Je suis arrivee!

Oh, it's beautiful here. I took the train down from Paris yesterday afternoon. The Paris -Toulouse line isn't a TGV. I didn't quite understand the explanation, but my girlfriend told me it had something to do with the airlines not wanting a TGV route to interfere with their lucrative aviation traffic into Toulouse. Because AirBus is located there, Toulouse is the French city has the most flights in and out, other than Paris.

To take away some of our pain, the SNCF has put some fancy trains on our line. They're called Corail. The interiors are chic and modern, tastefully upholstered and painted in a pale yellow and light beige scheme. The chairs are quite fancy, and high-tech in that they have electric controls, large pull out tables, cup holders (they're following the American car model), and a little shelf you can pull down to hold your books or papers while you work.

I mourn the passing of, and I'll miss the old six passenger compartments, the ones you always see in the old movies. Another piece of romantic France disappears.

But other than that big disappointment, I enjoyed my ride down in the gray March afternoon and evening. The ride was even more interesting than usual because the leaves are off the trees and I could see chateax and old castles and quaint cottages that are hidden from view when the trees are leafy.

I caught the 7:15 bus from the train station. All the passengers were teenagers. The bus driver was a maniac, driving 90 plus kilometers, in the dark on very narrow roads. I've never done it before, but in the future, I'm going to have my visitors who come in on the train catch this bus . . . it will be a wild thrill for them. There's a one lane bridge that the bus has to thread. Other bus drivers I've ridden with stop to line up the bus so they won't hit the stone walls of the bridge. This guy didn't slow down a bit and miraculously barrelled onto the bridge and off of it without a scratch.

I exited the bus in the town that's five kilometers from my farm. I walked to the pizza place, ordered a pizza to take out, chatted with the owner, and he called a taxi for me. The taxi driver was very friendly, even though we probably interrupted his dinner. The two of us talked about the sad state of American politics. He charged me 5 Euros. I tried to tip him, but he refused!

I'm not renting a car this trip. I'm only here for two weeks, and I don't really need one because I have so much work to do here at the house that I don't need the diversion of a car. I had ambitious visions of riding my bike into town to purchase the few things I'll need during my trip, but today, I sent the caretaker.

I spent the morning clipping a hedge while the sheep clipped the grass near me. They were happy to see me, and even Soixante-Douze let me pet her.

My neighbor Francine walked through this morning with a friend of her's. She's leaving tomorrow for a two week hiking trip through the Jura. http://www.monts-jura.com/uk/ete-galeriephotos.html Francine said she'll come by this afternoon to chat. Although she already knows all of my news because she had spoken with our mutual friend Marylen in Paris who I had called on Saturday.

Roger is coming over after his lunch to discuss the flooding problem.

I'll try and take some photos this afternoon, and post them later.

Oh, I arrived just in the nick of time. Today is Jeudi Noir, Black Thursday. The trains and the government employees are on strike . . . and someone told me that Air France isn't working as well, although I haven't confirmed that. Probably the air traffic controllers are on strike and preventing aviation traffic.

While I was waiting for my pizza, the news report was airing video of angry VINTNERS protesting in the streets and being tear gassed. The restaurant owner didn't understand what was going on, I certainly couldn't understand, and when I asked Roger today, a vintner who has been know to take to the streets in protest, he didn't know either. But it was the strangest sight to see well-dressed middle-aged people getting tear gassed!

I love the frequency with which the French protest in the streets. They don't just accept the way things are. They take to the streets. If you want to see real, vibrant democracy, you have to see the French version in action.