All who know Brewster, know his love for sports.  He’s a thirteen year old athlete.   His football and basketball teams were two of the toughest things to leave behind when we moved to France.  The friends, teamwork, competition, and sheer exercise not only satiate him, but define who he is in the world.  I knew he’d be happiest if I could find him some sports to play in France.

Last spring, I found a basketball league in Aix-en-Provence called Golgoths13.   I sent them a note from the US and never heard back.  In August when we arrived in Aix, I reached out again.  Nothing.  We looked around for basketball hoops in town and didn’t find very many.  I saw one at the Military Lycée and another one at a nearby primary school but neither looked promising.

Back in August, Matt and Brewster were tossing a frisbee in the park next door.  Brewster commented how out of shape and uncoordinated he felt. I cringed appreciating his honesty but felt his pain.  We’d been traveling and playing for weeks and he’d had very little exercise.  Once again, I wished that I could find him a sports program.  Ideally,  basketball.

One Sunday evening after school started, I went for a run.  I wasn’t feeling up for a long one, so I took a short cut back to our apartment.  I jogged by the nearby school basketball court and saw some kids playing.   I took a photo with my phone to show Brewster.  I thought if he was feeling bold, he could to go to the court one day and play a pick up game.  Just as I started to run away, three boys who looked like Brewster’s age walked off the court.

“Parlez-vous anglais?” I asked.

“A little” said one boy.  “Our friend over there speaks English.”  He pointed to a kid across the street who was talking to an adult, maybe his father.  “No problem.” I continued with a few questions using my very limited French.

I wanted to know where they bought their basketball and if they played on a team.  Confused, they yelled out to their friend to come over.  The boys explained that I had some questions and I spoke English.  Their friend, a 14 year old American, explained that they all played on a team in the league, Golgoths13.   They were just wrapping up tryouts.  He told me to call right away to see if my son could play.  Just before we said good-bye, I asked him his name.  He said, “Hudson.”

I smiled.  Brewster has a very good friend in Park City named Hudson. I was so grateful.

Moments after I finished my run, I called the Golgoths13 office once again.   This time I dropped Hudson’s name and said he was our friend and he told us that the tryouts we now and could they please call me?

I was so excited to share the news about Hudson with Brewster when I walked in the door.   He looked at me sideways.  “I can’t believe you talked to people you didn’t know. I am glad I was not with you.   I wouldn’t have liked that at all!”  Sadie agreed.  Whatever,  I was feeling hopeful.

The next evening, I missed a phone call from a French number and shortly after received this text:  “Hello. I try to join You by phone for Basketball.  He can test and train with his friends.” The address of the gym and time of practice followed and I squealed with excitement when I saw the text.

“YES!” This is great!  I may have been more excited than Brewster.  Calling Hudson Brewster’s friend was a little bit of a stretch, but I didn’t care.  We made progress!

It took me most of Wednesday morning to figure out where the gym was located and which bus to take.  I made a special trip to to the Office of Tourism to ensure where we were going.  Living here is like a live treasure hunt!

Sadie, Brewster and I left our apartment with plenty of time.  While it was both good to arrive at the gym early, it was also difficult to have extra time to sit and wait.  It was so awkward as the French boys arrived and walked passed us into the gym. I had no idea who the coach was, what the protocol was and if our “friend” Hudson was going to show up.  Brewster was not very excited.

A few minutes before 5:30, I went up to someone who looked like they were in charge.  Fortunately, she spoke English and said that she knew we were coming because I had been texting with the President of the organization.  She confirmed that tryouts were indeed last week but they were happy to have Brewster play one day with the team and see how he fit in. If it worked, great.  If not, I assured them that it was not a big deal.  She introduced me to the coach who only spoke French.   She translated our conversation and we were set.

I went outside to let Brewster know that he could go in and he looked ashen.  My sweet boy was so anxious about yet another new awkward situation.  He was panicking.  “I don’t know if I can do this.”  He looked at me desperately.   I asked him if he wanted to leave.  I didn’t want to make him do this.  He contemplated bailing, but decided to stay and go inside.

That was a difficult situation to parent through.  I needed to be silent.  I had to let Brewster decide if HE wanted to play.   While I felt energized and grateful for this opportunity, this was his choice.  I guess that what it means to “hold space”.  To leave it up to him and not attach to the outcome.

I was so proud of him as he walked inside to face another challenge.  That practice was 80 minutes of running and about 10 minutes of basketball. I watched him physically exhaust himself.  His frustration, his anxiety, his homesickness all came out in that practice along with a bucket of sweat.

Flash forward six weeks, Brewster is a leader on his team. He’s made friends with his teammates and is respected by the coach.  The French take sport very seriously and while his team is not winning any championships (or games yet) they practice hard twice a week and play on Sundays.  Brewster is back in shape and his hand-eye coordination is developing.  And forever he will have this French perspective.

This weekend, our game was at home at 9am but at a gym we’d never been to.   We needed to arrive at the court at 8am.  The buses don’t run until later on Sundays so we walked.  We left our house at 7:30am and had a beautiful walk through the Rotunde, the old town to a neighborhood I didn’t even know existed.

The Golgoths13 played great.   I was moved to tears when I heard a parent behind me say, “Allez-Brewster!”  He is blending right in.

I said to Brewster Sunday afternoon, after his game “Dude, I am so proud of you. It is so much easier and say no and skip trying something new.  We are all so comfortable at home, on our computer, not interacting with the world.  But look at you!  We are all figuring out and you are killing it on the court.”   He was so close to chasing the easy way out.   Jouer au basket!  Allez-Brewster-Allez!

Despite my years of yoga and mediation practice,  I arrived in France without a lot of patience.    The American culture  programmed me to be efficient and quick.  Running errands in Park City is convenient and predictable.  That has not been my experience in France.

Our French cell service is provided by Orange, a European company.  Every two weeks, we need to reload our data plan.  When I learned this detail, I asked if it was possible to renew the plan on-line.  “I am sorry madame.  That is not possible” said the very French employee.

It’s not possible?  What do you mean?  Orange has my credit card.  They are a technology company.  Why is not possible to go to a website to renew?   We’d be able renew on line in the US, and we’d even be able to auto-renew so we didn’t have to go online every two weeks.  The US makes it so easy for us to spend money!

I was surprised that I needed to go to a store and interact with a person just to renew my plan.  Maybe this a way to protect jobs in France?

When it was time to renew our data plan,  we walked into the old city to the Orange store. We waited in line for over 20 minutes. My head was swarming with ideas of how Orange could improve their service.  This line could be solved if some of their services were available on line.

When it was my turn, I asked to renew our data plans.  “I am sorry madame.  We are out of paper today.  We can not help you.”  I was confused.   She continued,  “You can go to any Tabac store and they will help you.”

Really?  Out of paper?  This would never fly in the US.

Slightly agitated, we left and walked back to our neighborhood Tabac store.  I walked in and found myself in another line.  Sigh.

The customers in front of me were not only buying smokes or a drink, but each one of them visited with the store manager.  They were chit-chating!   Every single one of them.  I thought, don’t these people have anywhere to be right now? It was the middle of the day.   No one seemed like they were in a hurry.

Finally it was my turn.  I  asked for what I needed.  The man behind the counter placed my order through his computer. Very kindly, he waited to  make sure that our data credit worked before charging my credit card.

I relaxed into this new situation and like everyone before me, I started chatting with him despite the line forming behind me.   I learned that his name is Serge and he lives above the store.  He wanted to know where where we were from and how long we’d be in Aix.  A few minutes later I  paid Serge and waved good-bye.

Everyday I walk by the Tabac store and often give Serge a wave.  He’s like the mayor of our hood.

I think of him as my teacher.  I am learning to slow down.  When I find myself  blocked in narrow grocery market aisle, I wait to say “Pardon”.  I don’t walk around them. I wait one moment and they always move.   When it is 12:22 and the 12:15 bus is not there yet, I just wait a second.  It will always come.   When I need to cross the street and the cars don’t stop at the crosswalk, I wait. I am beginning to really notice what it means to be patient.

Brewster’s basketball team, the Golgoths13, played three games on Sunday in Marseille.  They are in a tournament to determine which league they will play in this season.  On Thursday when I asked the kids what they’d like to do for the weekend, they both agreed to a staycation in Aix-en-Provence.  Brewster added that going out for sushi on Friday night would be fantastic.  Sadie agreed and I thought the plan sounded easy and relaxing.

We found our sushi spot on yelp called “Sushi Love” and headed out on Friday night into town.  Our google maps lead us to the address that was not a restaurant so we moved on to our second choice.  We walked down a street that we’d never been to and found our restaurant empty.   Normally, I am adverse to a restaurant with no patrons, but in this instance, we were ready to sit down.  We sat next to an aquarium and were instantly entertained and happy.

We were not alone in the restaurant for long.  A few more people sat down and we noticed many deliveries going out the door.  The sushi was delicious!  The three of us had a good conversation and once again, I realized how special it is to be with Sadie and Brewster without any other friends or weekend invitations.  The isolation leaves us to rely on each other for friendship.  We laugh a lot.   We all miss our friends but know that four months is short amount of time to be away.  The kids have expressed how different they would feel if they moved to France permanently.  All of their friends at school live here.  We are just on an extended holiday.  Lucky us!

We walked into the old part of town after dinner and had an ice cream.  I couldn’t believe all the action in Aix-en-Provence.  I hadn’t been out in my own town on a weekend.  Students filled the bars, couples enjoyed the outside seating of the numerous restaurants.  Brewster said he felt like he was on a vacation in his own town.  “Let’s do this more often.”  We all agreed.

Saturday morning I went for a run and met the kids on Cours Mirabeau to walk around the Saturday market.  Brewster found a pair of black Nike shorts with a Paris St Germaine Patch on them for 50% off.  We agreed that was likely a marketing tactic: marking them down 50%.  But it worked and we bought them.  Sadie picked out a few hair clips and I bought some lavender spray.  We then strolled over to the fruits and vegetable market and were greeted with samples of local deliciousness.  Salt Butter Carmel on bread!  Who knew something so tasty existed??  “You bet,” I told the kids.  “We’ll buy it.” The next vendor fed us pesto, artichoke and mushroom spread also on bread.  I was so proud of the kids for tasting each one.  We settled on the sun-dried tomato pesto and walked home with a backpack filled with fresh goodies.  We stopped at the English bookstore to pick out a new book for Sadie.  Brewster was so helpful in his advise. I love their shared passion for reading.   We left knowing our market adventure was a success.

Right across the street from our apartment is Parc Jordan.  Soon after returning home,  we packed up a baguette, snacks, drinks and bag of toys and headed over to the park for a picnic.  We spent the afternoon enjoying our lunch, reading and tossing a ball.  I wondered why I didn’t picnic more in Park City?  It was so fun!

Around 4pm, Sadie and I walked to the bus station to go to the rental car agency at the TGV station.  They upgraded us to a Peugeot SUV.  But when I saw it, I said “Je suis très désolé.  I need smaller car. ” (example of my Franglish)  I thought about parking near our apartment and did not want to parallel park this large car. I was relieved when they gave me keys to a small Ford fiesta.

Sadie and I zipped back to our neighborhood and found parking nearby. I was happy to learn that parking is free on Saturday and Sunday.  Sadie wondered off to our local marché to buy some hot chocolate with a couple euro and I walked home.  I showered, dressed and walked downstairs to my neighbor’s for a drink.  They dropped an invitation in my mailbox last week. I had to bring the invitation to my French teacher to translate as the French script is tricky!

I imagined myself at a French cocktail party, so I told the kids I’d be home in an hour.  However, we were a group of four: one other neighbor and the hosts, Ingrid and Ben.  They are SO French and sweet.   We had a very nice visit and I imagine I will see them again.  Ingrid and Ben have a 17 month old baby and both work in Marseille.  Ingrid  made the most delicious mushroom cheese appetizers along with four other nibbles.  We drank and spoke mainly in English but sometimes the three of them would speak French. I can follow along, but do not speak well.   I hired a French teacher and take a private lessons on Thursdays.  I try to study everyday, but it is SLOW coming! I have a ton of admiration for my children’s grasp on this difficult language.

Almost two hours later, I had to excuse myself and walk upstairs to feed my hungry children! I made a quick taco dinner and we were all in bed by 10pm.  We needed to be out the door before 8am the next day.

At 8:15am, we met Brewster’s basketball team at the gym in Aix-en-Provence.    The French are very patient.  We waited nearly a half hour before leaving the gym.  Granted, many of the parents smoke as they wait, but the energy is a stark contrast to my rushed life at home.  Here we wait around a lot.   And no one seems to mind.  I am working on deprogramming my brain.  It’s a challenge to lose the anxiety of hurrying.

We drove in a convoy to the gym in Marseille.   I was grateful that I was not navigating.  We went through countless round-abouts and down little lanes. Brewster and I would have been stressed to find the gym even with google maps. I know it.

Brewster’s first game was at 9:30am.  He played again at 11am and 12:15.  I doubt his team is going to win any championships this season but I am so proud of Brewster’s efforts.  The Golgoths13 lost all three games, but Brewster marched down the court with authority and skill.  His Park City Miner coaches have given him a solid basketball foundation.  Brewster is superior in his basic skills: dribbling, passing, and shooting. Regardless of the final score, I know he is having a good time.  We are both happy that he will return to Park City this winter in good shape.  The French do not mess around with conditioning.  Maybe they need to focus on the ball skills? I’ll leave that to the coach.

It’s funny to watch Brewster clap when he signals to his team-mates on the court.  It’s his code for “I’m open”.  His teammates get it and constantly are passing to him.    His coach said after the game that except for Brewster, the team looked like chickens with their heads cut off.  I laughed when Brewster told me this. I am so proud him.  Sadie too with her patience going all around the region watching her brother play.  That is not easy either.

We drove to Prado Park in Marseille after the game which is along the water and ate lunch at a seaside restaurant.  Sadie ordered a crêpe.   I enjoyed a croque monsieur and Brewster devoured a salmon pasta dish saving half for his lunch today.  The kids shared a chocolate sundae that looked like a photo out of a magazine.  The French food is outrageously delicious everywhere we go.

We walked along the park and found a climbing wall in the shape of a rock.  Both Sadie and Brewster had a blast climbing although  Brewster injured his glute (or maybe a hamstring) in the game so he took it easy.  The weather was perfect.

I said to the kids, looking around, “I had no idea that Marseille was so mountainous.” Before I came to France, I didn’t know much about Marseille.  It’s really is a pretty city.

On the way back to the TGV station, we drove through a massive tunnel under the Marseille neighborhoods.  It was a 5 euro toll, but well worth it.  We blasted Maroon 5 and sang along.  The energy was fantastic.  Before we returned the car, we had to fill up with gas.  Brewster navigated us to a station which only had broken pumps.  The French cook some fine food, but do not make it easy to fill up with gas on a Sunday.  I was happy we weren’t trying to catch a train!  The next station wasn’t too far from our apartment so I dropped both kids off at home.  They were happy to chill and I didn’t mind returning the car solo.  I rode the bus back to Aix-en-Provence and walked home via our local pizzeria.

We started a Sunday night pizza tradition.   We eat in front the TV.  My dad bought Brewster the NFL game package so he watches the early  Sunday NFL game live and all the highlights on Monday and Tuesday after school . He is in heaven having access to all that coverage!  The Patriots played early yesterday so he was VERY excited to watch the game live on his computer.  He texted with his Poppy the whole game and went to be happy only when he was confident they would win.  Sadie and I are 20 episodes into “The Gilmore Girls”, a mother-daughter sitcom (or maybe a drama?). Sunday night is our time to watch together which is a treat.

This morning we woke up to October!  The mornings are chilly and dark but by lunch the sun is out and it is warm.   Sadie reminded us that we picked up our puppy Cosmo a year ago today.   One year feels like a lifetime ago.  But it was just 365 days.

Speaking of days, we can’t wait to see Matty in 17 days!  We miss him.  I don’t want to wish our time away.  I am acutely aware that this sabbatical is special. Our ordinary life of school, sports and chores and is extraordinary.  Vive la France!

Saturday afternoon, we were driving on the highway towards Avignon.  My sister, Mara was sitting up front and pointed out an old church on top of the hill.  “Check that out” she said.  She looked on her phone and determined it was Chapelle Notre-Dame-de-Beauregard  in the little town of Orgon.  “Do you want to get off ?” I asked.  “Sure, let’s do it.” Mara responded.

We exited and drove around the round-about towards the Church.  I noticed a sign for Saint-Rémy which is a town on my radar to visit. Following signs to Notre-Dame, we drove up a steep windy hill that had no shoulder.  Since we were on the edge of a cliff,   I honked the horn to avoid surprising any cars coming our way.  “That’s smart.” Brewster said.   I appreciated the approval.

The view over the Luberon was gorgeous.  As was the church.

We explored and walked around the hill and the gardens.  We could see the TGV across the valley and noted that we almost were on that train.  If we had been on the train, we would not had stopped at the church.  Nor would we have had lunch in Saint-Rémy and explored Van Gogh’s mental asylum.

The adventure is in the journey.  Not the destination.

This past weekend was an example of that cliché.  Our destination was Avignon and the hook was  a show called Vibrations.  I saw a poster for the show a few weeks ago at the Marseille airport when I was dropping off Matt.  I had wanted to go to Avignon because it is an ancient walled city on the Rhône river.  Generations of Popes lived in a Palace there (Palais des Papes) from the 14th-18th century.  The show was a night sound and light extravaganza in the Palace and I thought the kids would love it.  I was right!

Mara sent me an email a week after I arrived in France asking if I was free for a visit in late September.  Yes, yes, yes! I responded.  I thought an overnight in Avignon with her would be perfect so I booked a hotel and bought tickets to the show.

Mara arrived last Friday from Chicago.  I took the bus to the Marseille airport to pick her up and was overwhelmed when I spotted her walking out of customs.  We talked the entire way home to Aix and I was excited as we neared my apartment.  “Here it is” I said as I opened the door.  “WOW.  It’s cute Sara” she said. I beamed.  The house tour was quick, and I had fun showing it off.

Mara laid down for an hour and then we headed out to an art exhibit in an old church, The Chapelle Granet XX .   I thought  I had two free tickets to the Picasso exhibit at the Musée Granet from when Matt was here,  but when Mara and I went to that museum, they said our tickets were for an exhibit around the corner.  We walked to the church and were pleasantly surprised to see a Van Gogh,  a Monet, a handful of Picasso and many other European artists on display.  Jean Plaque was an art collector and friend to many of these artists.  His foundation renovated the chapel  in 2013.  The museum rotates pieces from his collection every six months.

When we were done looking around, it was nearly four o’clock.   We walked to school to pick up Sadie and took the bus home.  Brewster  is out at 3pm on Fridays so we met him back at the apartment and caught up.  We ate dinner and crashed hard that night.

Saturday morning, Mara and I walked to the Aix-en-Provence market on Cours Mirbeau which is only 10 minutes from our apartment.  Mara bought some pottery, napkins, a tablecloth and some French sausage.  We devoured a croissant and headed over to the rental car agency to pick a car to drive to Avignon.

We needed a car because Brewster made a French basketball team (details coming in another post) and had three basketball games on Sunday.  Last week, when I translated the email from the coach and learned that he had games on Sunday I was disappointed thinking we’d have to cut our visit to Avignon short.  However when I looked at the map, I realized that his games were in Lambesc, a small town half way between Avignon and Aix.  We easily could rent a car and make it all happen.  And having a car was a novelty! The kids were happy to pack a bag for the car rather than to carry the bags on their back. And having Mara was an added bonus.

Driving  in France was an adventure.  Mara doesn’t drive stick, so I was the behind the wheel.  It took me a few minutes to acclimate,  but soon I was comfortable.  Instead of traffic lights there are roundabouts making me feel like Chevy Chase in “European Vacation”.  The French drive fast so my challenge was stay calm.  Slow and steady!  Mara’s exceptional navigating skills helped.  We were never lost thanks to Google maps. I marvel almost everyday what it would be like to use a paper map to find our way.  I bet we’d drive slower and walk around with a map in our hands instead of a phone. But certainly we’d be more lost.  At least I would be!

After exploring Notre-Dame-de-Beauregard, we lunched in Saint-Rémy.  It was a perfect Provencal town to visit.   Mara has not been this part of France and Saint-Rémy is right out of a picture book with the narrow streets, plaza, church, and stone buildings decorated with shutters and flowers. 

Sadie was excited because this town was where Vincent van Gogh, her favorite artist painted before he died.  We paid a visit to the Saint-Paul asylum where he self-admitted himself after cutting off his ear.  He painted a few very famous paintings at the asylum including a self-portrait that we saw in Paris, Starry Night and flowers (Irises, Lilacs, Roses) . None of the original paintings are in  Saint-Rémy but they have prints throughout the asylum.

We didn’t arrive to Avignon until 4pm.  It turned out to be a perfect timing because we found parking on the street for 2euro.  I had bailed on a garage earlier because it was to 26euro for the night.  My frugality prevents me from paying that much for parking until I exhaust all options.  Since there are no cars in Avignon, parking is expensive.  My parking angels came to our aide on Saturday and we found a spot right on the street, near our hotel.

We dropped our bags and left to explore.  The Pope Palace, cathedral and Rhône River were all beautiful.

We didn’t go inside any of the monuments. Instead,  we enjoyed the ancient landmarks and pedestrian vibe outside.  Tiny alleyways, plazas, and ancient buildings make up Avignon.  For dinner, we at at crêpes in a plaza under some very big trees.   Mara guessed the trees were Sycamore, similar to those we grew up with in Lake Forest.  She googled “trees of Provence” and found out they are “French Plane” trees.  She was excited to read that Plane trees are in the same family with the Sycamore.

At 9pm we walked over to the Palace and joined the masses of people going into the light show.  For 25 minutes, we were delighted by the beautiful images projected on the palace walls.  It was a juxt of position.  State of the art sound and lights filled the 14th century palace.  We all loved it but it really blew the kids away.

“This is AMAZING Mom, thank you” they repeated all night long.  I kept thinking about the person who came up with the idea.  Someone thought it would be cool to create this show in this palace.  I thought of Walt Disney and the quote, “First, think. Second, believe. Third, dream. And finally, dare.”

Sunday morning, the roads were empty leaving Avignon.  It was a good thing because the route out of the walled city was insane. Only in Europe!  We arrived at the Lambesc Gymnasium at 9:30am and were there all day.  Brewster’s basketball team played hard but did not come away with any wins.  Despite that, Brewster was happy, sweaty and already a leader on his team.  I laughed watching him snack on nuts and power-aide in between games and teammates ate ham and cheese baguettes.  Many of the parents, including his coach smoke.  France is a different world.

In between games, Mara, Sadie and I explored Lambesc.  It too was a quaint town with a plaza, church, boulangerie and old houses with flowered shutters.   The most interesting place we discovered was on top of a hill in a nearby park.  It was the Monument des Heros et Martyrs dedicated to those in the French Resistance.  As we were driving back to the gym, Mara said, “You certainly would never see that the train.”  So true.

Monday was Mara’s last day in France.  She wanted to see the Mediterranean Sea.  After we dropped off Sadie at school (Brewster took the bus earlier by himself for the first time),  we returned one rental car and picked up another one.  We drove to Cassis which is only 35 minutes away by car.  I showed off all the little spots we found the weekend before and we walked around the port.  It was too cool to swim and too rough to boat so we decided to explore the next town over, La Ciotat. I lived in La Ciotat in 1989 for a few weeks one summer and I barely remembered it.  Once we arrived at the beach, my memories sort of came back.   I was there almost 30 years ago.  It begs the question, how old am I?  (44!)

We made a lunch reservation  in a nearby calanque and at the Restaurant la de Figuerolles.  Our view from the table was out of a coffee table book.  It reminded us of our beloved St Barths.  We enjoyed a delicious French lunch and soulful conversation.  Monday was a day for the books!   And I had no idea how it was going to unfold prior to the moment. It fit perfectly with the motto from our weekend adventures.  It is all in the journey.

Thank you Mara for visiting me.  I love you.

When my third call to a taxi went directly to voicemail, I was nervous.  It was after 8pm, on Friday night and everyone who got off train in Cassis had already left the station.  I tried to order an Uber and quickly realized that Cassis was not in the Uber network.  There were three taxi options listed on google.  The first driver answered but was at the Marseille airport.  The other two calls went to voicemail.

I read on line that without a car, transportation options in Cassis were limited.   It was the first time since we’ve been in France that I felt stuck.

“What time is it?” Sadie asked.  She reminded me that we hadn’t had dinner.  Brewster was off shooting the beautiful sunset with his camera. But when we came back, he knew that we were in a pickle.

A couple walked up to the station.  I overheard them speaking English.   Trying not to sound desperate, I said, “Hi there. Do you have a car?  We need a ride into town.”  I smiled.   I knew the kids were wondering if I was really asking these strangers for a ride.

“No.  We left our car in town but we just walked here and it is pretty easy. ”  The guy pulled out his phone and showed us the way on google maps.

“Is it safe?” I asked.  “Yes, definitely.  It’s flat and the path is lit.  We’re waiting for our friend’s train and then we’ll be going back that way.”  I sighed with relief, thanked them and left.

We walked along the moonlit vineyards down towards the sea.  Brewster was amazing.  Talking, talking, talking.  He told us the story behind the Star Spangled Banner and kept Sadie occupied.   I really hadn’t anticipated walking two miles before dinner but it was a beautiful evening.  The temperature was prefect and no one was miserable.  Grateful for my kid’s positive attitude,  I remembered once again the importance of staying flexible while traveling.

It was after 9pm when we arrived to the tiny port of Cassis. We were tired. Above the town was the Cassis castle, lit up like a fairy tale.  Town was abuzz. People packed the seaside restaurants.  Down an alley, we found a table at Casa Roma, a small pizza place.  We dropped our bags and ordered dinner.  They charged us by the weight of the pizza.  Maybe that is the way they sell it in Italy?  We were relieved to be sitting down and not walking.

I texted the taxi driver who had been in Marseille and was relieved when he responded.  We met him after dinner and he gave us a ride up the hill to our airbnb.  It was dark and difficult to find, but before long, we were through the gate and inside our apartment.

The accommodations were small but suitable.  Sadie and I slept in the bedroom and Brewster spread out in the living room on a pull-out couch.  He was very pleased that there was air conditioning.  For the rest of the weekend we called his space the “refrigerator.”

I woke up the next morning wondering where we were in relation to town and more importantly, a meal.  I was unsure if we were close enough to walk.  It seemed like a long way in the taxi.  However,  I knew we were a half mile from the beautiful resort Hôtel Les Roches Blanches. Matt and I had visited my Mom’s college roommate, Jinx and her husband Peter Ring at that resort fourteen years ago when we were in France with my family.  We spent the day  at the pool and on the calanques which are the cliffs overlooking the Med.

Les Roches Blanches

We have never have forgotten beautiful Cassis and it was high on my list to take the kids this fall.  I looked into staying at Hôtel Les Roches Blanches and it was about 900euro over our weekend budget.

Saturday morning, Sadie discovered two little kitties that had been born probably just that week!  One of them hadn’t even open their eyes. They were so adorable. After playing with the kittens, Brewster, Sadie and I packed a backpack and started walking.  We were so surprised see a pool in our beautiful garden and a view of the Mediterranean Sea.

We crossed the street and followed a narrow path to the sea.  The gorgeous view impressed us.   We spotted a ladder off one rock and decided to come back and swim later.

It was all downhill from there to Hôtel Les Roches Blanches.  When we arrived the kids decided to pass on the five star lunch and keep walking.  We came upon  “Same Same Beach” and a few restaurants.  We chose one, sat under an umbrella and ate a fantastic lunch.  I was so relieved to realize that we were close enough to walk to town and we wouldn’t have to taxi everywhere.  The weekend was shaping up!

After lunch, we unanimously agreed to change into our suits and swim.  We set up on the rocks above the beach and jumped in the Med! It was a beautiful moment and we were all so happy.  We floated around and chatted in the water for a while and then headed back to the rocks.  The kids had a blast jumping and diving. My heart was full.

Ice cream was next,  followed by a boat ride around the calanques.  Brewster had a field day photographing the scenery.  We decided that Cassis was like Zion National Park in France.  I couldn’t believe how gorgeous the shoreline was outside Cassis harbor. Everywhere we looked,  there were boats, hikers and people picnicking and relaxing on the rocks.  And some brave souls jumping off the cliffs. My good friends Thomas Laakso & Katherine Hughes would love those cliffs!

After the boat ride, we walked up the hill to our house. It took about a half hour and we were in good spirits knowing the pool awaited us.  After a dip and some down-time, we headed back down the hill for dinner.  It was a monumental moment because we talked Sadie into going out for sushi.   She has enjoyed tempura shrimp in the past but there was no tempura on this menu.   She happily agreed to eat salmon with us.  So we ordered salmon four ways: sushi, sashimi, maki, and California rolls. It was a feast.  We walked home chatting the whole way.

I went for a run on Sunday morning along the cliffs.  When I came back, Sadie asked me if I wanted to keep running and go into town as she was really “craving a donut”.  Why not? I grabbed some euros and kept running.  The baked goods in French are famous for a reason!

Our train from Cassis didn’t leave until 3pm.  So we went for a swim both in the pool and in the Sea.  The ladder that we saw the day before wasn’t quite what we thought.  It was only one metal rung but we didn’t realize that until we were trying to get out.  The surf was picking up and it was a struggle for Brewster to get his leg up on the rung.  Fortunately,  there was a fisherman nearby who lent us a hand and pulled us up.  “I didn’t like that” Brewster said after.  No, neither did I.

A pool man had come that morning to clean the pool.  Brewster and I waited on the side of the pool while he did his thing and we chatted.  This guy was so French wearing white jeans, without a shirt.   I commented to Brewster that he was wearing an Hermès belt. I recognized the H and laughed thinking, ‘Only in Cassis’.  Then, a gorgeous woman walked up the path with her cleaning supplies and Chanel purse. It was like St Barths!   I introduced myself and when she said her name, I realized that I had been in touch with her about renting the apartment.  She was the either property manager or the owner.

When we left the house to go for our dip in the sea, there was a matte black Aventador Lamborghini in our driveway as well as a Porsche Cayenne.  Brewster was FREAKING out.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, Brewster loves Lamborghinis. He was jumping up and down, walking around it fully checking it out.  “This is my dream car!  Matte black, Aventador!  Oh my God, Oh my God.”  He was so pumped.  We were so curious.  Who’s car was it?  The pool man or the cleaner?

When the pool guy left, we peeked through the bushes to see what car he drove.  When he opened up the Porsche’s front door, Brewster whispered  “It’s hers!”  But then, he opened up the Lamborghini door.  Brewster scooched over to get a better look at the Lamborghini door opening from the ground up.  We were giggling, and I am quite sure the pool man saw us spying on him through the bushes.  A few minutes later, the lady came down the path,  hopped in the Porsche and drove away.

We were dying!  The Hermès-belt pool guy drove a Lamborghini!  He started the car, pulled out of the driveway, closed the gate and ZOOMED down the road with a loud roar.  Brewster threw his hands up in the air, falling back in the pool.  Cassis!

It was Brewster’s idea to go to Marseille.  His suggestion surprised me.  Of all the places on my radar to spend time near Aix-en-Provence, Marseille was not in my top ten.  However, since I asked, I had to say yes.   Brewster’s one condition was that we didn’t leave Aix until after 12noon on Saturday.  My teen boy loves to sleep!

Saturday morning I woke up, made my coffee and went on a run.  We live across the street from Parc Jordan.  It is a sweet park enclosed by a black rod iron gate.  There are   fountains and benches in the park, but it is not very big. I thought maybe I’d run around the park a few times, but when I ran from one side to the other side in less than 5 minutes, I realized I needed a larger loop.  I left the park,  ran a mile down the street past the kid’s school and up through Parc de la Torse.  I ended up at the end of Cours Mirabeau which is the pedestrian street in the old city.  Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays are the high market days.  The street is lined with vendors selling clothes, purses, tablecloths….all the usual market items.  I enjoyed the people watching as I walked through the stalls and  home to our apartment.

At 11:30am, I woke up Brewster and the three of us had lunch and walked to our local train station. Marseille is only about 45 minutes away.  Within an hour, we were in the beautiful St Charles Rail Station downtown Marseille.  We searched for the Metro outside the station for a few minutes until we realized we were going the wrong way.  No big deal.   We turned around  and walked back into the station.

We followed signs for the Metro and went down the escalator.   I had an “aha” moment.  I realized a key to staying happy while traveling to resisting the feeling of  being in a rush.    There is nothing quick about  new situations in foreign places.  The metro is an example.  It takes time to figure our metro station.  Then we have to confirm which train we take. Then we have to stand in line to buy a ticket.   Then we have to figure out HOW to buy the ticket and hope it takes our credit card!   Then we need to get through the turnstile.  The ticket could go in the turnstile or it could be an electronic reader, or something else.  Every turnstile is different. Once we are through, we have to make sure we know which direction we are going on the train and that we are on the right platform.  And then the train comes.  I have to check to make sure we all get on the train.  And then Brewster and I study the subway map while we ride on the train. We look at each other to confirm our stop.  And just like that,  a few minutes later we are there and then we just need to figure out how to exit the station.

The desire to rush makes me anxious and miserable.  It’s impossible.  

After my “aha”  I was relaxed when we arrived at the Vieux-Port stop.  We walked out of the station and were stunned by magnificent Marseille.  A metal canopy, called the Vieux Port Pavilion welcomed us.  This structure stretched nearly a block along harbor.  The art piece was similar to Chicago’s “Bean” providing shade and photo opportunities. 

The Vieux-Port is shaped like the letter U around the harbor. 

The subway stop was at the bottom of the U and our hotel at the top. It was 25 hot minutes to our hotel.  After checking in we were ready for a dip in the pool which was the bonus feature of my hotel selection.

The kids swam and I talked to Matty over WhatsApp.  The weekends are the best for us to connect.  An eight hour time difference between France and Park City is not ideal for phone talking.  During the week we connect at both dawns and then I say goodnight to him during the middle of his work day. 

When the kids exhausted themselves, we changed our clothes and headed out to the garden (Palais de Pharo) next to our hotel.  It was a beautiful vista of the Vieux-Port.  We chilled on a bench and watched the boats come in.   Brewster had his camera and enjoyed shooting the picturesque views. 

Feeling snacky, we went in search for a crêpe.  Being in France, that’s not too hard to find.  We sat on the corner of a pretty busy intersection.  It turned out that the kids proclaimed these crêpes the best yet. Our happy hour entertainment was watching the European sports cars drive by.  Brewster is certainly his father’s son.  He knows all the cars and when a black Lamborghini drove by our little table, Brewster stood up and exclaimed “OH MY GOD.” He’d only seen two before in his life.  One in Las Vegas and one on the Champs–Élysées and both of them were parked.  Who knew Marseille was so fancy?

The three of us walked back to our hotel and chilled out until dinner.  Brewster watched a show, Sadie WhatsApp’d with her bestie, Cayenne and I found a dinner spot and read my book, Circe.   I chose a restaurant based on yelp review that was less than a half mile from our hotel and I made a reservation.  I didn’t realize until later that there was a car tunnel below the harbor that connected the two quays at the top of the U.  So we took a taxi and caught a gorgeous sunset before arriving at our Italian restaurant. 

After dinner, I asked the kids if they wanted to walk home which would involve walking all the way down one quay and up the other.   “Now?” Brewster asked?  “It’s after 9pm.  I don’t think so”.   “OK” I said. “Let’s walk in that direction and when we get tired we’ll hop in a taxi” I proposed.  The kids agreed and we started our Saturday night stroll.

That walk was the highlight of my weekend! People were everywhere.  Seaside restaurants were full as were the sidewalks.  The temperature was perfect and the harbor was lit up.   Lampposts lined the streets.  We walked and talked all the way home feeling the Saturday night city vibe.  The kids surprised themselves when we arrived and it was nearly 10pm. “Mom, that we really fun” they both commented.  I agreed.

The next morning we treated ourselves to the Sunday morning brunch buffet. It was nearly perfect except the fact that the European espresso machine confused me.  Pre-caffinated, I studied guests in front of me so I knew what to do when it was my turn.  It was all smooth until I pressed “Lait chaud” (hot milk) after my coffee filled my cup.  At it reached the brim, the Frenchie behind me reached around and pressed the “Lait Chaud” button off.  Embarrassed, I grabbed my coffee quickly to move on.  However, I had to tilt my coffee cup in order to release  it from the machine so I spilled some coffee.  Trying to be discreet, I grabbed a napkin to wipe my spill.  “Sloppy American” I thought to myself. So awkward.  I took a sip of the delicious coffee and moved on to cook myself an egg at the egg station in  the smallest omelette pan I’ve even seen. I put my coffee down. After my egg was cooked, I looked for my coffee.  It was gone.  One of the many waitstaff cleared it.  Argh.  Back to the espresso machine to make cup number two without issue.

We checked out of our hotel and walked up to the oldest church in Marseille, which Brewster astutely pointed out was the oldest church in France.   Marseille is the oldest city in France!  Abbaye de St-Victor was built in the 5th century.  We walked in and Brewster whispered, “I think this is Mass”.  “No, I don’t think so”.  Nope.  It was Mass.  Brewster was right.  We slipped in a pew and said our prayers.  We took Communion and a photo much to Brewster’s dismay!  After Mass, we walked across the street to a notable ancient bakery called Le Four des Navettes which was founded in 1781!

We wanted to cross the quay and I read that there was a 50 cent ferry which we tried.

It was super convenient and fun!  On the other side of the quay, we walked around and found an outside art installation by a photographer using drones to capture the Calanques which are the cliffs that stretch from Marseille down to Cassis.  There was a quote that said, “If you have been to Paris but not Cassis, you have not been to France.”

With that said, we are taking a train to Cassis tonight for the weekend.  Our memorable moment as we left Marseille was when we reached the Vieux-Port metro station there was a crowd underneath the metal pavilion.  All of a sudden, hundreds of people shouted, clapped and started singing in unison the Marseille fight song.  Jumping up and down their energy was felt all along the harbor.  Brewster said, “I bet Marseille just won a football match.” Again, he was right.  Google confirmed that Marseille had just scored a winning goal against Monaco for their win.  Brewster proclaimed himself a Marseille football fan starting that moment.

Time is a paradox.  Some days speed by.  And others feel like a week.  This past seven days felt like a month.  But here we are and it’s Tuesday again.   Hard to believe,  only a week ago, Matt was here with us in Aix-en-Provence.  It was the first full day at school for the kids and Matt’s last day in France,  so we decided rather than walk around Aix, why not drive around Provence?  The beautiful weather gave us inspiration to rent a convertible.  Tuesday morning, we picked up the car and they asked us if we would like an upgrade at no cost.  How about a Mercedes  C220 Cabriolet?

“That would be fine” Matt said, doing his best to keep a straight face.  Wowzah!  He was a kid in a candy store.   I loved the sportiness of our ride and but was relieved that he’d be doing all the driving.  The French are crazy behind a wheel.

We had a blast!  It was a little stressful getting out of Aix but ten minutes into our trip we exited off the A51 and were on a mellow country road. The trees create a canopy along the vineyard-line road.  I felt like I was in a painting of Provence.

I picked Bonnieux as our first town after reading the description as “a romantic city on a hill nestled in the heart of Petit Luberbon”. And it was only 45 minutes from Aix-en-Provence.

Before reaching Bonnieux, we drove by the beautiful Château de Lourmarin towering over the tiny town.

We stopped and admired the beautiful gardens and view and then hopped back in our sport car and drove up the hill to Bonnieux.  We hiked to the top of the church in Bonnieux and around the tiny ancient town.  The streets are narrow.  I don’t think two cars can pass.  I’m not sure how the summer traffic would be and we were happy it was a Tuesday in September and not Saturday in August!

Our next stop was red rocked town of Roussillon.  We found a parking spot right away.  I was in charge of the parking meter. I am still not sure our 2 euro covered the hour or the day.

It was lunchtime so we we found a little spot with a table by the window and enjoyed some delicious pasta and a croque monsieur.   I remembered being in Roussillon with my family and my dearest friend Amy Conger when I was pregnant with Brewster.  Matt didn’t remember the town and I reminded him that he didn’t leave the pool at the chateau where stayed for two weeks.  In July, 2004, Matt took the Utah Bar and then we travelled to France.  He was exhausted and all he wanted to do (and did) was read fiction and chill by the pool.  He had secured a job in Salt Lake City and we were moving to Park City from San Francisco but first we spent two weeks in France and then a month driving around Spain and Portugal.

The French portion was a Fuller Family Field Trip.   My parents had rented an old château, Mason George, for two weeks and the Garretts, Hutchinsons and my parents met in Gordes.  My sister, Mara & her husband John went to visit their friends in Asia so they didn’t make it.  But Amy Conger, Heather Staples & Mike Carlson happily stepped in for the O’Briens. Every day we went to a different market town in Provence.   We came home after lunch,  napped, cooked and then feasted.  I baked a number of fig tarts since we had a tree in our yard and Tom Garrett not only loved my tarts but was tall enough to pick the figs off the tree.  Châteauneuf-du-pape flowed.

No doubt, the seed for my current French sabbatical was planted back in 2004.  Last week, Matt and went looking for our château in Gordes but didn’t find it.  But we did drive through Gordes and relived our baby moon with a big heart.

After Gordes, we climbed up to the small town  Murs before it was time to head back to Aix.   About 4pm,  we arrived at Brewster and Sadie’s school and picked them up.  We took them for a drive in the convertible. On the map, near their school, we spotted a park in a little town Tholonet with a road up a mountain called St. Victoire .  We winded our way up the mountain and were delightfully surprised with what we encountered.  There is no lack of beauty in Aix!

We dropped off the kids near our apartment close to 5pm leaving ourselves an hour to return the car.  The rental shop is less than two miles from our apartment.  We followed our google map and were stunned when it lead us to a one-way street, the wrong way!  We stayed calm and looped around.  It was 5:30pm but the traffic was building.  Unable to cross the Rotonde (the center rotary of Aix) we had to drive all the way around the city to arrive at the rental shop from the opposite direction. I lost my mind in the grid lock traffic.  Finally, about 6:20pm,  we arrived and they were closed.  I was STRESSED!

Matt’s  flight from Marseille was the next morning at 6:30am.  No part of me wanted to drive the fancy car.  So I made Matt continue to drive in traffic to find parking.  Ready to quit, he found an overnight garage near by.  Desperate, I begged him to try to find a spot closer the car rental place.  I didn’t trust myself driving  the nice car.  He agreed, flipped around and went back to where we were supposed to drop the car off.  And what do you know??  My parking angels were with us!  Matt found a spot directly across the street from where we needed it to be the next day.  Yay for us.

I look at the Aix traffic and drivers differently since last Tuesday.  I am certain that we made a good decision to buy bus passes and leave the cars to the locals.   Matt and I had a such an OMAzing date in the Luberon before he flew back Aux Etas-Unis.  We miss him! One week down.  We’ll see him again in five more.

***Speaking of Angels: footnote from a previous post (My Visa Story: I believe in Miracles).  My mom rightly mentioned in an email to me shortly after that post”You gave lots of credit to the Buddha beads but what about the Memorares?” She is right and I must give credit where credit is due.  In addition to all the praying I did to my angels leading up to my trip to Washington DC,  my mom lead my sisters and me in a Memorares (a Catholic prayer) in Cape Cod.  Whomever heard our prayers, I am grateful and thank you.  

When I picked up Sadie the other day, I asked her if I could take her photo.  She rolled her eyes. “Really, Mom?” I felt in that moment that I had officially become my own mother.  As we all know & love, my mom, MA loves to take photos.  

“Yes, really Sades.  Please?” I ask.  “Fine.”  I took this photo and we walked out of the school.

“You know that isn’t Eva right?” Sadie said.  “It’s not?  Who is it?”   

“I have a second friend. “ Sadie said.  I smiled.  

The first week of school was truly filled with ups and downs.  This summer, Sadie and I visited with one of her French teachers, Chrissy Nichols.  She shared with us that the French teachers are stricter and punctuality was paramount. I heard her, but it wasn’t until this week at school that  really HEARD her.

Wednesday morning we left our house at 7:32am and arrived at the Bus stop 2 minutes later – 4 minutes before the bus was scheduled to pick us up.  7:38 came and went.  Quicky, it was 7:42, 7:44 and by 7:48 Brewster was ashen.  

I desperately flagged a cab.  The first one was not available. I tried a second and fortunately he could take us. We piled in (Brewster shouted “We are not in a cross walk” which we ignored, trying to save time) The cab zipped down the street towards school.  The French are crazy drivers. It was 7:59 when we arrived across the street from the school. I assured Brewster that he would be fine.  However, when we arrived at the gate, all the students were inside.  He darted towards his classroom and I silently wished him the best.

With Brewster gone, Sadie  burst out crying from the stress (and her brother yelling at her for leaving the cab door open). I sat with Sadie on a nearby bench, took some deep breaths and gave her tons of love.  At 8:15am I walked her up to the gate and headed up the hill through Parc de la Torse which is big and beautiful  and close to their school (It also is where Sadie’s class goes for Sport.  I spotted her there on Friday!)

Outside the park was a yoga studio that I saw on line.   I went in at 9am for a Vinyasa class.  Although I understood virtually nothing of what the teacher was saying in French, it sounded like a French lullaby. I loved the quiet and to be back on my mat was amazing. I followed along  with the asanas, but occasionally I opened my eyes to find everyone but me in a forward fold.   I was still standing.  I cracked myself up.  Occasionally I recognized some Sanskrit words that I knew like Utkatasana and that was cool.

At the end of class I took the bus to the vieille ville (old city) and went to a café where I met Karina and Robin for an hour of French conversation.  I saw an invite at this café for Thursdays from 11:15-12:15 to speak French with a teacher and others who are learning.  10 euro included a coffee and money for the teacher.  Nervous, I was so out of my comfort zone. I realized my French vocabulary is very limited and conversation is hard.  I felt good about putting myself in an uncomfortable situation and surviving.  I was exhausted when it was over!

That afternoon when we were all home, Brewster told me the story about his morning after the cab.  He went to his classroom and no one was there.  He panicked; his stomach in knots.  He approached the headmistress and asked politely where his class was.  She responded in French, “You don’t know because you are late.”  

Brutal!  She asked another student to walk Brewster to the  classroom.  That student told Brewster what he had to do in order to enter the classroom.  Brewster knocked on the classroom door and said, “Bonjour Professior.  Pardon, je suis en retard.”  (Good morning, Excuse me. I am late). And at that point, the teacher can ask the student to come in, wait or leave.  In Brewster’s case, he was invited in.  He was relieved that was over.
The day before, Brewster arrived at school what we thought was on time but turns out that he didn’t go in the gate quick enough to make it into the classroom before the door closed.  Since he didn’t know about knocking and what to say, he just walked in leaving the door open and sat down in his seat, head down.  The teacher came up to him and said “Do you not say good morning to your professor?  Respect!  And do you think the door will close itself?”  Ouch.

The next morning, we left at 7:20am and arrived at school at 7:35am.  Brewster is determined not to be late again!

I have been signing pieces of paper all week that are in French.  Every couple of days, I go to the English speaking secretary and ask what they mean.  Yesterday, I asked her about a paper that talked about lunch boxes.  The kids thought it said to put their lunch in the refrigerator when arriving to school.  So I was surprised when the secretary told me that in fact it said the lunch boxes do not go in the fridge but only the items that need to be chilled.  The don’t want the dirt from the lunch boxes in their refrigerator.
I told the kids what I learned over dinner last night.  After Sadie excused herself, Brewster and I had a little 1:1 time.  He asked if he could tell me something.  “Of course”, I said.

“They threw away my lunch yesterday” Brewster said. 
“WHAT?”  I was stunned.  “What happened???” I asked.

He explained that it was when he was running late (after the cab)  he put his whole lunch bag filled with a yogurt, hummus/pretzels, banana, and croissant in the fridge.  When he went to get it before lunch it wasn’t there.  He played it off like he forgot it.  His friend Luca joked with him and said, “You Americans are so stupid”.  Luca kindly shared a little bit of his lunch.  When the headmistress asked Brewster where his meal was, he said “Je ne sais pas” (I don’t know) which was true.  He didn’t know.

“Oh buddy” I was laughing but also felt like I could cry.  “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”  He was so sweet and said “I didn’t want to as there is only so much” referring to the knocking on the door and being late.

French school culture.  Wow.  I am seeing the differences.   The good news is that every day has been a little easier for the kids to understand their teachers and Sadie even has a tentative playdate on Wednesday with friend #2.

And we are off again.  I asked the kids if and where they wanted to go away for an overnight on Saturday.    Brewster said Marseille.  So I booked a room in the Old City with a pool and walking distance to the beach.  We are taking the train down there and we will be celebrating their first week at school.

Brewster sat down in the front seat of our rented Mercedes convertible yesterday and said, “Well, that was fun”  in a very sarcastic tone.

Matt and I were dying to hear details about his first full day of school.  “What do you mean buddy?”  Matty asked.

“Well, I am in Spanish 3 being taught in French.  It’s nearly impossible.  I can’t tell when the teacher switches from explaining the Spanish concept in French to speaking Spanish.”  Brewster has never taken a day of Spanish in his life. 

We all burst out laughing.   We couldn’t help it.  “Oh Dude,” I said.  “That is rough. “  Matt and I laughed harder and longer than Brewster.  He was not kidding, school was hard.  He looked like he was in pain.

Both Sadie and Brewster have the gift of Matty’s intelligence.  I say it all the time.  I am smart too, but in a different way.  The only other person I know that read as early as Brewster and Sadie was Matt.  (Another great story for another day.)  All three of them learn very quickly and my kids have had a 4.0 GPA since they have been issued grades in school.  Of course, I recognize their hard work at school and their accomplishments.  But these first two days at their French school makes my heart swell with pride. It is another level.

Monday was day one of their school.  Fortunately they start with a two hour orientation.  Sadie had to be there at 9am and Brewster at 1pm.  Our whole family was nervous.

Brewster slept in and Matt, Sadie & I caught the 8:17am bus. It is about a ten minute ride and a few minutes walk to their school. Sadie did not want to be late and we were trying a new bus line.  There are several bus choices and we were in search for a direct route with the fewest street crossings from the bus stop to their school.  I think we found it with Bus Line 4.

When we arrived at the school, all the families were outside the gate.  Most children wore their school uniform (blue shirt and grey sweatshirt) but Sadie’s uniform are with a seamstress who is sewing on her patches (a service arranged by the school).  Sadie wished she looked like everyone else, but there was nothing I could do about that. The uniforms won’t be ready until next week.

I tried to encourage her to smile but her nerves made it hard. I could see it in her face.  Some of the kids gave each other gigantic hugs.  There is nothing like being new and standing alone.  We were momentarily distracted when Sadie noticed that her new heart ring fell off her finger.  We looked for it in the gravel but have yet to find it.  Matt is so good in those situations. Not me.  I demanded sternly why she took it on and off, which is (a) not helpful  and (b) kicking her when she is down.  And Matt on the other hand said, “Sadie, honey, don’t think about it.  We’ll find it or buy a new one.”  She was comforted by him.

At 9:00am sharp, the headmistress Madame Guinde opened the gate and proceeded to shake each child and parent’s hand.  When that was done, twenty minutes later, she welcomed the group in French.  It was hard to hear and understand.  We had no idea what she said except a few things were translated into English. I caught that the students are not to be late.    She said it a few times.  That’s good for me to hear because punctuality is not my strength.

The morning sun baked us.  I noticed that unlike Park City, no one wore a hat. (except Matt in his fedora)  Most parents were dressed to the nines. I admired the French women’s shoes, jeans, and purses. The French are so naturally stylish and beautiful. Even the men looked good.  There were families from the Middle East and India as well. I couldn’t tell if anyone else was American or British; everyone around us spoke French.

Finally, the orientation ended when the headmistress called out the student’s name and they came up to meet their teacher.  Sadie whispered to me, “I can’t understand any of these names.” She was right!  Even when Madame Guinde called her name, it didn’t sound like her name.

So, it wasn’t surprising when we picked her up at 11am and asked her teacher’s name.  She said she didn’t know.   She couldn’t understand.  We laughed.  Crazy, right?     Sadie did make one friend though.  Eva.  Oh, bless you Eva.  Thank you for talking to Sadie on her first day.  Sadie said she was hard to understand because Eva spoke really fast French.  But Sadie was confident that they would be friends despite the language barrier.

The three of us took the same bus home as the morning.  At one point, we realized that we didn’t know where we were anymore.  It turns out that we live near a one way street, so the bus  were were on was going around the old city.  We jumped off and walked through the center of the city and home.  No big deal, but it was a reminder that we need to pay attention at all times as to where we are and where we are going.

Brewster had just woken up and was showering when we came home.  We ate lunch together although he didn’t eat much.  He was anxious to go to school and get his orientation behind him.  We decided that we didn’t all have to go back to school.  I would escort him and Sadie and Matt would go to town to pick up a few school supplies.

The tension waiting at the bus with Brewster was intense.  I was trying to make easy conversation and asked him what college football team was his favorite.  He quietly answered (Stanford) and then said, “Mom, I am sorry.  I can’t talk.  I am just so nervous.”  I wanted to pull the rip cord and bail on school all together.  I wanted to make his discomfort go away.  But I know the only way out is through. So we had to get on the bus and move forward.  I asked him if he had ever been that nervous and he said only one other time before his football championship game.  And followed up by saying, “and I threw up.”  Oh boy. I was hoping he didn’t throw up.  He didn’t.

We arrived on time at school and waited for the headmistress to come to the gate and open it.  She again shook everyone’s hand and then we gathered around her.  Brewster is part of the college.  The school is split into three parts:  primary, college and lycée.  The college orientation was much shorter than Sadie’s.  Not only were the students not to be late, but these students were not to use their phone at school.  Ever. 

Unlike in the primary orientation when she named each student, with the college, she simply named the grades.  Brewster is in 4éme (Quatrième) and when it was called, he followed his teachers into the small classroom and that was that.  I flashed him the peace sign and then he disappeared.

I left the school and went to the park to digest the day.  Before long, it was 3pm and Matt met me at the school to greet Brewster.

Schedules were handed out.  He was a little freaked out about the length of the day.  He starts at 8am and usually ends at 5pm and possible 6pm with study hall but was very happy there was no school on Wednesdays.  He will study French, English (he is excited for that one!) bilingual geography and history, Spanish, Science and he has 2 hours of Sport on Monday.  There are 21 kids in his grade from all over Europe.   He said he understood a lot more French than he spoke.  In fact, he didn’t speak at all.  But then again, he said, no one really did.  I guess being 13 is not that different despite where you live.

Yesterday was their first full day and Matt’s last day in France.  I took the bus with them in the morning and they were both slightly nervous, but not nearly as much as the the day before.  I really wanted to take their photo.  Sadie didn’t mind.  Brewster did.   Pretty much sums up their feelings!

Matt and I rented a car for the day and explored Provence. It was trés magnificent! The day deserves it’s own blog post so stay tuned.  We picked up both kids in the car after school and loved hearing about their day.  I was especially pleased when Brewster told me that this kid named Luca said to him in English right before lunch, “You eat with us.”  Luca, thank you! 

Here we are on Wednesday and the kids don’t have school.  They were ready for a day off again.   I appreciated that they could take it easy.  It has been an intense couple of days.

Matt flew out early this morning, sniff, sniff.  We miss him already, but all four of us are so happy that he was here to witness the first days of École Privée Val-Saint-André.