I am home. Sans baggage (my suitcase decided to take a Swiss Air flight home instead of the one we were on); but home.

Coming home after ten days away is a little unsettling. You have to jump back into to all your old routines, the ones that you totally abandoned while gone. Like cooking for yourself and cleaning up afterwards. Taking care of the dogs and cats. Speaking English again while my head is still whirling with long forgotten French words and phrases. It will take a few days to recalibrate I think. My body is here but my brain is in France.

As I type this entry I have started the long process of transferring the 500-odd photos I took from Rick’s laptop to my computer. Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with all 500+ of them! So, photos are coming.

Can anyone tell me why after eating more than I normally do and lots and lots of bread that I actually lost the last two stubborn pounds I could not get off before I left? I could not believe my eyes this morning when I stepped on the scale!

Rick and I both reconnected with the French people and France itself in a big way. We did not feel foreign at all. As we found our old house and the medieval village where we used to live and finding some things changed but most things not, it was very bittersweet. Also reconnecting with friends Greg and Danièle who we had not seen since they had a short working stint in the U. S. in 1996 was wonderful. Maybe even a plan down the road to meet them in Normandy and share a vacation.

Our French came back quickly, which was a good thing. In fact, I think it was even better than when we had lived there! We tried to do everything in French, but at times it was easier to switch to English when it was obvious they were just as comfortable speaking English with us once we had started in French. Restaurant speak and little daily things are easy. The things we can’t do are banter back and forth, tease and joke; all of which are part of the way the French communicate with each other. But it felt good to be understood and to also understand and even translate for the the guys that were there for the training from other countries. Sometimes my French was too good and the answer to the question I had asked came rushing forth in a torrent of French far too fast and complicated for my brain to take in. It felt good and very satisfying.

France is very special. I get it; it gets me. I could live there (again). There is just something about it that’s hard to explain, but it has to do with the people themselves and what is important to them, the way they live, their connection to the food that nourishes them, the beautiful countryside and more that all work together to form a very pleasing whole.

I mean, really. Where else could you go to have a 7 course four-and-a-half hour Sunday lunch of absolutely wonderful food looking out on the beautiful Rhône river amongst the vineyards of the Côte-Rôtie?

More to follow ...