France: Sunday, Sept 13

This is our last full day in France. We met my cousins at their campground. As we approached the cabin, we could here the strains once more of children shouting, "The Americans are here!" The campground was quite pleasant with all levels of camping available from places to pitch a tent to spots to park an RV to modern cabins that could sleep 6 with a full indoor bathroom. Even dishware was included. My cousins rented three cabins for the lot of them. (That's my style of camping!) 

At first, we took a walk down to the mountain creek where it joined the Drome river. The side with the Drome river was warm while water coming from the creek was very cold. Charles and a few cousins went wading. My mother sat on a rock next to the water where I took her photo. Michel wanted to show us the cascades further up the creek. We followed along the shore until we saw a beautiful spot of short, low cascades over flat, stepped rocks. Charles climbed up to the top of course. I only went to one or two steps up. And Michel pared down to his swim trunks and walked right into the water. At one point he backed up to one of the waterfalls and just let the icy water shoot over his shoulders. He was quite invigorated. 

We headed back to the cabin, but once we got there they had just realized that Laurent had left to catch his train and they didn't get to say goodbye to him. So everyone piled into various cars and drove to the train station about a mile away. Charles and I went with Michel in a tiny, well-used car similar to a vintage Datsun. It was like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride with Michel barely fitting into the vehicle and going about 50mph down small country roads. His hair still wet from the cascades and one side of it getting caught in the wind from the window. By the time we got to our destination, that one side of hair stuck straight out as it had dried during the short ride.

We saw Laurent in front of the station and we took some group photos. Then went inside to the tracks and waited with Laurent for about 10 minutes before the train came and we bid him farewell. I think he had the longest way to go; a good four hours of train travel ahead of him.

Once we were back at the cabin, we were finally ready for some lunch. We brought the usual cheese, bread, some sliced ham we had left over from Dugny. The others contributed tomatoes, olives, more bread and cheese, and the left over cake from the night before. Just some simple stuff to nosh on while we sat around a table on the porch and talked. I noticed that unlike in America, people did not seem to define you by your occupation. In fact, none of my cousins asked what I did for a living until this second day of conversation. I also told them of my interest in vintage clothes and historical events. I had some photos with me and they enjoyed seeing the various costumes as well as the New Year cards I invent each year.

In turn, I learned of their occupations: Sylvie was a classical pianist for some time before turning to teaching music and doing dream interpretation as therapy for people. We already knew that Michel is a musician. Alain is an engineer who is currently working with the government of Congo to help provide clean drinking water. And Laurent is a sound engineer working in film and TV. I don't think I ever found out what Jean-Paul does. He was very quiet most of the time. I think he enjoyed just watching the proceedings. 

The hours went by and finally they had to pack up and check out of their cabin. It was time for goodbyes. I kissed and hugged each one. I hugged Sylvie last and started to tear up once again. I told her I really wanted to keep in touch even if it was only once in a while. I felt isolated as a kid growing up in America, hardly having any relatives around outside of my immediate family. Other immigrant families that my parents knew were my extended family. Meanwhile, here in France, there was this whole clan openly welcoming me, even though we hadn't grown up together. I barely knew their names before traveling here.

It was now late afternoon. We headed back to Francois' house where we dropped my mom off. Charles and I went to fill up the car with gas, get a few last minute things and take one last walk around Crest. My mom was too tired to come along. We went to the hospital were my mom was born. We also walked a couple of trails nearby and tried to find the Three Crosses that we saw from the Tower. We found the sign and path for it, but it seemed to dead end into overgrowth and we never found out way there. There was also a tiny chapel somewhere in those hills. My mother thought she might remember how to get there, but I also remember going there as a kid. It was a very steep climb up a hillside and the abandoned chapel was up there on a plateau. How people got there for services, I'm not sure. 

Finally, it was close to dinner time and we headed back. Quiet and contemplative, we were both enjoying the last warm breezes of the day. Dinner, packing and an early bedtime. I had to be up before dawn. Not only is that not my forte, but there was little incentive to leave this experience so soon.