Kamping, kanoeing and kaving...

Les Masson at the famous Pont d'Arc over the Ardèche river

You're probably used to seeing the words kamping, kanoeing and kaving spelled with the letter C. Honestly, I don't have a problem with that, Mr. Webster. But I do think that when a certain person truly dominates a field... well it's worth considering renaming it in their honor. And anyone who knows me (Kari) knows that I am nothing if not an outdoorswoman. Carrying your own potable water and TP around all day? Sign me up. Getting dressed in a tiny tent and sleeping on the ground? You betcha. Community showers and squatty-potties? Bring it. 

However, this particular kamping trip was not as rustic as I'd feared thought it might be. Gabi did a fantastic job planning every detail so that all we had to do was show up and enjoy it.

The Gorges de l'Ardèche

We kamped in at La Fontinelle in the village of Bessas in Ardèche. (They also have little cabins for rent next to the kampsites.) On Saturday, we rented kanoes from Viking Bateaux and did 24 kilometers down the Gorges de l'Ardèche - unbelievably awesome. I doubly recommend it if your husband has a lot of kanoe experience and can do most of the paddling for you... And finally, on Sunday we went kaving at Orgnac - more on that later.

View from La Fontinelle kampsite

Moka pot espresso in the early (for me) morning

Nearby village of Bessas

My kind of kamping: with a great pool!

Walking over to Bessas with Ken and Gabi

Lunch at a restaurant terrace overlooking the river...
Fresh river trout and amazing sorbet for dessert.

Gabi, trip-planner extraordinaire

Such a natural outdoorswoman.

Beautiful views...

About two hours into the kanoe trip...

Swim break!

I made fun of the goofy white strings they gave out for holding glasses...
until my sunglasses got knocked off going over some rapids  :(

River rocks

The last leg of the trip...22 km down, only 2 to go!

The end.

Sunset at the arch

Skeletons in my closet...

You know how when you move out of an apartment you've lived in for five years, you find some really weird stuff? Well, I think this little treasure wins the competition for Oddest Item found chez Masson.

Any guesses as to what it is or why we have it? 

Check the comments below for the answer. If you guessed correctly, you get a prize!

PS. I think the photo looks très William Haun-esque. He could do amazing things with this idea.

It's time...

The sunset from our bedroom window the other night

We just took apart our bed. The person who bought it should be here in about an hour to pick it up.

As far as closing a life chapter goes, dismantling the bed you've slept in for five years is a pretty significant step. I thought for sure that when I saw our bedroom empty for the first time, I'd lose it. The dark red tiles sitting quietly bare in their little rows. The view out the window I'd woken up to every morning, but without the lace curtains framing it...

I thought I'd feel sad when I realized I'd never again sit on our bed or see it made up with my favorite sheets and the pillow with an embroidered W on it, which we turn upside-down to make an M for Masson. (They were out of the letter M at the store, but I loved the pillow and they had a W left on the shelf.)

But I didn't cry. I didn't even really feel sad. (So, of course, being the daughter of family counselors, I dug deep and tried to conjure up any emotions supressed as a coping mechanism.)

I realized in that moment that the only reason I would ever see our bedroom the way it used to be would be if something went wrong. Our furniture has sold. We've set the departure date for our apartment. We have our tickets. The loose ends are being tied up.

The only reason we'd stay here now is if something goes wrong. Which means that moving forward is right. It's time to go, and my heart is ready.

Invincible purple softness...

"Great. I've got man-pris, a scarf...and now we have purple toilet paper!"

Let's just say that Jonathan was less than thrilled about the new lilac scented (and colored) roll  in our bathroom.



It may not be the very first thing you notice as you land in France, but it probably will be the first thing your eye catches on in les toilettes: brightly colored toilet paper.

I noticed a few years ago that the French toilet paper palette seemed to be broadening. Purples, and blues, teals and pale oranges - what's your pleasure? And there's an added bonus. In addition to pretty colors, more sheets and 'extra résitant' rolls (I don't even want to know what that means) you can also choose a fragrance. That's right. What'll it be? Maybe a classic choice like vanilla, lilac or jasmine? Or are you looking for a bolder scent? Strawberry, peach or even lavender from Provence could all be yours.


It says 'Softness is invincible.' Hear that, Jonathan?

The day I see Neopolitan TP alternating a square of vanilla, a square of strawberry and a square of chocolate - I'm converting for good.

His and hers jaunty scarves...

Those of you who watch Modern Family may recall the episode in which Jay talks about his son having worn a 'jaunty scarf to school and got his jaunty butt kicked'. Well, le jaunty scarf is definitely in style for men in France this summer.

But someone needed a little convincing before he bought one. Enter the bright yellow 70% off sale tag. This tag is a girl's best friend - especially when she's trying to convince her thrifty husband to drop a little euro.

And besides... It'll go great with the linen man-pris I talked him into last summer.   :)

Jaunty for him.

Jaunty for her.

Swimming in a treasure chest...

You remember in the intro to the Duck Tales cartoon when Scrooge McDuck does a backstroke in a pile of gold coins? That's pretty much what it's like for an American expat getting ready to leave France after six years.

All of the sudden, you realize that your super-special stash of American goodies is up for grabs... because you're going to be in the Land of It's Available on the Shelves soon! No more rationing your Fritos  or counting out three coffee candies per week. 

It's more than just food that gets rationed when you're living abroad.

Raise your hand if you've ever diluted your favorite Bath and Body Works lotion with unscented lotion to make it last longer. Ever Googled the best ways to get the very last of the peanut butter out of the jar? What about counted out the chili seasoning packets then pulled out a calendar to be sure you eat them slowly enough to last all winter?

There is a flip-side as well. You feel obligated to use things up at an unnatural speed. For example, Jonathan has started trying to force-feed me vitamins every time I open my mouth. (In this case, I think it's more an act of thrift than an act of love.)

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go shave my legs. Twice. I want to use up my stash of really good American razors before we leave in 39 days.

The garbage bag method

We're in the process of moving, which means we're also in the process of sorting books, weeding out junk, mourning over goodbyes to college t-shirts, and giving away stuff like zucchini farmers at the end of summer.

The whole process is really overwhelming. Originally I thought I'd tackle one geographical zone per day: a bookshelf, the filing cabinet, a dresser drawer... But that approach was disastrous because it led to rabbit trails. 'Oh, this book goes back to Cheryl. I'll start a stack of things to go to her. Ooh... that reminds me I need to give her that herb blend that's in the pantry...' Et cetera, and all his friends.

So I abandoned the zone offense for something much more interesting, yet bite-sized. I'm calling it the garbage bag method.

1. Every day I have to fill one garbage bag with stuff to be given to the homeless shelter.

2. Once I've run out of items and can no longer fill my daily garbage bag with items destined for the shelter, I'll start filling a bag per day with items going to the consignment shop.

3. The next round of bags will be filled with items to be given to friends. (Which means you guys are getting like thrice sorted goods here. Wow. This is some high quality stuff I'm going to be dumping on giving you.)

4. What's left will go in two piles, or maybe in two big garbage bags in order to stay with the theme: items going to the US, items going to Senegal.

If you hear rumors about some crazy American girl running around Lyon looking for color-coded garbage bags... I have no idea who she is.

Lessons from a biker babe...

The expression 'it's like riding a bike' totally does not apply in my case. We've been taking advantage of Lyon's rent-a-bike program, called Vélo'V and I can assure you that navigating city streets and weaving around pedestrians - all while trying to not to arrive at destination a sweaty mess - is not at all like the bike riding I did as a kid. That largely involved going as fast as I could down a dirt road in Africa and then slamming on the brakes to make an impressive dust cloud.

Riding a VéloV is a new experience for me, so I thought I'd pass on a couple lessons I've learned along the road.

1. I don't care how cute the skirt is. You'll regret wearing it on a bike ride. (That goes for you too, guys.)

 

2. Pants under a dress is a totally bikerlicious solution.

3. When picking out a bike, first give the tires a good squeeze to be sure they're full-ish and also check to be sure the rubber straps that stretch over the basket are in good shape. 

4. Riding a bike is a great way to catch a breeze and cool off when the summer heat gets crazy. Just remember to throw a water bottle in your basket before you go.

5. Place your (man)purse in the basket, then run the rubber straps through the handle so ithe purse can't be snatched out.

6. If you're in Lyon, be sure to check out these maps of the 300 km of cycle-friendly routes around the city:
Lyon-Villeurbanne

Lyon metro area

Map of Vélo'V stands around the city - all 343 of them

Pocket-sized version of Vélo'V map

7. 'On your bike' is a British slang expression that basically means 'get lost'. A bike ride is even more fun when you say this to the person you're riding with just as you pedal off and leave him in an imaginary cloud of dust.  :)

Georgia peach under suds...

I went back on my declaration to never ever ever get my hair cut in France after the "bowl cut with a bit o' bald spots showing" fiasco last January. I decided to take the plunge and get the mop shaped up.

But that's not the real news of this story.

Out of all the salons in Lyon, I picked one that happened to have a stylist who spoke nearly flawless English. He's Portuguese and grew up watching cartoons and movies all in English, and now keeps it 'in shape' by watching tv shows. I was really impressed. He knew words like shade, depth, dimension, shimmer, gloss... Very helpful, seeing as my hair was literally in his hands.

It was during the shampoo lathering that he asked me where I was from. Well, just listen in...

Tonio: So where are you from in the US?

Me: Atlanta.

Tonio: Hmmm... I don't really know of it.

Me: It's in the South.

Tonio: Which state?

Me: Georgia.

Tonio: Georgia... as in Macon, Georgia?

Me: Yes! How do you know Macon?

Tonio: That's where Kenneth the Page is from. Oh, and Dakota Fanning is from Georgia too, of course.

Not even kidding. 

I'm sitting there all suds-headed as my Portuguese stylist in France tells me in English that he knows my state thanks to Dakota Fanning and Jack McBrayer, aka Kenneth the Page on NBC's 30 Rock. 

Awesome.

Happy 4th of July weekend everyone!

The über-Massons...

I took Jonathan to Germany for his birthday.

It sounds nice, doesn't it? (Wife of the Year award definitely secured.) But to be honest, that's not exactly how it went. We did go to Germany and Jonathan's birthday was that same weekend.

In addition to being in another country, there were three other cool things that happened on his birthday:

- A French person thought Jonathan was French because (and I quote) he didn't have accent.

- I (not an early bird) woke up a the crack o' dawn for us to take a walk around the village and get an espresso before breakfast. Many more espressos followed throughout the day...

- He had a perfectly cooked steak for dinner, which is rare because he has Iowa standards.

Not quite sure how I expected Germany to look... but this sure looks German to me!

The morning market in Kandern. We bought strawberries and fresh peas.

Looking out over the platz from our room 

And, of course, we went for a long walk or two. 

And, of course, I had to stop and take pictures. 

The green fields were so, so beautiful to our city-fied eyes. 

We walked two villages over from Kandern. So nice to see all this green!

Path leading to the second village...

Not quite sure, but I'm pretty sure he's comparing the grassy stuff to Iowa's version. 

He said (this part of) Germany reminded him a lot of Iowa.

Poppies

I know what you're thinking. "Kari, didn't you get hungry after all this walking?" Never fear. I had plenty of yummy German breakfast every day. Fresh rolls with butter, honey, Nutella, cream cheeses, jams and Lady Marmalade (just checking to be sure you're paying attention), sliced sausage, coffee...

Walking off breakfast... I hope. 

Clocktower in the village of Holzen

Storks are very common around these parts. We saw several huge nests... and several huge storks.

Apparently there are also a lot of founding fathers crossing the street with pointy children.

Mmm... dinner at an Alsatian restaurant. Dee-lish. 

(And yes, those are homemade noodles on my plate and caramelized onions on his.)