I've mentioned before that Benoit was my first French friend when I started working at Faurecia over four years ago. He met Audrey while they were both working in Detroit, and proposed before they moved back to France earlier this year.
Dave and I are quite fond of both of them, so we were really looking forward to the wedding.
It turned out to be a bit of a destination wedding; held in the village of Tarnac, Corrèze, in the south central part of France. Audrey's family owns a few houses in Tarnac, and she grew up vacationing in the area.
The hotels in and around Tarnac were reserved early, so the closest available hotel I could find (without having to speak too much French on the phone) was in Limoges, about an hour away. I was interested in seeing Limoges anyway, so I didn't put too much effort into finding other alternatives.
So Saturday morning we did our best to get up early and try to beat the traffic. July 12 was the first day of a three day weekend in France, and we knew it was going to be ugly. We left the apartment at 8:30, and the Tom Tom told us it would take four hours to get to Limoges. Super: that left time to check in, change our clothes, grab some lunch, and walk around Limoges before the wedding.
Well. It seems that 8:30 a.m. is not early enough to beat Parisian vacation traffic. Half an hour outside the city, we were stopped.
In the end, it took us 7 hours to reach Limoges. We dashed into the hotel, changed our clothes, and dashed back out with only an hour to spare before the wedding. The GPS told us it would take 1 hour and 10 minutes to reach Tarnac, and David managed to make 10 minutes up on the road (let's not talk about the number of traffic laws broken or French drivers irritated) to arrive in front of the church just in time to join the rest of the crowd and saunter in with Jeanne and Vincent.
The church was incredible. And incredibly old. The original building was constructed in the 11th century, with further work added in the 13th. It was small and musty, and packed to standing room only. This being our first French wedding, I was alarmed to see so many hats on the ladies, even the young ones. I had thought that was a strictly English thing.
After the ceremony we walked through the quiet village to a small hall where cocktails and appetizers were served and a dixie band blasted away. After a while we all turned around and walked back to the church garden, where the reception was held in a large tent.
Dinner was excellent, followed by speeches we didn't quite understand, followed by dancing. By then David and I were quite exhausted, it was well past midnight when the dancing started and we had a long drive to
Limoges ahead of us. So we slipped out the back and to our car. At first I drove because David wasn't sure about his alcohol level, but after thirty minutes or so it became apparent that I wasn't sure about my ability to stay awake. I pulled off, we switched drivers, and I don't remember the rest of the night because I was dead asleep.The next morning David was ready to get the heck out of Dodge, but there was one about Limoges I regretted not doing. Audrey had told me that the city is famous for its porcelain, and I wanted to bring something back. After I did a bit of whining and sulking, David relented and we managed to find a porcelain factory store that was open on Sundays. Dave helped me pick
out a serving plate with four little individual plates with pretty images of French chateaus.Anyway, the traffic back into Paris was much better and we were home four hours later, just as the Tom Tom promised. We spent the rest of the day enjoying not being crammed in a car.
That night Levallois had its Bastille Day fireworks on the river. I made a last minute decision to walk down to catch the final 10 minutes of the show. I just liked the idea of walking from our apartment to see fireworks.
And then on July 14, Bastille Day, we met Wally for brunch in the Marais. We weren't planning on anything special for France's Fête Nationale, but just as we found Wally a group of helicopters buzzed overhead and a collection of French military vehicles rolled past after the big parade. We waved and gaped with the rest of the crowd, then made our way to Wally's brunch restaurant choice, Breakfast in America.
I know so many French people who are mad about Breakfast in America. Admittedly, David and I were skeptical. What's the big deal about the same thing you can get at Denny's for half the price? Well, we hadn't been to a Denny's in quite some time. I'd figured out how to make an adapted American breakfast at home, but the bacon doesn't quite cook right. And Breakfast in America has french toast. And mmmm, it was tasty. I even opted to pay the extra euro for the real maple syrup.After brunch we strolled along rue Rivoli, where all the delightful shops distracted me into splitting up with the boys and agreeing to meet David at home in a few hours. I spent some time browsing for a while, and returned home to hang out with Dave for a while before he had to leave.
It was a real bummer, but Dave had to leave for a business trip the evening of the holiday. It was either that or leave super early the next morning, and he knew he'd be up all night if he had the early train. At least with the evening train I could see him off, and accompanied him to Gare de L'Est for one of those dramatic train station goodbyes.
The rest of the evening I spent shopping - it is sale season, after all - and biking home through Paris.
So that was the weekend! More photos of the wedding on Flickr, of course.
Bisous!
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