Bobbing along...

Oct. 10, 2008, St. Cezaire, France (near Grasse)

When Mitch was teaching in England he had an adult student named Mrs, Adolph who was always impeccably dressed and spoke with a posh European accent... I was keen that we look as professional as possible for her so I never hung around to chat, but she was incredibly kind. She loaned us a cradle when Lochlan was born and gave both the boys lovely baby gifts. Mitch wrote to let her know that we were taking this trip, and although I still felt shy about imposing upon them, she wrote back warmly asking we'd like to come and stay with her and her husband Winfred in their home in the south of France. So here we are, and having a wonderful time. They have a beautiful home up in the foothills of the Alps just an hour or so from the glitzy Mediterranean coast. They have been so good to us -- they've heated up the pool for the children and we have eaten like royalty since we got here. After weeks in the tent, to be spoiled like this is bliss!

We went down to Antibes today to check out the English bookstore (!!) and have lunch outside in the sunshine. As we left our restaurant we passed an big fountain that is in the heart of every 'old town' -- apparently these were provided for the women to have a communal spot to wash their clothes. Although the human inhabitants of the town no longer used the fountain, as we passed by a pair of pigeons were using it happily -- not for a bath, but being modern birds, they were actually showering! The wife (?!) was soaking wet and hand obviously finished, then sat on the brim of the fountain watching her mate as h stood under the stram and lifted first one wing and then the other, looking very much like an old man soaping his armpits. The kids were beside themselves with laughter -- but we tried to be discreet as it was clearly a private moment for the birds!!

Many museums in France are free for children, which makes it so much easier to take them places as there is no pressured feeling of having to 'get our money's worth'. Although we had a quick walk through the National Gallery in England, the time we spent with them in the Louvre was really the children's first introduction to art in a big way. They were interested but slightly overwhelmed by the enormity of the Louvre, but when we took them to Salvador Dali's castle in Spain, they absolutely loved every minute of it. So while we were in Antibes we went to the Picasso Museum, which is housed in an old castle right on the sea. I was impressed by not only the art, but the way the kids were able to look at it with interest and intelligence -- this is education in a huge way.

And then there was simply the experience of wandering through towns with names that vibrate with 'chic', like St. Tropez or Nice. This is the glamorous side of Provence... I just love this country. Every few miles yields something different; we went through Cannes and the over-the-top elegance of the expensive streets where the Film Festival happens, but then within an hour we were back up in the hillsides above the sea, with the ancient road that Napolean took through the mountains cutting its way through the autumn splendour of the forests and hillsides above us.

We are so lucky to be living this life...


Oct. 13, On the water just off Isle de Port Cros, France

We are bobbing along on the brilliant blue waters of the Mediterranean as I write this, just off the Island of Port Cros. We have been fantastically priveleged and are out with the Adolphs on their boat. We docked here yesterday afternoon in the most beautiful and sheltered little harbour. It's a rough half-circle of sloping hills thick with old olives and other trees I cannot identify, but they are all gnarled and twisted, survivors of this tough, dry climate and the occasional roar of the salty mistral winds. Completing the picture is an old castle ruin overlooking the bay, which upon closer inspection is riddled with the marks of cannon fire from conflicts as recent as WWI. (Reading the sign, the French attribute the damage to the English -- which is a bit strange as they were both Allies, but some historical relationships never really change, apparently...).

The island is fiercely protected as a nature preserve: no fishing is allowed in a large swath of sea all around it, and feeding of the fish or the disgusting practise of boats emptying grey water and sewage while in the harbour is strictly prohibited. Rangers prowl the shores and patrol the waters during the summer months to keep visitors in line. No one is allowed to live on Port Cros except for the rangers and a handful of staff who man the few restaurants, post office and one shop, but there is an intermittant ferry service from the mainland, as well as a handful of people who spend a night or two docked in the harbour. Because it is so simple and friendly, Winfred let the children have all sorts of freedom and adventures... the boys launched the tender (a sturdy little dingy) and with Cachell as lookout in the prow, they rowed all through the harbour; around yachts and sailing vesels and big motor boats, all with the greatest of safety. They landed their craft into the little rocky coves, uncovering ruined cannons and finding all sorts of sea life as we kept a discreet watch on them with the binoculars! They would scamble up through the forest to the top of the hills... and then roar back down, move five feet down the shore, and repeat the process. We could monitor their process from the boat or dock but the sense of empowerment it gave them to be all on their own, rowing along on waters 15 meters deep -- a weather eye cocked for pirates on the horizon! -- has matured them before our very eyes.


And while I was walking along the dock, keeping one eye on the children and the other on the crystal blue waters beside me, I saw an octopus!! Of course I called out excitedly to the others and soon we had a contingent of French gathered as well, who estimated that "la poulpe" was probably at leat two kilos; he was a big one! He swam around obligingly, stopped and splayed on the sea bed so close that I could see his beady little eyes as well as the mildly repsive swelling and compression of his gill sacs, and then swam again, actually cresting the top of the water like a dolphin. It was 'fantastique', as the French kept exclaiming! There were dozens of other fish lazily swimming by as well -- the protected waters mean they have no fear, and an occassional illicit bit of bread tossed in the water brings them flocking in the same way it attracts pigeons on city streets! There were no big fish like sharks or dolphins to be seen; the Adolphs have not seen dolphins in the area for over ten years as the traffic on this part of the Mediterranean has become thicker and the boats larger.

Caelan is piloting the craft as we are underway now, under the watchful eye of "Capitaine Winfred". I can see grottos in the cliffs -- no putting to harbour on this side of the island..
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Oct. 15


I had to stop there, as the speed the boat was allowed to go as we circled the island was limited to only a few knots per hour (so as not to disturb the fish), and although the waters were not exactly choppy, they were full of swells that rocked us this way and that and kept the little (16 metre) boat from holding a straight course. Typing got more and more difficult, and to my embarassment, my tummy started to protest as the waves churned up the spicy gazchapo soup we had eaten for lunch!! I had to lie down (although I stayed above deck), and I must have dozed off a bit until the whine of the engines accelerating woke me. We were out of the protected waters and as the boat gained speed, the ride smoothed out considerably. I was just drifting back to sleep when Cachell and Dagmar were suddenly shouting excitedly; they had spotted dolphins off the bow! It was so exciting -- there was a whole family, leaping joyfully over the swath of foaming water in our wake. Their silhouettes continued to dance and twirl on the skyline as we pulled further and further away. The very fact that we had no expectations of seeing them made the sighting something I was truly thankful for.... although we didn't realise till yesterday that we had spent Canadian Thanksgiving out on the sea!! We certainly couldn't have asked for a better way to spend a holiday weekend -- and even without the awarness of official Thanksgiving, I had found myself thanking God for our good fortune every time we saw a different type of fish, or heard the children cry out in delight over some new discovery, or simply sat in the soft twilight, drinking rose and listening the gentle lap of the waves against the hull.