Europe 2006

Lots done since the last blog entry, including the actual take-a-deep-breath-and-pay-for-the-tickets stage: four place tickets from Calgary Alberta to Milan, return. Not a bad price, but still contributed to a nothing short of whopping Mastercard bill. I haven't taken the plunge yet for the Eurail passes, but that's coming.

This isn't the first time we've gone over to Europe, and our memories are interwoven and glued together with incredible experiences with wonderful people we've met there. Take Vincent and Beillou, for example. We met them in Ayuttaya Thailand in 2001; a boyfriend and girlfriend trying to have a romantic dinner beside a rowdy family of four with two young boys (actually, my husband Martin and I were the rowdy ones). They were a French couple living and working in Taiwan. One thing led to another, and the six of us decided to take a canal tour of the local wats together. It was gorgeous! I felt that the friendship was truly cemented when Vincent and I decided at a wat-stop that we needed to head over to the bathroom, which was a light-year away, and when we headed back we found that part of the grounds had been cordoned off in our absence, and sprinting across the forbidden area motivated guards to scream and give chase. Upon returning to the boat, our respective partners were less than pleased. It was worth it. I really had to go.

The next day Vincent and Beillou were driving to Lopburi, what I affectionately call "Monkey Town" as it is lousy with monkeys, crawling with monkeys, rife and overflowing with monkeys. Monkeys on the streets, on the rooftops, on hydro poles, and especially in the ruins of wats where people leave food for them. Monkeys sitting in corners, monkeys sitting in rubble, monkeys examining their genitalia while sitting atop a Buddha. But I digress. I'm sure you, my fellow travelers, understand the joy and excitement I felt when our new friends offered to drive the four of us to Lopburi, if we were heading that way. A free ride offered by interesting people? Oh, I think so. On the way Vincent was a captive audience to my rant about the Swiffer, patiently listening until I had finished then disclosing that he works for Proctor and Gamble, the company that makes them (can we count this as a business trip now??). He also inducted us into the Pringles fan club, and we became Pringles addicts on that trip; ducking into grocery stores to find the most exotic flavours (I thought I had won when the grocer told me the mysterious tube of chips was "apple" flavour; it was in fact beef soup flavoured), popping them open on trains to down with a Fanta. Ahh.

Four years pass. We have had two further trips abroad, one to Germany, one to Italy. I'm cleaning out my desk at home, and whose business card do I find, but Vincent's. I smile as I remember their kindness and generosity, not to mention the monkeys and the Pringles. I dash off an email to Vincent, not altogether sure that he'll remember me, and after a day or two I receive an email in reply, followed by one from Beillou. They're married now, with two children, and have a beautiful home in Sartrouville, France. We emailed a few more times, then began planning our next trip; I teach French at a high school here in Prince Rupert, so I was really pushing for France. Martin, who is at all times a good sport, and who also remembered that we had been twice to his Fatherland, agreed. I requested a suggestion from Beuillou for a hotel in Paris, and received back an invitation to stay in their home. They drove us to Auvers to see where Van Gogh had died, and to Giverny to see Monet's lilyponds. They cooked incredible meals for us, took us to parks and markets, and were incredible hosts. We fell in love with their children, who treated us like Uncle Martin and Aunt Nancy, and our two boys like big brothers. They have since sent us French CDs for my French music units, and Van Gogh postcards for my French art unit, along with dozens of pictures of the kids. And the best part about this story is that Vincent and Beillou and their two perfect children Arthur and Morgane are going to meet us in Croatia!

I guess it wouldn't help to say that I'm married to the bald one... Vincent is the one standing, beside his wonderful wife Beillou.

I love this picture of Vincent and Arthur. We were just coming back from a farmer's market near their home. The flowers are for Beillou.

Next: How the Jewish girl met the Muslim man and became his big sister.