"Province" and other frank stories

I don't know that I've caught up on sleep yet. It's been go-go-go since my week of being dragged through the mud. Almost immediately after my most humiliating presentation ever, I packed up and went to a cottage in, as Parisians call it, "Province", which essentially means anything that is not Paris (smh). 

There were 8 of us: 5 french, 3 not-french. There really is not a proper way to sum it up... For all of my loyal, long-time followers, you'll know what I mean by "Cape Cod: French Edition". To set the scene: a monotone, quaint French village that was crisp and deserted. Not a person to be found. An old stable-thing (?) with a wine cellar and a crystal-blue pool. A large fireplace crackling at all hours. A stack of cards on the farmer's table. Myriad overturned wine bottles. 

We were there three days: One crazy night for me, one quiet night for me, one even quieter, un-planned night (all of France seemed to shut down when there were difficulties at a train station in Paris). 

On the way there, we drove through fields in an older car, whose front window wouldn't roll up, so the cool air nipped at my face as we drove through rows of trees. I saw this in a movie once. We also visited the nearest "city" which had a mini Christmas market where we got hot chocolate and crepes for 1 euro a piece!! Spectacular. But other than this, most of the weekend was spent playing cards around the fire, which is new for me because I'm never inclined to play cards, and it was so refreshing to put the phone away (though I wasn't very consistent with this). 

In terms of food, it quite possibly does not get more French. We had lots of bread and cheese, croissants and brioche, all sorts of wines and champagne, raclette, rillettes, vin chaud... 

But nothing ever happens without drama. Have you seen Masculin, FĂ©minin? Or A Bout de Souffle? I don't know. I don't know. The French are fascinating. 

Anyway, here are some photos!!