The trip began a la chinoise--standing in a hot regional train for 3 hours. Then missing the station (this was actually fortunate, because it earned me the sympathy of the conductor, who overlooked my lack of ticket). Then waiting to be picked up in the middle of nowhere while huge flocks of black crows circled ominously overhead. But once I arrived all was forgotten.
Lots of rural things.
Sheep!
Plenty of brisk walks o'er the rolling hills...
There is quite a cast of eccentrics in this town of 100 inhabitants: M. Johnson, the British spy; Francios and Pierre, who have made their house into the 17th century; Ana, the New Zealand seductress with an appetite for farm boys, the lesbian chanteuse couple, the stoner mayor, and of course our friends R and T.They were over-the-top hosts: fresh flowers in every room, ridiculous thread-counts, only the most decadent foodstuffs. Felt rather pampered.
But then the dark side of this life began to reveal itself. With R and T, fascinating conversation on many topics is possible. With their several house guests (Parisian professors), the areas of overlapping interest are precisely three: renovating quaint homes in the French countryside, antiquing, and literary theory. Since my enthusiasm for any of these topics is exhausted after about two minutes--and my ability to discuss them intelligently in French is exhausted after one--there was a lot of smiling and nodding. And wishing they would stop discussing the wine long enough to pour it.
Also, it was rainy and cold, a fact that did not deter our intrepid hosts from insisting on dining in the garden.
In sum, a pleasant two days that ended none too soon. Which is why I'm smiling/grimacing as we zip back to civilization.
3 comments:
Oh god I think I would have gone insane...
Literary theory? Thread counts? Lesbian chanteuses? I would have LAPPED it up...
Did you put lilacs in your hair?
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