Well hello Sunshine

There have been countless times on this holiday requiring me to channel my inner Pollyanna. Always see the silver lining in any cloud and all that.

But today required no rose tinted glasses. Thank goodness as George announced yesterday “no offence Mum but your red sunglasses don’t look good with your black clothes”. Charmer. The sun shone in all its glory and all of a sudden it felt like the switch of seasons had occurred during our slumber.

This dream was about experiencing France and another way of living. But that was only half the dream. The other part was about us stopping as a family unit to lead a quieter existence without the pressure of other people and things. We wanted to see what life would be like if we short circuited all the noise, and sometimes madness. We also wanted to truly enjoy each other’s company. It would have been impossible to do that within our normal lives in New Zealand.

So today was about a long inhale and an even longer exhale. Taking pleasure in simple things together, like a daily wander to the butcher, hanging out the washing (usually involving about a dozen ‘oh my goodness I am hanging out washing in France’ moments) and eating simply prepared, local grown produce.

We have not used our people mover. We managed to clean up 2 baguettes. Little things seemed magical: We found a scorpion on our kitchen wall and a green lizard climbing up our outside wall. We meandered down to the village to our local creperie for lunch. I was even brave enough to ask the woman at the butchers for something other than entrecôte - okay so I opted for the rather large saucissons as I understood what animal they came from and the rest still looks foreign to me - but it’s a start.

And, most excitedly we have had our first swim.

The children have been bugging us to go swimming since we arrived. Understandable as it sits outside ‘glimmering and calling to us’ (Molly’s words). Even when they have arrived home donned in merinos, thick cotton tights and coats they still screamed blue murder at our outrageously unfair parenting by declaring it off limits.  But today it felt like child cruelty to withhold anymore. Afterall, the pool was a big part of the dream.

So with four new swimming costumes - all red, white and blue from Petit Bateau in Paris no less - they rather bashfully stood on the side and at the count of three jumped in together. (Check it out in our video section - at least you'll be saved a never-ending slide show on our return). I have never seen such cold children. My father, who along with my mother has joined us for a few weeks, wandered over for a swim declaring that it couldn’t possibly be as cold as Lake Taupo in Easter. He was quick to confess it was on par. The children jumped in and out, warming up on loungers in between quick plunges. It was an easy way to spend an afternoon.

All of a sudden I saw the next eight weeks flash before my eyes. Little pleasures. Little people with smiling faces and big laughs. No rose tinted glasses needed.