We came to Belfort in the evening. My uncle, Denis, was waiting for us at the station with a sign saying “Clara et Samuel.” I'm glad he had it; I was worried I wouldn't remember what he looked like and I'm sure he thought like-wise. Afterall, it had been twelve or thirteen years since I last arrived into France during Grand-mere and Grand-pere's 80th birthday party. Not only had I been younger and barely begun my journey into puberty, I had also been dweebish with thick lenses and long blonde hair. Now I am a young lady, still dweebish, but with short blonde hair and contacts.
We embraced upon meeting, found Denis's car, and went to our new temporary home. I met Anne-Marie and our first activity of our stay was strolling through her garden.
I wish I had taken pictures of her garden. I think by this point and time, Sam and I were exhausted from being tourists. We had hammered all of our touristic desires into the last couple of visits. Needless to say, the camera did not come out of our pockets very often on this trip.
Anne-Marie's garden is intricate and well-organized. She has vegetables, fruits, and adorning flowers. She has pathways, arches laced in vine work, a terrace, and a white picket fence. You can tell upon looking at it that it is meticulously cared for, constantly fussed over, and fiercely controlled.
I was in awe at the tidiness of such a garden. I knew instantly this was something I could never do, did not even want to try to do, because it required an intense amount of patience and time.
Denis and Anne-Marie have two cats. One was black with long shaggy fur, the other is grey and looks like the original “I Can Haz Cheezeburger?” cat. Both were absolutely terrified of me. On our last evening, I got the black shaggy cat to touch my hand with her nose, but she quickly retreated and ran away. I have that effect on some critters.
Anne-Marie is an excellent cook. I imagine she cooks the way she gardens: meticulously, with constant observation, and step-by-step control of the process. The results of every meal were beautiful and precise, like what you would order at a gourmand restaurant.
Sam and I quickly scarfed down our first meal, which must have been a shock to both Denis and Anne-Marie. I will be honest, we were starving. The train ride from Paris to Belfort was four hours long and our sandwiches that Marie-Mathilde had so kindly made us were not enough to last the entire trip.
Our room was the upstairs attic-office, with a closeable door over the staircase leading. It was very nice and private when we wanted it to be; open and social if we felt loquacious. Neither of us are terribly loquacious, but we kept it open most of the time except for at night because of the hallway light.
Denis and Anne-Marie speak almost no English. Language-wise, this was the most trying part of our journey. Of course Denis would try, but whenever I couldn't find a word in French or he in English, we defaulted to the dictionary. There was a lot of word searching.
Eventually, we got the hang of it and it was pretty funny to stop in the middle of a sentence and find a word in the dictionary. Sometimes it was a simple word, sometimes it wasn't. At one time, I couldn't remember the French word for silly. So I picked up the English-French dictionary and perused until I came across the word silly. Well, the French word for silly is idiot, pronounced “Eh-Dee-Oh.”
I will brag, however, that my ability to hear French spoken to me and understand it was far better than being able to come up with words of conversation. So I was an excellent translator. Whenever Denis told me a funny story, I was able to turn to Sam and tell him the same funny story with the same amount of pause and gusto. Sam would laugh at the end of the funny story, which made Denis very happy because he thought it was equally as hilarious.
Our first full day with Denis and Anne-Marie, we went to Alsace, specifically a little village called the “Eco Museum.” The village was comprised of different houses taken from different regions in the Alsace and rebuilt to represent Alsace as a whole. All of the houses were old and therefore represented life from an older era, without flushable anythings, old and scary barber shops, and ancient animal-care techniques.
Of course I wanted to meet all the critters. I was terribly disappointed by their living quarters, however. I told Sam quietly that I knew this is how the critters were housed and roped up in the olden days, but we knew better now that it wasn't good for their happiness. Sam agreed, but also pointed out that these guys were probably way better off than critters being prepped for the slaughterhouse. Which is true; living conditions for those guys suck.I got licked by a goat, snuffled by a pig, and ignored by a cow. I met a horse that was pulling a cart (I learned her name was “Henriette” because the person in charge of the horse kept telling her to stay and not run off), and a family of sheep that still had their tails. One of them let me scratch her scalp and enjoyed my company.
There were screaming groups of school children everywhere, of course. It seems that you just can't get away from those types of things.
Sam and I met a haughty peacock that didn't want anything to do with us, so she flew up a tree. We also encountered a turkey who felt the need to show off his dominance. I like all critters, but I am going to admit right here and now that turkeys have the nastiest heads in the world. It looks like their brains are on the outside.
I turned to Sam and said, “God wasn't very nice when he made these guys,” and Sam said, “God didn't make them; he let them make themselves and they weren't very good at it.”
So the problem with turkeys is that they aren't very creative, you see. Now you know. You can still love them, if you already did. Just know that they won't be the best type of artists when they grow up.
(This photo needs explanation: there was a large wheel at the top of a rampart that explained the different types of jobs you could have in the village. But the creators of this Eco Museum wanted it to be fun and educational, so they made the job explanations into a spinning wheel with cartoons and bright colors. It worked, because we played with it.)
After the Alsace village, we went back to Belfort and rested for the rest of the evening. I told you that Sam and I had been quite exhausted from being tourists, so we didn't really wish to go anywhere or do anything. So we just relaxed. We walked about outside, found lots of snails (finally! I had been looking for some all trip), and did virtually nothing. It was awesome.
The next day, we hiked up a mountain. Sometimes the hike got pretty intense, sometimes it was easy-going. Sam and I were on the lookout for some walking sticks, but none seemed to do the job quite right. They snapped under pressure. Denis and Anne-Marie had hiking sticks specifically crafted for hiking. I was envious, but I survived.
At the top of the mountain, there were several restaurants and lodges. We ate at a restaurant that was filled with German motorcyclists. After that, we walked through a vast field with the entire territory of Belfort on one side and part of Alsace on the other side. If we peered far enough in the distance, through the clouds, we could see the Swiss Alps. But it had to be clear enough.
I found a really pretty flower. It grew up and its stem was thick and hollow. It took some work, but Sam was able to yank it out of the ground for me. Happily, I skipped with it until Denis saw it and told me it was prohibited to pick that particular flower. Embarrassed, I put it on the ground and stepped away from it, deciding that even though it was too late with the picking part, that didn't mean I wanted to get caught and fined for it.
Denis thought it was hilarious.
After our hike, we went back to the house to rest for an hour or so. Then Sam and I wanted to go into the city of Belfort and try out some shopping.
I think when most people think shopping, they think about malls and outlets and stores with lots of sales. When I said I wanted to go shopping, I was thinking more like going to the baker's place and checking out their croissants, or looking at their knitting stores and touching all the yarn. Maybe even looking at the souvenir shops to see what kind of stuff the locals pride themselves in.
We ended up going to this long pedestrian street filled with shops and crazy people. I hated almost all the stores I saw, except for place that had a sign for “Magic the Gathering” and a book store.
After that, Denis played tourguide and showed us the city of Belfort. There was a big lion sculpted on the ramparts (there is a lot of cool history in this town) that is made by the same guy who made the Statue of Liberty for us.
Something else fun mentioning with our time at Denis and Anne-Marie's:
On our first morning, we were having breakfast in the breakfast room. There is a window that looks out at the school across the yard. A strange old woman kept picking through all the flowers in the front of the gates, looking around her to see if anyone was watching. After picking through a potted plant or two, she would scamper off and disappear, only to come back and do the same to some others. We don't know what she was doing. It was pretty sketch-tastic.
Also, this isn't fun, but it opens a good place for me to bitch about young couples:
No one will ever find it cute or adorable that you take up four seats on a train, including ones assigned to others, just so you can lay out next to each other under a blanket and be snuggly. No one. And if you think that someone will, then that someone may have a perversion which you are encouraging.
Please do not make-out on a train, play-fight on a train, make googly noises at each other on the train, or anything else slightly related. You make everyone near you uncomfortable and angry at your stupidity. The toddler pressing his face up to the window and drooling on it is way cuter than you two. So cut it out.
Also, dammit woman! Keep your tits in your shirt, it doesn't help the situation.
Nuff said.
