Who ever knew that sunlight and proximity to large trees could play such a role in ones bloglife? As I type, I am in the village square — l’Esplanade — here in Gignac, the next largest village up the food chain from Aniane. Yesterday, while driving by, my trust WiFi-o-meter told me that there was free Internet to be had; I’ve returned today, with Oliver and Catherine, to track this down, as well as to check out the Gignac Public Library and the more exciting playground options.

Wandering around the square with my laptop open, I managed to locate a specific spot, in front of a large tree, which offered a sweet spot of low sunlight (and thus low glare on the laptop screen) and powerful enough WiFi. Five feet in any direction from this spot and the sun came streaming in or the WiFi went away. Again, not ergonomically optimum, but then again I didn’t have to drive into Montpellier either.

This morning we took a walk around greater Aniane: down rue de la Tour to the aqueduct, up around the old abbey, and back to the main road. On the way home we stopped at the grocery store to buy some soft goat cheese, some tomatoes, an avocado and some strawberries for lunch. Ah, and what a lunch it was. Our greatest fear now is that we will return home to Canada only to find that all of the food tastes like bland slime.

Our appreciation of la vie français continued today with an afternoon visit to Le Glacier, a coffee, crepe, and ice cream shop around the corner from our house. Oliver quickly polished off a chocolate ice cream cone, Catherine had a bitchin’ café au lait, and I had a cup of tea.

Personally it’s been a bizarre haul the last couple of days. I sort of feel like my body and mind have been in a stressful state of flux — I suppose this only makes sense, given the transitions of place, diet, pace, and so on. Without being overly romantic, it does sort of feel like a rapid deceleration into a magical world of smells, tastes and naps. That said, I find myself reaching for the non-existent TV clicker from habit and simultaneously having TV withdrawal pangs and stark realizations that I spend a lot of my time watching reruns of Seinfeld and Law & Order.

Lingually I’ve been doing not too bad, with the terrors of being caught in an intractable situation with no language skills gradually washing away as my confidence increases. What an obligation I feel now to Mme. Romeo, M. Lefrançoise and all of my other French professeurs over the years; who knew that their endless drills would ever pay off in the practical ability to order bread? My vocabulary is turning out to be reasonable; my grammar is very poor, but this is seldom an impediment. As Meg has been relating on her blog, there is rarely an instance where you can’t describe what you’re looking for by association: “that thing that is like a cookie, but not round, and covered with icing” and the like.

I sense the approach of Oliver and Catherine, fresh from their exploration of Gignac, to fetch me home. More later.

As I type this, I am sitting on a concrete post at the edge of an alley, just around the corner from the main square (it’s actually an “main egg,” but that’s another story) here in Montpellier, sucking free WiFi from someone named Avril (thanks, Avril!). The ergonomics of the situation are not fantastic, so I will be less longwinded than usual.

I have been quite a site here in Montpellier, walking around with my half-open iBook with MacStumbler running, listening for the telltale “bleep” that indicates a WEP-free WiFi access point. I found one about a half hour ago, but using it required standing on the sidewalk in front of a bus stop. Buses kept stopping. Very confusing for all of us.

We have moved in to our little house in Aniane, and it is all we could have hoped for an more. Every morning (well, all two mornings so far…) Oliver and I have gotten up and walked the two short blocks to the boulangerie and have ordered deux baguettes and trois croissants. It seems to have worked so far.

And everything they say about how great it is to have small bakery, grocery and other stores within easy walking distance has proved very true. This morning, I felt like an orange. So I walked around the corner and bought two.

The weather here is wonderfully springlike — 22 degrees C today, and very sunny. Nights are a little cooler, but not too much so.

Many more tales to tell when my Internet access is less precarious (virtually and physically).

Today’s the day we drive over the Millau Viaduct.

As we motored down the A10, then the A75, from Orléans to Clermont-Ferrand today, we stopped at every highway rest stop that had a playground (about one of every two, it seems). The playgrounds were each different from the other, and they were all inventive and lots of fun. Oddly, one of the rest stops incorporated a “forest spirits” theme, and had a long explanation of western Canadian native practice vis a vis trees.

While Oliver, of course, was in heaven, I think we’ve raised the vacation expectations bar quite high now, and we might be expected to visit 4 new playgrounds a day for the duration.

The other highlight of the day was a visit to the Orléans Médiathàque (see picture here), which is their central public library branch. It’s an architectural masterwork, complete with a massive children’s area, a “newspaper and magazine pod” that you enter as if entering a spaceship, and a bright, bright, bright orange stairway that would send Jodi reeling.

Actually, the real highlight of the day was encountering the “new washroom system” here at the Clermont-Ferrand Formule 1 hotel: as soon as you enter, the toilet pre-flushes and digital birds start to chirp. Then new-age music starts to play as you alight the toilet. Upon completion, there is a small automatic sink, which auto-sprays soap on your hands, then starts up water, and finishes with a powerful blast of hot air to dry them off. We might as well be in Japan.

We’re off to the Clermont-Ferrand market to get something for dinner…

I always forget how completely exhausting jet lag is. Or rather I forget how determined my body is to forge on despite all suggestions to the contrary. Nonetheless, we managed to have a successful first day here in France after a sleepless Air Canada flight from Montreal.

France is a surprisingly easy country to get into. Our biggest problem at customs a Charles De Gaulle Airport was that Oliver’s passport photo was taken at 9 months of age, so bears less resemblance to him than is normal. The customs agent actually came out of his booth and held the photo up to Oliver to confirm his proper identity. Fortunately, he bought it, and we were in. No questions asked. Literally.

I had read that the French don’t line up for things, and the airport certainly proved this to be true. However rather than the chaotic dog eat dog frenzy I imagined a lineless world to be, the line for customs was more like a gentle collective amble and was rather pleasant for its complete lack of frenzy.

From customs we collected our bags and made our way to the oddly-located car rental hall, in the basement several terminals over. Once there we easily found the phone at the Peugeot desk, and with 30 minutes we were proud owners of a Peugeot Partner, which is a sort of mini-van that bears most resemblance to the old Eagle Summit we used to drive. It’s a tiny vehicle on the outside, but has vast amounts of interior space — a full foot or more above my head in the driver’s seat.

Somehow, in my catatonic state, we managed to navigate our way to buy gas (diesel, actually, which is confusingly called gazole here), and then out into the Paris morning. Our directions south from the woman at Peugeot were excellent, and we made it to the A10 south towards Orleans without getting lost. Or at least not really lost. By 1:30 p.m. were here on the suburban edge of Orleans at the Formule 1 Hotel.

Formule 1 calls itself a “super budget hotel,” and at 27 euros for a clean room for 3, it certainly qualifies. Rooms are tiny, but not too tiny. A double bed on the bottom and a bunk bed on the top, a sink in one corner and a desk in the other, with TV above. Washrooms and showers are just down the hall, and work on some magic “clean themselves after every use” system, which appears to actually work.

Of course in our catatonia, any bed looked inviting, and after checking in — using a automated credit card kiosk at the front door — we were all fast asleep.

A couple of hours and an auto-shower later, we got back in the truck (Oliver refuses to let it be called a van or a car) and drove into the rainy downtown Orleans afternoon.

We found the (very pleasant and helpful) tourist office, walked around the old city, had a snack of Thai food at a take away place, and then settled in at a bizarre Catalan tapas bar outfitted with comfortable easy chairs, loud punk music, and a very child-friendly bar keep who gave Oliver a glow-in-the-dark bracelet.

We ordered “Catalan pizza,” which turned out to be creme fraiche, potatoes, ham and cheese on a huge piece of toast. Very filling and just what we needed. Halfway through our meal and very tattooed and pierced couple came in and sat down at the table just behind us. Oliver found them fascinating, and spend the rest of the meal staring at them.

Fed and rested, we walked back out into the rainy night, found our way back to the Formule 1 in the suburbs, and fell fast asleep.

As I type, it’s 7:00 a.m. The air is fresh, the rain has stopped, and it’s 10 degrees outside. Off we go…

And so off we go. Catherine, Oliver and I are headed to France for the next month. We leave in an hour, and so, as you might imagine, we’ve spent much of the last 24 hours mired in packing, locating plug adapters, answering email, paying bills, and taking care of most anything else that can’t be done without us.

We fly tonight to Paris via Montreal, pick up our Peugeot Partner and veer south to the village of Aniane, where we take possession on Saturday of a small house that will be home until May.

You can expect updates here as our temporarily relocated life continues as I’m able to stumble across WiFi.

Take care of North America for us.

Here are six things I learned at the barber this morning.

• It’s those damn seals that ate all the cod.
• Why hasn’t anyone blown up the Sea Shepherd yet?
• Pretty soon it will be the corporations running everything.
• A 1250 lb. cow only fetched only $180 yesterday.
• Sears has free parking; why would anyone shop downtown?
• There are no potatoes out in the ocean — what else are the seals supposed to eat?

While we’re speaking about Blue Cross, here’s the quote I got for Travel Medical Insurance from them:

On the left if their quote for insurance for one 29-day trip. On the right is their quote for unlimited trips of 30 days or less in one year. Note how the annual plan is $46 cheaper than the one-time plan? I called Blue Cross to ask why this was and they seem surprised that anyone would find this surprising.

I’m not exactly sure why anyone would buy the package on the left when offered the package on the right. Maybe I’m missing something?

UPDATE: I decided to forge ahead, confusion be damned. I entered all of the information about our trip, all of the information about us, and here’s what I received in return:

Quick, name one Canadian provider of health insurance. If you’re like me, Blue Cross was a likely choice. Except Blue Cross has decided that, at least here in Eastern Canada, they need a new name. From their website:

Medavie is the new name adopted by Atlantic Blue Cross Care in March, 2005 as a result of our expansion into the Ontario and Quebec regions. We needed a name that would work in all three markets and in both official languages to position ourselves for continued growth. Medavie is a combination of the English and French words for ‘medical to life,’ and we think it’s a great representation of the products we sell. Rest assured, we’re still the same Blue Cross. And we’re always there for you.

In related news, the Charlottetown Sewer and Water Department is repositioning their brand too, and will henceforth be known as AquaPoo.

A couple of notes of specific interest to Charlottetown travelers:

• Coop Taxi has taken over the Charlottetown Airport franchise from Yellow Taxi. They’ve both lowered the fare (down to $10 from $13 from downtown) and commited to more reliable service (a minimum of four cars on site for every flight, for example). This is good news for anyone who likes supporting worker coops, and also for those who were tired of waiting for Yellow’s cabs to show up.
• The teller at Metro Credit Union told me today that the fee for using ATM machines outside of North America to withdraw money from my Metro account has gone up to $4.00, which gets piled on top of any fee the ATM itself charges. On a $100.00 withdrawl, that’s a 4% surcharge. Got to remember to take out more money less often.