I’m An Aunt!

And isn’t she adorable!

After so much anticipation (there may or may not have been multiple phone calls home from France to check on the baby status), Dana and Ray welcomed their daughter Cassidy Rae Geimer into the world and to our crazy family on September 21.

I got the news while at work, about to leave for Minneapolis, and immediately broke down in happy tears. My sister was finally a mom and I was now an aunt…we were officially the three amigos! And on Sunday I finally got to meet the little girl.

As expected, she is perfect in every way with a calm personality (just like her mom), full head of hair (thanks to both mom and dad) and pouty lips that will drive the guys (and subsequently, her dad) crazy when she gets older.

I can’t wait to see her grow up and provide the same guidance and memories my crazy aunties provided to me: playing drunken Barbie, telling her funny stories about her parents, teaching her how to use make-up, taking her to her first pedicure and providing insightful advice into dating and men, These next few years are going to be fun…Watch out Cassidy!

An Eating Tour of France

I must preface the following with a few confessions: 1) I don’t really like the French (or at least the Parisians I have met so far, 2) I don’t really like French food or even their wine and 3) I haven’t been proper camping –tent, coleman grill, shared bathrooms camping – in at least 8 years…so why I thought that a driving tour through France, eating French Food (albeit primarily cheese) and drinking French wine for a week, followed by a week of camping on the beaches of Biarritz, all for my 30th birthday was a good idea, I am not quite sure. However I am sure that, looking back, it was one of my favorite trips to date. It turns out that I really don’t mind French food, I LOVE their wine and cheese and we were greeted by nothing but friendly French people, willing to work with our limited French skills. That, and I kind of like camping.

The following are the stories from the road (and beach) and as always, are posted on the date of occurrence, so read up from the beginning (Aug 28th).

Happy reading and bon appetite!

On a side note: while I had a general idea as to what we would be doing during our trip through France, I had no idea what the specifics were. Martin, being his amazing self, planned the entire trip, everything from where we would go, where we would stay and what we would do…it was absolutely perfect!

Packing Up Camp

Camping in bad weather and rain is one thing. Packing up camp in the rain to head back home is a completely different story – all except for one aspect –we managed to laugh through this experience as well as the previous storm.

We woke up to rain again on Thursday morning, the day we had been dreading all week, the day we had to leave. Like all other days, the rain was off and on, but unlike the other days, the rain didn’t eventually stop…in fact, it only got worse. So while Martin ran to get coffee at the restaurant (we couldn’t make our own due to the rain) I tried to busy myself by packing up the inside of the tent and hoping that we would get a break in the weather to take down the tent. Unfortunately for us, the break never came.

Instead of prolonging the inevitable, Martin and I set about to take down the tent in the pouring rain…or in reality, Martin took down the tent and I rotated between helping and running for cover in the car when the rain got too heavy. In the end, what could have been a 15 minute project, took a little longer.

After a hot shower we were finally in the car and at least physically ready to go home…and thankfully we were still laughing about the rain and continued laughing after realizing we had an umbrella that we could have used. Being able to laugh together was a huge testament to just how great the vacation was.

Just three days later, I was back to work in San Francisco, but my mind was still on that beach, enjoying the evening sunset with Martin.

San Sebastian and Biarritz

With the weather not absolutely perfect for the beach on a few days, we took the opportunity to take in the surrounding towns with day trips to San Sebastian and Biarritz.

On Monday we headed south and over the border to San Sebastian, Spain. After being in small towns for 2 weeks, we were just slightly overwhelmed being back in a city. We somehow found our way around the city center, down the main shopping street, out to the beach (great for being in a city, but nothing compared to our one back “home”), through a few churches and a stop for lunch, a unique dining experience where plates were lined up on the bar and we individually selected what tapas we wanted. With most of the shops closed from 1:30-3, Martin and I agreed it had been a thorough tour and headed back to our beach in time for an afternoon swim and surf.

On Wednesday we headed north to the small, but slightly ritzy beach town of Biarritz. With Martin’s expertise we walked along the beach, stopping to watch the surfers (beginners and pros alike), hiked up the hill to get views from the lighthouse (closed for the day due to weather), another stop to watch the surfers and then a quick stroll through the main shopping street. Similar to San Sebastian, we accidentally timed our trip during the afternoon break, so most shops were closed…yes, our timing was impeccable, but we weren’t too fussed. After a few days camping we had already got into our routine and were content to stay on our beach, doing nothing.

And Then It Rained

I should have known the good weather couldn’t last the full two weeks: European weather just isn’t that consistent. So when it began to rain Monday night after we were in bed, I shrugged my shoulders and tried to enjoy the sometimes violent pitter patter of rain on the tent…I also made a mental note to thank Martin for insisting on putting the rain cover on. Those extra few minutes the first day saved us (meaning Martin) a world of pain that Monday night.

The rain continued through the early morning but cleared up in time for a late brunch and by the afternoon we were back on the beach enjoying the great weather again. Upon returning to the camp that evening however we noticed newly posted signs warning of expected high winds and a strong storm…I thought this was odd considering the storm had passed through the previous night. Martin quickly corrected my misunderstanding….last night was just rain, tonight we would experience a storm.

So while preparing dinner, we also set about preparing the camp, taking in all of the towels from the clothes line, hammering down the stakes and putting stuff in the tent. When we finally sat down to dinner, we could see the dark sinister clouds looming in the distance threatening to ruin our dinner and evening…it was the calm before the storm and we were enjoying our last meal, waiting to go down with the ship. But as we helped ourselves to seconds, I couldn’t help notice that the meanest looking clouds had all but passed over us…in my eyes we were almost out of danger.

Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Just as the words “in the clear” escaped my lips gale force winds, class 2 hurricane style, came ripping through camp, stirring up dust, twigs, and small trees and making us run for cover in the tent. (On a side note, I now understand the need for such a large tent – we had room to move our entire dinner - table, chairs and all- into the tent and continue supper without any additional interruptions (except to pick the foliage off of our plates).

We spent the rest of the night inside, playing Yahtzee and drinking wine. And while the storm was fierce, shaking the entire tent, I couldn’t help but feel the excitement (or electricity, did I mention the thunder and lightning) of it all. My biggest concern was if the side of the tent would knock over our bottle of wine and how I was going to make it to the bathroom without getting blown away….Martin’s biggest concern was if the tent was going to blow away, leaving every once in awhile to check the ropes and stakes (again mental note to thank his insistence).

After 12 hours, the wind and rain (which at one point sounded like someone had turned on a fire hose and aimed it directly at our tent) finally subsided and we were able to emerge without any damage… others couldn’t say the same. On one of my treks to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I noticed several collapsed tents, blown away chairs and one tent completely uprooted and replanted upside down in front of the bathroom building. With large surf crashing in the background and winds blowing loud enough you had to yell, it truly felt like the 50 year storm.

Camping Breuer Style

When Martin first packed the car for our one week camping trip to Bidart (a small surf town just south of Biarritz) I figured, like all other times, Martin had just slightly overpacked. We had everything and then some: a 3 room tent, electric ice chest, table, two chairs, blow up air mattress, bedding, 6+ towels, kitchen supplies, gas stove, gas lights, portable BBQ, dish bucket, tent for the beach, wetsuits, boogie board – you name it, we had packed it. And while it had been some time since I had last been camping, it seemed a bit excessive.

However after rolling into the 4 star campsite I quickly realized that on the bell curve of preparedness/ luxury, we were actually on the lower end of the slope. These campers – French, Spanish, German, Italians, Dutch and British - knew how to do it right. Our set up was put to shame next to the deluxe RVs, trailer campers, tents larger than ours and stuff I had never seen before. But I guess it made sense, we were at a 4 star establishment. Our area – 20x20 feet surrounded by rows of hedges and trees, with water and electrical hooks was just one of the 150 spots in the resort. And the resort itself boasted a spa, swimming pool, store, restaurant, showers, dish area, laundry area and beach front access to the private beach below. It really couldn’t get much better….And then it did.

After the two hours it took to get set-up, including a brief discussion with Martin as to why we needed to stake down the tent, add the rain cover and stake down the rain cover ropes given the sunny blue skies (God love the German in him needing to do everything exact and proper) we were officially home for the week. And if that was camping, I would do it every day. We enjoyed full European breakfasts at our campsite each morning (including champagne for my birthday breakfast), baguette sandwiches on the beach while taking in the sun, playing in the surf, and perfecting our skills of beach paddle ball and BBQ dinners every night followed by cold beers and games of Yahtzee and Set…I was one happy camper!

A Day of Markets

With no set plans for our second day in Beynac, Martin and I flipped through the local magazine and found a “Marches des Producteurs de Pays Nocturnes” that day in Loubejac, only 45 minutes away. Interested in a local “farmers market” we figured it was a perfect way to spend the Thursday afternoon.

But before we left, Martin and I took the obligatory historical hot lap of Chateau de Beynac, the castle just up the hill from our hotel. Reading about the horses, men and women all sleeping in the same room, I could literally smell the stifling stench of the 14th century…I was ready for some fresh air and fresh produce.

After the 45 minute drive, Martin and I drove up a slight hill and found ourselves in Loubejac –home of one church with adjacent square, one town hall, 3 houses, 2 horses, and a market starting later that evening at 6:30pm…French lesson of the day: “Nocturnes” means “night”. The farmers market we were planning on attending that day was a night market and didn’t start for another 5 and ½ hours. With the space allocated for parking in the adjacent field large enough to hold 100+ cars, we figured we should come back to experience the market. The only problem: what to do with the next 5 and ½ hours?

We re-consulted the magazine and found another weekly market in a town only 25 minutes away. Done. We were heading to Montpazier.

Unfortunately for us, we showed up right when things were winding down…this market was only from 9:30 to 12:30. But following our normal motto: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade…or even better, panache, we grabbed a table in the square and ordered a snack and some beers.

Revived from our snack, we hit up the tourist office to see what the town had to offer (other than the market obviously). Apparently, it had a lot – Montpazier is considered one of the most beautiful towns in France and the tourist office offers a walking tour through the 13th and 14th century Bastide (city planning at its finest - Four hundred by two hundred meters on a grid system) to see the town. Talk about some dumb luck.

Thanks to the walking tour and an afternoon coffee and sweets, Martin and I were able to enjoy the rest of the day in Montpazier and head back to Loubejac just in time for the market. Although “market” is hardly the right term for it. In the small square next to the church, local vendors had set up booths (more like tables) selling various local delights including soup, salad, baguettes, escargot, fruit, cheese, fried potatoes, cakes and local wine. At the far end of the square were stacks of tables, chairs and benches for guests to help themselves to. Following the lead of the locals, Martin grabbed a table and I grabbed two chairs and we set up our dinner table in the middle of the square. With a quick trip to the car to get plates, glasses and silverware (packed for camping the following day) we were all set. We just needed the food.

And we bought it all: salad, fried potatoes, a baguette, a mini pizza, BBQ rack of sheep, goat cheese with walnuts covered with honey, raspberries and local wine (from the Cahors region). Eating in the middle of the square with the rest of the town and neighboring villages (including the “mayor” and his wife) overlooking the valley and rolling hills was truly a unique experience. And when the string of white lights surrounding the square turned on after the sun went down, the moment went from unique to unforgettable.

Canoeing the Dordogne

We awoke Wednesday morning in Beynac et Cazenac, a small town along the Dordogne River. The river used to be the only means of communication between the mountains and sea and at times, marked the boundaries of France and England. And we were going to canoe down it… or at least 22 km of it.

The tour company in town offered two options - Versat to Beynac (15kms and approximately 2.5 hours) or Carsac to Beynac (22kms and approximately 4 hours). I was a fool to think Martin would choose the shorter option. So we boarded the bus (driven by a middle aged French woman rather than the anticipated 20 something river rat a la Truckee River) and headed upstream to Carsac for our day of “Canoeing”…although my experience at times was more like a canoe ride.

The first 7km to Versat flew by. With a relatively strong current and fresh arms, I was feeling confident in my canoeing abilities. That, plus it only took Martin and me 10 minutes to get a rhythm down that made me feel like I was contributing to the efforts while maintaining a straight line (unlike the British couple that zig-zagged their way down the entire river). After Versat however, the current all but stopped, making paddling even harder and making my “rest breaks” (where I sat comfortably in front while Martin paddled in the back) even longer. Thankfully he didn’t seem to mind too much…the extra 7kms were his idea after all.

While not paddling or perfecting our coordination, Martin and I were able to take in the scenic views, including the 5 chateaus (French for castle) all perched on the surrounding cliffs (stunning themselves), overlooking the river and all unique in their construction and history. We also stopped on a few occasions to take a swim in the water, enjoy lunch (at a slightly ill-prepared snack hut) and break for beers. With the breeze off the water and warm sun shining all day, I was happy and willing to continue on past our stop…I don’t think Martin was so keen so we pulled over in the correct town.

After paddling for the 22kms (okay, more like 15) my arms and body were exhausted, yet beginning to gain some summer color. The night ended with a hard earned dinner and Martin, for once, eating too much!