Monday, September 12, 2016

today

In spite of being out in the boonies, we are all still hooked up to our computers, in the evening after dinner (nobody plays Scrabble). We all stare at our computer screens to catch up with e-mail and other things before wandering off to bed. But apart from that tether (and the fact that I myself spend 80% of the day on the computer), so much of general life here has nothing to do with this dreadful machine. I watched the swan couple take off from the Seine today - they require a lot of effort as they are big birds, kind of like 747’s. And fish jump from time to time. I have yet to see one in action, just catch the ripples, but Feng Chen tells me you just have to wait, staring at the river, and do nothing, and you will see one. So that sounds like a good activity to me.














Our french chef Karine made us ratatouille, meatballs, and couscous tonight, with some kind of pound cake for dessert. It’s like being in somebody’s home restaurant every day. She starts around 8:30am (she’s actually the bookkeeper, here, but since they are waiting for their next cook to arrive, she’s doing double duty until that happens), standing in front of the counter in high heels, and does her thing. I can hear all the activity because I’m in the room next to the kitchen. It’s a pleasant start to the day. She studied to be a chef but switched paths because, I think I heard, she didn’t want to deal with people in restaurants. So now she has artists instead, and she’s cooking for them, anyway. You can’t win, huh.














Most of today was spent juggling computer files, but I did go for a pre-dinner walk with Feng Chen (everybody else was busy typing or painting). It was a warm day, but a 90-degree day here is not the same as a 90-degree day in Philadelphia. It’s still cool if you stay in the shade with the cows.





















Ramona our Resident German had us all worried last night like mother hens because she disappeared all day without a trace. She showed up late and we saw her in the morning, big smile on her face announcing she'd been on a bike ride. She’s 27 but looks like 17, tall as a bean pole and takes photographs. She’s direct and full of zip.


















I don’t think the traveling priest will come to Camac - too many unrepentant artists roaming the grounds here, but he will go to Pont-sur-Seine for his monthly visit. I may visit the church next door (it’s locked but they give you a key to have a look around on Tuesdays and Fridays), bring the guitar and enjoy the acoustics all to myself.

A lot of the trees around here have been placed in rather orderly rows.







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