What a difference a warm welcome makes. Getting to Amboise today was just the opposite of getting to Paris back in April. Then, I started off optimistic, ready to go, confident, and ended up tired, discouraged and mildly depressed. Leaving Paris today, I was wishing we were just going home to Mesa. I cried at the drop of a hat. I wasn't excited to be touring France. But then we got to Amboise, a beautiful little town, we were greeted by Olivier--the man who we are renting our place from--and the place we are staying is beautiful, spacious, very clean and very well-kept. I love it. Here is the story of how we got here.
I've been cleaning and packing since Thursday, but there is still so much that you can only do right before you leave: the final dishes, washing sheets, sweeping and mopping, packing that last load of clean laundry...Anyway, I was doing all of this with a heavy heart and making pretty good time. Andy set off to get the rental car so we could start loading it up. He came back after a while--he had forgotten his passport. In the meantime, I was getting more nervous that checkout wouldn't go okay, more stressed out every time the kids inadvertently messed-up something I'd already cleaned. It was taking a long time, I called Andy to make sure everything was okay. He assured me he'd be home soon, but to me it still felt like a long time. I was paralyzed by indecision; I felt like I couldn't get anything else done until the car got there.
Well, it finally did, and Warren and Abigail shouted, "Dad got Lightning McQueen!" My first thought was that the car would be red, but it wasn't. It's navy blue. But there is a lightning logo on the hubcaps and front of the car. The other way it resembled Lighting McQueen was that it was small: 2 doors, small hatch-back trunk. Not at all what we'd planned to rent. As I looked at the piles of suitcases I had assembled--one pile to go with us around France, one pile to stay at some friends until we leave on the 16th, and one small pile that needed to be accesible as we travel, plus our limousine stroller, my heart sank even lower. As I loaded the first bag into the trunk and it seemed to fill half the space, I was sure: this is not all going to fit. So I did what I do when things get hard, I left the puzzle for Andy and went inside to sweep the floor. Well, as I was sweeping, I recieved heavenly inspiration: I could ride the Metro with the stroller and 3 kids, thus freeing up the seats in the car to hold the bags we were dropping off at our friends' house. That idea cheered me and Andy a bit. Then he told me that he had gotten the last rental car at the station, that as he was leaving, 2 other people with reservations showed up, and there were no cars for them. So we were both grateful to have a car. And we'll probably pay less than we planned since it is smaller than the car we reserved. Still, all of this did not make me excited to tour France.
I finished the cleaning, and Andy miraculously fit all the bags, except the stroller and the kids, in the car. We called Julien--the nice friend of our landlady, who is responsible for checking us out--and he came. What a relief, he checked us out quickly and easily. We'll get our deposit money back soon and I will sleep better knowing I am not responsible for that apartment anymore.
We said our goodbyes, handed over our keys, and I pushed the stroller--loaded with Abigail and Avery, Andy made room in the car for Warren, who was bitterly disappointed to not be riding in the car--unceremoniously out of our parking garage gates for the last time. The Metro ride and transfer happened without event and I walked quickly from there to our friends' apartment to meet Andy. He and Warren had arrived just before us; Paris is crazy to drive in. Andy said he almost turned the wrong way on a one-way street, luckily, there was a crosswalk that he had to wait at before fully entering the street and he noticed all four lanes of on-coming traffic. Yikes. We unloaded our extra bags and got them safely stowed, used the bathroom, borrowed a road-map, got some snacks and we were off. I have to say, we actually made it pretty uneventfully out of Paris with me navigating as Andy drove. We had to backtrack once for about 2 minutes, but it was much better than we expected. Out of Paris, it was confusing getting onto the correct highways, but we didn't lose too much time on wrong turns and stopping to ask for directions. Once we were on the autoroute, it was smooth sailing. The kids were asleep and the road was clear. We went on happily like this for awhile, but all good things must come to an end, and we needed to stop for gas, since the tank was not full when Andy rented it. So we stopped to fill up. Abigail, as soon as she was awake, started screaming bloody-murder for no other reason than that she was awake, which of course, made Warren cry since she was so loud. So he started yelling, "I don't like you Abigial" and other niceties like that. Avery, stayed calm and happy through it all. We were going to stop to eat there, but with Abigail screaching and Warren crying, the idea was not that appetizing. So we busted out a bag of pretzels instead and drove on.
A short while--and 17.50 euros to pay the toll for the auto-route we were on--later, we arrived in Amboise. We crossed the river and followed our maps and instructions to the gite we were renting, but we missed it the first time down the one-way street. So we came around again, and this time as we drove slowly with the window down, a man looked in and said, "Rebekah?" I guess it's kind of obvious who we are with 3 kids in the back seat. And so we met Olivier Bonnet, the owner of our troglodyte dwelling we are renting. He gave us his parking space and then helped us carry our bags in. At the street, all there is to show there is a dwelling is an ancient-looking stone arch. But there is a an equally ancient-looking stone staircase that leads up to the "caves" we are living in. These caves are unique, because they are man-made. In the 15th and 16th centuries, limestone blocks were extracted from this cliff, leaving these cavities behind. People began to inhabit them; they were cool in the summer and warm in the winter, could be enlarged as needed and inexpensive. At the beginning of the 20th century, they didn't meet modern living standards anymore and were abandoned. In the 1990's, people took a renewed interest in them, and now they are used as wine cellars, mushroom caves, museums, restaurants, a zoo and homes--like ours.
Ours is 2 caves with a hallways connecting them; it is smooth-plastered with white plaster, has a brick fireplace, lovely glass doors and windows, a great bathroom, wi-fi/cable/phone/radio access, a queen bed, 2 twin beds, a baby bed, a kitchen that is probably bigger than mine at home...it is anything but outdated. It's lovely! The owners have all sorts of useful info about the house and the town compiled in a book and all sorts of brochures; couple that with the fresh flowers and bottle of wine on the table--which, of course, we didn't drink--and we felt very welcomed.
So, once again, we feel energized and and excited to be on vacation, though we are still a little homesick. Luckily, with the free phone service here, we called our families on Sunday night. On Sunday we also went to the local ward in a nearby town; despite incorrect directions from the church website--the address was right but the instructions take you somewhere else--we still found the church as we were driving aimlessly. It was definitely in answer to a silent prayer of my heart.
Today--Monday--we went the "hypermarche", think "Super Walmart." I found the solution to all the grocery cart stealing that goes on in Mesa; here, you have to deposit a euro into a lock on the cart to unlock it from the line and then you get it back at the end when you return it. Unfortunately, we did not know this and had not brought any change. Thankfully, a lady parked next to the carts noticed us and gave us a token to get a cart. So friendly. We got our groceries, toys, towels, toiletries that we need for the week. By that time, it was lunch and so we went to the McDonalds located in the parking lot. I have to tell you, Andy and I have never been so happy to see a McDonalds in our life. They are just so American, esp. this one since it was a stand-alone, had a drive-thru and a play place. Heaven. We ate Big Macs, the kids ate cheeseburgers, we all shared fries and the good desserts they have here in France. I've never enjoyed fast food so much. I think we're going to go again on the 4th of July. Lame, I know, but it's the closest thing to a backyard hamburger cookout. And they have toys.
We came home and unpacked our supplies and the girls and I napped while Andy and Warren went to the castle that is just down the street, the tourist office and climbed up our cliffs.
When they got home we just chilled until dinner, ate dinner, then went on a walking tour of Amboise.
We found the little park with it's 3 toys, just a short walk from our house. I enjoyed seeing the old buildings and the textures and features. I found some great photo-spots for the kids. I'm going to go back in hopes of getting some great shots of the kids to enlarge when I get home and hang up.
For family night, we lit our fireplace and roasted marshmallows--yes they have them here! They were slightly different, but nothing significant. No Hershey's bars, but plenty of other chocolate to choose from. We had milk chocolate Lindt bars. Graham crackers were the real hang-up. There are no Graham crackers in the cracker aisle, despite the fact that crackers have their own 100 foot aisle. So we got some sort of pastry-sugary cracker. They were good. Afterwards we played games and sang songs. It was a nice day. Fire makes everything special.
Yesterday, July 9, we drove the 2 hours north to Oradour-sur-Glane, a town that ceased to exist on June 20, 1944. Nazi soldiers passing through, in retaliation for the killing of an officer or just to terrorize the population before the Allies really gained control (D-day was the 6th, just 4 days before), rounded up every person in town that day, killed them all--6 escaped--and then burnt the town. Since then, the town has not been touched besides gathering up objects that belonged to people and clean-up, of course. As you enter then town, you are greeted by this sign.
This is the church where they gassed and machine-gunned over 400 women and children. There are bullet marks in the alter and the walls. In the exhibit before the town, I read the comment of a man who helped clean up the town and he talked about the way he found the people in the church. I will not describe that here, only say this, that he saw a pram--stroller--with its victim still in it. I tell you this only because that pram, or one from the town, still sits in the church, rusted and collapsed on the floor. It was very personal to see that. As I looked at that and held Abigail's hand, tears came to my eyes. Thankfully, I could just put on my sunglasses and walk out into the glare of the afternoon sun. The women and children who died here were not so fortunate. A quote in the exhibit said something like this: The men (meaning the soldiers) committed the ultimate offense against their mothers and all women--they did not spare the children.
This is pretty much what the town looks like now--everything just as it was in 1944. The men were rounded up in the city gathering grounds and then executed.
