One Step Forward, Two Steps Back...

First of all, a report on the success of my French phone call: I did, indeed, make reservations for the Promenade - perfectly. Except that I thought a "promenade" would be horses promenading around... au contraire - we were the ones who were promenaded - in a horsedrawn cart with a group of very lovely people, on a tour of old Nogent. It was extremely charming and informative - and our fellow promenaders were so sweet. One lady came up to me and said, "You are American, yes? We love Americans here!" And the children were adorable, as always, particularly the sisters Matilde (age 9) and Berenice (age 4). Berenice fell asleep sucking her thumb about halfway through the ride, while our cart driver, pictured top left, never stopped talking...

At any rate, this seems to be the way things work for us, in travel and in life. We think we have things all figured out, then when it doesn't work, we give up on it... and when we give up on trying to control things, we see them in a whole new way.

For example, we used to think that Mortagne (one of the larger towns near here) was kind of an ugly industrial area, based on traveling by it on the main road. But after M&J told us it was their favorite, we went into the center of town and discovered a picturesque and fascinating city. The market in Mortagne is a Saturday morning "must" now - we have even made friends with a paella vendor who spent a couple of years in Michigan near the town where I grew up - he and his delicious paella are pictured at left... along with glorious roses and a beautiful little girl - all at Mortagne market.

Saturday night brought another visit to the Mortagne area for a musical performance - this time cello, piano and violin, playing Hayden, Ravel and Schubert in a glorious Romanesque church. The music soared to the vaulted ceilings, reaching to the gilded pink and white cherubs atop the 18th century altarpiece... achingly beautiful.

In another instance of happiness arriving when you give up control, remember the collie belonging to Madame Souchet, the keeper of the keys for the local tennis court? When we first got here, she (the dog, not Madame) used to chase me to the gate, snapping at my heels. Now she has seen me so often that she gets all excited and happy and tail-waggy when I show up... gratifying.

So we'll continue to stumble happily through our travels, which sadly will end next week when we head back to the USA, but we won't ever be the same again. James Joyce said, "I am a part of all that I have met"... Every day and every person we meet change us, and these days of getting happily lost have been transformational.