Holidays
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
A day in Granville
We've been having an absolute blast on our trip so far (not that anything less is expected from such amazing hosts). Today, we went into Granville, had a galette lunch, enjoyed the two hours of sun, visited Christian Dior's house and spent the evening at home with drinks and games and drinking games. I love vacation! Needless to say, I'm not giving up anymore of my vacay time to write a post, so my go at NaBloPoMo will have to be satisfied with a picture post. Enjoy!
Gui waiting to head out in the rain.
The hearth with bacon & steaks grilling - where we stopped for lunch.
The hearth with bacon & steaks grilling - where we stopped for lunch.
Redefining holidays
I'm discovering during this first year of living abroad, that the holidays and how they are or aren't celebrated here will contribute to the most difficult part of my transition. Halloween has never been my favorite holiday, and it's not one that I think I'll miss celebrating, yet it feels somewhat odd for a year to pass without carving a pumpkin and handing out candy to eager trick-or-treaters. It's cool to see all the costumes that my friends and family back home donned for the holiday, but I can't say that I was overly nostalgic over missing out on the typical festivities. Maybe it's because costume parties are a little more of the norm here (well, in our circle of friends, anyway), or perhaps I simply don't appreciate the fun in dressing up in costume as much as I did when I was younger.
As a kid, I can't recall if I loved dressing up for Halloween, but I do remember that I loved to pretend I was a witch - specifically, the wicked witch of the West. Blame it on my mom's (and consequently, my) obsession with the Wizard of Oz, which I can still recite verbatim from beginning to end. I think I always felt like I resembled the green-faced, black-haired villain, who many of us now endearingly call Elphaba. I've never felt so comfortable in pretending to be someone else as I did when I was a witch. Reflecting on this now makes me wonder if there's an underlying psychological reason for that. Hmmm.
This Halloween, there wasn't a witch in sight. In fact, besides a few random youngsters dressed as zombies and dead clowns, hardly anyone seemed to notice it was Halloween night. (Did I just use the word youngsters?!) I didn't even see one packet of fun-size M&Ms, Skittles or Tootsie-pops. Instead of handing out candy to ghosts and ballerinas, Emily and I caught an early evening showing of Mamma Mia, which I happened to score free tickets to from Gui's dad. It was such a great movie. Normally, I cringe during musicals; everything's so happy and smiley and terribly contrived. Call me uncultured, but there's something that makes me feel awkward when I'm watching a movie and the cast bursts out in song and dance mid-sentence. But, this movie really changed my mind about all that. After the first episode of random song and dance, an overwhelming feeling of happiness came over me and I started singing along. I knew about half of the songs they sang and after the movie ended, Emily and I were talking about downloading the soundtrack (or digging up mom's old Abba albums). It's one of those movies that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and I highly recommend seeing it if you haven't.
We ended the night discussing the next un-celebrated holiday (Thanksgiving) over frozen margaritas and a delicious platter of fried, Tex-Mex finger-foods. Unlike Halloween, Thanksgiving is a holiday that, for me, I expect will be difficult to replicate or forget. The one year I spent Thanksgiving away from home, I found some comfort in familiar foods at the Texas Embassy, but the rest of the year still felt slightly askew. That November holiday is the one day when I can expect to see cousins, aunts, uncles and friends that I otherwise rarely see during the course of the year. My dad has nine siblings and my mom, eight, so seeing all of my extended family is nearly an impossible task. Thanksgiving is usually the day when my relatives near and far get together to reminisce over one crazy big meal. Not everyone shows up, but I find that each year I see someone I haven't seen in ages, and catching up on the time in between is what Thanksgiving is all about for me.
This year, although I don't expect to see any long-lost family members, I'm looking forward to celebrating the holiday like I never have before, and that makes me super excited. I feel like it's time for me to start new traditions with my family and friends here, all of who I'm grateful to know and spend time with. This year, Gui and I decided to host Thanksgiving dinner chez nous, so I'm a little worried about how everything will turn out (man, I hope I don't burn the turkey). But I guess new traditions have to start somewhere...
As a kid, I can't recall if I loved dressing up for Halloween, but I do remember that I loved to pretend I was a witch - specifically, the wicked witch of the West. Blame it on my mom's (and consequently, my) obsession with the Wizard of Oz, which I can still recite verbatim from beginning to end. I think I always felt like I resembled the green-faced, black-haired villain, who many of us now endearingly call Elphaba. I've never felt so comfortable in pretending to be someone else as I did when I was a witch. Reflecting on this now makes me wonder if there's an underlying psychological reason for that. Hmmm.
This Halloween, there wasn't a witch in sight. In fact, besides a few random youngsters dressed as zombies and dead clowns, hardly anyone seemed to notice it was Halloween night. (Did I just use the word youngsters?!) I didn't even see one packet of fun-size M&Ms, Skittles or Tootsie-pops. Instead of handing out candy to ghosts and ballerinas, Emily and I caught an early evening showing of Mamma Mia, which I happened to score free tickets to from Gui's dad. It was such a great movie. Normally, I cringe during musicals; everything's so happy and smiley and terribly contrived. Call me uncultured, but there's something that makes me feel awkward when I'm watching a movie and the cast bursts out in song and dance mid-sentence. But, this movie really changed my mind about all that. After the first episode of random song and dance, an overwhelming feeling of happiness came over me and I started singing along. I knew about half of the songs they sang and after the movie ended, Emily and I were talking about downloading the soundtrack (or digging up mom's old Abba albums). It's one of those movies that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and I highly recommend seeing it if you haven't.
We ended the night discussing the next un-celebrated holiday (Thanksgiving) over frozen margaritas and a delicious platter of fried, Tex-Mex finger-foods. Unlike Halloween, Thanksgiving is a holiday that, for me, I expect will be difficult to replicate or forget. The one year I spent Thanksgiving away from home, I found some comfort in familiar foods at the Texas Embassy, but the rest of the year still felt slightly askew. That November holiday is the one day when I can expect to see cousins, aunts, uncles and friends that I otherwise rarely see during the course of the year. My dad has nine siblings and my mom, eight, so seeing all of my extended family is nearly an impossible task. Thanksgiving is usually the day when my relatives near and far get together to reminisce over one crazy big meal. Not everyone shows up, but I find that each year I see someone I haven't seen in ages, and catching up on the time in between is what Thanksgiving is all about for me.
This year, although I don't expect to see any long-lost family members, I'm looking forward to celebrating the holiday like I never have before, and that makes me super excited. I feel like it's time for me to start new traditions with my family and friends here, all of who I'm grateful to know and spend time with. This year, Gui and I decided to host Thanksgiving dinner chez nous, so I'm a little worried about how everything will turn out (man, I hope I don't burn the turkey). But I guess new traditions have to start somewhere...
The stuffed jalapeños reminded me of the ones from Sonic (delish) and the onion rings were surprisingly good!
Gone country
La Rentrée is in full swing and Parisians are abandoning the sand, sun and holiday homes and flocking back to their 20-meters-squared flats in the city. Gui's mom returned Sunday from her few weeks spent on the beaches of Deauville and Normandy, and since we weren't able to meet her at the beach, we decided to spend a day together at her late father's home in the village of Marcq.
Marcq has less than 600 inhabitants and is considered "the country" by city folk, yet it's literally a 20-25 minute car ride from our apartment in the south of Paris. Gui and I spent Christmas day there, and it's where I learned just how much food my stomach could handle in one sitting (I stopped after eating my 6th course). The property that Gui's family owns there is currently for sale, as they're looking to buy property in a more popular place closer to the beach. It's a shame because Les Trois Granges, as the property is called, is really spectacular, especially in the summer. It's comprised of three separate buildings - one main house, a guest house and another completely gutted guest house that once served as Gui's grandfather's workshop. There's also a fairly large garage and enormous carport on the property, but the most striking asset, in my opinion, is the land itself. It's full of gorgeous flower gardens, brilliant green grass, charming stone arches, and a variety of fruit trees. Guillaume and his cousin Ben even have their own trees that they used to hang out in when they'd visit their grandpa as young, nature-loving boys. In one part of the land, there's a scarcely-tended garden that once boasted hearty tomatoes, zucchini, carrots, raspberries, and fresh herbs like lavender, rosemary and sage. There's something very nostalgic about the place. It's rustic, but not in a trendy way; it's grand, but not grandiose; it's mystical, not unlike The Secret Garden.
Being there during Summer was totally different from my first visit in December when we mostly stayed indoors, keeping warm by the chimney and staying drunk on fois gras and champagne. The garden really beckons in the summer sun, tantalizing the nature-loving spirit in even the most stubborn, city-loving folk. It was both a sentimental and exhilarating endeavor uncovering the treasures in the garden and behind the cobwebs of the lifeless buildings. I felt like Guillaume must have felt when he was a kid stumbling upon the tools in his grandfather's workshop imagining himself one day old enough to have his own workshop and tools - except my imagination was envisioning a massive garden and a small farm.
While we were there, a family stopped by unannounced to take a peak at the estate, but were asked to arrange a proper rendezvous before visiting. We were all relaxing after a late summer lunch, and apparently, impromptu visits are less than welcome, especially during August. I felt a twinge of guilty relief that they weren't allowed past the gates to be enchanted by its picturesque beauty, wishing that the place could stay "ours" just a little while longer.
When we finally made our way back to reality, I shared with Gui my newfound interest in living outside of a big city, in a more rural setting someday. I've always been a city girl, but more recently he's heard me gab about owning a garden and living off of our own, seasonally-grown fruits and vegetables, and he understands my appreciation for horticulture. But, the moment I mentioned owning a small hen house, he made it clear that that was where he drew the line. He has no desire to be a farmer, to own any more animals than a cat or dog, or to labor on a farm under a beating sun. I suppose my ideas for a home on the range are going a bit too far, but I guess the part of me that misses the green grass and wide-open spaces of living in Texas is longing for my own piece of earth to harvest and tend. As electrifying as Paris may be, it pales in comparison to the dazzling scape of the countryside and all the possibilities that it brings. Although we don't have set plans on how long we intend to stay in Paris, the Texan in me is optimistic that we'll find ourselves a little closer to my roots wherever we land next - even if that means an apartment with a simple garden.
Marcq has less than 600 inhabitants and is considered "the country" by city folk, yet it's literally a 20-25 minute car ride from our apartment in the south of Paris. Gui and I spent Christmas day there, and it's where I learned just how much food my stomach could handle in one sitting (I stopped after eating my 6th course). The property that Gui's family owns there is currently for sale, as they're looking to buy property in a more popular place closer to the beach. It's a shame because Les Trois Granges, as the property is called, is really spectacular, especially in the summer. It's comprised of three separate buildings - one main house, a guest house and another completely gutted guest house that once served as Gui's grandfather's workshop. There's also a fairly large garage and enormous carport on the property, but the most striking asset, in my opinion, is the land itself. It's full of gorgeous flower gardens, brilliant green grass, charming stone arches, and a variety of fruit trees. Guillaume and his cousin Ben even have their own trees that they used to hang out in when they'd visit their grandpa as young, nature-loving boys. In one part of the land, there's a scarcely-tended garden that once boasted hearty tomatoes, zucchini, carrots, raspberries, and fresh herbs like lavender, rosemary and sage. There's something very nostalgic about the place. It's rustic, but not in a trendy way; it's grand, but not grandiose; it's mystical, not unlike The Secret Garden.
Being there during Summer was totally different from my first visit in December when we mostly stayed indoors, keeping warm by the chimney and staying drunk on fois gras and champagne. The garden really beckons in the summer sun, tantalizing the nature-loving spirit in even the most stubborn, city-loving folk. It was both a sentimental and exhilarating endeavor uncovering the treasures in the garden and behind the cobwebs of the lifeless buildings. I felt like Guillaume must have felt when he was a kid stumbling upon the tools in his grandfather's workshop imagining himself one day old enough to have his own workshop and tools - except my imagination was envisioning a massive garden and a small farm.
While we were there, a family stopped by unannounced to take a peak at the estate, but were asked to arrange a proper rendezvous before visiting. We were all relaxing after a late summer lunch, and apparently, impromptu visits are less than welcome, especially during August. I felt a twinge of guilty relief that they weren't allowed past the gates to be enchanted by its picturesque beauty, wishing that the place could stay "ours" just a little while longer.
When we finally made our way back to reality, I shared with Gui my newfound interest in living outside of a big city, in a more rural setting someday. I've always been a city girl, but more recently he's heard me gab about owning a garden and living off of our own, seasonally-grown fruits and vegetables, and he understands my appreciation for horticulture. But, the moment I mentioned owning a small hen house, he made it clear that that was where he drew the line. He has no desire to be a farmer, to own any more animals than a cat or dog, or to labor on a farm under a beating sun. I suppose my ideas for a home on the range are going a bit too far, but I guess the part of me that misses the green grass and wide-open spaces of living in Texas is longing for my own piece of earth to harvest and tend. As electrifying as Paris may be, it pales in comparison to the dazzling scape of the countryside and all the possibilities that it brings. Although we don't have set plans on how long we intend to stay in Paris, the Texan in me is optimistic that we'll find ourselves a little closer to my roots wherever we land next - even if that means an apartment with a simple garden.
Pictures from our visit in Marcq. Enjoy!
Lovely La Rochelle
La Rochelle was great! The forecast called for rain and clouds for the wedding day, so we were all genuinely surprised that the weather was picture perfect all day. It wasn't until evening that we finally got rain, but by that time we were all too schnockered and full of lovey-doveyness to even care. Plus, we were indoors - dancing like 8th-graders at a homecoming dance (or maybe that was just me and Gui).
Being the first full-on French wedding for me, the classy guests didn't let me down and everyone showed up looking glamorous as ever. Hats were in full-force and it was chignon galore for the rest of the ladies. Thanks to my lovelies back home, I fit right in with the chic femmes as I donned the head-turning feather hat they made me for my bachelorette party. The bride's mom even gave me a compliment on my hair accessory! Gui and I also got a little more wear out of our pricey wedding shoes, which I can't believe I managed to wear again for nearly 12 hours without pain! It felt empowering to strut around in a pair of 4-inchers again - something I miss doing, but will likely never be brave enough to do in Paris.
The food, champagne, cake, wedding gown, views, beach, guests, entertainment and FOOD were just superb. I ate every bite of my five-course meal and drank every glass of wine and champagne I was given - except for that one that the waiter took away while I was in the bathroom. Grrrrr. And we gorged on moules-frites, nutella crepes and Schtroumpf (Smurf) ice cream as our hangover food the next day, after a long day of lounging in the garden and at the beach. I wish we could've stayed longer, but the weather turned gloomy just as we left on Saturday, so we figured it was a sign.
I took pictures of everything - it was all so beautiful!! But, I'll spare you the 25o-picture slide show and just show you a few highlights of our trip. Enjoy!
Being the first full-on French wedding for me, the classy guests didn't let me down and everyone showed up looking glamorous as ever. Hats were in full-force and it was chignon galore for the rest of the ladies. Thanks to my lovelies back home, I fit right in with the chic femmes as I donned the head-turning feather hat they made me for my bachelorette party. The bride's mom even gave me a compliment on my hair accessory! Gui and I also got a little more wear out of our pricey wedding shoes, which I can't believe I managed to wear again for nearly 12 hours without pain! It felt empowering to strut around in a pair of 4-inchers again - something I miss doing, but will likely never be brave enough to do in Paris.
The food, champagne, cake, wedding gown, views, beach, guests, entertainment and FOOD were just superb. I ate every bite of my five-course meal and drank every glass of wine and champagne I was given - except for that one that the waiter took away while I was in the bathroom. Grrrrr. And we gorged on moules-frites, nutella crepes and Schtroumpf (Smurf) ice cream as our hangover food the next day, after a long day of lounging in the garden and at the beach. I wish we could've stayed longer, but the weather turned gloomy just as we left on Saturday, so we figured it was a sign.
I took pictures of everything - it was all so beautiful!! But, I'll spare you the 25o-picture slide show and just show you a few highlights of our trip. Enjoy!
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