|boys in Goult|
Now it's even bigger. Different, bigger, better. I'm sure I'd still be the one to push the car but now there'd be four people watching and cheering me on. Or maybe we'd be smart enough to find reverse.
On our honeymoon we had lunch at a cafe that hugged the side of the mountain with a view of the valley below. Next to our table there was a British family. I remember watching them and thinking how lucky they were to be there. How wonderful it must be to live close enough to France to be able to bring your kids over and sit at that cafe in the sun enjoying a delicious lunch. As an American, and a Texan to boot, Europe is quite a haul.....even more so with kids.
But now we actually live here! So, this week we decided to head back over to Provence and check out some of the places we saw back then. This time with our three kids.
Dinner was a very fancy affair of French cuisine's dirty little secret--frozen food from Picard. Our family room had a microwave so we bought stuff we could cook in 4 minutes. We sat on the terrace overlooking the parking lot and ate our French tv dinners. "What a romantic view!", Ma Fille sarcastically sighed.
The best part was that we didn't have a plan.Yesterday we woke up and looked at the map. Where should we go?
|Ocher & Pines|
A fantastic day unraveled before us with little to no planning. We strolled around and up and down the village. And then we took the mountain path they've cleverly and immaculately constructed on the edge of the town. It is fabulous...an easily walkable (even for the Littlest) path through red sand, shaded by pine trees made vibrantly green in contrast. We were all stained ocre when we emerged. You can't imagine how bizarrely wonderful it was to see all that color in the middle of the white limestone hills.
|kids turning ocher|
As we sat in the outdoor cafe having our much deserved lunch the familiar feeling of joy and gratitude hit me. We are here. Living here.With our kids. Amazing. I am constantly pinching myself.
More Roussillon photos here.
We drove home tired and happy, screaming baby drowned out by singing along to bad French radio at the top of our lungs. And while I didn't have to get out and push the car there were a few diapers to change.