The lovely, lovely Loire

Health update: Kate is almost back to full health (her version of the Bug was faster but just as furious as Liv's) and so we took off this afternoon toward the Loire Valley, home of France's famous chateaux. After a few hours of enjoying the company of three nearly healthy kids, Jack started drooping at dinner and now seems to be battling a milder version of it at this moment (at least we hope it's a milder version!). Ah, kids. And germs. And the unpredictability of life. They all just kind of go together, don't they?

Loire update: Wow! We aren't even "officially" there yet, and all six of us are blown away. The drive here included some kind of bland countryside once we left Burgundy, but as soon as we headed off the autoroute down to Beaugency, a town along the Loire just west of Orleans, the superlatives started.

Tonight, we have the incredible thrill of staying in a former Abbey right along the Loire (although I have to tell you, if the monks who used to live here lived as well as we are living tonight... well, it's a pretty good argument for the monastic life!). We climbed up stairs where the stone has been worn away by hundreds of years of footfall; we walked down a hall toward our rooms ("Frere Victoire" for us, "Frere Perceval" for Mom) on sloping terra cotta-colored tiles. The huge wooden beams along the ceilings and the huge windows overlooking the Loire are all simply stunning. And the view... we threw open those huge windows and stared out at the lovely Loire.

Once we had a snack, we decided to explore the town a bit. As you probably know, I have become quite the fan of Burgundy in general and Beaune in particular. I was beginning to think that no where else in France could match it. But (I hate to say this), I *could* be wrong. Beaugency, a gorgeous town with its 14th century bridge, was freed by Joan of Arc in 1429. And its twisting streets and narrow lanes and flower-filled windows and soaring stone towers literally took our breath away. As Mom said, "There just aren't enough words".

I had planned to post some of the hundreds of beautiful photos we took today, but John's computer is uploading them sooooooo slowly that I am tempted to toss it out the window. In the interest of his beloved Mac, I will just leave you with a few.  I can't believe the *real* spectacular stuff still awaits us tomorrow...

More pictures from Mom's visit

Kate looks a little better this morning, and is happily nestled in watching British cartoons. Still hoping to head to the Loire this afternoon!

In the meantime, I downloaded pictures from John's little camera. Here are a few more shots of the last few days with Mom and Sharon.

Fun, fun, fun in France (even with a germ or two)

This afternoon, as Katie was throwing up in the car on the way home from lunch (into a sack and not all over the rented minivan, thankfully), Olivia leaned over and whispered to her Grannie.

"I know why Katie doesn't feel good," she explained. "I gave my germ to her."

And indeed it appears she has. Thankfully, Olivia is back to her usual genki self today (that's the Japanese term for "spirited" and one of a handful of Japanese words that still lingers in our family's vocabulary. We have noticed it is now filled with many new and wonderful French terms, too, including mon coeur (my heart), ma puce (my flea/sweetie), and mon petit chou (my little cabbage/dear). But Katie is clearly in the midst of battling the same bug. At least we know it's not appendicitis, and we're hoping her recovery comes as quickly as her sister's.

And a little sickness didn't stop us from having a good time these last days. We have hung around the house a bit more than we first planned, which is no hardship, and we have also made a few trips into Beaune for various food, shopping, wine, and walking delights. We also had the pleasure of having a gouter with Geraldine and Adele yesterday (who later were joined by Pierre, and the smile on Jack's face when he saw his older friend ride into the drive seemed to illuminate the whole village, at the very least). And today, we kept the girls out of school (this was pre-Kate sickness, post-Liv sickness), said goodbye to Sharon at the gare and wished her bon voyage as she headed north to Brittany to visit dear friends, and then had an AMAZING lunch at a stony cave called L'Incontournable. To all Burgundians... if you haven't been to this fabulous restaurant at 29 Rue Carnot... you should get there as soon as you can!

And in between all of this, there have been tasty meals at home (including a gluten-free goat-cheese quiche I made last night and a Mont D'Or feast tonight), walks to some of our favorite places in the village, and lots of book reading, wine drinking, clothes changing (by Kate and Liv who are thrilled with the sundresses Grannie brought), talking, and laughing. John and I even got our date in last night -- not to Ciboulette, which was "exceptionally" closed on a Wednesday night, but to an Italian restaurant that turned out to be just right.

We're hoping Katie is well enough tomorrow to head out on our Loire trip. Liv was in good form within 24 hours, so fingers are crossed that Kate will be too.

Here are a few fun photos of the last few days. What you can't see in the photo of Katie with the lollipop is that her smile comes not from the sugary sweet, but from the brioche in the bag that I just got for her. She is definitely picking up some French habits. And near the end (I think sixth from the end), you can see mom walking out of my favorite fromagerie in Beaune -- just like me, with a smile on her face.

French medicine (edited)

We had a great morning with Mom and Sharon, starting with petite dejeuner in Beaune, and we had big plans for a date night tonight at our favorite restaurant, Ciboulette. It all started well enough, and we enjoyed our coffee and fresh juice (and croissants and bread for me and John) at the best cafe in the world. We wandered the streets a bit before leaving Mom and Sharon to shop and to visit the Hotel Dieu (the beautiful old hospital of Beaune) while we did a few less thrilling errands before picking up the girls. Little did I know that we would end the night not at our romantic restaurant, but at the very new hospital of Beaune, with a very sick Olivia.

It all started when we arrived at the school,  and the first words out of Olivia's mouth were that her tummy hurt. She spent the rest of the day fighting a high fever, throwing up (again and again and again), and looking generally pathetic. At one point, I called the doctor here (the one John saw for his detailed athletic physical) but he wasn't there this afternoon. We got an appointment first thing tomorrow morning, but by 6:30 p.m. tonight, Liv was looking worse and worse, throwing up more and more, and was very much in pain. I started worrying about appendicitis. Even though Liv is the quickest to complain about a small splinter (or any emotional hurt), when she is really sick, she is usually so stoic and strong.... so her complaints today, and her tears, were worrying.

So off we went to the French emergency room, joking to Livie about how she likes to stay close on our planned date nights. All conversations took place in French, and I definitely had some gaps in my understanding and even explaining (I thought the French word for "to complain" was grimper but no one seemed to understand what I meant when I said it. I just checked now and grimper means "to climb". No wonder they looked confused when I said my daughter doesn't usually climb stairs when she is sick! For the record, to complain is se plaindre.). Still, for the most part the language parts went very well, and I thought several times how better it all went compared to when we had to take Katie to the doctor in Japan.

Everyone at emerg was very nice. No one said we were crazy for bringing her in (always a worry), and all of them seemed to genuinely like children. They sent us to an on-call doctor, who was also very, VERY nice. After a thorough exam, he determined she didn't have appendicitis. Nor did she have meningitis, and she also didn't have strep. Whew. She did have a very high fever (hanging out around 104F/40C, even with fever reducer, which I am usually reluctant to use but tried when she seemed so miserable) and some kind of throat infection (that I am sure has a name but I didn't fully understand what he called it). He thought her stomach pain was caused by the fever and inflammation. We walked out of there paying 25 euros for the visit and holding on to four (!) prescriptions. I had always heard that the French like their medicines, and this seemed to prove that. I was able to ask enough to learn that all of the prescriptions were just to treat her symptoms (swelling in her throat, the cramping belly), were all prescribed for just 2 or 3 days, and none was an antibiotic or steroid. I filled them at the on-call pharmacy for just 11.14 euros. Also amazing (this is where I am tempted to make a comment about "socialized" medicine... but I am too tired for politics right now, so I'll just leave it at yet another great experience in a country with universal healthcare).

I was especially impressed with the doctor and his treatment of Liv. Apparently, all of the local doctors in the Beaune area rotate with the nighttime and weekend shift, and people who aren't sick enough for emergency are referred there. The doctor took his time with us, even though there were other patients in the waiting room. We told him we knew she shouldn't go to school with a fever, but we were planning to do a little driving tour of the villages tomorrow. Would that be OK, we asked. He thought about it, and said it's probably best to stay home. But he didn't say it like some blanket announcement that sick kids should be in bed (in fact, he said she could play outside if she wanted). Instead, he considered it and then explained that because of her fever, if she's in a car, she could get overheated if she's sitting in the sun, or chilled by too much air conditioning, and that for her sake, it is probably not a good idea to leave home. That he took time to think that through, and then explain to us his logic, after an already thorough visit really impressed both of us.

There was also the small victory of me figuring out halfway through the evening's various conversations that Tylenol (acetominophen) is called paracetamol here in France.

At any rate -- Liv already is feeling a bit better. She is, as the doctor said, tres courageause. We felt lucky to have Mom and Sharon here to watch Jack and Kate while we had a very cozy date night. And on that note... I think the three of us are all headed to bed... together, bien sur.

A glimpse of Grannie

Mom and Sharon made it safely to Villers-la-Faye last night, and we have had a whirlwind day -- lunch (les galettes) in Nuits-St-Georges, a drive through some of our favorite villages, a trip to Beaune where Kate, Liv and John had ice cream and rode the carousel and Mom, Sharon and I did an official degustation at the famous wine cellars of Patriache et fils. After sampling more than 15 different wines (that's not 15 GLASSES of wine, bien sur, but 15 samples in the lovely wine tasting cups we got to keep as souvenirs), we settled on a few favorites and cracked open the first bottle when we got home.

I am a bit wiped out so will just post a few great photos. Below, Jack reads Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator with Grannie. Next, Mom and Sharon walk through the cobbly streets of Beaune. And finally, Kate and Grannie make funny faces at each other while Liv wears Sharon's fancy sunglasses in the back. More pictures and more stories to come once I get a bit of sleep!

A family recipe

Still no official word on what the mystery plant may be. Might be reason to come back to Burgundy some spring in the future just to research more!

But... my dad did ask me to pass along his special "anti-skunk" recipe to my amazing in-laws after reading about our faithful hound Kaia's encounter with a skunk earlier this week. I did. And then I realized that since I often post or link to recipes (for things like tarte au chocolat or tortillas, true), maybe someone out there might be helped by my dad's surefire way to get the skunk smell off of a dog.

From the all time skunk trapper of Teller County, Colorado: Mix together one quart of 3% hydrogen peroxide, 1 teaspoon of mild liquid dishwashing detergent and 1/4 cup of baking soda.  Before bathing your pet, put cotton balls in his ears and a drop of mineral oil in each eye to prevent the mixture from irritating the eyes.  Rub the mixture through your pet's coat and brush it through with a soft brush, then rinse well.  You might have to repeat it until the odor is gone, but it really does work.  This is my long time remedy from Heloise.  When a skunk sprays the yard, I use a spray bottle and spray it around and it gets rid of the odor.  Poor Kaia.

Are skunks a problem in France? I can just imagine the conversation with Geraldine and Thomas (who patiently answer all of my random French questions) -- it's sure to be a good one!

In completely non-smelly other news... the kids and I are surviving John's absence for a work trip (we finished day four today -- hooray!), and we couldn't have made it through today without Lauren, Claudia and Penelope (and their parents). I was running low on patience this morning, and had a long list of shopping to do at both the Beaune Saturday market and the regular supermarket to prepare for my mom's visit. The kids do NOT love going to the market with me. They love the carousel there, of course, and John always takes them to it on any market morning. But going from stall to stall while I buy vegetables and cheese and chicken has never been their favorite activity. And with all of the tourists coming to town and the market more crowded than ever, it would have been even less fun.

So Alli kindly offered to have me drop the kids at her place and sent me on my way. What a friend! I had a great market morning -- a few of my favorite vendors passed along little extras today, some breadsticks and a few extra flowers -- and you will be shocked to hear I bought all of my favorite cheeses -- but this time for selfless reasons! My mom and Sharon can't eat gluten -- when I explained that to different vendors they gave a look of recognition (they had clearly heard of a gluten allergy) and then all of them, every single one, gave the saddest face ever at the thought of being unable to eat French bread. So I figured what they will miss in bread we will make up for in cheese! How very, very noble of me, I know.

The kids had a blast playing with the May girls. Kate and Liv adore anything that the nearly two-year-old Penelope does (and Penelope loves having them as adoring fans). Jack, Lauren and Claudia traded a few Pokemon cards while they were at it. And when I returned with my final haul, all the kids (and moms) walked back to town to get an ice cream cone -- a perfect end to a day that could have been so stressful and frustrating for all four of us. I did get a bit misty as we walked and I watched Lauren hold Kate and Liv's hands, and Jack take Penelope's while talking to Claudia... because it is clear how lucky we are to have such good friends, and how sad we are to be getting to a point where we can count down how many more market mornings we'll have. That's just not something I want to think about too much.

So... to avoid any more weepy eyes, I'll just say the kids and I returned and started getting ready for Mom and Sharon. John will pick up them up tomorrow night in Lyon after having made a whirlwind trip to Paris and Barcelona (again, I am struck by how much cooler than sounds than making a whirlwind trip to, say, Calgary and Winnipeg). And hopefully, at this time tomorrow night, I'll be saying bienvenue maman!

A plant update, but more importantly, while we're here, my in-laws are...

...trying to get the skunk smell off of our dog. Yes, I think we got the better end of THAT deal.

I woke up this morning to this email from my father-in-law, sent in reply to yesterday's blog about the mysterious plant.

Did it have a skunky smell? 4:00 am in the morning and Judy, forgetting possible skunks in the early morning darkness, complies and lets you know who outside. Many many many hours later and after spraying her with Skunk-Off and giving her a bubble bath outside with dog and cat shampoo she has been once again allowed into the house......She acted like she has never had a bath?? She shivered and tried to escape but I kept her in our outside bathing container and although she envisioned biting me with glee, she chose to take another path and let it happen. All three of us had minor and major roles in this adventure and we all thought about you guys (well, at least I did)....

Poor Jay. Poor Judy. And (I suppose), poor Kaia, the smelly dog, who hates baths and has only had two in her more than 12 year long life (she's rather cat like in that way).

I am just wondering how much Aligoté we'll have to bring back to make this up to them? Just what is the appropriate gift for someone who has taken care of your skunk-sprayed dog? I wonder if Miss Manners has ever contemplated such a question.

In other, less horribly smelly, news, I have a possible lead on the plant mystery, thanks to Liz, a friend of mine here in Burgundy. She emailed this morning with with a few thoughts. She said she will check with her favorite neighbor, an 82-year-old who heads south each winter but who is coming home this week and knows all about local plants, but in the meantime her best guesses are either wild asparagus (aka Ornithogalum pyrenaicum, aka Prussian asparagus, Bath Asparagus (it was once abundant near that city), Pyrenees star of Bethlehem, spiked star of Bethlehem or in French asperge des bois, aspergette, ornithogale des Pyrénées) or wild garlic (aka ail des ours, aka ramsons). Though concerning the latter, she wrote she has "yet to meet a Burgundian who shares my fondness for this and to plunge it in boiling water would be an outrage."

She included this link which included this interesting tidbit (for those of us who are always on the lookout for wild boar):
  
Ramsons (Allium ursinum) (also known as buckrams, wild garlic, broad-leaved garlic, wood garlic, sremuš or bear's garlic) is a wild relative of chives. The Latin name owes to the brown bear's taste for the bulbs and habit of digging up the ground to get at them; they are also a favorite of wild boar.

The photo on the left of ramsons has leaves that looked very much like the leaves the man pulled out of his pocket. And I certainly understand getting excited about garlic! But... why would he be boiling them? Garlic tea? Soup?

Liz did warn "if you do go looking for wild garlic remember to check for the distinctive flowers, as the leaves are very similar to lily of the valley which is poisonous." As for the boiling... I could almost see her shrug her shoulders as she wrote that "the French don't always deserve their reputation for knowing exactly what to do in the kitchen." And she thinks I would have been about to smell it (she said when you walk through a wood where they grow in profusion it can be quite overpowering).

Ah, the mystery continues.

And just for the record... to Jay and Judy, I am really sorry about that skunk. We'll make it up to you somehow.

Again with the language woes

So, the girls and I took a walk toward Magny-les-Villers this afternoon, wearing short-sleeve shirts and smiles. On the way we passed a lovely older French man walking his dog. After admiring the dog, and talking about the weather, he asked me if we happened to be heading east on our walk.

Why yes, I told him. That's right where we are heading.

His eyes got big and intense, and he told me with great urgency that I would be able to find...something...there.

I had no idea what he was talking about. His intensity made me briefly think it might be the wild boar we've heard can be found in this region, or maybe some roving bandits, or even a wasp's nest or two.

So I asked him to explain, and he said the word... which I had never heard... again. Same excitement. Same intensity.

I looked confused.

Then he pulled something out of his pocket, sure I would be thrilled with what he had.

Again... nothing. It was some kind of plant. I have never seen it before. I leaned forward to smell it (and the jump back he gave made me think this was not the right move). He looked quite disappointed at my lack of appreciation, and said he was heading right home to boil some water and... do something... with it.

ARGH.

Not only do I have huge vocabulary gaps... but I suffered from a double blow of being completely ignorant in all langauges when it comes to plants. For the rest of our walk, I kept picturing the nice old man telling his friends he met this foreigner today who didn't even know what... something... was. Can you believe it?

Volcano update, and a short entry about things from home I miss

First of all -- it looks like my friend Janay will start to head back to Canada tomorrow (and should make it back for her son's first birthday), and thousands of people have been able to make flights today. Hooray... and whew... for the moment.

Second of all -- all of this focus on airplanes, travel, location, and talk of home, as well as the (fingers-crossed) arrival of my mom later this week, has gotten me thinking more about "home" than usual, as well as the things I miss or wish I could have here. They include:

* A few more of my clothes. You might wonder how long it would take to grow weary of four pants, two long sleeve shirts, three short sleeve shirts, two tank tops and a few sweaters. I will tell you... about three months. As of this week, I officially can't stand all of my clothes. I don't even like the kids' clothes! The up side to this is that I am amazed at how good John and I have become at packing light. We can fit everything we need for all five of us to spend four nights away in two carry-on pieces of luggage and two backpacks (and that includes necessary stuffed animals and dolls). When I think of how I used to travel (weighed down) and how I travel now (light and free)... well, it's a pretty great change.

* Some of the things in my own kitchen. It's weird to cook in someone else's kitchen. While parts of a new kitchen are wonderful (I have never used a food processor and now can't imagine not having one... it makes making crusts and bread SO easy), there are other things from home I miss. My big knife. My large red enamel pot which I use for everything from roasting to soups to Rice Krispie bars. My espresso pot. My spices. My own rolling pin. Weird, huh?

* A few more games and puzzles for the kids. While I am so pleased how well they are doing with so few toys, and while we were thrilled to see puzzles and games here in La Maison des Chaumes, there are moments it would be nice to have a few more up our sleeves. I *like* the lack of other toys, for the most part. Things are so nicely uncluttered. The kids make up games with each other and with bits of nature. And the toys they did bring -- Lego, a few ponies, and their favorite stuffies -- are so well loved.

* A few more English language "chapter books" for Jack. We have been BLAZING through books here and  while we were hugely helped by the books in this house, the care packages from Sara and Mom, as well as visiting the "May girls' library" of Lauren, Claudia and Penelope, there have been nights here when we have truly had nothing for Jack to read. So we reread the favorites, or have him read to Kate and Liv. But I think John and I both love snuggling in to take turn reading those chapter books to and with Jack... and having a few more on hand would be nice (or should I say "will be nice", as I think Mom has a few more packed in her luggage if she makes it).

* Bikes. Since the arrival of spring, I have REALLY been missing having bicycles for all of us, and the lovely trails around our house in Lethbridge. We decided we aren't in France quite long enough to merit buying bikes here (plus it's soooooo much hillier), but with this great weather and the lovely lingering sunsets, there have been many moments of wishing we could all take a quick spin on bikes. Soon enough, I suppose.

But what I think we all miss most of all from home are the people (and as much as I love the wine, cheese, bread and market here, I am sure the same will be true when we head back home). I know it will be hard to leave, but we will be able to do so knowing we are going back to good friends and family a drive away. And that is quite a good thing for all of us, I'd say.

Watching, waiting, wondering

Still on Eyjafjallajokull watch here in beautiful Burgundy.

Although some planes made it back to the skies from European airports this morning, many more flights are still canceled. There is news that after a bit of a pause, a bigger eruption (and cloud of ash) is in the works in Iceland. It's such a huge storiy with far reaching implications -- although I am wondering if the news would be even bigger in the U.S. and Canada if the winds were blowing to the west and covering New York and Toronto's airspace instead.

At any rate...I put on my journalist hat for a bit yesterday to help get out the word of the plight of those stuck in Europe (particularly Canadians, who feel they have received little guidance, much less help, from the government). As a result, Janay (my friend who is stranded in London) did interviews with the Globe and Mail, the CBC, and the Calgary Herald. You can read the G&M story here, the CBC story here, and the Calgary Herald story here.

Some of the negative comments are hard to read. Yes -- there are certainly worse places in the world to be stranded, and Europe in the springtime is, I can fully attest, quite lovely. But the people who are stranded can't really just go and sit in cafes and wait for the wind to change. They might not have enough money left to do that, for one thing (hotels are raising their rates each night). Some are running out of their medication as well as their money. Others are missing family events, work deadline, weddings, funerals, and more. And instead of being able to take advantage of an unexpected extra week in Europe, most are tied to phones and computers trying to reschedule, replan, rebook, and reorganize as they search for ways home.

And the financial implications go far beyond the airlines (although truly they are suffering, too). But Laura, our wonderful landlady, wrote about the hundreds of little business people like her who are losing bookings -- and their income -- because of the ash. If my mom isn't able to make her flight over on Saturday night, we will not be heading to the Loire -- so that means two hotels, a half-dozen restaurants, four chateaux, and countless cute little shops won't be getting our business. Even John's aunt in a tiny town in Montana is feeling the effects... they had a bowling championship playoff canceled because some people on one team had travelled to Germany and have not been able to come home yet. That means lost food, lodging, and other business for one small Montana town, too. Scenes like this are playing out in villages, towns, and cities throughout Europe and -- because the globe has become so much smaller as a result of air travel -- throughout the world.

Many people are struggling through this, and I think it will take quite a long time for things to settle down, even if the volcano quiets tomorrow. (And in the meantime, if you are in Europe and looking for a terrific place to stay -- contact Laura! Her rentals are wonderful!)

A friend of mine here in Burgundy just sent me a very thoughtful essay about this whole experience. It's worth reading the whole thing, but I especially liked the conclusion:

It is commonplace to acknowledge that people so often only grasp the full value of something when they lose it ... but the events of the past few days remind us how it is true. Well, some of us have for a while at least lost the ability to get home. And all of us right across Europe have lost air travel for the time being. So when that comes back, let's try and use that wonderful freedom more thoughtfully, sensibly and wisely.

And with that thought...fingers are crossed here for a safe and available flight for my mom and Sharon on Saturday, too... and that all of those stranded here will soon be able to make their way home.

GUEST BLOG: Mr. Harper, please take notice!

My friend Janay-- the one struck in London who is trying to get home for her son's first birthday -- just posted a persuasive call to action for the Canadian government to respond to those trapped abroad because of the volcano. It was so well-written and moving, I asked if I could post it here. She said yes -- especially if it might somehow help get her (and others like her) home.

By Janay Nugent-Moulton  

I was at the high Commission of Canada this morning and there were close to 200 with me (I have great photos, but can't get them off of my camera). It doesn't sound like hardship to be trapped in London, but there are real reasons people need help. I spoke to people who are running out of medications, one was insulin dependent and another had run out of her blood pressure medication (I'm sure she won't need that right now!). Currently there is absolutely no support for us. The people at the High Commission were quite gracious and sympathetic, but they can do little without Ottawa's approval. As of this morning (5 days after this all started), the federal government didn't even have a note of direction to Canadians on their main website. Our plight (and this is that of thousands, and probably tens of thousands of Canadians) has not even seemed to really grab the attention of Canadian media.

We have been patient and quiet Canadians, but it is important that people realize the hardships that are happening here. One couple I spoke to this morning stood in line to renew their hotel reservations and the prices of the room rose with each person in front of them, 119GBP, 129GBP and then 159GBP by the time it came to them. A young family I spoke to is virtually out of money, they have used up all of their vacation time and are almost out of sick days - so they face losing their wages from work as well as paying all of the expenses piling up here. Another person I spoke to called Aeroplan to book the hotel on their points and the hotel charged them 500GBP to make the call. Many people are running out of money and don't have options. Where will they sleep and what will they eat? I spoke to a retired man who was terrified by the prospect of trying to stay off of the streets. There was another woman who was trying to get to her father's deathbed and others who wanted to make a sister's wedding and a grandchild's baptism. I am desperate to make it home for my son's first birthday and my 3 1/2 year old just doesn't understand why I don't walk home or take a boat. The reality is that it is incredibly difficult to get out of Europe or to know what to do.

Should we stay put in the UK and hope that once Heathrow, the major airport gets going we will have some hope of getting home? Or should we undertake our own Amazing Race? There are many stories of people paying cabs to drive across entire countries, buying bikes just to get on ferries as commuters, buying cars to drive to the Mediterranean and catch cruises to places where you can fly from. It currently takes days and hundred (usually thousands) of dollars to take public transit to places where there are flights like Lisbon and Madrid. But this is not feasible for many people financially, and many others who are travelling in Europe for only the first or second time do not have the travel literacy to make it across multiple countries, in many languages, with many forms of transportation. And this all comes at a risk anyhow, after you have spent hours (probably days) and untold financial resources getting to a southern city, will there be a flight for you? how much will it cost? Will the airport be shut down because the ash cloud has moved?

The Canadian Government needs to give us some direction, and they need to help us find a way out. At the high Commission today there was a very concrete solution offered which got huge applause - charter buses from around Europe to take us to Madrid and fly a Canadian armed forces transport plane to take us home. The ability is certainly there, but there needs to be a will. I ask that the media and government take notice (if you could contact your MP or local media that would help) and help us out. And please do it soon before personal hardships become financial, medical and familial tragedies - and before the cloud gets bigger and our window of opportunity closes.

Janay Nugent-Moulton is a professor of history at the University of Lethbridge. She can be reached by contacting me or by joining the Facebook group "Canadians Abroad Trapped by Volcanic Ash". Reprinted with permission of the author.

And in other news...

Now that I have gotten the emotional "I want my mom" update off my chest, I remembered I also have some pictures to post from the weekend.

On Friday, Geraldine, Pierre and Adele came to visit for the gouter. I have made a tarte au citron and we had a great visit. I was asking Geraldine to translate parts of the cookbook she gave me the night of the French fiesta, and as she tried to explain to me the different instructions for gougeres au fromage (fancy cheese puffs), we decided to just give it a try.

They didn't turn out *quite* right -- the first batch, in fact, could have been used as baseballs -- but I think the temperature in the oven here was too high as the second batch turned out a bit better. But it was so much fun to cook with a friend (and one who knew how to mettez, versez, otez, remettez, beurrez, saupoudrez and more).

Kate, Liv and Adele played beautifully. Liv said that Adele was beginning to understand them -- and they were beginning to understand her. At last!

Jack and Pierre kicked the soccer ball around for a while, looked at Jack's Pokemon card collection (who knew it would be as popular in France as it was in Japan and Canada?), and then decided to sit down to play poker. Eventually, John, Geraldine and I were drawn into the fun of Texas Hold'em, where Jack and Pierre promptly beat us (and Jack squeaked out a narrow victory over his friend). Fun French fact of the day -- the phrase for "I fold" in French is je me couche (I put myself to bed). Below, you can see Jack and Pierre sorting out Legos to make them work as poker chips.

Saturday held two social outings for us. First, in the afternoon we went to a gouter at Marine's, the daughter of my host family from Dijon. Her four girls and our three kids all played SO well in their huge backyard. We *may* be starting to make plans to arrange a marriage between Jack and either Penelope or Capucine... I'm sure they won't mind, right?

That night, we went to a dinner at Muriel and Sylvie's, who are connected to the local Buddhist community and who are friends of Geraldine and Thomas (who were invited to the dinner as well). They live in a wonderful old house in a small town about 30 minutes south of Beaune -- full of old wooden beams, great nooks, and twisty stairs. We had a very interesting, fun, and late night out.

Rounding out our incredibly social weekend, we had the great pleasure of having lunch here for a friend from university days who is living in Geneva with her husband and 11-week-old daughter. We hadn't see Cynthia and Lincoln in 12 years (although we had exchanged many an email and letter in the interim), and it was such fun to meet sweet Melina. It was a perfect spring day, with fresh food from the market, a walk up to Coconut Mountain (Mont-St-Victor) and to Rapunzel's Tower (the remaining tower from the old chateau in town), and some lovely cheeses (including a new favorite -- Epoisse). The kids fell in love with little Melina (and so did we).

The other excitement of the weekend is that I decided to give the kids haircuts. In the past, this has not always ended up working so well for us (especially Jack). Thus, this sign:

In case you have trouble, it says "I NOT GITING MI HAIR CUT" (his spelling is better in French at this point in his life). But I just trimmed around the ears, and he ended up looking like this:

Pas mal, n'est pas? Kate and Liv got just a trim, too... and new kerchiefs that are all the rage at their school right now:

We don't have much planned this week -- hopefully just cleaning and getting ready for a visit from my mom and friend Sharon on Sunday night. Fingers crossed for the winds to change!