We are Aoûtiens - Part 4

August 28-29: Olivia and William's Wedding

We had just one evening at home before we were off for our final adventure of the summer. One of  Jason's colleagues, Olivia, was getting married and we were on the guest list. The wedding took place in Jonzac, a little town not too far from Cognac, just over an hour from us in Bordeaux. We hitched a ride with our French friends Guillaume and Alexia, and our ol' pal Rick was along for the ride as well. The five of us jammed into the car, with our sleeping gear and dancing shoes.

I had attended a few parties with Olivia and her crew before so I suppose I should have known that this wedding was going to be an epic event. The ceremony at the church involved a lot of hymn-singing, which was made even more difficult because they were all in French, but we gave it our best effort. After what was (probably?) a lovely service, the newlyweds came out into the church yard for photos and mingling. It looked like something out of a Disney movie.

Over to the reception where more impossibly beautiful and perfect things would happen. The invitation said it was at a château, which is par for the course in France, but I was not prepared for what we rolled up on.

Really? When did I have friends with homes like this?

Firstly, it belongs to Olivia's grandfather, which is already extra cool. I know someone with their own château! Secondly, the yard was set up for cocktail hour. To me, cocktail hour is some veggies and dip, cheese and crackers, and lasts exactly one hour. WRONG. This cocktail hour included smoked salmon, sliced meats, pâté, gourmet mini-soups in tiny plastic cups, all the champagne in the world and 3000 oysters. That means 10 oysters for everyone who attended the wedding. There was a freaking jazz trio. Unlike the name would suggest, cocktail hour lasted for a good four hours. I kept waiting for them to announce it was time for dinner so I was pacing myself on the snacks, but I should have just gone hard when I first got there. It would be ages before we sat down for dinner.

Boats of oysters!

Keep the champagne coming, sir.

When it started getting dark, they brought us into the chai for dinner (because I know people with a place other than their adjacent châteaux that can seat 300 people comfortably) and we had a beautiful meal of salad, foie gras, pork medallions, roasted vegetables, and even a cheese plate. There were speeches from the fathers, a musical number by Olivia's cousins, more speeches from the bride and groom. This was followed by a spread of desserts like none I have ever seen. There were little strawberry-basil smoothies, macaroons, mini crème brûlée, and a self-serve ice cream truck. Not like the powdered stuff you used to have in the dining hall but real hand-crafted French ice cream. And in case you were somehow still sober after cocktail hour and the wine at dinner, there was more champagne and cognac for the digestif. All. Night. Long.

But who has time for drinking when there is a dance party going on? The DJ was spinning one great song after another and the dance floor was packed all night. It seemed like every guest knew how to swing dance, and the room was a blur of bouncing curls and swirling coattails. The last time I went to a party with Olivia, we were up dancing until 5am. This time, the sun was coming up before we decided to call it a night. We had been at it for 13 hours, after all.

We were invited to crash at the other château on the property (two châteaux?!?!?) and Olivia had explained to Jason where we should sleep. There must have been some misunderstanding because when we went to set up our air mattress, Jason insisted Olivia had told him that we were supposed to sleep in the vestibule of the bathroom. You know, that little room outside the toilets that has the sink and maybe a linen closet. I was skeptical, but he seemed awfully sure of himself and I didn't have the physical or mental energy to fight with him about it. Jason has a tendency to snore when he's been drinking and this evening was certainly no exception. Maybe it was best that we were in our own little area so he didn't keep the rest of the house up all night (morning?). Unfortunately, every time someone had to use the bathroom, which was often after a night of drinking, they had to stumble over our semi-comatose bodies, sprawled in front of the door. Needless to say, it was not the most restful sleep I ever got in my life.

It was around noon when we finally started moving again and we were met with a little good-hearted teasing from Olivia. "I don't know how you sleep at night with that snoring, Nicole! And why were you in the bathroom? You couldn't have gotten any sleep with people disturbing you all night!!" Yes, yes. Laugh at my pain. And for the record: I WAS RIGHT, JASON.

I was expecting to pack up our things and head down the road, but we were invited to a post-wedding brunch of leftovers from the night before. We had plenty of oysters to finish, the rest of the cheese plates, hard-boiled eggs, cold cuts and what French meal is complete without a bazillion baguettes? Oh, and that ice cream was not going to eat itself!

We spent the rest of the afternoon on the patio, soaking up the sun and letting the bread soak up the booze that was left in our bellies. By 5pm, we decided it was probably time to go back to real life. Guillaume and Alexia were staying a bit longer so we bid our hosts goodbye and Rick, Jason and I hopped a train back to Bordeaux.

As the summer drew to a close, we were tired but happy, with a whole bunch of new memories and a few more places checked off the bucket list. The new school year is already back in action but at least I have a few light days to ease me back into the swing of things. I'm still recovering, that's for sure.

So long, sweet summer. See you next year.

We are Aoûtiens - Part 1

Having always been a teacher, I already know the joys of summers off but it's quite a different experience when all of your friends have super long vacations, too. As I have mentioned before, full-time French employees are guaranteed 5 weeks of paid vacation every year and most seem to save up their time and blow it all during the months of July (les juillettistes) or August (les aoûtiens).

We are decidedly aoûtiens.

After a hectic June and a mad scramble to catch up on everything in our lives in July, we were in pretty desperate need of a real holiday. Our old pals from Baltimore Pat and Soraya joined us for the first weekend of August and then we were off like a prom dress for the rest of the month. Here's a brief recap of our grand adventures, in four installments.

August 5-13: England and Wales with Rick

Even after meeting him just once, I knew Rick and I were going to be good friends. This summer, things got really serious when we decided to travel to his native land, meet his friends and family and roadtrip across his beautiful country. We flew into Bristol and we were immediately met by a bit of skepticism from the border police when we explained what our plans were for the next 8 days: A 750-mile tour around the UK, starting with a 2.5 hour drive straight to the Brecon Beacons in Wales. Anything longer than 45 minutes is quite far by British standards but where we come from in 'Murica, anything less than 6 hours is basically right down the road. Let's do this.

First stop: The Usk Inn. We could not have asked for a more authentic introduction to the UK. A cozy little pub in the middle of nowhere, an accent so thick I wondered if it was still English and the heartiest stews you've ever had in your life. And beer! Real beer! None of this Belgian bullshit that tastes like fruit and makes you want to die the next day. Real, honest-to-goodness ales. It was glorious.

We drove back down to Cardiff the next morning and spent the day running around the castle and drinking more beers in pubs that are older than my country.

That night, we made our way up to Rick's hometown of Preston, which is not far from Liverpool. We were welcomed by Rick's wonderful parents, Dave and Margaret, who promptly mocked Rick for the way his his lovely British accent has been tainted by our grimey American drawl. What can I say? This is what happens when you spend time with treasonous hillbillies.

We did a few little day trips to various places near Preston, including Blackpool, which some locals refer to as "The Las Vegas of England" despite it having literally nothing in common with Vegas except for maybe that twinge of shame and regret you feel after having visited. Perhaps not the prettiest city in the UK but there was a beach and an amusement park and some real good people watching.

We also spent a day walking around in the Lake District, a massive national park in the northwest corner of England. I have never been more glad to not know how to drive standard in all my life because the roads were really only meant for half a car and the number of times I thought we were going to plummet over a cliff to our deaths or get in a head on collision with another car was far too high to count. Rick navigated the winding Wrynose Pass like a champ and Jason and I needed a change of pants once we got back to Preston.

After a wild night out in Preston, we were off to Newcastle, which was probably my favorite part of the trip, other than meeting Rick's family. We joined up with some of Rick's friends from college and took full advantage of all the great pubs in the city. Unlike the relatively low-key Bordelais, everyone in Newcastle seemed like they were ready to party at any moment. Those Geordies sure do love to get dressed up and get crazy.

Partying hard in Preston

On the drive to Newcastle

Proper fish n chips in Tynemouth

After a getting a bit wild in Preston and Newcastle, we were ready for the quiet of the country. Rick's parents have a cute little caravan in the woods in the Yorkshire area and we spent two nights out there enjoying all that the countryside has to offer: The Black Sheep Brewery, llamas and SkyTV.

Traffic jam in the country

Llama trekking with Jack and Guss

We also had the chance to visit York, one of England's oldest and historically rich cities. It really is a cool place and the abundance of pubs certainly adds to its charm.

On the final leg of the trip, we stopped for tea back at Rick's place before heading down the road to our final destination. Home of the Beatles and people who talk like the Beatles, Liverpool is an interesting blend of history, modernity and pure grit. While some would say it's a bit rough around the edges, I would say that roughness adds to its charm. It reminded me a bit of Baltimore. We spent the evening with a few local Liverpudlians resulting in some pretty serious hangovers the next morning. Nothing that some greasy diner food and a walk around town can't fix!

When it was time to head back to Bordeaux that evening, we were all tired but truly amazed by the beauty and diversity of such a tiny little country, not to mention the wonderful, friendly people we met while we were there. And the food was way better than the French would have you believe. We'll see you again soon, UK!