The hardest part of being on “holiday” or an “adventure” or whatever the hell this is, that I don’t what I should do. Should I paint? Write a book? What about reading a book? What about seeing France? We’ve come all this way and there still about 1025 things left on my list to do and that’s just for the next week. What about relaxing? Isn’t the whole point to relax so I can come back and face the horror that life in the U.S. has become? It’s a true existential crisis for me. Be a slug or be productive?Shit. If it wasn’t for all the guilt I lug around like an albatross, there’s no question which I’d choose.
We are perched on the edge of the famous Perigord Limousin National Park. It is simply spectacular. Pure paradise. It is, however, in the middle of nowhere…nowhere like anything I’m familiar with anyway. No noise, no traffic, no crime or fear of it. When we sit outside in the yard, overlooking the river and park, all we see are vast number of butterflies, varieties I’ve never seen before. And countless bird singing their happy songs. And the wind whistling through the trees. And the sound of river rushing past. And countless baby frogs (froglettes), so tiny that they’re actually smaller than my fingernail. They’re painfully cute!
The downside (and it’s not really a “downside”) is that we have to drive at least 10-30 or more to get anywhere, even groceries. But the roads are well paved and MARKED (unlike Spain) and there are few cars which is fortunate because the roads are incredibly winding. We’ll go through a little town and find ourselves on a street barely big enough for one car let alone the one that wants to pass on the other side of the road.
Our friend, Madeline, came back to France 30 years in a row. I used to think that was odd. Not any more. Last night over dinner Jim, who didn’t particularly like France until a few years ago, said “let’s come back and rent a place in Brittany next year!” We’ve fallen hard. Now we need to earn enough money to feed the addiction. And to have the good health to take advantage of it. Normally, we’re counting the seconds until we return to Italy. If I even see a painting of Italy, I immediately begin to weep. Now, both us are thinking we don’t want to leave France! I’d love a life filled with problems like this.
Maybe it’s the setting and the house. Maybe it’s the beauty everywhere you look. Maybe it’s the fresh pain au chocolate and champagne. Whatever it is, it’s working its spell on us, that’s for sure. I admit I hope my sluggishness creativity results in something in the long run.
I haven’t made any comments on the news. We are keeping up more than we said we would. Headlines mainly and then a few deeper looks into certain stories like Kathy Griffin (poor thing), Bill Maher (ridiculous) and watched a bit of Jon Oliver who is nothing short of genius. We laughed our asses off. My other favorite thing was hearing Macron hand him is ass. “Let’s make a planet great again.”
Trump is beyond bonkers. Not funny bonkers. Totally, fucking out of his mind. In a sane, intelligent country he’d be taken away in a straight jacket. What is most terrifying is 1) there are still plenty of people who support him and 2) many of those people are elected officials. The SCARIEST part is people carrying on like this is normal. And it’s fucking not!
I can’t begin to tell you how lucky we feel to be away from the madness. I practically sleep in my Trump button.
Since yesterday was a MAJOR holiday, Whit Monday (can you believe it), nothing was open and we needed a meal. We found one. In a restaurant located in a chateau that was also a camping ground. The juxtaposition was too much. This was unlike any campground I’ve ever seen!
River runs through campgrounds
These adorable private “tables” overlooking the river.