An American in France Finds Adventures in the Day-to-Day.
'The other night at dinner, with moving boxes and packing tape covering every surface of the house, Riley, our 6-year-old daughter, looked up from eating and, after more than two years of going to school in France and playing in France and growing up in France and learning to speak French, suddenly asked, ever so earnestly, “Daddy, why did we come to France?”
My wife, Jessica, and I looked at each other. It seemed like such a simple answer — we came because The New York Times had offered me a fantastic job over here covering European sports — but the truth had more layers. The real answer had more to do with the opportunity to do things and see things and try things and be things. It had to do with taking chances.
Before we left, everyone talked to us about how we would love Paris because of its sights, lights and smells. And we did love it. It is a city of ethereal beauty and exquisite butter. It is special.
But our experience here was not about Paris. It was about Rueil-Malmaison, the city about 20 minutes west of the Arc de Triomphe where we lived, high on a hill, in a white house with a green fence and a green lawn and the most stunning magnolia tree I have ever seen in the backyard. We had apple trees back there, too. And a grapevine that snaked up the window of my basement office.'>>>
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/27/travel/adventures-of-an-american-in-france.html?
Something for pleasant daydreams.
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I'm glad I found it too, and will return to it later, and THEN to my photo album of our France trip.
