A French Day

Yesterday afternoon, I went into our village to buy a gift for a housewarming party and I was presented with a pleasant treat: a wedding party exiting from the mayor's office.

The French government does not accept religious ceremonies as binding legal contracts, so couples must be married by the mayor.

If the couple is religious, they'll have a ceremony following the mayor's official ceremony.

I parked the car near the mayor's office, not knowing that a wedding was taking place, and then walked behind the smartly dressed, assembled crowd that was waiting for the couple to exit the mayor's office. Women were wearing beautiful, brightly colored, large hats and trim suits. The men were attired in tuxedos with gray vests. Everyone looked so good, and had such impeccable fashion sense that for a moment I thought the assemblage was a photo shoot for a wedding magazine.

The shop owners came out and stood in front of their doors to watch. The pedestrians stopped in their tracks to await the bride and groom's exit. I stood with the uninvited contingency.

When the couple walked out the door of the mayor's office and glided down the stairs, the invited guests and all of us on-lookers erupted in joyful applause.

The invited guests broke out in song. We voyeurs smiled broadly.

I'm happy to report that village life, in the truest sense, where the community shares in the happiness and sadness of its members, still exists in France.

In the evening, a college friend of mine, took my family out to a superb dinner at an old beautiful castle.

I had a great day yesterday . . . and to top it all off, one of my hens presented me with a huge, perfect egg.

It's funny that just as I wrote about my days in France do not resemble in the least my former fantasy ideas about French life, I ended up experiencing a day that met all those fantasies!

Quaint village life, fresh eggs from my hens, eating dinner in a magnificent castle. I'm happy to report that Fantasy France still exists.