Here for the Bread: Champagne Vacation

Cora, surrounded by the endless fields of Colza, in Champagne

Autumn Greetings, all!

We have made some very special friends since moving here, in 2015. They have all eagerly shared their stories and their various cultures with us, and have also taught us lots about the different traditions and cultural flavours of France’s many different geographical regions.

The stunning colza fields of Champagne

Daphne has a really good friend, who (as you might remember) invited her to spend a week camping in the Champagne region during our first year, here. We were delighted for Daphne (if not a bit envious), and after meeting her friend’s terrific Dad, Laurent, we felt comfortable sending our eldest off to the wild forests of Champagne.

Laurent has since become one of my very best buds here in France.

Laurent, having run back to the apartment for necessary provisions before our trip

Late last spring, they again offered to bring Daphne on their annual trip to his cabin in Champagne, but this time he generously invited the whole family to join the fun.

Now, a week in a cabin in the forest sounded great to me, but after Daphne warned us all about the “big French spiders” which dwell in the cabin year-round, Katherine and Leo decided to remain behind, and hold down the fort in Lyon.

Katherine's idea of spiders in Champagne...

So, our rugged crew consisted of me and my girls, Laurent and his daughter and their cat, Neko.

You can't put a cat in the trunk, Cora.

Every road trip needs a French cat.

Champagne is about 3.5 hours from Lyon by car, which is NOTHING to an American family, right? Seriously, other than maybe a bathroom break, 3.5 hours in a car is just a Sunday jaunt.

Not to the French.

No sooner had we climbed into the car than we were told that we’d be stopping in one hour for a roadside picnic (not a bad idea, we came to realise) and then we’d be getting back on the road for the remainder of the ‘long drive’. I ended up driving Laurent's car most of the way because he hates highway driving.

The girls, reading some teen-magazine at a French travel-plaza. Just like the States, non?

A well-earned road trip picnic after scarcely an hour in the car...

Once off the highway, and after a winding trip through some beautiful back country, we arrived at our château, eager to unpack and explore.

We did find a few spiders, but there was a warm fireplace, a fully functional kitchen and bathroom, and a place to lay our heads - paradise.

Our home for the week

Sleeping quarters...girls on one side, Dads on the other.

We stocked up at the local grocer and slept like babies, tucked away in the middle of nowhere.

French breakfast: bread, cheese, wine.

This truly felt like vacation. Most days consisted of the following schedule:

7am: Laurent wakes up

Laurent greets everyone with a smile, and a cup of strong coffee first thing in the morning!

8am: Aaron wakes up

(Coffee/campfire/reading/chatting/breakfast)

9am: Girls wake up.

(Chatting, chatting, chatting, “boys are so annoying”, pop music gossip, chatting, chatting, chatting)

10am: Put on mud boots and head out to explore the woods, and to walk the backroads to various tiny villages which dot the hillsides all over the region. Also, brainstorm lunch.

Exploring the backroads

1pm: Lunch at the cabin

Afternoon: Girls playing, arguing, laughing. Laurent reading. Aaron memorising music for upcoming concerts. Brainstorming dinner.

4pm: Girls snack. Laurent and Aaron’s first bourbon of the evening.

5-7pm: Aaron/Laurent cook dinner and continue with bourbon. Aaron’s French dramatically improves with each sip.

Steaming potatoes for dinner

Laurent is an excellent cook, and one night whipped up his famous 'Tartiflette' Perfect for a chilly spring night.

The finished product

7-9pm: Dinner

9pm: Campfire, card games, jokes, stories.

Cora driving Laurent's remote-controlled car right across him. It was her protest for not having enough potatoes.

11pm: Hit the sack.

We followed this fabulous pattern all week.

We took really long walks twice daily, and got completely and utterly lost only once, but really, getting lost in the French countryside is quite tolerable. And, as I told Daphne during that particular hike, “I’m not lost, Daphne. I know exactly where we are. I’m just not sure where the cabin is. So the cabin is lost, not me.”

There are no words in French or English to describe how much that irritated her.

"Lost" in the woods.

Fairly certain these are French Sasquatch tracks.

This is what a ghost-town in Champagne looks like.

Me and my girls

An old, (and seemingly abandoned) cottage, which we walked past one afternoon. How can you not want to move in???

Another rest-stop

This was such a cool way to spend a chilly spring week, and we hope to return. And three cheers to Laurent and Jadhe: anyone who still likes us after a week in a cabin in the woods are true friends, indeed.

And, if you're wondering...on the return trip, we made it about 45 minutes in the car before Laurent and Jadhe called for a rest-stop. Someday, we are taking them on a five-day road-trip across the U.S. That'll learn 'em.