We are here in Sud de France, in the Herault.
All three of us arrived in one piece although Mouche the cat is still rather unstable as the kitty meds wear off. He was rather subdued at Charles De Gaulle as we carried him between flights but it was fine. We were told that at Air France the captain of the plane is responsible for the animals. Well mon bon Capitane did good. So Mouche had a good trip and now is exploring his new digs.
Clermont l’Herault is rather pretty. Lying in a lovely valley, that you get to by going through the spectacular Gorges d’Herault, the town is midsized and bustling.
Actually the countryside is beautiful rolling hills and valleys, vineyards and orchards. The photo above is our view in the morning. On the way to the rental you pass several orchards hung heavy with autumn pears and apples.
The place we are renting for October is modern-boohoo-as you can see from the photo of our patio and pool. It has one of those French silent fridges and black, glasstop stoves and a Bose sound system and the pool.
Ultimately leaving the USA was about downsizing and arriving in a place with three bathrooms (three showers and a tub) and a pool is somewhat hypocritical but it’s what we found. Big drawback to the place is that the British owner has SKY-TV so all you can watch is Brit-TV. God helps us, 24/7 of the Weakest Link and Top Gear. So weird the Brits love, LOVE France but the people and the culture not so much. And right now the Wi-FI is out so we have to go to the local bar to logon. Oh well.
As I expected the vaunted French bureaucracy turns out to be as sweet and tender as the French people—a toothless paper tiger. At Charles de Gaulle the Air France rep who had to look over Mouche’s papers was at least nine month pregnant. She glowed with impeding motherhood and her affection for our little guy was delightful, although she got up to scratch his neck she let out a mother-to-be “OH OW and settled back into her chair.
But the striking thing is that we are here and the shock for me is the growing sense that we are indeed not on vacation but here for a while.
And that is why I am so thankful and overwhelmed in the few hours we have been here by the kindness of strangers.
For instance, our landlord’s rep met us in town and took us to our place. When we arrived there on the kitchen table was a spread she had prepared as a welcome for us. It included a bottle of white wine, a tray of shrimp and smoked salmon, a tray of pate and cheeses and a fresh baquette— just a small gesture of welcome and not really a part of her job.
And then she said she is planning a party next week for a couple of her friends, some Americans, Canadians and Brits who she thinks would be fun for us to meet. Welcome to expatria.
There have been other small moments to our trip that were special. Particularly there was the baggage guy who was going to be loading Mouche onto the plane for the flight to Montpellier. An Arab guy, probably a Moslem from Algeria, he asked us the cat’s name. We told him it was ‘Mouche’ and he tapped on the cat carrier and said,
“Bonjour Monsieur Mouche. Bienvenue a Paris. Welcome.”
Then he turned to us and said, “Did you see that? Monsieur Mouche smiled. I think he is very happy to be in France.”
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