Atherton Family Notes

For those of you who who haven’t heard yet, it looks like our assignment here in France is just about over.  I have been asked to take a new assignment back in Indianapolis that is planned to start in early September.

We were not totally surprised by this, but we obviously have a lot of stuff to do in a short amount of time.  On the other hand, we orchestrated our exit from Germany in three weeks.  So this shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Tuesday night, we called the company that Thomson hired to manage the needs of expats, including relocation.  They told us that we would be contacted by a moving company within 48 hours.

Well, guess what… we haven’t heard from anyone yet.  We weren’t too concerned about this until Sandi and I started talking about it yesterday after she came home from a shopping trip.

She noticed that most of the stores she went to were getting ready to close for summer vacation.

Another data point: on Thursday, I hit a concrete curb on the side of the road on the way home.  The damage was minor, but I did bend up the rim of the front right tire.  I spent a long time trying to get service arranged for the car on Friday, but Thomson’s service company finally picked up the car about 11 and told me that the car should be ready by 3.  I called the service company just before taking a taxi to go get the car– and they told me it wasn’t finished yet because they didn’t have the rim in stock.  To make matters worse, they estimate it will be one week before they get the rim, because, you guessed it, everyone is on vacation.

Suddenly, it seems clear why we haven’t heard from the moving company yet– they are probably all on vacation.  We forgot that nothing important happens in France in August.  We could get surprised with a call from the moving company next week, but I’m not holding my breath.  I suspect this means we won’t be moving home until sometime in September.

In the meantime, we are trying to make sure that we get to visit a few more places before we leave.  We went to the area around Quimper (out on the western coast of Brittany) last weekend, and we are planning to tour the Loire valley next weekend.  We’re even trying to see if we can sneak in a trip to Ireland on our way home.

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“Put your big girl panties on & deal with it!” I recently read this quote and feel the need to praise the author’s keen sense of wisdom. There are moments in my life where I read a quote or hear a song and feel like the fog has lifted, the skies have cleared, and the light has broken through. This most recent quote could not come at a better time.

As Ken mentioned in the previous post, we are indeed moving home early. As to when still remains a mystery and that is a big part of the problem. The girls and I came back to France early with the idea that we were going to be packing up and heading out as fast as possible. As I sit here with a house half packed up and no movers to date….. I have to wonder if it was worth it.

Our trip back here was the absolute worst trip I have ever experienced! I will be the first to admit that even though the trips are hard, they do run smoothly. Our kids are generally very well behaved and we often get comments from other passengers on that fact. But all out luck ran out and we paid dearly for it this last time around.

It all started in Chicago. We had waited out our two hour layover and were just about to board the flight into Paris, when Ken suddenly realized that he left our folder that held our tickets and passports, in the backseat pocket of the last plane that had a continuing flight to Dallas. He ran to the ticket counter, told the news to the agent (who in return gave him the official “what kind of idiot are you! “look), and proceeded to call the other gate. After what felt like a lifetime, we found out that the plane had not yet taken off due to mechanical troubles and that the folder was found. Now the plan was for Ken to haul butt back to the gate to retrieve it. Minutes later, they closed the gate door and sheer panic set in — Ken hadn’t gotten back yet. Ken finally arrived and we were informed that they had stopped boarding due to some engine troubles and that we could board or just wait in the terminal. With three small kids, we did what was only fair to the other passengers…we waited. Turns out that the engine troubles were more than they bargained for and they disembarked all those poor souls who had already baked in the plane for an hour.

The flight finally boarded two hours late and took another 45 minutes to find a spot in the line up to take off. We arrived in Paris late, late, late and dead tired! Because we had expected Ken to only stay in the states for a week, we had parked in the terminal parking and not the long term. His boss kept asking him to stay and it only occurred to us at this moment what that meant. I was actually surprised to see our car was still sitting there and not towed off. Then again, maybe that would have been cheaper! The charges for the parking mounted to a whopping 400 Euros!! That is one bill I am glad I personally do not have to explain to the boss!

After a few minutes of driving Ken and I realized very quickly that neither of us could keep our eyes open for more than 5 seconds at a time and no amount of coffee, even if directly added to our bloodstream, was going to improve the situation. The best plan of action at this point was to pull off at a rest stop and try to sleep for a few minutes. We begged Carissa and Celia to play quietly while the rest of us slept. When we woke after what felt like a 20 minute nap, I felt unbelievably refreshed and was amazed by it. On closer inspection we realized that an hour and a half had elapsed! Bless their hearts, Carissa and Celia played quietly that whole time!

Just so this post does not get as long as that day did, I will sum up what else went wrong. Not long after we got back on the road we realized that we had missed our turn and were heading SOUTH and not straight WEST! We went about 3 hours out of our way. We somehow lost our toll ticket (even though we had never gotten out of the car since we got it) and had to spend 20 minutes explaining where and when we got on the road and filling out paperwork. We finally reached our doorstep at 8:30PM. Exactly 8 hours after leaving the Paris airport that is 4 hours from our house if you go the right way.

At this point, I truly believed that the day was over and could not get any worse. I was wrong! Celia topped off the evening with a febrile seizure. She developed a cold that drained her enough to sleep her way through the jet lag. The rest of us were not so lucky if you want to call it that. The jet lag really kicked my butt this time around and I took relief from knowing that I NEVER had to do that trip again!

After the pain of the trip eased a bit, I began my packing. All too soon, I started having this uneasy feeling that just would not go away. In the back of my mind I began questioning if we really were going to get out of here by the end of August. We have two weeks until we “move out” and we have not spoken with a mover yet. Today Ken informed me that they want to push the move back until mid October after the delivery of the current project is finished. We are trying to decide how to work this out. Do I want to go ahead and move to the states with the girls and leave Ken behind in a hotel, do we want to stay here, or do we want to go to the states to get the girls in school and come back in October to pack and move.

At this point I don’t care what happens, I just want a decision to be made and for the company to stick to it. My patience is running thin and I feel if I can just get home as soon as possible then the company can quit reeking havoc on my life. I think it is just the current mess, but I find it odd that at this point I have no strong desire to stay here in France and I wonder if I will still feel the same on moving day. My ex-pat life is coming to an end fast and I wonder if I will miss it when I am back to my ordinary life in the states.

The scary thing is, I think I hear “never” knocking on my door and holding a big plate of “never” for me to chow down on. Me thinks my idea of never again having to make that trip from the US to France with 3 small kids is fading fast.

Which brings me back to the quote…I guess what ever comes from all this mess, I will just have to “put on my big girl panties & deal with it!”

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Since we are back in France and our time is running out we made a list of the places we wanted to get to before we left. The good news was that the list was pretty darn small! The bad news was “wow, really? Nothing else to see here?”

Quimper is a town along the west coast about 3 hours from here that is famous for its pottery. We see it everywhere we go, in lots of little towns around here. Even though I have found some beautiful pieces, I have always held off buying anything because I figured there *HAD* to be a better selection in Quimper. You would *THINK* I would be right eh? Not so, I am afraid!

For a town known all over France for its pottery, it sure lacked big time in stores to buy it! Here I thought I was going to have to do some serious sweet talking to Ken so that I can load up, but found nothing all that fantastic to buy.

We visited one of the factories that made it and it was rather interesting. We saw how it went from clay rolls, to shapes, to drying, to painting, and to the finished product. The girls were most fascinated with the painting part. Carissa especially, who wants to be an artist when she grows up! She mentioned this to the lady at the sales counter when she asked what her favorite part was. Speaking of which, here is a funny story for ya….

Everywhere you go, one of the things you always see in this pottery is small bowls painted with flowers and a name painted on the outside. We decided that we would order some for our girls since we had not found any with their names. Not like they have unusual names or anything! As I was standing there placing the order with a lady who had to be called over to help in English, Carissa came by and started speaking French to the original sales lady. They talked for a few minutes and then I saw her look around for the mother of this child standing in front of her. When Carissa started talking to me in English, there was a sheer look of bewilderment that came across the sales ladies face! I knew what was going through her mind and sure enough, it came out. “This is *YOUR* child?”

“Why yes, it is!”

“But, but, but… you don’t speak French?”

“No, I speak very BAD French!”

“So how did she learn French? Her father speaks French?”

“Well, just a little.”

At this point she pulls the English speaking sales lady into the conversation and they begin talking about me and my child as if we were not there. The conversation went on and as we joined back in, we told them about the girls attending school and learning French there. They were in shock and told me that her accent was so fantastic that they would have never guessed French was not Carissa’s native tongue.

Window with Quimper pottery flower box.

Since this was supposed to be a weekend trip and Quimper didn’t take up the whole time, we had to find something else to do. We chose to head west and go out to one of the famous points there at the far western edge of France. Soon we realized we were going straight north! (Seems we have a direction problem these days eh?)

Ken’s grandfather always had a saying that I find fun to repeat from time to time (mostly when we are going the wrong way) and that is: “It is a good road. It goes somewhere!”

We finally found a path to drive along the coast to the point we wanted to be at. Soon however, we came upon a sign off to the right announcing a town that I THOUGHT we were just going to pass by. The sign said the town was listed as a “small town of character“. These cities have been hit and miss with us. Some have turned out great, others have been real duds.

We felt adventurous this day and went to check it out. It turned out to be one of the cutest cities we have ever visited in France! The buildings were old and beautiful; the stores were nothing but craft shops, and the flowers were all in bloom. We spent the morning there walking around and taking pictures of the girls, then had a picnic lunch before heading off.

The coast was an interesting sight and we ended up at the (traditional, but not quite actual) western most point of France called Point du Raz. Carissa learned about this in school and said that her teacher called it the “nose” of France. When I agreed with her and said that yes indeed we were on the “nose” she piped up very loudly “Hey look everyone… we’re boogers!!!”

I am glad we had a good time the second day and that it was saved by our “wrong turn” into the city of Locronan. On the way home I began thinking about how we sure have changed. I distinctly remember our trip 3 years ago, to Italy and how I would monitor our every turn with the GPS system making sure we never got off track. Now, we just arm ourselves with a map and go. Sometimes we even hope for a wrong turn so we can find something interesting.

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So much of the charm and age of this area of France was destroyed in the war and it makes for kind of a boring stay. One thing this area had going for it was the Foret de Broceliande, or more famously known as Merlin’s forest. I thought this was going to be a great outing that we could take with the kids and have them learn lots of interesting things. I geared up by buying a book while I was in the states that contained the major stories of Merlin, King Author, Excalibur, and the Lady of the Lake. We read through the book and talked about the things we would see.

Salli Betz, (from the other ex-pat family here) had also wanted to do the forest and so we agreed to do it together. I am *SO* glad we did! The kids ended up having a great time running around with each other in between the little sights and I am not sure it would have been the same results had we been alone.

One of the things I found so odd was how spread out everything was as well as the fact that it all was not clearly marked with big signs leading the way to the over priced souvenirs. We drove anywhere between 10 and 20 minutes for the next sight. Then we would hike back into the woods for a good while to just lay eyes on the things we could not imagine were what they said they were. For example, Merlin’s tree; supposedly he was entombed there by Vivian and lived out his days in the tree. But when you get to the tree and see some dead stick no bigger than a whipping stick, you have got to wonder… that’s it? Couldn’t they do better than that? I am not sure what would be better. In American this area would have been turned into a large tourist spot. I am sure they would have picked a bigger tree for Merlin, they would have tours where you hop on a train or wagon and hear the stories from a man dressed in a wizard costume, while on your way to the next amazing spot, and then top it off with a stop and the largest magic and myth store on earth. Yet, here in France, only small signs pointed the way and though there were plenty of people around, you could just see “ho-hum” written on all their faces. Everything was left so untouched looking and not at all like a faked “untouched” version.

We saw the lake of the fairies and the kids looked long and hard to see if they could spot some. We saw the golden tree, which I could honestly tell you nothing about except that it was the most impressive sight of them all. We drove through the valley of no return. There was the fountain of Breton that is said to boil but remain cold (it is the nitrogen bubbles escaping from the ground) and the famous fountain of youth. However, after seeing the fountain of youth, it left me again saying “that’s it?” I have to wonder why it became so famous! Ok, so the real story behind it was that back in old, old days, they dedicated the children there and those who were too young at the time were dedicated the following year which in turn made them a “year younger” and so it became known as the fountain of youth.

Bottom line here is that the kids did have fun, it got them interested in the story enough to ask questions and to watch a non-Disney Merlin movie, *I* am glad I did it and learned what I did, but really….. so glad I did not waste a weekend on it! That’s it!

The fountain of Breton where the water boils.

Merlin’s twig with all the notes and offerings left by visitors.

The kids all looking for the fairies in the lake.

The fountain of youth. No way *I* was taking a drink from it! But we did touch it!

Now, after seeing the pictures, I  can just hear you all saying “that’s it?”

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