France: An Unanticipated Extended Stay in the Land of Wine, Cheese and Love, and, Finally, Au Revoir Europe!

After our 3 months of gallivanting around most of Europe, we were ready to switch from "traveler" mode into "chill out" mode (we make a point of not being "tourists", a word which offends us - we are travelers, wanderers, explorers, nomads, and gypsies). We'd planned to hang out in and around Paris at Felix's grandmother's place for a week while we waited for our Indian visas to be granted, doing not much other than washing, sleeping, eating cheese and drinking wine. The plan was going perfectly, we even managed to spend a few days in Normandy at one of the Lamarche's holiday houses...

The Sacré-Coeur, Montmartre. Those steps were the most exercise we did all week.

 They did give us a magnificent pigeon's-eye view over Paris though, so it was worth it.

Paying our tributes to a great man in the Père Lachaise cemetery. RIP Jim Morrison.

 Bumming around with Alice and her friends at 'La Druelle', in Normandy, just a few hours north of Paris. A great place to do not much!

 Except, of course, visiting the Mont-Saint-Michel, surely the most beautiful fortified town in France, if not the most famous.

 We were lucky to be there during low tide, so we could walk around the "island". Mmmmm, wet sand, get on ma toesss....

After 10 days of low intensity activities, we found out that we hadn't been the only ones who had been lazy that week; the Indian Embassy didn't have our visas ready. This was minorly frustrating, and we had to postpone our flights to Thailand for a week. Being rather strapped for cash, we signed up for a week of light work at an outdoor adventure centre an hour south of Paris, in return for free accommodation, food, and fitness classes(??). The family and the other helpers there were mostly all French Canadians - between their accents, tendancy to sing traditional French Canadian songs and the Canadian theme of the outdoor centre, it felt like we spent the week in Quebec.

Sleeping in a treehut can be fun, but dangerous if you need to go to the bathroom during the night. It was all fun and games 'til a Canadian fell out of the tree hut, dislocated his wrist and broke his elbow...

 Fitness classes in the Forest of Fontainebleau. We didn't know what we'd signed up for. Sir yes SIR!

This place literally had the facilities for every sport you could imagine. Volleyball, underwater hockey, rock climbing, slacklining... They even had their own high ropes course through the trees!

You'd think it would end there, as did we. But no, our Indian visas were still not ready.  By this point it was getting majorly frustrating, and we had to put off our flight for another week. Luckily France is a pretty big country with no shortage of things to do, and Felix's French family is pretty big with no shortage of people to see. We headed to Lyon, where we were very warmly welcomed by Felix's cuzzie Coralie. We were particularly well fed - the menu included calf's head, blood sausages and pig intestines, all Lyonaise specialities.

 Coralie and her partner Gilles were very proud to show us their urban garden.

Downtown Lyon, roooaaarrrrr. Ha, just kiddin', there aren't many lions round here, only French people, and these ones don't bite as much as the Paris lot do.

Another catpic for those cat lovers out there ;)

Finally, we thought we'd take a trip to nostalgia valley; we headed back to the Alps to see Felix's aunt Juliette and to visit Sainte Foy, the place where it all began. We were pretty happy to be back in the mountains, but it seems the feeling wasn't mutual; it rained almost the entire time we were there...

The clouds parted for a moment as we arrived in front of the chalet we'd lived in over winter. Avid blog followers (hi mum and dad) might recognise the chalet from our winter blog posts, minus the snow. Hi there, old fella.

Sainte Foy is a bit of a ghost town during the in-between seasons. Not so many people on the slopes today...
And where are the marmots?

We and Neal were put to good use helping Juliette make jam, an occupation which is anything but part-time. Blueberry picking might look like a stroll in the park, but let us tell you it is a physically gruelling, mentally challenging and fiercly competitive sport.

The jam-making process isn't for the faint hearted either. It's a lot more similar to dissection than we could have imagined. But seriously, if anyone is in need of some outrageously good jams, head to the Bourg-Saint-Maurice seasonal markets, you will not be disappointed!

And, finally, a month later, we were back to Paris to pick up our long-anticipated visas and to catch our flight.

Europe, quite frankly you've been amazing. Keep it real, and until next time.


Next time: Switching back into traveler-mode in Thailand!