Last Thursday, I took the train two hours west of Paris to Le Mans, so I could spend time with the part of my French family who lives in the country. Les Guerets is the dairy farm where my father was born (literally) and raised, now run in a co-société by my uncle, aunt, and cousin Etienne (more photos of the farm can be found here). I was supposed to stay for four days, only do you know what they did to take the farm to an over the top experience? Like here is the farm bouncing high on a trampoline waving down at all the other summer vacation possibilities? They INSTALLED WIFI. Whereas I used to peck like a crow at a French keyboard when I came to visit -- I used to grapple with dial up -- I am now writing this from my personal computer à moi. So in the morning I have the capacity to read blogs downstairs in the kitchen while I eat toasted French bread with real butter. I read the New York Times and drink coffee out of a big porcelain bowl with milk from the cow, poured out of a cool, red tin thermos while listening to funny old french songs playing on a radio station called Virgin. “C’est comme dans un vieux rock'n'rocks” delares the chorus of a song from the 70s earlier at breakfast. (I beg you to watch that clip, please.) What, may I ask, is a an old rock'n'rock? Oh who cares! Leave your irony at the door! You’re in the country!
Inside, I have my family with all their loud joking and teasing. And outside:
Inside I have meals prepared by my aunt. Gosh, my aunt. Even the simple thrown together stuff – a rice salad with corn, tomatos from the garden, and parsley -- makes my eyes roll back in my head. We won’t even get into the rabbit with a squash and potato mousseline at lunch, or the homemade ratatouille with riz au lait a vanille for dessert we had last night.
So I am contacting Paris Vogue to have all my future magazines sent here. I’m never leaving.
Can someone call France Telecom for me? Because the last time I moved, the act of explaining that I had moved and didn’t want their service anymore may have shaved years from my life.
*The title of this post is a reference to a popular French reality t.v. show, L'Amour est dans le pré, where farmers look for love. It also may mark my first ever truly awesome blog post title in French. Hey-yo!