August in Paris

I'm heading off this morning for Paris. I won't be posting again until Friday. My son flies out of Charles de Gaulle Airport on Thursday, so we're going to drive up today, and spend tomorrow visiting the Musee d'Orsay and the Picasso Museum. August in Paris isn't the most desirable time to visit the city. It's mostly deserted by the French who are vacationing now so the city will seem more touristy than usual. Normally, it is miserably hot in Paris in August, but blessedly, the weather report is predicting rain and cool temperatures.

My son went around and said good-bye to the neighbors. They gave him going away drinks at all his stops. Monsieur Besse gave him some "fire water."

I changed the water in Blanche's basin. The gate has been secured so she can't open it. The rabbit is loaded up with three days of provisions. The neighbors have been alerted to keep an eye on the place. We'll take off about nine, with the intention of arriving early enough to avoid the rush hour traffic on the dreaded Periphique.

I went to a going-away aperitif for the retired mayor of our little town. He sold his house, a very old one with a tower and a magnificent view of the valley. A French couple from Paris bought it and everyone is very happy that they are going to be moving here permanently. The thing the locals hate more than strangers moving into the area, is when someone buys a home here and only uses it for a vacation home. They would much prefer that people live here all year round, even if they are foreigners. Personally, I was very happy to hear that a real-live French couple is moving in to the house. Hopefully, their gorgeous view won't be destroyed by the rumored four-lane highway and big bridge that would also cut through the valley they look out on.

The entire village and the residents of the commune showed up for the party. The current mayor is supposedly gay, but no one has seen his boyfriend whom it is rumored never leaves the house, which leads me to believe that he doesn't exist. The current mayor gave a small introductory speech, and then turned over the proceedings to a retired philosophy professor from the University of Toulouse. This guy went on for an hour, literally lecturing the impatient crowd who was impatient to eat the food they could see piled up behind the man and his podium. He paced the room as a professor does. He itemized lists and I had the strong urge to whip out a notebook and take notes. People started walking out, and still the lecturer didn't get the idea that no one wanted to listen to him droning on. A man standing behind the podium took a few sheets of the the professor's notes when he had walked into the crowd to make his points. I couldn't stop giggling at how funny the entire episode was. My friend Pierre-Yves, who walked out said, "That man will use eighty words if it only takes three."

At the party, I met a British couple who just got married after living together for thirty years. They knew about me because they have seen me pass their house with the sheep. They were adamant that the next time I walk by, I stop in for tea.

Our neighbor's son is a violin maker, and he made a very beautiful plaque for the old mayor that had the scroll of a violin attached and the name of the town carved in the wood, to commemorate the cello concerts that our little village is now famous for in the area. The local vintners each donated a bottle of their best wine, and Monsieur Burc, our neighbor who is an artisan carpenter, built a large beautiful wooden box for the wine.

I talked to Horatio Alger who lives on my road, and has farm land that borders it. His son's house is built exactly on the edge of our road. I asked him if he had heard anything about a plan to build a four-lane road through our valley, and he said that wasn't going to happen. They might widen the road a bit, if at all, but they weren't going to put in a large road. I felt a little bit relieved assuming that he would know better than anyone what the situation truly was.

Surprisingly to me, my husband didn't seem to be upset about any road expansion coming through when I told him what Monsieur Besse had told me.

I'm going to start boycotting freeways. It won't make an iota of difference in the world if I do, but I don't want to support such an evil that destroys people's homes and properties.

I'm also going to keep my eye out for an isolated property that isn't near any road . . . of course that doesn't guarantee that they won't confiscate that for a freeway either. I guess there's really no place in the Western world to escape from the invasion of "civilization." The France I wanted to live in started dying twenty years ago. Sadly, I'm searching for something which doesn't exist anymore.