Saying Goodbye to our Special Place

We all have that special place— “our happy place” as I’ve seen it referred to in scrap books and TV commercials. It’s a place where our kids are free to be themselves, to run around with abandon because their friends aren’t watching. A place I don’t wear makeup because my friends aren’t watching. We all have these places where we’ve made great memories for our families. The kids stay up late playing cards or eating ice cream. We watch movies in bed. We wake up late and stay on the porch too long. 

Maybe it’s because we’re on vacation and left the day-to-day back at home- the rushing around and the housework; the “should dos” instead of the “can dos.” Maybe it’s because the place is full of other people on vacation and everyone is in a good mood— a spending mood, a laughing mood.

Where would we be without these places? We all need to recharge. We need to find a place that is just enough “other” that we can encounter the extraordinary in ourselves and our families. Siblings play with each other and spouses hold hands. It’s just that perfect place and it’s ours for a week or two, or maybe a weekend, or maybe the summer.

I was feeling indulgent to come to our place for six weeks, even doubting if I could find enough to do— learn enough, see enough and explore enough. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I felt like I had to justify this big trip and this long vacation. With such a big investment of time and money, I put pressure on myself to demonstrate some returns— improved French, better manners, seasoned travelers. When Taylor arrived, I set aside the agenda and planned a family vacation for the week that he was here. 

We did all of those things we always do on family vacations. When he left, the boys and I just stayed in vacation mode. We went on side trips and spoke French. But in letting go of my desire (my worry?) to find enough to do, I could just be in this special place.  I remembered that these places have their own magic because of the shared experiences of a family, whether we’re learning or seeing or exploring, we are being — together.

As I pack up the swimsuits (and the macarons, and the tuna belly, and the olives), I realize that this special place always comes through for us: it gives us confidence and freedom, it helps us find what we love in each other and it brings out the best in us. 

Old Time Religion?

When we’re in France, we’re Catholic. I don’t want to give up on attending church just because we’re in a foreign country; plus, Catholicism was a huge component of French identity, and still influences everything. 

Amazing artwork in Biot church

Culturally this country is so Catholic that they still believe it’s inappropriate to cut bread at the dinner table— a custom explained to me as symbolic of the eucharist. Even though most French abandoned their organized religion decades ago, we are very much in a Catholic country. So it’s important to experience the Catholic church service as part of life in France.

Of course, we’re not Catholic; we’re Episcopalian. Until a few years ago, we could just attend an Anglican church. But Taylor and I have taught our children that the love of God is so big that it includes enough love for everyone; and that’s a lesson that not all of our Anglican friends have caught on to. In fact, they’ve put us Episcopalians in time out. The Roman Catholics believe that non-Catholics can’t share in their sacraments, but without offending my Catholic friends, I think that’s their problem, not mine. Catholic it is then.

During our first week here, I spotted a sign advertising the Festival of the Virgin Mary of Good Ports- she protects the area ports, sailors and fishermen. The picture showed a big Virgin Mary hoisted up on a platform being carried through the streets of town by barefoot men. How many travel shows have featured one of these processions? I’ve even seen them in James Bond movies— we gotta check it out! 

Now perhaps some of yo remember the “How much Suffering can one Family Endure” post from 2014. Here I go dragging my kids to another crazy religious service where they don’t understand a word and can’t really tell what’s going on. They are probably going to end up in a religious cult one day because I’ve normalized the idea of joining in on religious ceremonies even when you have no idea what’s going on (spoiler alert- no Koolaid was served). 

It was Saturday night and we met in front of the Cathedral. A service was already going on inside so we waited outside. I still wasn’t sure what the procession was all about, but I was disappointed to learn that the Virgin was an early riser (and I am not). Tonight’s parade was to be led by a cross and a small band. She would make her appearance at 6:30 the next morning for a procession from the top of the lighthouse hill all the way down the Chemin de la Croix (of 2014 fame) and then down to the Cathedral. Alas, we’d have to settle for the cross. After a bunch of waiting around, no one looked like they were in charge; then a priest came up on a moto, robes a-flappin, parked and walked over. I guess he was late. 

Let's get this party started...

Following these guys down the streets of Antibes to the Port.

I took a bunch of pictures as we walked along through the streets from the Cathedral to the port, cars honking and people coming to look at us. I couldn’t help wondering if all of the tourists were looking at us and thinking about what good (weird) French Catholics we were to be spending our Saturday night marching in a procession. As I was taking pictures, Cooper really seemed to be getting into the solemnity of it all. Either that or he wanted the pictures to look very authentic.

When we got to the place overlooking the Gravette Beach, there was a pile of wood with a tree stuck in it. The boat; I guess the tree was the mast. I couldn’t help wondering if this was like the University of Miami homecoming— there’s a legend about which side the mast falls on it, but I think I always get it backwards. Anyway, there were some songs sung and prayers said. My boys were all well behaved and I think the older church-going French ladies looked on with approval. 

We went to mass about a week later and I thought I would help the kids follow along and learn some French prayers, so I downloaded French catholic prayers. They weren’t in order, so I had to skip around on my phone a bunch during service. I am not sure what the other church goers thought of the mom staring at her phone for the whole service, but I can only imagine. I asked the boys what they thought and Samuel said-‘mom, it doesn’t matter if you understand what’s going on in a French church because there’s always plenty to look at.” To which Cooper added- “yeah mom, I don’t know what’s going on at church at home, so it’s kind of like the same thing.” Bennett complained about French church about the same amount that he complains about our church. 

I have to say they were better behaved in French church; I think it was because they were so confused, they were just listening intently for some familiar words.

Waiting for mass to start- my good little (fake) catholics

The next Sunday, I decided to download the words to the ENTIRE mass in French. Awesome. In order, easy to follow. We got to church on time, got leaflets with the hymns and grabbed the readings in French and English. Ready to go— no surprises this time. Again, I would be staring down at my phone a lot, but at least we would have all of the words in front of us so we could follow along. Yeah- there was a Baptism. We were screwed.

OK, so it wasn’t all in order, but Cooper said he thought it was pretty special to see a Baptism. Bennett thought it went exactly the same, only they used less water. They are very good at reducing their consumption in France, so it was logical that they would use some conservation even for a sacrament. 

Cooper was disappointed both times that no wine was given to the congregation; only the priests got wine with Eucharist. I thought that was pretty weird considering that wine is cheaper and more plentiful here; but it has nothing to do with that. Apparently that’s the way they do it here.

All and all, pretending to be Catholic isn’t too bad. I sort of think the French Catholic church needs a little Carrie Short. Many of the churches are in serious disrepair and a lot of them frankly need a good cleaning.  I can’t get over the sad state of many of the churches we visit. Even the Cathedral in Antibes needs a lot of TLC. 

I could name a dozen historic chapels and churches where the walls were literally crumbling and artwork has been repaired with tape. The Chapel in Moustiers-Saint Marie is a French heritage site and gets thousands of visitors a year; but apparently still has problems raising money for the upkeep. I’m sure it’s not cheap to maintain a 600 year old building. 

Keeping things dark in Moustiers-Saint Marie so you can't see how the walls are crumbling

Church membership continues to decline here and tourists alone can’t pay to maintain church buildings. Of course it is sad to see congregations fold, but also very sad to see the churches fall into disrepair or be repurposed. 

I think it must be hard to support your country’s zealous commitment to separation of church and state while watching examples of your cultural heritage disintegrate in your own community.

Faux marble is crumbling in this church in Eze

I hope next time I’m here pretending to be “one of them,” the Catholic church has found some way to restore its appeal in French culture and not simply as historical markers.

If you (Give a Mouse a) Road Trip...

If you go on a little road trip to have fun, you'll have to cross over some mountains. To get to the mountains, you'll probably need to navigate some roundabouts. The roundabouts will get so confusing that you might get lost. A couple of times. When you get lost, you'll probably need to take a few u-turns. The u-turns will be difficult because you are in the middle of nowhere. Being in the middle of nowhere will upset your kids. When your kids get upset, they’ll start crying. When the kids cry, it will piss you off. You might start to yell. 

When you yell, you’ll have to remind yourself that you are on vacation. So you start joking around to make everyone happy again.  When you joke around, you may stop paying attention to how many kilometers you've traveled. You're probably going to get lost again, which means you need to take some more u-turns. 

When you take more u-turns, one of your kids will probably get car sick. That will make you think about that beach towel you packed in case someone gets car sick. You'll probably start thinking about how smart you are to bring a beach towel to the mountains. Just when you’re thinking about how smart you are, you’ll probably notice that you're not in the mountains. You're still lost. You may even have to drive the wrong way down a one way street. 

Going the wrong way down the street will make you feel like a stupid American in a Chevy Chase movie. You may start to laugh. Laughing will make you have to pee, so you’ll look for a public bathroom. Because you are in France, you're not going to find a public bathroom. So you’ll go to a parimutuel bar to use the bathroom. When you go to a bar to use the bathroom, you have to buy a Coke. For everyone. 

The Coke will make the car sick child feel better. Until you get to the mountains. When you approach the mountains, your going to have to take some hairpin turns. You'll start turning. And turning. The car sick child will probably need to puke into the beach towel. When he pukes in the beach towel, you might not think buying him a Coke was a good idea. You'll start doubting your choices. 

When you doubt your choices, you may express doubt to your spouse. When you express doubt to your spouse, your children will smell your uncertainty. They'll start bitching and questioning why we are going to the mountains to mountain bike when they don't even mountain bike. You might start to worry even more. You’ll worry until you cross the mountain pass with a view of the natural gorges and lake. The view of the lake will make everyone feel better.  

The lake will remind the kids that they like to swim. They’re probably going to ask you for their swimsuits. When you remember that you packed the bathing suits, you’ll also realize that there's only one beach towel-- and it's covered in Coke puke. Thinking about the beach towel will remind you that you’re going mountain biking, not the beach. 

You’ll start looking for the mountain biking place. And you’ll get lost. Getting lost will remind your kids that this sucks and so does mountain biking. You’ll probably start to worry again. Worrying will upset your husband who navigates you to a little town. Seeing the little town will remind the kids that they don’t want to go mountain biking anyway; and you’ll insist on buying a map. Buying a map will probably give your husband just enough time alone in the car to find your way on the GPS. You’ll start driving. 

When you stop driving, you’ll be greeted by a messy looking caretaker. The caretaker will make you think you made another bad decision. You may start worrying again. Worrying will remind you that you’re hungry. You’ll ask the caretaker guy for time to have a picnic. He’ll look at his watch. When he looks at his watch, he’s going to tell you that you’re over an hour late. You’ll have to eat quickly. 

After a quick lunch, you’ll be ready for the mountain biking. When you see the caretaker guy, he’s changed into his biking outfit. He’s probably going to be your guide. He’ll start teaching you how to mountain bike. In French. 

When you mountain bike in France, you’re probably going to see some lavender fields. And they’re beautiful. The beautiful lavender fields will remind you that even if you don’t love mountain biking, this is a cool way to see the sites up close. You may even see the mountains and gorges from the trail. Being on the trail will remind you that you don’t know how to ride a mountain bike off road. You might get a little scared. Being scared will be fun for the kids. They’ll probably have a great time and not want the mountain bike tour to end. But it does end. 

When it ends, you’ll start driving to your hotel. You won’t get lost. Seeing the hotel will make the kids ask to jump in the pool. They’re going to need their bathing suits. When you get their bathing suits, you’ll see the Coke puke beach towel. You'll probably want to wash it. You’ll start washing. And washing. When the towel is clean, you’ll need to hang it on the balcony. When you’re on the balcony, you’ll see the kids in the pool having fun. When you see them having fun, you’ll remember that you’re on vacation and you should have fun too. 

And when you think about having fun on your vacation, you plan a little road trip.

Great Friends

My last post was about being a great mom. This one is about being a great friend.

I think most of my friends would agree that I am a great mommy friend to have. We all know motherhood is not always fabulous; even though most moms appear to have their acts together, it’s not the reality. 

I’ve always been brutally honest with my friends about my mommy journey, from serving as a panelist about Postpartum Depression to blogging openly about my son’s ADHD. My friends know that I am a nonjudgmental shoulder to cry on or an empathetic listener as we whine over wine.

I have been lucky to have some great crazy mommy friends (whom I referenced in my July 15 blog “Never Giving Up”). I don’t think we could have made it this far without each other and as I said perviously, I know that you will never give up on me.

Enter a chance meeting with an American family from California. We were dropping our kids off for language school and started chatting. The mom said her husband was leaving after the first week. Ah ha! Two American moms, alone with their kids— we should definitely get together!

A week later we finally caught up for a kid-free lunch. Adult conversation— in English! What a treat. 

I was explaining our first experience two years ago and our present trip— I’m even keeping a blog I say, “you should read it!” 

Now some wacky things have happened with my blog and I get interesting feedback from my friends. I didn’t want creepy comments popping up, so I set my privacy settings to just below “stranger danger.”  Still, never really know who reads my posts. A woman from Alaska contacted me once about French language school after somehow finding my blog. 

Turns out my new friend from California also has a blog- one that she started with a girlfriend more than 5 years ago. Her experience of being overwhelmed by baby number two was similar to mine, only her baby number two arrived minutes after its twin. And similar to my experience, she just couldn’t help thinking that everyone else was making it look so easy. Something must have been wrong.

I joined a play group to meet other moms and similarly she joined one; but Barbara and one of her mommy friends started blogging. Then they got picked up by sponsors, then TV shows, then a network. Now Barb and her friend Jen have media partnership that has probably helped millions of moms who felt like something must have been wrong. 

I took a look at the blog and they touch on the same issues that we bitch about in carpool; however, there are lots of moms that don’t have a supportive group of friends. Barb and Jen struck a cord with a lot of women who really needed to hear about what others experienced as moms. And the anonymity of the web was probably a Godsend for the many victims of mommy guilt out there. 

I love that the universe put Barbara in my path. It was great to know that there is a genuine, hopefully growing desire to help each other with this crazy mommy business. I have encountered moms who make me feel inadequate- well, my own son put me in the middle of the curve for God’s sake— but I have more love and gratitude shared with my friends than competition and judgment. I try to be a great mom, but I also try to be a great friend. There are days when I wish I could have done more, reached out more, listened more or laughed more. I try not to take myself too seriously. I’ve gotten so much from my mommy friends; giving back great friendship is the least I can do. 

How cool that we have examples (big and small) of moms who make a difference by being great friends.

Take a look at Barb and Jen’s website if you get a chance: http://jenandbarb.com

Best Mom EVER-

I learned today that Cooper thinks I am the best mom. Samuel quickly interjected that actually, moms fall on a bell curve, and I’m really just in the middle. Ouch. Cooper says that at the bottom of the scale are the terrible moms who tell their kids to do whatever they want, “with no regard for rules whatsoever.” Well we know I am not the worst mom either. I have laid down lots of rules for these guys while in France, just to prove to them that this is no ordinary vacation. 

I don't know why I’m putting so much pressure on myself- or them- to “earn” their summer in France. Or justify it.

Perhaps I’m feeling a little ridiculously extravagant. 

Or maybe as I’ve said before, I just don’t want to leave any part of this “unexperienced.” Today when it was time for Bennett to go to sailing lessons, he said he preferred to stay on the beach and read his book. I repeated— “just to be sure, you have an option of sailing a boat on the Mediterranean, but you’re choosing to sit on the beach and read your book?” Yep. I’ve used the push strategy before with this kid and I decided to acquiesce. Fine. But I will remind him of his tragically short sighted decision later. 

Maybe I don’t want them to take this for granted. The last trip was billed as “once in a lifetime…” and here we are again. Meh. 

Am I trying to justify this trip for my husband and my boss who “let” me take this trip? If I show them how hard we’re working on our French, or how responsible I am with my duties, maybe I will be given this much freedom again? 

Why do I feel so accountable? Guilty? Indebted? Again, a lot of pressure. 

I think it’s because I am a faithful person. Paul says that we don’t behave in order to get God’s love (grace), but we behave in response to God’s love. I feel so thankful for this opportunity that I feel like there’s a proper response. 

It’s been constructed by generations of Christian guilt I suppose. Perhaps, but I wouldn’t be sad if my kids someday believed that they should respect me and behave because I love them, not to earn my love. 

As I thought about it more, I remembered the Spiderman quote- "with great power there must also come great responsibility." That’s something else I try to teach my kids. We don’t feel like we have much power right now in the age of Citizens United and Donald Trump, or terrorist attacks and refugees who need more than we can give. My kids are starting to realize that they are privileged; and with that comes the responsibility to be good stewards of that privilege. 

Come to find out, that quote isn’t just from Spiderman. All good things come from thee, Oh la France! 

"Ils doivent envisager qu’une grande responsabilité est la suite inséparable d’un grand pouvoir." Traditionally attributed to Voltaire, this is first documented from the French National Convention in 1793. Basically, “It is considered that great responsibility follows inseparably from great power.” 

I think my kids respond better to Spiderman. He is a teenage boy after all; but unfortunately for Peter Parker and dozens of other superheroes and Disney characters, the parents are never around to teach these sorts of things. 

I am around and trying my best, even if that only places me in the middle of the curve.

Biot! We still think it's cool, so there.

Today we blew off school activities to go to Biot. It was Saturday after all. Our 7 day bus pass was burning holes in our pockets, so I looked on the map for the farthest, coolest place we could go using our local bus. Viola- Biot! 

Boys in Biot

We went to a Festival of the Templars there last time and my kids fell in love with Biot. Trip advisor says don’t bother spending more than two hours there because there is really not much to see; but this Medieval town high above the Mediterranean, just inland and east of Antibes, looks like a perfect sand castle. 

We did the embarrassing mommy walking tour, where I read aloud from the guide and make the kids pass up really cool looking stuff so they can see all of the stuff in the guide. Like the kittens Samuel found. And the public garden and ampitheatre that weren’t on the map. 

And the playground behind the church with the amazing view.

Well, we got most of the tour done. We had an awesome meal and spoke a ton of French with the lady at the museum and the waitress. I helped the woman in the museum translate some key phrases for her because she doesn’t know much English. “Across from” makes no sense to her— why is it a cross? Apparently she needs to give directions a lot and as I mentioned before, visitors from other countries don’t speak French, but do speak English. I am surprised at how many French people speak no English at all. I was always under the impression that they learned English in school and knew the basics at least.

Really I need to find another word for charming.

We were headed off the map again to scope out the remains of a volcano that produced the rocks that made the kilns that baked the pottery and glass for which Biot is marginally famous, when the thunder sounded and we decided to call it a day. 

House from 1531

Empty vessels in Biot's museum of archeology

We’ll see the volcano next time. I understand it is some volcanic rocks on the side of a mountain in the back of a Biot neighborhood. If you use your imagination, it looks like part of a volcano. It’s a French volcano, what do you expect? Who ever heard of such a thing!? 

Funny post script—

Yesterday I stopped by the grocery after picking the kids up from school so I didn’t have my grocery bag. They wanted to run ahead to the apartment which is just around the corner, so I gave them the key and asked them to leave the gate open so I could get in. Our place is on a locked interior courtyard. The boys like to play video games when they get home before I get them to do their dinner chores, so they went straight inside and got plugged in.

A well meaning neighbor locked the gate, so I couldn’t get in. I tried reaching them on their iPads without success, so I was left to throw frozen peas up to the windows, hoping they would hear the ping ping ping on the windows. Well of course they didn’t, but one of them finally saw my text and came down to let me in. Thank God I had frozen peas; produce is expensive here! 

Naturally people were walking by as I was throwing the frozen peas at the windows and trying to call the boys. In English. I don’t think they noticed :) Bizarre Americans!!

School Days!

Language school meant not a lot of time to write in English. I was trying really hard to think in French and get my kids to speak French. After two days of lessons and activities, my kids weren’t speaking as much French as I had hoped, so I stopped speaking English. That worked a little bit, but also really annoyed them. So I got the idea to offer two prize “Les Grand Prix” at the end of the week— the boy who spoke the best French (which would probably be won by Samuel) and the boy who spoke the most French— and that one would be truly up for grabs. 

Well, it totally worked; lo and behold it was Cooper who really started speaking a lot of French. I just knew it was all in there somewhere. It was great to see him shed his trepidation and go for it. He even said he was doing better at school with the speaking exercises and getting the other kids to speak French. English is really the common language for all of the kids at the language school and despite all of the counselors trying to get them to speak French, many of the kids revert to English.

Just playing Connect Four with my friends from Azerbijan and Latvia, like we do.

I think my kids have learned a lot of French even with our “here and there”approach. I can’t imagine how much they would learn if they stayed at the school for longer. Some of these kids spend weeks here in the summer living on campus or with families and learning French. We spoke to a German teenager who was here for five weeks and this was his third or fourth summer in Antibes. 

On the third day of classes, the boys were begging to come back for another summer. It was so sweet to hear them talking about how much fun they were having and how much they loved it. I have to say it meant a lot for me to hear them say that. I knew it was a big deal to take them away from their friends and home for so long; I was a little worried that they would not appreciate this experience. I guess I am accustomed to thinking that all kids are pretty short sighted (sorry!).

I met a parent who brought her daughter here for five weeks— they’re staying with a host family. I understand that you can learn a lot more French and culture by being “imbedded”- absolutely, but FIVE WEEKS? not sure about that. Sharing a kitchen and living in someone else's house- with my loud kids? That would not end well. Actually it would end with me finding an AirBnB to move to. Anyway— at the beginning of the week, after I had heard mostly English spoken at the school barbecue- I was expressing my worry to her that they wouldn’t learn much French. She replied- “well, at least they’re having fun.” I though - uh- BULLSHIT!? If I went through all of this and it doesn’t all work out and just I look back and say “well, at least they’re having fun!?” Sorry, but no. I send them to summer camp to have fun. I send them to France to speak French. 

Not a bad place to go to school and make new friends. 

And natch, I wish money was no object with my family, but of course it is. This is a big deal for us to do. I could have sent them to Camp Chanco and saved about $12k. I could have rented a really nice house in the Outer Banks; even so, if it rained every day and they were stuck inside watching movies, I would tell you that I still wouldn’t look back and say “well, at least they’re having fun.” I’d be pissed that there was something they missed out on.

So I am so happy that they turned it around this week and really proud of them for trying a lot of new things. At the end of the day, if they decided to study Japanese or something, I will know that this experience planted the seeds that changed them and their approach to all things different. 

Here’s what our week looked like:

Monday- test your French skills! We has to take written and oral exams to determine our levels for the classes. We were all convinced we were a level below where we should have been, but I think it turned out OK.

Tuesday- classes until noon, then Samuel had a field trip to Monaco, Bennett went to France’s version of Sea World and Cooper went to Cannes. I stayed after my class and had lunch with two friends that I made- a Norwegian and a Swiss. I wasn't convinced that I was getting enough practice speaking in class, so I considered adding intensive courses each afternoon. After a lovely lunch speaking a ton of French with them, I figured the intensive courses were $150 and the lunch was $10, so I’d just have lunch with them every day at school and save some money! Awesome. And I got to try French cafeteria food :)

Wednesday- classes until noon, then Samuel and I went out for Sushi- don’t laugh, it was the best I’ve ever had. The rice was delicious, now I know! Bennett went to the beach and Cooper got to go sailing. I was pretty excited that he got to go to sailing lessons, so after lunch I went to take some pictures. After checking in with a sailing instructor, I learned that the group on the water was from the school. I positioned myself perfectly on a jetty to catch the boats coming in and snapped away. Not one of them was Cooper, but I got some great shots of other children sailing! 

Sailing lessons on the Mediterranean.

Here they come, shepherded by the guys in boats.
It was so orderly and controlled. I don't know how they do it.

Thursday- classes until noon, then Samuel got ice cream with friends, Bennett got to sail and Cooper went to Marineland. He was excited to see the orcas but sadly, no pirranahs, so he was a bit disappointed. I’m not really sure why he thought he was entitled to see piranhas in France, but I don’t think Orcas are from here either. I walked my two friends home near Juan les Pins and realized that if I continued over the hilltop, I could see that town. After being here for so long the first time and now, I had never been there. It’s like Virginia Beach to Norfolk. More beach tourists, more hotels, overpriced oceanfront restaurants, even a board walk. I was disappointed to find that 80% of the beaches are private. To hang out on their beaches, you need to rent chairs and umbrellas from the hotels. Bummer. No wonder everyone raves about Antibes’ beaches. I walked quite a bit, trying to scope out a cool beach for me and the kids sometime. I sat on a bench to check out my map and realized I had been walking for three hours. I was so exhausted, I legs were still tired the next day!! I thought for sure I was going to come home fat this time because we weren’t touring so much- not a chance. Thankfully I got a bus back to Antibes with time to spare for a quick “do-do”- French for nap. I collapsed.

Juan les Pin- a little more elegant than Antibes, but not as charming.

Friday- classes until noon, then Samuel got ice cream with friends (hmmm, maybe he’s the one who’s coming home fat!?), Bennett went to Cannes and Cooper went to the beach. I had my last intensive lunch with my friends and we all said goodbye. My swiss friend said- I thought Americans were so stiff, but I really had fun with you! Aww- Friday after noon, I put the finishing touches on the itinerary for Taylor’s stay next week and made reservations. I was so dreading making the call to the hotel because French is hard, but over the phone— really hard! Luckily it all worked out and we’re heading to the Gorges of Verdon while he’s here to do some guided mountain biking. That region is described at France’s Grand Canyon and we’re all really excited to see it. 

How were my kids getting around to all of these things? Well I’m glad you asked. We covered this yesterday in my intensive lunch :) After day two of riding the public bus up to campus with the kids to get them settled, I let them ride the bus without me for the rest of the week. Each afternoon, I would either recoup them at one of their outings (if I could find them, which was not always a given) or I would ride the bus up to campus and wait for their return. The counselors didn’t always know where my kids were or when they would return (exactly). Now this is all quite unsettling for the American Mother. In Europe, they let their kids go to the market, ride the bus, go to school every day without adults around to supervise. Every. Day. Even my new friends know that American Mothers do not do this. 

Coming home from school-- LOOK Cooper had a nutella waffle in Cannes! (I hope that comes out in the wash!)

It wasn’t always like this for the American Mother. I remember going lots of places alone when I was a kid. When we’re in Antibes, my kids go lots of places without me. Taylor noticed this the first time he came. When we reached the old town- our kids disappeared! I know this is one of the things my kids like about being here. Ah- confidence! That and walkability. My kids can walk anywhere they want to go- bookstore, toy store, bakery, comic book store, beach. Definitely a good reason to choose a place like Antibes. Even this American Mother can let go a bit.