France Saga - Part II

Sunday, August 6:
The final drive from the hotel to Catherine’s brother’s house in France wasn’t any better, so my mood was less then cheerful upon arrival. It only took about 20 minutes for that to change, though, once I became reacquainted with Catherine’s Parents, brother and sister-in-law (David and Ann, Richard and Nicola). We all had a wonderful meal together and I was quickly reminded why I was so excited to spend this time with them all. Catherine and Jonathan went to our house earlier to unpack and get things in order, but it wasn’t until later that evening that I saw it for the first time. The house is one of many in a complex of holiday homes, all beige stucco with terra cotta roofs and brightly colored shutters, right in the middle of a charming old town called Talmont St. Hilaire, which has an old church whose bell rings out often throughout the day. The house is comfortable, roomy, with a décor that’s a cross between nautical and Mardi Gras, a canopied patio beside the pool and an ample backyard. My room is one of four on the upper floor; one blue, one green, mine, the purple room and one with a locked door. There are two bedrooms downstairs too, which is where everyone except Henry and I sleep. The room he’s in beside mine has an extra bed and the third bedroom has a double bed and a single bed that aren’t even being used. This morning was so pleasant and relaxed, giving me the opportunity to hop on the big round air mattress in my tank top and capris, sprawl out on my back with my feet in the water and float in the pool for a while before the boys had a chance to suit up and jump in; I was absolutely soaking it up as the weather started out beautiful and hot and remained that way throughout the day. The rest of the family joined us in the afternoon and we all sunbathed, swam and chatted amongst ourselves contentedly until they left in the early evening. Before dinner, we gathered the kids in the car so Jonathan and Catherine could take me for a preview of the ocean; what a wonderful day. This evening, as I sat reclined on a beach chair on the deck with a mug of hot chocolate, listening to the crickets and watching the moon become more and more vivid against the backdrop of the darkening sky, I thought of home for a moment to see if I could locate an ounce of longing; I found none.

Monday, August 7:
Last night, just before bed, while reading to Henry (he couldn’t sleep), the sound of fireworks interrupted the hijinks of Horrid Henry (the character) and prompted Catherine to come upstairs to see who was awake to view it. The next 20 minutes was spent sitting on the edge of the couch in my darkened bedroom staring out my wide open window watching an impressive fireworks display, hailing from the ruins of Talmont Castle, between the glowing silhouettes of Catherine and Henry. There was apparently some kind of an annual celebration going on and the sounds of laughter and cheering easily crossed the distance between us. It was quite a moment.

Today we went to Atlantic Toboggan; a water park about an hour and a half from where we’re staying. Unfortunately, though, because of some ridiculous traffic and a few missed turn offs, it took us twice as long to get there. Ah France, the land of traffic circles. My eyes were burning all day, but not from the sun, from the minion’s of Speedo wedgies I was forced to lay my eyes on; Richard included. Most of the men wear them, but if you ask me: fit or fat, smooth or hairy, it’s just not attractive. My message to all European men: just because women like to accentuate their bits doesn’t mean you have to.

Another lovely evening: dinner on the patio with Ann and David, tea and cake for dessert while the boys ran around the backyard playing, and reading My Utmost For His Highest with my hot chocolate underneath an outdoor light as the moon did not provide sufficient illumination. I’m truly ashamed of myself for feeling even a moment of self-pity at not being able to go to Osoyoos this year with my family. Just like I did in Africa, I’ve had to remind myself bi-hourly that I’m actually here. Don’t get me wrong, I love it in Osoyoos and I wouldn’t trade the time I’ve spent there for anything, but let me tell you, after 24 years of having "holidays" be characterized by a tent and public toilets, I could really get used to this.