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Brazil Day {photos}
The Third Annual Brazil Day was epic in that epically crazy way that only a festival in Le Petit Village can be. But, I’m saving the stories of the utter lu-la-ness of the day for another post. What I give you today, are some amazing shots captured by my friend George (you know George, he’s my friend Martine‘s husband and has a photography blog that I encourage do go and check out, but I’m sure, after you look at these photos, you’ll want to anyway). So without further ado, I give you this photo tour of Brazil Day.For those of you who are new here, you’re probably scratching your heads and thinking, “what in tarnation does Brazil have to do with a small village in Provence???” So first of all, bienvenue, and second, read this post to find out the history of Brazil Day.
{represent} 
{Honey Jr as the referee} 
{Honey Jr as a player} 
{socks} 
{The Cousin} 
{Baby Cousin} 
{heads up} 
{staying cool} 
{Candy} 
{the two cutest spectators} 
{Baby Cousin’s girlfriend} 
{The DJ} -
Behind the Photos IV
It’s feels bizarre to be looking at all of these wintry photos while it’s still hot as Hades outside. I’m at that point where I’m growing tired of summer (mainly my summer wardrobe) but at the same time know I will be sad to see it go. So for now, I’m going to soak up the sunshine and take a walk down icy memory lane with these photos from January 2010. For more Behind the Photos click here.
Isn’t this photo magical? My first winter in The LPV and I manage to capture something like that. Now I’m pretty sure those round orbs were simply drops of snow hitting my lens, but I like to think of them as twinkling fairies swirling about. Because let’s face it… if there is one place in the world that would be inhabited by twinkling fairies, it would be Le Petit Village.
Look at my guys! They are so cute I just want to squeeeeeeze them! These two photos always give me the warm and fuzzies (it’s probably because they can’t get into any trouble when they are asleep).
Fifty loves the snow! He cannot get enough of frolicking in it’s freezing depths. Me, not so much. I am much more content to gaze at the snowy beauty through my window. Of course, I’m the idiot who brought a three month old puppy home in December. Nothing like attempting to housebreak a dog when it’s -420394029 degrees outside.
Here’s us, on our first plane ride together. We were flying to Dublin for my mother’s birthday and judging by the bags under our eyes, I’m guessing it was an early morning flight (it was that trip when Gregory tried brushing his teeth with hydrocortisone cream instead of toothpaste). You can learn a lot about a person by traveling together. For instance, I learned that The Husband likes to chat while flying, and he learned that I like to bury my nose in something to read and a bag of Haribo gummies. Consequently, The Husband also learned the joys of talking to himself and that his wife doesn’t share her sweets.
I’m not sure why but I’ve always adored this photo. It’s Niece and Little Niece on the bus into Dublin City-Centre (top deck, right up front is ‘our’ seat). The Husband and I were taking them for lunch at our favorite sushi place. I was so proud of them because at the time, one was seven and the other only five, and they both fearlessly gave the sushi try. (They both ended up with bowls of Ramen but at least they tried the sushi first.)
And as a reward for being brave little girls and trying the sushi, they got to use Gregory as a jungle gym after. I’m not sure who is happier in this photo, them or him.
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six things
You know Selena, right? She’s my buddy from Oh, the places we will go who moved from Texas (not too far from where I’m from either) to London with her English husband and now they travel all about. Like right this second, Selena is cruising around the Baltic Sea and I’m sure she’s taking loads of beautiful photos to show us when she comes back. So yeah, if you don’t know her you should because she’s pretty cool.
Anyway, Selena passed on the Six Things meme that has been making it’s way around lately. Here’s the deal… she asked me nine questions, I chose six to answer and share with y’all and then I pass on another nine questions to six bloggers. It’s a getting to know you, getting to know all about you kind of thing. (Did you just get that song from the Kind & I stuck in your head? If you did, then I won, and if you didn’t, well then I failed.)
. . . . . . . . . .What is the best advice your Mother ever gave you?
There are two pieces that have popped into my head and since I think they are equally important, I’m going to share both with you.
1) Do not bother worrying about things that are out of your control. There’s absolutely no point (this one has served me very well in France).
2) When you are feeling really down, buy yourself a bottle of Champagne (or anything sparkling), pour it into a crystal glass, and drink… instant mood lifter. (Champagne doesn’t have to be only for celebrating you know.)If you had a million dollar investor, what business would you open?
I would love to open a French style épicerie and wine bar back in the States. A place where you can buy delicious French nibbles and enjoy them there with a glass of wine or take them away. Plus, I’d have the shelves stocked with goodies like truffle oil and tapenades.What is the biggest challenge that you have overcome?
That would definitely be living in France and the last few years of my life. Gregory and I have weathered a lot of obstacles and stressful happenings together… moving to new countries, new languages (for both of us), moving house three times in three years, the death of my father and a bunch of other bad juju stuff that has happened that I have chosen not to blog about because I like to keep Sara in The LPV a fuzzy wuzzy happy kind of place. But the bottom line is this, we can take a licking and keep on ticking.If you were a super hero, what would your super hero powers be?
Without a doubt my super hero power would be the ability to teleport. I’m tired of the cost of flights and the time involved. Teleportation = every expat’s dream. And of course I would be able to fight crime all over the world at the drop of a hat. All Fifty and I need are teleportation skills, some capes, and we’re all set. Watch out bad guys.If you could live anywhere in the world, where would that be?
I’d like to go back to my roots and take on Manhattan. I love, love, love NYC… the buzz, the attitude, the non-stop vibe. A lot of fantastic childhood memories for me have sprung out of that city and I’d love to go back and make some new ones.What is the best gift that you’ve ever received?
Life. Thanks Mom and Dad.. . . . . . . . . .Would you be so kind as to answer six of the following nine questions please?1. What is your favorite time of the day and why?2. If you could invite five people for a dinner party (alive or dead) who would you choose?3. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?4. If you could go back in time and change one event in your life would you, and if so, what event?5. What would your last meal be?6. If you were given €50,000 what would you do with it?7. What is your dream holiday destination?8. If you could switch careers to anything you’d like (and be instantly qualified for it) what career would you choose? -
boys will be boys
{English, English, South African, French, French}We were due to go and visit Mr. & Mrs. London for the weekend. Somehow three weeks had passed since we had seen each other and The Husband had grown quite cranky (and according to Mrs. London, Mr. London had been wearing his grumpy pants too). Normally when we go, Mr. London barbecues, and it’s a ridiculous amount of food for only the four of us. This time, Mr. London told us that he had invited a few friends to pop around to eat all of that extra food. A few? Try a whole bunch.It was as if the United Nations was hosting a barbecue; there were French boys, Italian, and Samoan, boys from New Zealand and Argentina, Fiji, England and South African boys. And one American… ME!But after observing the splashy pool time antics, one thing became clear; whether they’re from the Northern Hemisphere or the Southern, East or West, boys will always be boys.
Somebody got pushed in the pool… twice. I feel that it is important to note that before the barbecue started, I mentioned to The Husband that he should wear his swim trunks. He told me that he didn’t want to because he didn’t plan on going swimming. I replied that that, was entirely irrelevant.
This is Mr. London being held under water and beaten by noodles. And below you’ll see him being assaulted by a ping pong paddle wielding Gregory. I guess that the old saying is true, you always hurt the one you love.
The next day, the boys will be boys, splashy pool time continued with even more water wrestling and shenanigans.
It didn’t take long before Mrs. London and I decided that we were all testosteroned out… the perfect excuse to sneak off to the beach for some Rosé and nibbles.
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expat escapades {round 3}
Another week(ish), another round of Expat Escapades.(If you’d like to read previous editions of Expat Escapades, click here.)
. . . . . . . . . .Danielle Abroad went to yoga in the park in Paris. Yoga… in a park, in Paris. How perfect is that? And get this, on the way to class, Danielle spotted a guy on the Metro who was also carrying a yoga mat. Surprise… they were going to the same class! Now if Danielle was Reese Witherspoon and that guy was Channing Tatum, they would have fallen in love and gotten married. C’est mignon, no?
I’m very jealous of Fox in Paris because she has gone on holiday to beautiful Brittany. I’ve never been to Brittany and I’m dying to go. Right after I moved to The LPV, I said that to Gregory that we should go to Brittany sometime, his response; “Bretagne?! No, it’s too far. You can’t get there. It’s impossible.” After some prodding I discovered that yes, one can indeed travel from Le Petit Village to Brittany but it involves a TGV to Paris first so it’s a round-about kind of journey, one that I guess is just too far for poor Gregory Wegory to make (I bet if Mr. London wanted to go to Brittany it wouldn’t be too far). In the meantime, I’ll have to be content with a virtual visit via Fox in Paris.
Totally Frenched Out traveled to Morocco for work… during Ramaden. It was quite the adventure. The moral of the story: if you are going to be in Morocco during Ramaden, pack snacks.
While Ksam was hungry in Morocco, Alex was pub crawling in Dublin. Pull up a stool at Ifs ands & Butts for a virtual visit to one of my favorite Temple Bar pubs.
You know how I touched on how frustrating France can be in this post? Well Patricia at Kisses and Croissants knows all about it. A few days ago she wrote about the story of her arrival in France. Feel free to pull your hair out in sympathy while you’re reading it. I know I wanted to.
The New York Times published an article about relations between Muslims and non-Muslims in a town in France, and Travelling Amber posted her perspective on it. Pop on over for an insightful read from an insider.
After the serious, move on to the silly… I know that France has a certain reputation of being the world’s capital of culture and the arts, but it’s not always all hifalutin all the time. Learn about C’est Trash over at The Everyday Life of a Young American Girl in France (she even mentions one of The Husband’s guilty pleasures… here’s a hint, it’s basically France’s answer to Jersey Shore).
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things I would miss (if I left France)
{Gordes, I would miss Gordes} If there is one thing I have gotten out of the three plus years that I’ve lived here, one thing I’ve learned, one way that France has changed me is this; I now focus on the positive. I don’t sweat the small stuff, and I know that there is absolutely no point worrying about the things that are out of my control.
(This is HUGE for me. Anyone that really knows me will tell you how much France has mellowed me. And it’s true, I’m way more mellow for the simple fact that France will never bend. Ever. It is a stubborn, unmovable mass of pouty bottom lips making that pffft sound and Gallic shrugs. You will break before France breaks so it’s best to just sit back and let whatever will be, be.)
I’m saying all of this because after waking with the homesick blues on Monday (you are all wonderful by the way, each one of your comments was like a cuddle), I decided to do what it is I do now, I focused on all of the things that feel good about France, all of the things that I love. Alors, I give you a list of what I would miss about this beautiful, frustrating and charmingly quirky place that I live, if I ever was to leave it.
. . . . . . . . . .// I would miss the wine. I’m not gonna lie, wine is probably what I would miss the most. If you love wine like I do, then this is the place to be. So many delicious types, so low of price. If and/or when I leave France, I will probably cry and have to be physically pulled from my wine; my fingers pryed from my beloved Skippy Box (My Skippy Box is what The Husband has named the box of wine I buy because Skippy is my nickname. P.S. Even the box o’wine in France is good. I love this country!)
// I would miss the cheese. I was always into cheese; Brie, Port Salut, Stilton, but then I moved to France and discovered so much more; Cantal, St. Nectaire, Banon, and the one that has my heart, my precious Bleu d’Auvergne. Don’t ever leave me Bleu, I couldn’t bare it.
// I would miss the reverence to the meal. Meals and meal time are to be respected. There is nothing as sacred as the Sunday lunch. From apéro to dessert, it’s not uncommon to be at the table for three hours.
// I would miss the boulangerie. Very few things make me feel as French as going to the boulangerie and picking up a baguette.
// I would miss the rugby. Sure rugby is played in many countries throughout the world, but increasingly, France’s Top 14 is where it’s at because the French clubs are doling out the big bucks and the star power is beginning to flow this way. This is a very exciting time for rugby fans in France. If you live here, get your butt to a match. Pre-season is already underway.
// I would miss the faire la bise. This is something I never thought I would say because I haven’t always been a fan of the double (and sometimes triple and quadruple) kiss greeting (especially during cold and flu season) but it has grown on me and life would feel weird without it.
// I would miss the summers. Summer in Provence is the best place to be in my opinion. Provence is already a naturally chilled place so when you lend the fun, holiday-like vibe of summer to it (plus all of the village fêtes), summer becomes magical. That said, Le Petit Village’s annual festival kicks off tonight and Mrs. London is arriving in a few hours so I’ve gotta run. On y va!
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I miss things
{I miss you} Monday morning, we meet again… BLECH.
I couldn’t sleep. It was one of those nights when you toss and turn, stirring, your thoughts racing from one random thing to the next.
My thoughts were taking me on a strange journey; connecting the dots through a maze of homesickness (I’m not surprised, it has been two years since I stepped foot on American soil). At 4:30 I finally gave up the fight and got up.
I’m hoping that by venting out a list of top of my head things that I’m missing about ‘home’, I might be able to exorcise the homesick feeling for a little while and what better place than here, with you.
. . . . . . . . . .// I miss closets. They don’t even have to be big walk in closets or anything, just give me a closet! (And yes, I realize other places in the world have closets besides the U.S. but that’s the last place I lived that had a proper one so for me, U.S.A. = closets.)
// I miss Italian Sausage with Peppers and Onions. GET IN MY BELLY. The LPV is only a three hour drive from Italy, so you think Italian sausage would be somewhat easy to find here like pizza, but nope, it’s not.
// I miss the movie theater. Of course France has movie theaters but it’s not the same. It’s just not the same.
// I miss how much easier everything is. I want to be able to shop on Sunday if I feel like it, or at random hours of the day and night. I want to be able to buy Tylenol at the grocery store and not have to go to a pharmacy for it. And if I go to the pharmacy, I’d like to be able to drive-thru if I so desire. And since I mentioned drive-thru, let me go ahead and say banks… I want to be able to drive-thru a bank.
// I miss brunch. And more importantly, I miss brunch with friends.
// I miss my friends. Two of my best friends have had babies in the past two years that I haven’t seen yet. Two little people, that are made up of bits of my closest friends have come into this world and I haven’t been able to pick them up and look into their bitty, squishy, baby faces #thatblows.
// I miss Delis (that’s my New York side talking) and saying delis, I’m going to have to say diners too. And because I don’t want to make my Texas side jealous; I miss Tex-Mex. Oh how I miss Tex-Mex.
// I miss a big fat Sunday newspaper complete with coupons for cutting (it’s not that I was ever an extreme couponer or anything, but man, I miss coupons).
// I miss horribly cheesy Lifetime television movies.
// I miss being able to eat in a restaurant at anytime other than 12:30PM – 2:00PM and 7:00PM – 9:30PM.
// I miss people ‘getting me’. I have French friends, I converse with them, but I’m pretty sure that when it comes down to it, they don’t really know me. I miss being able to completely express myself; my humor, my emotions… you know, me.
Yes, that helped a bit, I feel better.P.S. Don’t forget, I’m hosting a giveaway! If you haven’t entered yet, click here for a chance to win.
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The Cleaner of Chartres {giveaway + review}
{author’s page} Chartres is a French town not too far from Paris but miles upon miles away from Le Petit Village. But like The LPV, Chartres is full of medieval buildings and quirky characters with curious pasts. The Cleaner of Chartres tells the tale of one of these characters…
Agnès Morel is the local cleaner. For twenty years she has led a tranquil life, going about her simple day to day routine of cleaning the medieval Cathedral and doing odd jobs for the townspeople. She is a quiet and constant presence in the town, but none of its inhabitants truly know her; not where she is from, or why she suddenly turned up twenty years before. Agnès’s past is a mystery, a mystery that is, until a chance encounter dredges up long harbored secrets of tragedies past. It doesn’t take long before ugly gossip is swirling around Chartres and the peaceful life Agnès has built for herself is threatened.
In The Cleaner of Chartres, it’s author, Sally Vickers tells a captivating story of redemption and self-discovery. It’s a mysterious read full of intrigue and beautifully drawn characters bursting from the pages. And thanks to Penguin, I have a copy to giveaway to a lucky one of you!
Giveaway closes midnight, Le Petit Village time,Sunday the 18th August. -
a good day
Remember that post I wrote a few Fridays back about me being a happy bunny because I was finally staying put for the weekend without anything at all to do and no place to go (after over two months of go, go, go, go, go). Well this is the story of how it turned out.. . . . . . . . . .That day being Saturday the 20th of July, we slept in until almost 8:30. As anyone who has ever stayed at my house will tell you, sleeping in past 7 is practically unheard of due to the medieval church bells chiming at the top of my back garden and Fifty’s pacing about (as far as Fifty is concerned, if he’s up, then everybody should be up). With zero activities on the agenda for the day, I set about doing whatever I pleased, how and when I pleased.
I opened all of the windows and let the summer breeze fill the house before taking to my couch for my couchcation. My couchcation consisted of playing around on goodreads for a bit (my obsession with the never-ending book quiz is borderline unhealthy) and pinning stuff (At this point I’m having a hard time remembering life before Pinterest. Whatever did I do with my free time?). And because my couchcation needed a soundtrack, I listened to Night Moves on repeat.
Since I was taking the day off, I informed The Husband that he would have to make his own lunch (the sad pouty face produced in response to this was priceless). I had the very un-French like lunch of popcorn (freshly popped and dashed with Tabasco… it’s how I like it) and a tumbler full of Perrier and orange juice while lying on the sofa reading trashy magazines. (Want to know something funny… Mr. London is addicted to trashy gossip magazines and has Mommy London ship them over to him weekly and then I get them when he’s finished. Personally, I hope he never gets that monkey off his back.)
I watched Phillipa Gregory’s documentary, The Real White Queen (I cannot express how much I love English history and historical fiction so basically, that means that Phillipa Gregory is my homegirl) and learned that Margaret Beaufort was the granddaughter of John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford (I have no idea how this fact has alluded me for so long… and on a semi-related note, if you like historical fiction, you should read ‘Katherine’ by Anya Seton). And for no other reason other than I feel like letting you who don’t know, know, The Real White Queen was made to accompany BBC’s The White Queen. Max Irons (son of Jeremy) plays Edward IV. Watching it for the sole purpose of ogling him is totally worth it (RE: HUBBAHUBBA).
After my documentary viewing, I made eggs on horseback (not actual horse meat but rather hamburgers topped with fried egg and a buttery caper sauce), we shared a bottle of Saint Auspice Ventoux Rouge and watched four episodes of The Sopranos.
Then I read my book (‘Paris’ by Edward Rutherford if you’re interested), and called it a day.
A good day.
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expat escapades {round 2}
Ten days since my last (and first) round of Expat Escapades… that’s not too bad at all! Let’s get started, shall we.……….There was loads happening in the expat blogosphere in the past week, these kids really get out and about. Here’s a snippet of some of the posts that caught my eye…
Delana du Jour made me jealous with an empty and secluded spot on the beach that’s she’s been able to find. Delana lives in Aix-en-Provence which isn’t that far from The LPV you know, so that means (I’m guessing anyway) that this mystery beach location isn’t too far away either. I’m wondering if I can tempt her to give it up, or maybe Fifty could cuddle the secret out of her. We have ways of making you talk.
This post caught my eye mostly for the gorgeous factor… Jess from Love and London posted photos of her intimate wedding in New York to her new British husband. She’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, her dress is gorgeous. Click on over and O.D. on gorgeousness.
My buddy Ella Coquine had a very French-like experience in a grocery store in Paris. It’s basically S.N.A.F.U. which here means, Situation Normal All Frenched Up, or my other favorite for these French situations we find ourselves in; WTF… as in, WHAT THE FRENCH?!?! (And then for those times when I get really peeved, I like to yell, FRENCH YOU or GO FRENCH YOURSELF!)
When I was a kid I absolutely adored The Sound of Music. I’d watch the movie every time it popped up on telly and listened to the soundtrack repeatedly (driving everyone around me loop-di-loop) so when I saw a post about The Sound of Music Tour in Austria over on The Adventures of Holly, I was about as jealous as jealous can be. She even went to the Salzburg Marionette Theatre! High on a hill was a lonely goatherd lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee… JEALOUS.
The Young Adventuress (pretty much my favorite travel blogger) posted an Instagram catchup of her summer. Let me tell you something, this was no ordinary Instagram dump, this one has photos of England, Italy, Greece, Iceland, Switzerland… holy crackerjacks, that girl gets around (not like that… get your head out of the gutter).
Take a ride on The London Eye with Selena from Oh, The Places We Will Go and watch her overcome her fear of heights. Actually, Selena did more than overcome her fear… she kicked it’s booty when she took the ride not once, but twice! Gold star for you Selena.
Three words… Cute. Italian. Boys. Pop on over to The Boot and see what Marissa has to say about them.
And last but not least… ME! I’m guest posting over at Brachel Boulevard while Rachel and her family get settled into their new home in Spain. Click here to see what I have to say about my life in France (as if you don’t get enough of that already over here) and then be sure to visit again to see how Rachel settles into her new life as an expat.
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It's Me, Sara Louise 