  The bunny, however, made a slight mis-calculation.  You see, our Kitchen gets a great deal of sun in the morning hours through a very grand garden window that has no covering.  When the boys went to open their surprise, what they found was something less precious than a ornately carved chocolate bunny holding a basket of flowers.  What they found was a puddle of mud.  In fact, since Chocolate is what they do here, most of the easter candy was ruined.  Having become a family that takes everything in stride, we all had a big round of laughs and got ready for the day.

We busied ourselved with the mundane details of life and gave ourselves a good spitshine for a jaunt into town.  We had arranged to meet some friends at the river for a nice Sunday stroll with the kids.  A chance for them to skate and a chance for us to unwind after a long week.  We had a very nice walk down the waterway and ended up settling in at a small playground so the youngest could have some fun on the monkey bars.  It is his favorite and the boy is absolutely fearless, even if his mother is not.  It was nice to spend this time with mom since she has been so busy with business travel and usually misses out on these events.  Our pleasant afternoon soon turned sour as some very threatening clouds began to roll in.  Soon we were caught in a downpour and were an aweful long way from home.  No doubt about it, the crew was going to get wet . . . VERY wet.  We were not far from a tram stop, so we rushed over and bought a ticket just in time to jump aboard.  As you can imagine, we were not the only ones to take refuge on this form of public transit and we were soon enveloped in the humidity of humanity.  As more and more folks packed themselves into our tiny train car, I began to wonder what the occupancy limit was.  We had to be getting close.  The wet smelly funk of multicultural folks massed together in tin can on rails was a putrid mix that I can't begin to describe.  Thank God nobody in our train passed gas, for that icing on the top of this cake would have been enough for me to lose my breakfast.

Fortunately, we only had three stops to survive before we were within reasonable walking distance of our friends' home.  We jogged our way through the wet cobbled maze and soon were wringing out our wet clothes and seeking solice in a warm cup of expresso and hot chocolate.  After we had dried a bit and finished our coffees, the boys ran upstairs with our friends' son to play who knows what while the adults exchanged our coffee cups for wine glasses.  The remainder of the afternoon was spent with warm company and a bottle of the local red.  Stories were traded and finger foods consumed to quel the growing rumbling at our midsections.  Soon the afternoon has passed and it was time to make our way back home for the evening.  We said goodbye to our friends and headed for the car.  Somewhere along the way I lost my sunglasses.  No need for them on this cloudy afternoon, but a bummer none the less.  I think it is one of God's cosmic little jokes that any time you spend good money on a pair of sunglasses they always end up lost, broken or at the bottom of a very deep body of water.  The crappy replacement that you buy and a convenience store won't break if you run them over with your car and regardless of your best efforts to misplace them, the just keep turning up.  I am going to test this theory and order some Bill Dance Blue Blockers.  I guarantee I will have the damned things till I am 80.

Back home, it was time for the usual evening routine.  A little forgiveness of the appointed bedtime for the youngsters since there would only be one more day left in their break from school.  Soon though, we were all fast asleep and dreaming of dryer weather.

Day 64

A wolf in sheeps clothing.

It was retail therapy redux for Saturday.  Up at a reasonable hour, we hit the mall for some new rags cause pappa needs a new wardrobe.  Just about everything in my closet is now too large for my diminishing frame.  Even though, I would consider myself fairly thin by American standards, I was a bit nervous when stepping into the dressing room since their clothes are much more form fitting than our own.  I was pleasantly surprised that the items I had selected fit quite well and a few purchases were made.  Next it was off to the Swedish home goods empire for some cheap lighting fixtures.  Madame Chabou left us with some nice bare light bulbs that I have described in prior writings, and in some rooms, left us with no lighting at all.  We needed a new fixture for the hallway and a few lamps for around the house.  Since these items will stay in France when we make our next move, cheap was the name of the game.  The Swedish folks have that down to an art.  Affordable price with high style.  Simple and elegant, but not a budget buster.

Soon we had acquired a household worth of lighting and were headed home to finish out our day.  One of the fixtures was going to require some wiring and given my past near death experiences, I wasn't too excited to get started on the project.  My wife decided that since this was to be accomplished on a metal ladder that it would be best to shut down the electrical supply to the entire house.  Soon, and by the dim light of a transom window, the fixture was installed.  For once, I had accomplished a task involving electricity that didn't involve me using my body as a lightening rod.

The intent for the afternoon was to take another trip out via bicycle, however a long afternoon nap for the youngest and a relatively strong rain shower kept us huddled indoors.  We have really enjoyed very pleasant but very dry weather since spring has arrived, so our plantings were pleased to see the rain.  Soon, our social card would fill for the weekend and for once Mom would get to come along for the ride.  Easter Sunday would be spent at the river front with dear friends.  We would look forward to the following day and the fun that it would surely bring.  It was quite late by the time I coaxed the youngest into his bunk, but I was determined to make good on a promise to the eldest to stay up a bit later than usual to play video games with him.  With mom and the youngest in bed, late weekend nights are the only time the eldest and I get to reconnect.  Being very like minded and best friends from the day of his birth, we have always enjoyed each others company and can tell when it is time to rekindle that bond.  It is weird and unspoken connection he and I have and it seems that we each know when it is time to find our way free of mom and brother for a little father and son time.  At last check, the clock read . . . well, it read "tomorrow" is what it read and we knew then that it was time for bed.  Off to sleep, I was plagued with bizarre dreams and a restless night.

The youngest is going through some growing pains at the moment and it is causing a fair amount of stress for everyone in the family.  Perhaps he too feels the stress of the relocation, or it is the lingering pains of the terrible twos, or maybe it is having a long distance relationship with his mom that has turned his world upside down.  I suspect it is a combination of all of the above and we are still scratching our parental heads as to how to deal with it.  Unfortunately, these guys don't come with a users manual.  For now we will just be steady and try to ride out the storm. 

Day 63

Mon nouveau vélo.

Friday brought with it Mom's triumphant return . . . and early in the day too.  This early appearance made it possible to gather our flock and get out of the house for a spell.  We decided it was time to outfit our eldest with a new bicycle.  We brought his from home, but it is still just a bit too large for him despite the hacksaw modification his old man did on the seat post.  Over the course of the past two days, I have managed to finish some of the much needed home renovation projects around Madame Chabou's echoppe and things are now nearing completion.  I am very thankful as this will allow even more time to study the language and attend to other matters that are far more entertaining.

We had a quick lunch and then headed out for some retail therapy.  We went directly to the sporting goods store we have grown to love and bought a shiny new steed for our first born.  It is a nice lime green affair with a minimalist flair that I appreciate.  No un-necessary decals, just the basics.  To be honest, I was somewhat surprised by his pick, but since he is at that age that he still wants to be like his dad I suppose the decision was fitting.  With the bicycle loaded into the Jetson wagon we headed over to a local clothing outlet with reasonable prices to stock up on some summer clothes.  Again, the eldest benefited from this outing much more than the rest and is fully stocked in summer kit with a French flair.  The fit of their clothes is quite different and if the blonde hair and blue eyes don't give him away as a foreigner, his prior mode of dress certainly would.  With that issue resolved, we decided to take the newly acquired btwins out for a spin in the park.  The weather was fantastic for a ride and the clip the boys could muster kept mom and dad at a brisk walk.  It was nice to share one of these experiences with mom since she is usually absent from these outings.

With the boys sufficiently worn out, we headed back home for the evening.  I am pleased to say that the cycling bug seems to have bitten my youngsters and they seize every opportunity to go for a ride.  This is a treat that we don't enjoy at home on the gravel country roads of eastern kansas.  I don't think that this is a fact that is lost on the boys, which may make their enjoyment of this activity even more grand.  In fact, the eldest now requests to take his bike EVERYWHERE.  To cap the evening, mom ran to the store while I tended to said youngens.  The eldest demanded to go to the store with mom, which as we all know is not a child's favorite activity,  just so he could squeeze out a few more minutes of pedal time.  With mom now being the only member of our squad without a bicycle, the hunt is on.  The wife is not as keen on the sport and would not shell out quite as much money as I would on such and endeavor, so we are bargain hunting.  I will keep you posted on what we find.

Take care for now.  I will update again later as the weekend with the wife home has put time at a premium and I find myself once again a day or two behind.

Day 62

Teachers Pet.

Well, I've really done it this time.  We used to call them gunners in Law School.  You know the type . . . that jackass that always sits in the front of the classroom and thinks they have the answer to any question the teacher asks.  I always hated that guy.  With a class of but two students, it is a bit hard not to stick out.  My time with Rosetta Stone has made me a star pupil.  My vocabulary is very abundant for a beginner and I think the instructer thinks I am either cheating or sandbagging.  Everytime she hands me a worksheet, she make a big fuss how it is probably much too easy for me.  I don't agree, but I will certainly take it as a compliment.  I have been working diligently on the language and really enjoy the education haven now spent ahem something like oh, a decade or so away from it.  I think that is the nature of the beast though isn't it?  At some point we grow up and what once seemed a cramp in your social life now is quite enjoyable.  It is nice to push the old brain beyond the 3rd grade level that I am usually operating at.

I think the instructer is quite fond of me and it may well be due to the fact that I inadvertantly made a pass at her on the first day.  It was innocent enough, but I think it could have been misconstrued.  Don't get me wrong, she is a lovely women in her 50s, but one must tread fairly lightly with these things.  At a recent social event, much of the conversation centered on the fact that "flirting" is quite common place here and seems to be part of the social decorum between all men and women.  The incident in class went something like this . . . the instructor and I were chatting about my wife and she came to the realization that my wife was American.  Apparently she had been under the impression that I was married to a French woman.  When she admited the fact that she thought my wife was French, my response was "I wish".  Now, what I meant was that if my wife were French, the language barrier wouldn't be as much of an issue.  I think she took it to mean that I was more fond of French women in general than my wife and seemed to it as quite a compliment in deed.  It garnered a very pleasant smile and a bit of a blush.  At the very least, it has made the educational process a whole lot more personal and I am really thankful for the extra attention.  I don't think it is helping the Korean fella any, but I am certainly getting a whole lot more out of it than I thought I would.

I think the biggest advantage to being face to face with an instructor is that you get a chance to actually converse in French with someone who understands you are learning.  The lingo slows down a bit and it makes hearing the vowel sounds much easier.  You can't get by with sounding things out phonetically.  Try it and they will look at you like you have three heads.  Something as simple as the sound a "J" makes when spoken in the common greeting of "Bon Jour" will peg you as a native or as a tourist.  It is very subtle and difficult to master.  The "o" sound is even more difficult to master.  The "un" vs. "une" is still one that trips me up.  I received some good advise at a social gathering, and that is when making the "une" sound, squeeze your butt cheeks together.  So far it seems to be doing the trick, plus my glutes have never been more toned.

I am looking forward to the weekend for the wife returns and with her returns parental reinforcements.  In addition, the next week of travel has been cut shorter than expected which will mean that only two weeks of travel will remain.  Not too shaby and if I need a wife in the mean time, it seems my French instructor may be willing to apply for the job.

Day 61

Shock and Awe Baby, Shock and Awe.

Does it bother anyone else that while playing video games this evening with his elder brother, my youngest could be overheard uttering the phrase "Shock and Awe Baby, Shock and Awe!".  Maybe it is time to get to those parenting classes I have been meaning to attend.  The day was thankfully lowkey and I was able to attend to some domestic matters that our busy social schedule once again had not allowed time for.  I gave the lawn another shaving and caught up on some much needed laundry.  Ole Smokey was supposed to be back for a third go round on the pool wall, but pulled a no show.  I can't say that I am all that disappointed as the house requires a good de-stanking after one of his visits.

I had to sit down this afternoon for a spot of homework.  I haven't done homework in years and am affraid I am a bit rusty.  Hopefully I won't embarass myself at my lesson tomorrow.  If things get too desparate, I have been working on the following . . . "Mon chien mange my homework?"  Ok, that is not exactly perfect French, but that is what the lessons are for, right?  I am looking forward to the lesson tomorrow for a number of reasons.  First, I am certain that the continued practice will pay rich dividends when all is said and done . . . and second, it gives me a little time away from the youngens.  Don't get me wrong . . . I love them dearly, but sometimes I think it would be easier to run screaming into the wood.  A short escape into academia is just the thing to soothe the aching parental soul.

For now, I will look forward to a new day and place my weary head to rest.  And still I wonder, why is a raven like a writing desk?

Day 60

Double Dutch without a rope and the return of Smokey the Maintenance Man.

This was a busy day.  Started early with my wife pulling out of Dodge on another marathon business trip to Budapest.  No worries though, I had to be up early anyway, cause Smokey was gonna return to fix my broken toilet and apparently paint an exterior wall by the pool.  Still not sure the purspose in this, but apparently the landlady had commissioned him for this work, so he would be completing this after he fixed the loo.  Our babysitter was due to arrive not long after Smokey as this would be the morning for my first formal French Lesson.

With children in capable hands and ole Smokey puttering away on the pipes, I jumped the bus for the city center.  The day hadn't quite gotten hot yet, so the bus ride was  not as fragrant as it usually is.  It was quite crowded though.  I had to stand for most of the ride, which isn't necessarily a problem unless you happen to have to stand in the center section where the "accordian" resides.  You have to maintain keen ballance or else you will continually find your but cheek pinched as the bus pitches itself around a tight corner.  With a sore cheek I was glad to see my stop approaching.  A short walk would finish my journey and I would be greeted by some very pleasant folks and wisked to my classroom for my semi-private lesson.  I am supposed to be in group lessons, but they don't start until later in the summer, so in an effort to get me started earlier than that, I will be crashing someone elses private lessons for awhile.  He is a nice Korean gentleman whose kids just started at the same school attended by my lads.  The lesson went well and I was pleased at the amount that I had retained from my self studies with Rosetta Stone.  I was even more pleased by the teaching method as it is already starting to click a bit more in my tired old brain.

The lesson flowed along and our two hours was up in no time.  In fact only one break was given and that was so the Korean fella could partake in a quick Kool King Menthol.  There is probably a funny joke in there somewhere, but I am too tired at the moment to dazzle you with any of remnant of my wit.  Anyhow, there would be no coffee in the Centre Ville this morning because I was on a time schedule.  Our afternoon dance card had already filled and we were expected at the home of one of my youngest's new friends for a short play date. 

My youngest's new friend is a Dutch boy who is the eldest of two.  My two boys and I hopped in the 206, which I was concerned might not start as it had not been driven in quite some time, and made our way to our appointment.  I was concerned that my eldest would be bored stiff with this endeavor as this was really a preschool endeavor and I doubted that he wanted to hang out with us two "moms" while we chatted about childcare and the knitting.  Fortunately, their backyard was equipped with a trampoline and the eldest is never one to shy away from airborne antics.  The three boys played nicely for a bit.  Their youngest is still a toddler and not quite ready for the level of play the other three were capable of.  Unfortunately all good things come to an end and soon the two preschoolers were cross ways of each other.  A wicked trampoline collision started the feud and it sort of escalated from there.  After a few attempts to work things out, I decided not to overstay my welcome and gathered my brood to head back home.  With the exception of a bit of tension caused by competing preschool interests, the afternoon was pleasant and good for all boys involved.  This is our youngest's first "friend" of his own, so we are going to do what we can to foster this growing kinship.

So, at the end of the day, we have added Dutch to our cultural belt.  Very nice folks with a straight forward demeanor.  Very direct in their manner and very open with their opinion.  That was my experience for the day.  I don't want to generalize any culture, but this did seem a sharp contrast to the French way and I left wondering how they felt the fit into their new landscape.  Perhaps as I get to know them better I will simply ask.  So, another fun filled day in the books and I have to say that my ass could use a nap.

Day 59

"Smokey" the Maintenance Man.

We are still in recovery mode from a long weekend away and Monday would be spent trying to get back into the rhythm of things.  Despite my best efforts, I could not remedy the toilet situation, so the agency managing the property for Madam Chabou sent out a handy man to tend to the problem.  He arrived at the appointed hour and was as friendly as the day is long.  Absolutely no English, but we managed.  He is a waif of a man in is 50s I would guess.   Hair slicked back with an unfiltered cloud following him around like Pigpen from the Peanuts.  Not quite menthol, but the smell was unique and like everthing else here, I imagine the tobacco here is a bit more potent that that being produced under the watchful eye of Joe Camel.  He took a look around at the issues that needed tending to and made notes in his handy dandy notebook.  That's a Blue's Clues reference for those of you that don't have small children.  Sputtering around in French and leading me from location to location, it was conveyed that he would be back tomorrow at 8.  By the way, you use the thumb as the first digit when describing numbers with your hands.  Three is the thumb and the first to fingers.  If you use the first three fingers as we do in the States, you are likely to be misunderstood as meaning 4 rather than the intended 3.  Just a little cultural lesson for those that find these things as interesting as I do.

The remainder of the day was quiet and I spent my time trying to rehab the pool water that had taken a turn for the worst in our absence over the weekend.  I am affraid it is going to require a full overhaul and another trip to the store for more chemicals.  I have always wanted a pool at our house, but the constant maintenance is starting to make me think that it isn't such a grand idea.  French lessons start tomorrow, so I am quite certain we will have a whole lot more to discuss once that day is done.  Wish me luck.  Until tomorrow . . .

Day 58

Keeping a "breast" of life on the southwestern coast of France.

The final day of our weekend adventure began with some housekeeping.  We had to clean our room before we vacated.  Was sort of hoping for a discount since we were forced into servitude as part of the resorts housekeeping staff.  No such luck.  Back on the road again, we ran down the coast to check out the beach scene at the famous Biarritz.  It is a very nice beach community with a beautiful coast line.  We hit the beach early and spent some time in the surf before the crowd began to grow.  Soon the beach was filled with sun hungry tourists and locals alike.  It wasn't long before my eldest received a lovely lesson in the female anatomy.  Tops are quite optional for the ladies here and there were boobies everywhere.  The first sighting was startling.  She was probably in her sixties and while she was in fairly good shape for her age, things weren't quite where they used to be.  I thought it odd that she was topless and her husband was in a t-shirt and shorts.  Unfortunately on closer inspection, he was topless as well and what I thought was a black t-shirt was in fact a thick layer of black fur.  The two pranced around in the surf with glee.  A silver back gorilla and his Jane Goodall.  By this time, mom had taken the youngest to the car for a restroom break and had been gone for some time so I gathered the eldest from the water to go check to be sure nothing was a miss.

On our way back up the beach, my 8 year old got to sample in the glories of bare chested ladies of every shape and size.  Big nipples, little nipples, freckle nipples, even hairy nipples . . . don't ask.  I couldn't help but giggle as his eyes darted about trying to take it all in.  I of course kept my eyes straight ahead and didn't see a thing.  That's my story and I am sticking to it.  We soon caught up to my wife and youngest son who were by this time on their way back to the beach.  I explained to my wife that the beach was getting quite crowded and very naked, so we agreed that it was time to head out.

Since we were only 2 hours from home at this point, we decided to have a picnic lunch and make one last stop before home.  Not a half hour from our home is a natural wonder called the Dune de Pilat.  It is an absolutely ginormous Sand Dune right off of the coast at the inlet of small bay.  We decided to hit this tourist mecca in an effort to make up for the early exodus from the beach.  Despite the crowds we made our way to the dune.  It is quite a trek to the top.  Even I found myself out of breath with quads burning in a lactic acid meltdown.  We spent an hour or so playing in the sand and enjoying the cool ocean breeze.  The highlite of the adventure for me was watching my wife drag our fat assed dog up and down the dune for he was in no shape to make the trip under his own power.  I make a lot of fun of this little guy, but he is a wonderfully behaved canine and is usually no trouble at all.  He too experienced many firsts.  A cool shot of the Atlantic on his rear section didn't seem to impress him any and his low undercarriage was no match for the sand trap on the 18th hole.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable weekend.  The opportunity to hit the beach and the mountains is something that only Californians appreciate and we did our best to see it all.  Parts were a success and parts were a failure, but that can be said for any vacation.  We did find some spots to return to and look forward to our next opportunity to get out and about.  It was a much needed distraction from the constant toil that is our everyday existance here in France and our batteries are mildly recharged to get back at it from one more week.  We will lose mom again to business travel for the coming week and I will be back to the single dad scene once more.  My excitement for the week will come in the form of French class which has finally been arranged and will begin this week.  My brother emailed to let me know that these classes would make all the difference and I hope for my sake that he is correct.  He has tread these waters himself in the recent past, so I will trust him and put my all into this education.  Keep your fingers crossed.  If all goes well, perhaps one of these days you will be forced to translate these posts as they will be written entirely in French.  Ok, maybe that is a bit optimistic, but stay tuned . . . I may surprise you.

Day 57

A bright new day in Pantalones du Pyrenees.

We woke early this morning because we needed to head to the market for some soap to wash our now stinking bodies.  The wife ran to the store and I busied myself with getting the young one’s up and around for the day.  It was going to be a big day.  One of the benefits of our location on the western coast of France is the access to the Ocean and to an Amazing mountain chain not two hours from our home.  Day two of our vacation would be held around the alpine village of Lourdes.  We packed up the wagon and headed east.  I had my heart set on the Col du Tourmalet, made quite famous in my mind by some of the most epic days of the Tour De France.  The exploits of one Marco Pantani and the likes of Armstrong and Indurain still resonate in my memory like the ringing of the Liberty Bell.  I was quite keen on walking the ground made famous by little Marco and Big Mig as well as placing my own American stamp on the area like Armstrong had in years gone by.  I would not be disappointed.  The air quality was somewhat poor and the low haze obscured the great mountain chain until we were nearly upon it.  For the majority of the drive, I was certain that this was a great hoax and there were no mountains here at all.  As if lifted by the hand of God, the haze withdrew and before us stood a grand chain of snow cover peaks overlooking the sparsely populated valley below, littered with the shepherds crop and an ocassional vineyard or two.  Dotting the lowland meadows were a series of very charming towns along the winding road leading to my heart’s desire.  The higher we climbed the more charming they became.  The day was already a success in my mind as I reveled over the Herculean effort that one must put forth to make it a fraction of the way along this route by bicycle.  This seemed to be lost on everyone else in the car, but I was in heaven.  I would soon have my spirit dampened a bit as the sign read: Col du Tourmalet (Fermer).  My French is not that good, but I knew that this meant the pass was closed and I would not get to summit this peak as Armstrong had done so many years ago.  Regardless the obstacle, on I drove, determined to go as far as I could until road conditions would prove too much for the Renault to handle.  We would make it just short of the epic climb, but just far enough to feel the power of the mountain.  We pulled off for a bit of hiking to discover that the youngest of our crew had spilled a majority of his apple juice all over his lap and unfortunately we were not equipped with a spare.  With a spring time chill in the mountain air, he was not up for roughing it.  With our heart set on some hiking, we piled back in the Renault and I pitched her back down the switchbacks to the closest town in hopes of finding a new pair of drawers.  In a neat little alpine village, success was had and a pair of Pyrenees pants were firmly around the youngest’s waist.  Back up the mountain we climbed and just short of a turn in the weather we managed to hike half way up the Pic du Midi.  The views were amazing and everyone reveled at the enjoyment of the day.

Not to be overshadowed by the cycling history of the area, the town of Lourdes has a history all its own.  We stopped their for a pee and ended up eating at a nice pizzeria in the shadow of a monument that could not be ignored.  Lourdes Castle’s written history dates back to as early as 778 when Charlemagne laid siege to the fortress that was then occupied by the Saracens, led by their chief, Mirat.  The year 778 is a bit difficult to wrap your head around, but hits a resounding chord the moment your foot plants itself onto the first step of the winding stone stair case leading to the observation tower.  Walking in the footsteps of Kings.  The steps are worn smooth . . . no, not smooth . . . more than smooth.  They are in fact dished from 1000 + years of foot fall.    It was a staggering tour full of history with a telling past.  The most amazing part of the experience was how un-amazing it really is.  This is the history of Europe.  This is quite commonplace.  It is a history longer than we can possibly imagine as Americans.  We are such a young country and have achieved so much in such a short amount of time, it is easy to forget the centuries of war and strife that has molded the face of Europe and the lands further still.  This was to be an exclamation point on a captivating day of adventure.  Soon nestled in our beach side cabin, it was time to call it a day.  We must check out relatively early in the morning, so a trip down to Biarritz to enjoy a bit more time on the beach is the plan.  Did I mention that we have to clean the place before we leave?  No cleaning supplies, so I guess we will be purchasing those as well.  So much for the kids’ college education . . .

Day 56

Up at a reasonable hour, we were soon on the road for a fun filled three day weekend.  We arrived at the little coastal town of Ondres around the noon hour.  Knowing that we could not check into our accomodations until 4 pm, we decided to spend the afternoon at the beach.  The weather is still a bit on the Spring side to play in the water much, but we did manage to wet our feet a bit.  Actually, in the mad retreat from the incoming tide, the youngest of our crew managed to take a header in the surf and wet a whole lot more than his feet.  A quick change of clothes later, we were back in business.  We spent the afternoon building sand castles and playing at the edge of building seas.  To be perfectly honest, the Atlantic coast line is no place for a kid to swim.  The waves crashing at the shore line are unfriendly and would certainly suck a full grown man out to sea if unprepared.  That being said, the afternoon was lovely and we ended up hopping down the coast from town to town, sampling the beach life at each.  Having sufficiently sunburned my bald dome, we headed back to the resort to check in.  Apparently we were just a minute or two late and the office was closed.  A few phone calls were made and an attendant met us at Reception to get us checked in.  Our little cabin was really quite inexpensive, however, we soon found out that the devil is truly in the details.  The intent of this resort is for the the self-serve extended holiday traveler.  The beds are provided without bedding and the bathrooms are not equipped with a single towel.  All these conveniences could be rented . . . at a price.  With our pocket book emptied we were off to our chalet with two towels and one set of bedding.  The advice given at the front desk was to have the children dry the towels with a hair dryer after we had used them.  That still makes me laugh.  Being a sporty lot, we would make do.  Having become quite accustomed to traveling with limited toiletries, it never crossed our mind that a joint that doesn’t provide towels is unlikely to provide miniature bottles of soap and shampoo.  By the time we realized the error in our ways, it was past the hour at which any store would still remain open.  The best that could be accomplished was a hose down in the shower to remove MOST of the sand we had caked in our ass cracks earlier in the afternoon.  It was decided that since the following day was to be a trip to the Pyrenees by car, we had better have a more substantial shower come morning or it was going to be a REALLY long and SMELLY ride.  There is was one feature of our little cabin that would be my favorite and a statement about how much our life has changed in a short month and a half.  Our camping spot was not equipped with linens or towels . . . OR a television set.  What a treat.  A break from the glowing black box!  The funniest part of this was that we hadn’t noticed at all until we were going to bed for the evening.  See, the language barrier has pretty much put a halt to our use of the television all together.  With the exception of video gaming and an occasional Blu Ray brought from the States, the television at home is never used.  This is a GOOD thing and is probably the reason I have been able to maintain my writing as I have.  Quietly tucked into our bunks, we were soon off to sleep.