Sunday, February 8, 2009

Sunday 8 February 2009 - Beaune

We slept late (9:00), had crepes from breakfast and drove to Beaune, not getting lost even once--not even in Dijon! We arrived at noon, I easily (this never happens to me) directed us to Route de Savigny and #49 and there they were. Well, Muriel anyway. Patrick had run to the store to get cigarettes.  

Muriel is the same as I remember her, only with glasses now. Patrick has gone nearly white, but very personable and funny. He spoke English with a very strong French accent (of course) for the kids. We loved it.

I tried to keep the family in the conversation but I think I got too involved in the stories to stop and translate.  . Teancum did use his little bits of French and they praised him accordingly. Bethe said nothing. Todd's major achievement was to say, "Je parle francais comme une vache espagnol" (I speak French like a Spanish cow.) which Muriel and Patrick got a kick out of.

After dinner--oh, we had Raclette, which is cold cuts and boiled new potatoes and toasted slices of cheese--Mere and Pere Rougon came. I gave Mme Rougon 2 bises (kisses) because the last time I saw her (19 years ago) I gave everybody else les bises but not her. I have been feeling bad about it ever since. Typically, she didn't recall that at all. Anyway, we had tarte au creme fraiche made by Muriel and Galette aux Rois made by Mere Rougon. I found out that Muriel's birthday is in January. In France they eat Gallette aux Rois for the feast of the Epiphany and for most other feasts, including birthdays.

After we said au revoir, we found rue de Lorraine and my old l'Ecole des Beaux-arts.     We walked from there to the centreville and took a tour through l'Hotel Dieuan old hospital from the Middle Ages. We heard the bells from the steeple chime several times. We started walking towards my apartement but people got tired, so we went back to the car and drove around the city walls a couple of times until we found rue du Faubourg Perpreuille, then down that to #49. My place looked pretty abandoned, the volets (shutters) were closed and grape vines were growing all over. But it was my place.

Then we drove home, counting either l'Hotel Dieu and/or the fortifications of Beaune as another castle for Teancum. He was happy.

No comments: