The Duchess vs The Volcano...

Remember that post where I extolled the virtues of living in Europe? So close to so many countries, one of the best perks of living in the south of France.... That is unless one of those countries owns a volcano which decides to errupt and create travel chaos, just as the Walking English Megaphone is trying to flee, I mean, fly, back home.

We are on day 8 of his 4-day stay. We are getting a little anxious. We hope that his re-scheduled flight from Béziers to Bristol will leave on Wednesday, but we are not too convinced that it will. Ever heard the saying 'When America sneezes, the world catches a cold'? Well, Iceland has sneezed and some of it has landed on the Dukedom.

I know in the grand scheme of things, we are lucky. We aren't sleeping at the airport, or missing a family wedding or a funeral, and aren't one of the 4 teachers stranded with 40 15-year old British schoolchildren in Shanghai. But still. We are a little family who like to keep family visits short and sweet. We love each other in small doses. This may get interesting.

Anyone else out there been affected by the volcano chaos? Hope you all are where you want to be, or can get where you want to be going. Thanks to one of the other great perks of living in France, we do have a plentiful supply of wine to see us through...

Of the 101 things I love about France...

and about my region (the Languedoc) in particular, #10 would have to be the buzz I get from living somewhere that is surrounded by so many interesting, historical places, and that is in such close proximity to so many other countries.

Even after 10 years, I still get a child-like thrill at seeing all of the license plates from countries like Slovenia, Poland, and Denmark pass me on the motorway. I love the fact that doing my job here means that one day I may have English clients, the next French or Swedish, and then maybe some Dutch or Germans the next day. Most of all, though, I'm grateful that when friends or family come to visit, we always have plenty to do and see.

My dad and uncle loved the fact that while they were here, they managed to fit in Paris, the Spanish border, St Tropez, Cannes, Monaco, northern Italy and Carcassonne. Not a bad initiation to Western Europe for my uncle's first visit. Although had they stayed longer, we may have been able to fit in the Pont du Gard, Arles, Avignon or even Marseilles.

Europeans are always asking me why Americans seem to travel abroad so relatively little compared to the rest of the world. While I can't speak for the entire American population (no, really, I can't....), I know alot of it has to do with the sheer distance involved. When I lived in California and went to university in Iowa, I had to drive for 30 hours twice a year. According to mappy, if I drove half that time from my house here in France, I could be in Budapest, Berlin, Prague, Amsterdam, or Zagreb.

I like the fact that my little ladies have traveled more in their first 5 years than I had in my first 20. I remember quite distinctly how I felt at the end of my semester abroad, when I should have returned to my small town university in Iowa, that after having seen Rome, I just couldn't bare the thought of leaving Europe. While I do miss America from time to time, I feel lucky to be living where I do.

Now I'm just wondering if my old Peugeot would actually make the trip to Budapest....

Of the 101 things I love about France...

#68 would be the coffee culture. I'm quite partial to a frothy grand crème in the morning, une noisette in the afternoon and a sharp little café after a big dinner. I like the simplicity of ordering coffee at a café, although it has taken me a few years to hone my French coffee drinking to perfection. After a few amateur attempts at finding the right coffee for the right time of day, I think I've found my magic formula.

Coffee, how one orders it and how one drinks it, represents a huge cultural difference between France and the States. It's funny how a basic thing, how people satisfy their addiction for a hot legal stimulant, can be so perplexing and different, depending on what country you are in.

What I like about coffee in France is that there's no bs in coffee ordering; no skinnies or mochas or vanilla nut bean. You basically choose milk or no milk and then the size, which ranges from a thimble full to a normal coffee cup size. After all these years in France, I have a hard time remembering what the attraction was to an endless pot of weak coffee.

Before the invasion of Starbuck's, the idea of buying a giant coffee in a paper cup with a lid to go would have seemed absurd to the French. I remember having a travel coffee mug in the States that I never left home without. I don't think I've ever seen a French person drinking coffee in their car here. Part of the enjoyment of coffee drinking in France is the café culture, whether it's sitting on the terrace of a Parisian café or bellied up to the counter in a village bar.

I rarely see the French take milk in their coffee after breakfast, and after dinner, forget about it. When offered coffee at a French friend's house, milk is rarely proffered with it. My local bar owner shudders and says it's simply degueulasse the amount of milky coffee les anglais drink throughout the day.

Sure, great coffee can be found the world over, but the subtle nuances of how to order just the right cup of coffee can be overwhelming in some countries. It seems to me though that once you master the art of ordering the perfect cup, whatever country you are in, you become just that little bit closer to understanding that culture and its people.

Recently, though, I've sensed a shift in the coffee culture here. Cafés are struggling a little under the smoking ban, with some of the regulars who smoke drinking less coffee and not staying as long. And the French love affair with tea and infusions seems to be increasing as well. A non-smoking, herbal-tea-drinking Frenchman just doesn't quite conjure up the same stereotypical image the world used to have. Maybe that's a good thing, but I just don't want to imagine a France without its cafés and coffee...

Of the 101 things I love about France...

#15 would have to be the village bells. It's not until I'm away from home that I really think about them, and then only because it's seems so strange not to hear them at least once throughout the day.

Lying awake last night in bed here in the English countryside, it was far too quiet to be able to sleep. I miss the comforting sound of the village clock bells, striking twice on the hour, every hour, and once on the half hour. All I hear here is silence. It's actually quite distracting, all this silence.

Friends are often concerned when they first arrive to stay, thinking that they will be kept awake all night by the sound of bells. And they probably are the first night, and possibly the second, but by the third night, they usually stop hearing them.

We also get the death bell toll, slow and ominious, which always reminds me of Donne and Hemingway. Sometimes if I'm walking through the old narrow streets when they ring, which is usually around 3 in the afternoon when there aren't many people or cars around, I'm immediately taken back in time, half expecting to see a horse-drawn carriage come trotting around the corner.

Maybe it's because they offer an abstract sense of life going on around me, or maybe it's simply the serene sound of bells echoing off the stone walls, I'm not sure. But subtracting the bells from a village in the south of France would be like removing the color yellow from Van Gogh's paint pallette.

Of the 101 things I love about France.....

#95 would have to be gas stations. Lord knows in today's economy it's not because of the price of gas. I love gas stations in France because around here, you can buy alot more than fuel for your car.

Like tonight, the Duke just phoned me on his way home from work to say he'd just stopped at a station to buy some wild mushrooms.

The station up the road near Faugères has one of the best wine shops in the area, almost hidden behind the desk where the cashier sits. If it's any good, it's in this shop.

And most of the non-franchised stations you get along the rural routes are also where the freshest produce can be found in season- melons, peaches, asparagus, and this time of year, wild mushrooms.

Of course I do miss being able to pop into the 7-Eleven and come out with a slurpee the size of my head and some beef jerkey, but I guess a brown bag full of Ceps maybe the more sophisticated purchase.

I also like the station in the neighboring town of Roujan, where a sweet old couple, she's 90 if she's a day, comes out and insists on pumping the gas. Reminds me of South Dakota....

Of the 101 things I love about......

living in the French countryside, #47 would have to be wild asparagus.

I love the fact that everyone- from the local cafe owner to my young, single colleagues, from my mechanic to the check out cashier at the supermarket, everyone knows where to find it, and more importantly, what to do with it. And the other great thing about the French is that they are always willing to share their recipes.