November

November in Provence is not as sunny as September nor October.  It has felt like London the past week.  Everyday is a different shade of grey.  I heard that this is an “unusually” wet November here in Aix-en-Provence.  No big deal, however, my second five-euro-market-umbrella broke last week when the wind whipped it inside out like the scene in Mary Poppins.  Maybe I need a 10euro umbrella.

The laundry is tricky to knock out.  Washing is not a problem; it’s the drying that is unpredictable.  We have a clothes line rather than a dryer.  Without the sun, the clothes could be damp all day.  Classically, our clothes will almost be dry and then it starts to rain and we are back to square one.  I use those situations as meditative moments.  The clothes will dry.   They always do.   And if not, the laundry mat is across the street.   I can bring my sopping clothes over in a garbage bag.  This is a first world problem.

Despite the weather, what is nice about November in Provence is the lack of tourists.  This town feels more local.  The French fill the streets, cafes and markets.  I visited to our local art museum Friday to see an exceptional Marc Chagall exhibit and there was no line to buy a ticket.   Crowds did not surround the art.  In the book shop, I was alone.

Saturday, we chilled at home.  In preparation for our trip to London next month, I committed to watch all eight of the Harry Potter films with the kids.  We watched the third movie on Saturday. They both are quite HP-aficionados.  The films give us a lot to talk about.  Sadie says to me all the time, “Mom.  Do you have ANY questions about ANY of the Harry Potter movies?  The characters?  The plot? If there is anything you don’t understand, just let me know.”   She is re-reading the series with laser focus.  Her well of love for Harry Potter is deep.

Sunday, Brewster’s basketball game was a half hour out of town giving me an excuse to rent a car. I looked at the map to see where we could go on a field trip after the game. Camargue is a wetlands where white horses, flamingos and black bulls are wild and was only forty minutes away from the game.  After a two hour grueling game, we headed there.  I researched a scenic loop which did not disappoint.  It was serene, wild and sprinkled with animals. 

“Look!  There’s a white horse!” I’d say, pointing out the obvious. (such a mom-move)

“We know Mom.  We see it.” they’d say with a groaning response.

No one else was on the road.  To the distaste of my rule-following-children, I stopped the car in the middle of the road to take photos.  Brewster DJed and they asked me questions about what my life was like before they were born.  It was Hutchinson story-time in the Camargue.  We were home to our apartment by 4pm.

Brewster is taking finals this week which is both a novelty and a stress.  He studies hard.  Despite the tough material,  he does not complain.  Sadie has been a little under the weather with a low fever and came home early from school. We are hoping that she is feeling better by next week when we go to visit our friend Steph in Portugal.  Is Thanksgiving really next week?  Wowzah!

In other news, I cut my hair.   I had a chance to show it off to my three friends that I met in French-conversation class.  We call ourselves “Aix Amies”.  We lunched at a Moroccan restaurant in our old town which was such a treat.  Erica is like me: living in Aix with her two kids without her husband on a “Grand Adventure”.  They are from Boulder, Colorado.  Alisa is half Thai-half American,  married to a French man, and has a daughter a year younger than Sadie. They moved to Aix from London this summer.  Dawn is from Liverpool but thinks of herself as Italian because she moved here from Venice this summer with her two kids and husband.    I adore these interesting, sincere, adventurous and worldly women.

It’s truly a gift to be in here in Provence whether the sun shines or not.