In Honor of Back to School Month: A Diary of a Sanders Vacation in the South of France

Dear diary (Day -1):
We are finally going on vacation. After giving birth, packing up our house, and moving, we are going on a much needed family trip to a Christian center in the middle of nowhere down south. Goodbye concrete, hello sun. I can't wait to get this trip started.

Dear diary (Day 1):
By I can't wait to get this trip started apparently I meant I could wait. It took us 2 hours to get out of Paris between vacation traffic, nursing a newborn, and a last minute stop at Decathlon for travel sleeping bags. Once on the road the adventures were far from over: after 10 years of backseat driving I lost the toll booth ticket at one of the rest stops. Ever the brilliant problem solvers, Matt and I decided to turn around and go back to look for it...not realizing that meant exiting the highway. The fine for losing a ticket is to pay the rate for the entire highway. It occurred to us 5 minutes after said paid fine that it might have been a smarter idea to go as far as we could before exiting rather than pay the entire highway's worth after only a half hour of highway driving. Just a thought. It was an exhausting day; we managed to make progress but really only at a snail's pace due to stopping to feed Ruben all the time. And as (bad) luck would have it, there are two suburbs of Macon with the exact same name and only a couple kilometers from each other. The only difference is, one had our hotel and the other didn't. I knew when we pulled up in front of that school that something had gone a little haywire.

Note to self: remember not to pack all our extra condiments and food for the trip next time in the newborn travel bath. And especially, do not put a bottle of vodka in it for some mixed drinks you plan on making once the kids are in bed. Bathtubs are slippery things and when stopping at the gas station they just might slip out when the trunk is open and then specified vodka will be in a million pieces all over the ground.
Additional note to self: don't pack the baby carrier next to slippery bathtub or it too might end up on the ground with the wet vodka and now every place you stop afterwards will have your son smelling like vodka.

Dear diary (Day 2): It's a darn good thing we decided to break this trip up by stopping at Macon for the night because I'm not sure how long we would have been driving before arriving otherwise. The kids were thrilled to discover McDonald's for breakfast and we were thrilled to discover a restaurant where they couldn't break anything. After very slow but admittedly steady progress, we arrived at the village of Entrepierre. The center is a center for people or families in ministry and we were immediately in awe of this historic village and it's mountainside surroundings. 2 things decided to greet us upon our arrival besides the village and its scenery: Noah-worthy rain and a small scorpion on our doorstep.

Dear diary (Day 3): Although the scorpion didn't survive, today I found another intruder in our living room. Ever the quick thinking bug killer, I took the closest empty jar I could find and stuck it on top of the beetle, hoping that my toddler wouldn't go investigating for at least another 48 hours. The girls were anxious to explore the pool so like any good parents we smothered them in sunscreen and blew up Lord knows how many floaties and walked to the pool. Life was very good for a short lived while. The problems started when I decided to take Ruben (in his bouncy chair) back to the house to nurse. The door clearly was against me and after struggling in vain with the key for 15 or so minutes, I decided it was outright hostile. So back I went to the pool to get Matt to switch me places and help. That was when Isaline decided it would be a good idea to start training for a marathon, poolside. I tried to tell her off but she couldn't hear me because she was too busy faceplanting. It became clear from the blood gushing from her upper lip that she had cut it open and that blood wasn't going anywhere but out. Thankfully Isaline is okay and while I'd like to say she learned her lesson today, she's a toddler so we all know how that'll work out.

Dear diary (Day 4): In the interest of keeping things kid friendly today, we decided to plan a picnic at the center and visit the local berry farm in the afternoon. The picnic went fairly well but then afterwards I had to go and get all pedagogic. I believe that was my downfall. You see, when we arrived, there had been a bowl of fruit on our table to welcome us and it turns out that it had come from the center garden. I was right in the middle of a really great teaching moment explaining to the girls where the fruit had come from (the mirabelle tree we were standing underneath i.e. not the grocery store) when it started raining beetles just inches from my face. Unfortunately for me, these beetles were not the kind that I had found in our house a few days prior--that one was an inch long at best--these, however were 2 1/2 inch long black beetles falling on me. That left only one course of action: jump up and down while screaming in fright like a 2 year old. I'm not entirely sure if my girls retained much from the lesson.

Later we decided to check out the farm which apparently had an "activity trail" which was like a guided tour which led us around the farm. Of course by "kid friendly" they really meant more like triathlete friendly with it's steep drop off, near kilometer trail, and scorching sun. It became appropriately nicknamed the 'farm from hell' because, well, two bawling kiddos and a newborn...enough said.

Dear diary (Day 5): Today we thought that since 'kid friendly' had failed us, we might try 'adult friendly' and get all cultural. We hiked around a mountain top town (what they call a 'perched village' around here) but the only problem is that it really truly was on top of a mountain. I think I used up most of my mommy nag cards and just about peed my pants in fright every time the kids got near a ledge. Deciding after the fact that it was a bad idea to attempt site seeing with young kids, we started hunting for an easy place for dinner. Attempt number one led us on a 45 minute goose chase that ended with a closed restaurant and me sitting on the side of a country highway alone with our children and nursing Ruben. Thank you Waze. Attempt number 2 was McDonalds but before we could get there we stumbled onto an asian buffet that looked just about perfect at the time. Of course if we had known that it would cost us Livia's future college tuition to eat there or that Isaline would accidentally fall off the booster chair, grab the tablecloth, and take down half the table (including our drinks) on her way down, we might have reconsidered. Despite cranky parents and a 2 year old that smelled like diet coke for the rest of the evening, we did manage to make it to dessert with only half of the restaurant staring at us.

Dear diary (Day 6): Back to picnics and a nearby water play area. The natural wildlife has unfortunately been getting to Livia this week--she has now developed a paranoia of all things small and alive. The worst are the bees but even butterflies have been making her drop everything, scream "peur, peur, peur!" (fear, fear, fear) repeatedly and latch onto my arm. If she would stop doing it while I am either nursing her brother or spreading something on bread I would greatly appreciate it. She also has developed a Dora the Explorer obsession and keeps yelling "backpack" and "we did it!" at the computer screen.

Dear diary (Day 7): Today decided to get started with a bang. A literal one. Lighting struck our house and we lost power temporarily as we were trying to pack up. Next Matt lost his bank card. Thankfully he found it before we had to leave. We made it back to Macon and stayed in the same hotel we had stayed in the first time on the way down there. Admittedly, it was a less than ideal setting to watch France play in the world cup game. Even less ideal because we had gotten McDonalds again to go this time but they had left out a few important pieces like straws and whatnot. The cherry on top however was that we once again found ourselves in the middle of a thunderstorm and as a result the electricity went on and off the entire evening and even into the morning because lightning had struck the hotel. I say less than ideal because despite only mediocre cheering from the Sanders clan (I was mostly busy yelling at the girls to not get ketchup all over the bedding), France still won.

Dear diary (Day 8): We're back in Paris now. After surviving beetles and scorpions, I think I'm up for surviving the Paris metro now. Despite our adventures, vacation was still worth it. But I have to admit, I'm glad to be home :)

10 years ago Part 1

10 years ago this month I packed a ridiculously heavy and large bag to set out on my French adventure. I would be leaving for a full school year and kindles and laptops were still in the minority. So as to not get bored, I packed all of my favorite books that I'd want to have on hand. I bought the biggest suitcase I could find and I vacuum sealed my clothes like a crazy person. Somehow it was cheaper to fly into London and I had what I considered to be the world's best idea: book a hostel overnight and see London while you're at it! What could be better, right? I flew right into the city center. I hauled that big beast of a suitcase out those airport doors like a boss.

No one but fancy people had gps on their phones then (I didn't even have one of those!) but I whipped out my mapquest directions like no one's business. I tried to look very confident because you don't want people in a big city to think you don't know what you're doing or anything--they might try to pickpocket you. Just a hunch but 10 year older me thinks that the enormous suitcase and paper directions just might have given me away. Thankfully Londoners were kind to the helpless American girl with too much stuff. 

I walked those 10 or so blocks to the hostel. I remember being so glad to finally get there as the last 5 or so had been completely cobblestone. I was wrong, however. I had only reached the check-in desk. My room was located at the other location back 4 blocks in the direction I had just come. Feeling like an odd combination between Wonder Woman and Popeye pre-spinach I gritted my teeth and pushed 'the beast', as I was starting to yell  call it in my head back those darn 4 blocks and up the stairs to my private suite that I would be sharing with about 8 other people in what can only be considered as the world's biggest dorm room.

Unfortunately, the internet café that the hostel provided was located back at the check-in office. I briefly contemplated letting everyone back home consider me MIA at least for another 24 hours but decided my mom just might swim the whole Atlantic Ocean if she hadn't heard that I'd landed safely. Funny to think about in the age of Whatsapp, Viber, and instant everything. So I dutifully wrote and told everyone that I was okay. I wrote another email that night too. There was this cute guy that I had been emailing now for a few months. It had started off as a random French contact and had evolved from there. I told myself that it was only a little crush, because after all, how can you actually have a crush on a guy you've never even met before. (I know, I was the one girl in school who didn't have a crush on Leonardo Di Caprio after Titanic came out) That's what I was telling myself because not so long before I had crashed and burned after falling for my best guy friend in college. There was no way I was playing the fool twice and Cautious Carol had now become my name. I did, albeit very reluctantly, throw in that he would know how to spot me the next day in the Paris train station (oh, did I mention he had arranged my whole Paris stay?) by the fact that I'm just under 6 ft tall (1m80). I had kind of been avoiding that little factoid due to the fact that it tends to scare most boys off. But I figured that short of chopping off my calves and replacing them with peg legs my height would become obvious soon enough.

I'm assuming I fed myself somehow. Not sure when or how but clearly I didn't starve. I do remember not having factored in my big heavy suitcase to lug around during my little "London visit." I couldn't just leave it unattended. Someone might steal my fabulous book collection.  Thankfully I made a temporary friend who looked nice enough and she agreed to watch my suitcase for an hour or two. I did some sort of bridge walk along the bank of the Thames (which I wouldn't learn for a few months yet is actually pronounced as if there's no H). I walked by famous monuments having no freaking idea exactly what I was looking at. It took me forever at one point to realize I was staring at the London Tower. finally made my way back to the beast after doing way more walking than I thought was possible and somehow found the force within myself to drag it to the train station. 

Back then, before the age of terrorism, security with the Eurostar was nothing like it is now.  I just about died of embarrassment when I couldn't get the beast up onto the shelf reserved for luggage and the gentleman next to me had to do it for me. And then I really wanted to just sink into the floor when he loudly declared for the whole cabin to hear, just how heavy my luggage was and what could I possibly be bringing that could be so heavy? I should have made up some ridiculous answer but all I could think of was the truth and that made him look at me even more incredulously. I took my seat and promised myself that I would wait a few years before coming back over the channel. By then maybe my embarrassment would have waned a bit.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I was actually hoping to see the water from the train windows once in the tunnel. I don't know what I pictured, maybe one of those viewing floors you find at an aquarium? Clearly I was quite the seasoned traveler by that point. But one thing is for sure, I successfully managed to get off that train and step onto French soil which turns out is a decision that would change my life from that point forward. 

Gerberoy

Greetings! We're currently enjoying a visit from my folks so I'll keep this brief but I thought I'd throw out a few pics from one of our recent adventures. Ever heard of a tiny little town called Gerberoy? I hadn't either but my mom fell in love with a magazine spread on this tiny village so off we went to discover it! The town is gorgeous by the way. If you're ever in the Picardy region of France and feel like you need a good dose of quaint then stop for a meander here. 

Well, that's all! Hope you enjoyed the pics! Next stop: chateaux and the Loire Valley... 

Island Living

What do teachers do when they've got no one to teach? Go on vacation, that's what. 

And let me tell you, it's a rough life the Sanders have got going on right now... 

We're on the Ile de Groix, a tiny little island off the coast of Brittany (northwest France). Matt's family has been coming here for ages and I for one, am more than happy to carry on the family tradition. 

It's not as popular or well known as places like the French Riviera or Corsica, but let me tell ya, that just adds to the charm... Here's the main port where the ferry from the mainland comes in a few times a day... 

The island is covered with boats...especially sail boats. 

And here's a little randomness for ya: This is an old clothes washing well--there's a few of them all over the island hanging out from the good ol' pre-washing machine days... 

And just to add even more randomness for you, watch out for the stinging nettles, because they grow rampant here... 

But then so does fresh mint...just don't go mistaking the two when making your mohitos... 

I'm back! New York and Florida

The ironic thing about labeling a post 'I'm back!' is that most of you didn't know that I was gone in the first place. For you it was just this long period of blog nothingness and now here I am again. The responsible thing would have to been to inform you of the fact that I'd be taking a month long road trip/vacation in the States, sans blogging, but then that wouldn't be consistent with my reputation. So all I can say is, Here I am again! Admit it, you missed me...
Apologies aside, we just got back from an awesome cross country trip in the States. Let's start with New York and Florida, the first two stops on the agenda...


Ok so if I'm going to be really honest the New York stop was a grand total of 5 hours. I'm sure I'm cheating by calling a layover city our first stop...but hey, how often do you have to change airports and have hours to kill at one of those anyway? And I'm proud to say that all those dead hours were actually spent outside of the airport terminal as well. In fact, much to Matt's delight, it turns out that LaGuardia Airport is actually a next-door neighbor to Flushing Meadows National Tennis Center. Here it is in all its glory:

I appreciated it all the more once Matt actually explained to me that it's kind of important in the world of tennis. Of course, my favorite part was the park it was actually located in. I saw a giant long bench that had my name written all over it and pretty soon Matt and I were alternating between jet-lagged snoozes on the bench. After a refreshing siesta we decided to explore the neighborhood a bit. I'm not quite sure how (although I'm thinking severe thirst and jet-lag had something to do with it), but somehow we ended up in a Mexican bakery, sharing a bottle of coke (aka they didn't take cards and we were too poor to buy two cokes), watching the World Cup in Spanish, and the only two people in the bakery who spoke English. Now before you get all worked up because you think I'm stereotyping Mexicans and their English-speaking abilities, you have to know that no one in the whole place actually understood us when we ordered that coke. If I've ever seen blank stares, that was it. Of course, that's why I take my linguistic dictionary, aka Matt, around everywhere I go. I'm convinced that the only language he doesn't know how to speak is Mandarin Chinese...and even there I wouldn't be surprised if he's not holding something back...


Moving on to Florida... The land of beaches, bikinis, and Flipper the Dolphin right? Well actually we weren't exactly in Miami...in fact it was more like Jacksonville. Which I'll have you know is actually the largest geographical city in the US of A folks. Just thought you should know. It also is home of the bayou. Which, if I'm going to be honest thrilled me to no end and made me imagine myself constantly on the set of Disney movie The Rescuers... This little jewel of a spot was right in Matt's uncle and aunt's neighborhood...


I love looking at pictures after the fact... Unbeknown to Matt, he's about to get an H20 dumping in about 2 minutes... (and no, I didn't dunk him in the bayou! I wasn't so sure how he'd do paired up with a gator so I left mother nature to do the water-dumping and I stayed out of it...)


Really, just enough time to take one last picture before the down-pouring...


A lizard running for cover just before the storm...

Of course, once Matt's wonderful uncles Neil and Ken realized what was happening, they jumped onto their steeds (aka a 4-door pickup) and raced to our rescue. Although soaking wet in the space of 2 minutes, we were at least under cover in just over 5.



Our next adventure began on the Ichetucknee River. Oh yes, the Sanders were goin' inner-tubing...

Can you guess which one's mine?

I'll be honest with you and tell you that yes I did ask Matt and his family if there were alligators in this river that we'd be dipping our bums into. You know the response I got? "Oh, well, I've never seen them that far up north..." For a girl who was looking for a "Heck no!" this answer was not quite as reassuring as I was hoping for... Of course you all know that I survived because I'm now writing this blog entry but I had no such guarantee at the time. Anyways, getting back to inner-tubing.

It turns out the inner-tubing down the Ichetucknee River is such a favorite pastime of the locals that there was actually a little shuttle/train to pick up us and our tubes and take us down to the drop-in site (it was all very official). On the way I even got to witness a real-live Jerry Springer Show à la Redneck on the train. It consisted of a mother and her 5 year-old son, who was embarrassed by his mother's antics with her friends. After discreetly trying to inform her of this fact, his confrontation back fired and it only made her all the louder, now yelling "Am I embarrassing you???" It also led her to make a speech about what a good mom she is and someday he'll understand that you shouldn't be so uptight about life. A real tear-jerker, let me tell you. I kept expecting the bodyguards to come up out of the swamp and separate those two. At least diagnosing the fact that it was a 5 yr old, and not a 15 yr old, who was embarrassed by his mother kept me from mulling over my almost certain and imminent death in the jaws of those gators.




















The Made-For-TV drama was over before we knew it and the real drama began. After an unsteady kerplunk off the dock into my tube I was off and floating down the river. The river, by the way, turned out to actually be an obstacle course of fallen logs, tree branches underneath, and murky shallows. Now I had a new fear to add to the list: getting poked in the you-know-where by one of those lurking tree branches. After navigating by a few fallen logs and resolving to stay only in the middle of the river, I started to relax a bit. This was fun!

As if the fun police heard my thought a big, fat, drop of water fell on my head. Uh, oh. It looked as if we were in for another H2O drenching... And that we were; water started falling on my head harder and faster than I ever thought possible. In the course of 30 seconds we were completely drenched. The dumping lasted something like 15-20 minutes. Good thing this was Florida and not Oregon, or else we would have been swamp bait for the gators. Instead it felt more like a lukewarm summer shower that only leaves you shivering during the last couple of minutes. But we survived, and after all was said and done, it was pretty fun! And the only wildlife that swam with us was a family of turtles...

Next blog entry: Georgia and North Carolina