End of Part 1

It is another glorious morning in Ispagnac, in the Lozère. The sun is shining of the cobbled square and through the window. Ouside the town is waking up, cars heading off to work in Florac or futher afield, people are going to the boulangerie a few doors down. The bells of the 12th century church toll on the half hour.

We have been visiting with Julie, who lived with us in Victoria 5 years ago now, and who now manages the local radio station, 48FM. The area is stunning. We are on the edge of the Massif Central, the land rolling hills, rivers cutting through deep gorges, cliffs and plains, and little villages built from the stone that is strewn everywhere, cobbled streets, stone arched bridges over the rivers, bergeries (shepherd's huts), stone walls everywhere, and twisty mountain roads that drop into steep valleys and canyons, without curbs or barriers, and sometimes tunnels through basalt hillsides. At times I imagine cowboys riding across the landscape as in some old Western movie, but the ruined castles and old churches betray the history of the land. And the people - we are now in the south, and the tanned faces and almost-Italian accent let us know this is a different place. This is a place where yesterday I heard old men haggling at the marché des brocandes (more like a communal garage sale) in Occitan, the traditonal language of the area, over 50 centimes for a bunch of rusted ironwork. I picked up a hand-painted plate to add to our collection for only 2 Euros and Tegan bought a pair of shoes for the same. This is a place where coffee, expresso, is drunk black on terraces, slowly so you can catch up on the local news. This is a place full of néos, newcomers from all over the country and further afield, where they can go back to the wild land, slow down the pace, find cliffs to climb and caves to explore, and create a community. It feels like a place that is both young and old.

Florac, the bigger town 10 km down the road, named 'the flower' in Occitan because rivers come together here like petals of a flower, has stores where you can buy local produce - jams and cheeses and wine and woolens and baskets and everything 'chataigne' (chestnut) - outfitters to paddle the Gorges du Tarn (the river), climb, hike or follow the route taken by Robert Louis Stevenson with a donkey through the Cevennes wilderness, and immbiliers (real estate agents) where you can buy a stone house (or un tas de cailloux - a pile of stones) for on 50 000 Euros, though it may need a bit of work. The past two nights we ate with Julie's friend Laurene under the stars, overlooking forests and the steep valley. Julie and Laurene joke that they love the country life, so long as there is internet. Jude the dog kept the girls company and the cherries from the trees kept them busy while we waited and waited and waited for dinner. You can't rush things in the south. Friends, a glass of local wine, and before you know it it is 10:30, or rather 22h30. Lots of salads, local sausage on the charcoal barbecue, It seems a pretty good place to be.

And now we come to the end of part one of our journey. For the past month we have been travelling from place to place, moving around, seeing friends and family and the country. In three weeks we have put about 3000 km on the car (and now we have a few CDs from the marché to keep us going, though the quality of the music, Hits of 2002, etc., is debatable), from Paris to Normandie and Bretagne, across to Switzerland and now to the south. We have gotten to know the land better, having hiked and explored beaches and mountains and towns and forests. We have seen enough museums and churches and towns that a break is in order. And today we will be leaving Ispagnac and Florac to go to Pézenas, a shortish 2 1/2 hour drive through more stunning landscapes, where we will be spending the next four weeks with out hosts, Corinne and Selma. I think we are ready for it, though we all have some soucis (worries, uncertainties - I am starting to think more en Français) about how it will go: school for the girls, living with another family, me working on the farm, making friends and connections, communication.  I am sure as soon as we arrive we will be welcomed and as the week unfolds worries will slip away. I am excited, slightly anxious, but ready for something new. And I am so impressed with how the girls have been adapting, open to adventures and meeting countless new people, becoming more confident in speaking French, and capable of living out of a pack for a month.

So today, after another pain au chocolat or chausson au pomme we will pack up, again, do some laundry in Florac, swim at le Rocher des Féés, have a goutée with Julie at the café, and then head further south, vers la Mediterranée.