Fall-ing in Love

They say no one can tell you when you're in love; you just know it. Well, baby, I am smitten.

I am in love with Bordeaux
As our summer drew to a close, I had to take a moment to appreciate how amazing it was. We visited six different countries, a dozen cities, and made countless new friends, all in just four short weeks. This is the kind of thing that's really only possible in Europe. International borders are fluid and never that far away, making it incredibly easy for eager travelers like us to get our adventure fix. Looking through the pictures back home in Bordeaux just reminded me how fortunate we are to be here and to be on this crazy journey together. We live in an amazing city that continues to surprise me everyday.

We finally climbed to the top of Pey Berland. Seen here: Pont de Pirre, St Michel spire, and the Grosse Cloche

September is the rentrée, when everyone goes back to work with colorful stories, fresh tans, and a positive attitude, which, I might add, is harder to find in France than a bakery without baguettes. It's always a blur of bisous and innumerable apéros en terrasse to catch up while the weather is still nice. Do you remember how happy you were to see all of your friends again on that first day back after summer break? It's like that, but all month and with way more wine.

One of many beautiful days in Bordeaux. Visiting Palais Rohan @ Hotel de Ville

Freshly scrubbed free of soot and grime. Thanks, Alain Juppé!

During the first weekend in October, we were treated to unseasonably warm weather for the harvest in Bourg. As a beer-loving American, I always had this vision of wine as being something chic and inaccessible for laypeople like me. Fancy glasses, fancy tastings, fancy words like "sommelier" and "connoisseur"... It all just seemed beyond my simple tastes. But then I came to Bordeaux and learned that vintners are nothing more than grape farmers who like to drink. Unlike last year, when all the grapes were ruined by the ultra-wet weather, we easily filled our harvesting baskets to the brim at every vine. There is something uniquely beautiful about getting out in the fields and being close to the earth after spending so much time in the city.

The harvester was much faster at grape-picking than we were.

Typical Jason

The fruits of our labor... GET IT?!??!?

No, you don't get to stomp on them.

La Garonne and the town of Bourg

I am in love with Gaelic Football
After nearly two years of laziness/cowardice, I finally decided to grow a pair and find myself a sports team. The women's rugby teams here are not really my speed (either novice students or semi-pro) and I found the Ultimate team to be uncharacteristically boring and not that friendly. Enter: Gaelic Football. A few of the girls from Chesapeake used to play in the off season or as cross training so I knew that the sport existed but that was about it. Since my life is apparently one giant serendipitous moment after another, I just happened to be at the CEL when one of the new teachers was hanging a promotional poster for the team. An obscure sport, you say? Where do I sign up? I sent the club president an email, dragged along my Kiwi friend Laura and trucked out to Bordeaux Lac to give it a try.

On our first day at practice, most of the team was in Sweden for a tournament so we had a very laid back initiation to the sport. Hand pass, kick pass, solo, dribble... There are a lot of skills to master and it's all a bit complicated at first glance, but I swear there is some method to the madness. Plus, if you've ever played any field sport ever, you realize very quickly that it's all kind of the same thing: Pass the object in some special fashion so that it gets to other side of the field. GO.

My hand-foot coordination, and thus my ability to consistently execute a solo (kicking the ball back up into your own hands) left a bit to be desired, but everyone was incredibly supportive and encouraging, even when I booted the ball in the wrong direction for the 72087th time in 20 minutes. The thing that really got me to stay, though, was this instant feeling of camaraderie. After practice, everyone hung around for a couple of beers and some snacks and without even mentioning it, we had offers for rides back into town from three different people. It felt so much like the days playing rugby and Ultimate back in the US that I immediately felt like part of the team and knew that I had found my niche. It's good to be home.

(I'm just right of center, in orange)

I am in love with my husband
Maybe it's corny to say it, but it's true. Do we just gaze into each other's eyes all day long, tears brimming because we're so overwhelmed by our love? No, because we have jobs. Ain't nobody got time for that. Do we ever fight about stupid things? Yes, because we are human beings. I can't tell you how many times we have bickered about my obsession with right-side-out socks or his inability to replace the toilet paper roll and HEAVEN HELP US if we have to make a joint decision on what to watch or where to eat...

But we're comfortable and we're happy. I like being with him. I like that he makes me laugh. I like that we are starting to know each other so well that we can be proactive about situations where the other might be upset. (Note to self: always eat before going to the market on Sunday morning. H'anger is a real thing.) Of course there are days when we seem a little out of sync, and they are that much more striking because we are normally in lockstep, but it just tells me that we're still figuring it out. And that's okay! We're growing together and learning together and making mistakes together. But we always figure it out and I am really looking forward to a lifetime of figuring it out with Jason.

*Cue sappy music and "awwww"s*

It's good to be in love.