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Published: April 13th 2012
The single worst thing about a holiday is the ridiculous time you have to get up in order to leave. At 4am last Friday my alarm rang out loud and true and I rather grumpily extracted myself from the warm fluffiness of my beautiful bed. Rachel, as ever was bright and breezy and up and showered before my feet even touched the floor. My morning took a turn for the worse when I decided to knock the pint glass of water on my bedside cabinet all over the floor. Soon enough, our taxi to Gatwick was waiting outside and as is customary for Rachel, she spent the next hour worrying that we wouldn't get to the airport on time and whether the taxi driver was going the right way!
An uneventful breakfast and flight to Lyon followed and it wasnt long before we were on French soil and picking up our hire car for the day. After a short lunch at Rachel's Mamies's (Gran's) house in Meyzieu, we were back in the car and ready to head to a town called Tarare to meet with a business associate of mine. We put the address in the Sat Nav and spent
the next half an hour trying to navigate our way out of Meyzieu because said Sat Nav decided that it would spend its time 'Trying to locate valid GPS signal' instead of doing the sole thing it was placed on this earth to do... direct us to our destination. We decided to go all retro at use an actual map and with a little help from Google Maps on our phones (cue a huge bill when we get home) we managed to find Tarare. An interesting and informative tour and meeting followed (well for me anyway). We spent the next couple of hours struggling through rush hour traffic before we arrived at Rachel's aunty's and uncle's house in Saint Romain.
We spent the evening enjoying lovely cheese, meats and champagne in preparation for Rachel's cousin Noemie's wedding the next day. We caught up with French cousins, Aunties and Uncles and I tried valiantly to communicate in a curious mix of French and English known as Franglais! I was struggling until Rachel's uncle produced a dusty bottle of 1989 Chateauneuf du Pape and I was in my element! A mixture of lip smacking, smiles and 'ooh la la's' conveyed just
Beautiful Wine
The 1989 Chateaunuef Du Pape from the night before the weddinghow good I thought the wine was! It wasn't long however before we were seriously lagging and off to bed as a result of only having had 4 hours sleep since Thursday morning (it was now 11.30pm on Friday).
Saturday morning was spent relaxing before the mad rush of showers, hairdo's, shoe shining, make up and squeezing into outfits ready for Noemie's wedding. The wedding started at the town hall with a ceremony which focused on the formal and legal aspects of marriage in France. It was over quickly and as Noemie and Mehdi (Noemie's new husband, of Tunisian descent) left the town hall the congregation showered them in confetti as some of the men on Mehdi's side fired confetti rockets over the happy couple. I am not sure who thought it was a good idea to let the Arabic side of the family get their hands on rockets!! Soon, a ceasefire was called and we all climbed into the cars to travel in convoy to the country house for the rest of the celebrations.
French wedding breakfasts are very different to one's in the UK as we found out on Saturday. Canape's and punch got things underway
Me with Julien
Enjoying a glass of champagne with one of the cousins boyfriends. at 6pm and champagne and wedding cake brought the formalities to an end at 1am, although at this stage there was still a further four hours of discotheque to come! The canapes, starter, main and dessert were punctuated by music, a song and dance show by members of the family, a game involving the brides garter and then finally the cutting of the cake. It was a thoroughly enjoyable night and my attempts at communicating with the French got more and more ambitious with every glass of champagne quaffed and I may have even attempted to throw some shapes which really isnt the done thing for me (please don't tell anyone!). Sunday passed in a blur of tiredness, tidying up and a late night watching Bubba Watson win the Masters.
We were up early on Monday morning to collect another hire car, say our goodbyes to the Frenchies (as we have affectionately named the French side of the family) and make our way down to the Ardeche region for Part Dieux of our short break. I will try and get a few words up here about that by the weekend. Until then Au Revoir and Bisous.
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Audrey
non-member comment
"I am not sure who thought it was a good idea to let the Arabic side of the family get their hands on rockets!! HAHAHAHHAHHA that's so funny stu' !" You're OK with our favorite racist joke, that's great ! Gros bisous les british, à dans 1 mois.