Tour de France

So far, this year has been pretty good for sports spectating.  Rugby 6 nations tournament, Tour de France... and in less than two weeks, London Olympics!  Ok, so we don't technically have tickets for anything in London (yet... if anyone wants to hook us up... hint, hint), but F and I did get to go see the Tour on Sunday.  And it's free!

We are super fortunate that the final Stage of the Tour passes about 10km from our apartment, right on the train line from our place.  The Tour is a funny spectator sport, because you wait around for 3 hours or so, and the bikes literally pass by in about 90 seconds, total.  But no matter, there's lots to do on the sidelines.  About 90 minutes before the riders come through, the official Tour Caravan comes whizzing by.  Yes, whizzing - there's no slowing down here.  If this was in the States, I guarantee you there would be an injured kid and a lawsuit.  Here, the police drive by first and bark out over loudspeakers to keep your kids on the sidewalk.  And good thing, because the caravan trucks (Tour sponsor companies) pass by way faster than I would have expected, throwing stuff out the windows of the tricked-out trucks to the spectators.  Keychains, magnets, stickers, laundry soap, flags, hats.  We scored (or, rather F scored) some serious loot!

Pleeeease!  Give us free stuffffff!

What's funny is that in the States, cycling is a rather elite sport.  Here, it's the sport of the common people.  The sponsors are all of the major brands of working-class France.  Supermarket-brand dried sausages, cola-flavored syrups to add to your bottled water, Nesquik, even the official baguette (the Banette) of the Tour. 

So, F and I went, and waited.  And waited.  And since F slept for most of that time, I got to enjoy some adult company, an awesome picnic spread complete with hot coffee, and tasted my first steak tartare.  Nevermind that it was homemade, came out of a big mixing bowl, and I cannot guarantee that it had been properly refrigerated - the flavor was actually delicious.  The texture.... well, it may take some getting used to.

Wait... here come the cyclists!  Go!  Go!  Goooooo!

And then, in 90 seconds, it was over.  But the spare bikes that went by next were pretty sweet too.

Lots of fun.  Lots of sun.  Great way to spend a Sunday afternoon!

- E

"Home"

E here.  I've been back in France for a whole three weeks now; L and the boys are still in Arizona and will be back this Sunday.  It's been strange being here without them, and strange but familiar being back in France after such an extended vacation back home. 

Home.

Where is home, exactly?  When we were making the decision to pull up our roots and move to France, we told ourselves that we'd be back home to visit once a year.  At the time it didn't occur to me that we have so many places to call home, that we would never be able to visit them all on a yearly basis. The geographic spread is impressive:

- L's family is in Arizona, Texas, and Kentucky, with a small contingent in Oklahoma

- My family is in Montreal and Virginia

- Our house and much of our hugely important family of incredible friends are in Portland, Oregon and Vancouver, Washington

- Add to that sizable friend contingents in the Washington, DC area, a dear group of my close friends in Durham, North Carolina, and a handful of L's childhood close friends in Albuquerque, New Mexico. 

And that's just naming the places where we have lots of people we love - dense concentrations of people who have played a huge role in our pasts, our present, and who will without a doubt continue to be hugely important to us in the future.  

I haven't done the math on the mileage between these places, but in any case the spread is impressive.  We pretty much hit most corners of the continent.  On one hand, it is a testament to our travels, to our amazing family and friends, and to the rich and ever-changing lives L and I lived before we met.  On the other hand, it means that we will never, ever succeed in going "home" every year. 

And while France does not yet feel like home (and I am not sure if it ever truly will), there are some parts of our neighborhood that are becoming more familiar, more home-like.  A new butcher has opened up, even closer than the ones we already have, and while I have only been in there 4 or 5 times since coming back, the men who work the counter are starting to recognize me as a regular.  I even got free merguez sausages the other day with my chicken breast.  My morning walk with the dogs has become so familiar that I know where to look for the snails as they cross the sidewalk in the morning, and can predict which dog/owner combinations I will run into depending on how early I actually get out of bed.  My bike ride to work is almost ritual now in its familiarity, and I can pretty much time my arrival to the minute.  The thumbtack that has been sitting on the concrete floor of our building's basement is still there, and I reflexively steer my bike around it every morning and evening.  Why I don't just pick it up is beyond me.

When L arrives this Sunday, I am hoping that at least a handful of things will feel comforting and familiar to her, too, but I am also well aware that after spending the last two months surrounded by family and friends, she may not be all that thrilled to be back here.  The apartment will probably feel even smaller than it is, and the transition from constantly being surrounded by loved ones to our rather solitary life here will probably be challenging for all of us.  Shortly after we arrived, a colleague told me that the first couple months in a new country are always tough, but at least you expect them to be.  The bigger challenge, he said, was the second and third waves of hard times that hit only when you feel like you might finally be settling in.  These waves of longing for the familiar are almost worse, because they creep up when you no longer expect them.  The good news is that we have some short excursions planned for the next few months that will hopefully help to remind us all of the awesome parts about living abroad, like the fact that London is a mere 2.5 hours (and 88 Euros) away, and that the quality/price ratio of wine, bread, and produce here is so much higher than in the States or Canada.  Or that we can visit the Louvre or wander down the banks of Seine anytime we want.  Or that we don't have to pay for gas, ever, because we have no car. 

A few steps forward, a couple of steps back... but hopefully we are moving in the right direction.

- E