25 August – 31 August 2019 

We have now been in Aix for a week – we’re like locals now, all over it. 

We haven’t settled into rhythm yet. School goes back on Monday and we are trying to work out what a ‘normal’ week looks like, but so far there is no routine. 

There is a huge amount of excitement about ‘la rentrée’ (back to school) on Monday. We picked up uniforms on Tuesday and got our first brief look at the school. Sena put hers on immediately and didn’t take it off again until Thursday. Its also fair to say that we are excited for la rentrée too because, let’s face it, it was time for them to go back into formal education (call out here for anyone who can home-school, we are just not good enough parents for that). 

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Bonnie has settled into his new life as a ‘city dog’. He has learned to manage his bodily functions and poo on whatever (external) surface is available to him at the time. We have even found a park with real grass (about a kilometre from our house) where we can run in the mornings, feeling the grass underneath his feet and the gurgle of a running stream in the background. He continues to be accosted by every second person on the street with cries of ‘C’est un beau chien’. Our personal favourite was, when we were coming out of a shop (because, well it’s France and of course he was in the shop), he surprised a woman who was on the phone. She said (in French) – Oh! He frightened me! But he’s magnificent! (we agree). So he’s doing OK. 

We have toured the markets, found our favourite ones (there are several) and have confirmed that real people shop there too (not just tourists). We have also found our local Carrefour ‘hypermarché and, obviously, the local Decathlon, so our staple-needs are sorted). 

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We have purchased and eaten our body weight in tomatoes, cheese and fresh bread. Liz even made a ratatouille. We have yet to find affordable coffee (potentially we have been spoilt by the last 6 weeks in Spain on this one). 

With the start of the cricket season in Australia, we have been on the search for something that could double as cricket nets in the area. We have had our first (relatively) successful session (even as the local football team was looking on with amusement) on a cracked asphalt field with graffitied concrete walls. Boronia Park is looking pretty special in comparison. 

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And we have started learning French. The house is littered with pink Post-It notes naming items in French (including, at one stage, the dog). Liz has officially started at Alliance Francaise; Anthony will start in a few weeks; the girls on Monday. Bonnie has learned to come, sit and drop in French, but he always was a show off. 

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We have started our exploration of the city and the nearby villages of Bouc-Bel-Air and Luynes (both possible future homes, should we choose to move out of the city). We even snuck in a cheeky play date for Jessie before school starts.

We have gone south in search of a dog-friendly beach on the Cote d’Azur. 

We have gone north across the amazing scenery of northern Provence and the Luberon and the incredible Gorges du Verdon, where we sent a Joseph family flotilla (comprising of 2 boats – Liz and Ellie piloting one, Jessie and Bonnie the other, with Anthony and Sena largely passengers) across the beautiful Lac de Sainte Croix and into the stunning Gorges, where cliffs tower over emerald blue water, caves and rocks perfectly situated for jumping off. 

Whilst in the area, we also took the opportunity to briefly explore ‘one of the most beautiful villages in France’ – we agree), the stunning Moustiers Sainte Marie, its old church, town square and few buildings clinging to a cliff face on two sides of a waterfall, overlooked by towering rock formations. And they sold ice cream. What more could you ask for? 

We have been to our first social events and met what will hopefully become our first friends here. 

Friday was a massive day. School orientation. The first time the girls would have a chance to meet their classmates and (hopefully) future friends. Uniforms (optional) were put on (easy for Sena, she still hasn’t taken hers off since she got it). We made our way to school. Conscious of the much hyped Aix traffic we went early. Very early. Pulling into the carpark at school we noted we weren’t the first. Not even close. The kids were excited. Nervous. Ellie looked like she would be sick. Jessie hugged my leg. Sena was still just excited to be wearing her uniform and going to big school. 

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We had given them a goal for the day. Find out your teacher’s name and the name of one friend. 

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Much milling around. Not really that organised. We eventually found Sena’s classroom. She disappeared with a massive smile on her face, proudly running up to the teacher to ‘show her her numbers and letters’ (a stack of Post-It notes that she had written a combination of random numbers, letters and hieroglyphics of only Sena-knows-what that she wanted to show off). From there, it was straight to a table with another girl for some colouring in. She would be fine. 

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From there we divided to manage the Jessie/Ellie drop off in parallel. Liz took Ellie, still nervous but keen and excited to make a friend to her class (CM1 – 5th grade). Package delivered. Anthony took Jessie. Lots of nerves. Clinging tighter to legs. An introduction to Victoria-Louise, a little smile and then a friendly teacher. Anthony, having experienced the joys of Jessie melting down at the school gate in Kindy, did the only brave thing. He turned and ran, not looking back until safely out of view. 

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Drop offs complete. We would see them again in 3 hours to get the update. 

We piled into the school auditorium (school halls no longer, we were at Private School now – although the kids were all sitting in demountables whilst the late running primary school building project got finished). We were briefed on the school and its teachers over a slightly pained 45 minute presentation that could have just as well been an email. Nervously we reached out to people around us to start some conversations, finding everyone to be warm, welcoming and keen to make a connection (an interesting but (in hindsight) obvious point about these type of schools – the French families are keen to meet English speakers to practice/improve their English (why else would they be sending their kids there) and the expats keen to meet the French families for the same reason. It makes it a very easy and welcoming environment). 

Following the presentation we were treated to coffee and cake in the school yard, given a sticker with our names and the classes of our girls and given 2 hours to meet people and make friends. It was a bit like speed dating and class bingo combined as we tried to navigate through the like-minded, slightly desperate newbies (be my friend, please be my friend) and the slightly less desperate (but very welcoming and understanding) parents who had been at the school for a while. 

At the end of the 2 hours we were exhausted but happy. We had met a combination of local and  expats, created WhatsApp groups, had tennis, cycling and kitesurfing companions and a Rosé meet up group, spread across each of the girls years. It was a good start. 

So how did the girls fare? 

We picked up Sena first. Big smiles. Big hugs for her teacher. Teachers name? Tick. Friends name? Sybilla! (best friend in Australia). Oh well. But she had played with other kids, it’s just that names are not her forté! And she was keen to go back on Monday. 

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Next was Jessie. Runs out, jumps into Daddy’s arms with massive hug and smile. Big success. Victoria-Lousie and Lola are mentioned excitedly. French and Canadian. As is the teachers name. Tick. Tick. 

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Finally Ellie. It’s late by the time we get there and she is the last one in her class. Glum. Teachers name. Tick. Students names. Tick. But no friends. Everyone spoke French. Insistent that no-one in the class spoke English (including the 3 Americans, 1 Brit and 1 Canadian). Work to do there. 

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We went home and quickly had some lunch before hitting the road for the drive to Lyon for Fred’s 40th birthday celebration. Talked about how we could find Ellie a friend before 9am Monday morning. Went back through old Facebook posts and WhatsApp messages to find someone, anyone with Year 5 kids that Ellie could meet one on one. Liz found Claire, a local French mum who’s daughter caught the bus to school. They could meet on the walk to the bus, hopefully make like-long friends by the time the bus pulled into school and help Ellie skip into class with confidence on her first morning. (Side note, it’s quite clear that Liz has missed her calling here as the matron of an escort service. One of her many talents as it turns out). 

The three hour run to Lyon from Aix turned out to be a 5.5 hour trudge down the autoroute/parking lot as we navigated our way around 7 separate accidents and the continuing end of school holiday traffic. In that time, we also had the girls enrolled in both gym and hip hop dance for Jessie (with one of her new buddies from school). Kids activities sorted. 

We eventually pulled into Lyon, shattered and with 3 crazy children, at around 7pm. Sena skipped out of the car, almost before it had stopped, ran into the house and jumped into Fred’s arms yelling ‘I love this house’ – they clearly feel at home here! 

As has become habit during each of the visits we’ve had to Lyon this trip, we had an awesome time catching up with Fred, Noemie and the kids (to be fair, we hardly saw the kids this trip – they disappeared with our girls and that was that). 

On Friday night, after a quick swim, it was straight into apero then dinner. 

On Saturday, much of the day was spent setting up for the big Western Party and games that would happen at the house that night for Fred’s 40th. The games started at around 4pm – the French showing yet again that they can – and will – compete and absolutely anything and everything. Liz was annointed captain of one of the 6 teams that were pitted in mortal games such as beer pong, morpion (a highly physical combination of a relay race, tic tac toe and rugby, played to the death), some kind of combination of soccer, netball and rugby union (also played to the death), scuba diving and, of course, an automated bucking bronco. Basically the ultimate ice breaker. 

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From there, we rolled into the party proper. Cowboys, cowgirls indians, can can dancers and crotchless chaps emerged (all in the name of fancy dress). Gourmet burgers and fries were served with beers, Moet and amazing wine. 

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We have had the opportunity to meet a number of Fred and Noemies friends over the years but have not seen many for ages. It was great to catch up with those that we knew and meet a bunch of new people. It is these types of nights that make us realise how lucky we are to be here and to be friends with Fred and Noemie – which gives us an entré into this world. It is also exhausting – spending 14 hours being ‘on’ the whole time, almost exclusively in French (at least until around 2am when everyone has suddenly had enough to drink that they are more than happy to start speaking – generally perfect – English!). 

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At 1am, both the beer ran out. The champagne continued to flow freely. Bonnie, having been in the thick of the party since the afternoon death games, also finally threw in the towel and collapsed on the grass. His statuesque form became like a handbag for people to talk and dance around. 

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By the time we sent him up to bed, he literally had to carry him. Meanwhile, Majic, Fred and Noemie’s 2 year old Border Collie had spent the last 2 hours chasing the disco lights that were lighting up the kitchen floor – and was still at it. We had forgotten what it was like to have a Border Collie puppy!   

At 3am we may or may not have been crowd surfing down a line of drunken French people across Fred and Noemi’s lounge room and kitchen. It’s only a rumour, and we will deny it. 

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By 3.30, the pool was in use again. We were into traditional French anthems and drunken sing-a-long tunes (unfortunately the songs were not on the French playlist that Noemie had pulled together for us in July and we had been drilling into both ourselves and the kids during our long drives). 

By 5am we were ready for bed. The party looked like it was slowing down, but kept on going. A hard-core remained. We were on diminishing returns and called it a night. 

Exhausting but so much fun and so rewarding. 

The next day dawned all too quickly. After a quick swim we were ready to face the world – which is to say the clean up. A wonderful tradition (from our limited experience with these types of events) is where there is a big house party, friends from the night before come around the following day to help clean up, eat some food and drink their ways sedately through any potential hangover that may be threatening to raise its head. 

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At 10am when we surfaced there were already a number of people there. By midday there was more than a dozen. The house was clean, the rubbish removed and the pizza over firing. Wine being consumed and more bottles being opened. A perfect chill out after the main event of the previous night. This was indeed a village where friends helped each other out. 

Unfortunately for us, we were just visiting. By 1pm, our car was packed with all the stuff we hadn’t taken travelling. Bikes, suitcases and snowboards strapped to the roof of our tired looking Duster, rendering it 3+ metres high. We said our goodbyes.

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Within 5 minutes of leaving Fred’s house we came within 2 metres of going over a bridge and converting our Duster into a convertible, courtesy of a (completely unnecessary) low hanging bridge sign (Side note: pointless height limiting signs are de rigeur across Europe – for example in outdoor carparks – where they are the lowest thing for miles around). In our fatigued state, neither of us clocked that we were heading merrily towards the sign, Anthony only realising at the last minute – which lead to a very ungainly reverse down a single lane of this beautiful bridge over the River Soane. 

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Aside from that, our trip back to Aix was uneventful, if slow, due to last gasp of French holiday traffic that was madly trying to make it back home before la rentrée tomorrow. 

As we pulled into Aix it felt like home. After a week that’s pretty good. And we were all excited (and more than a little nervous) about what was to come tomorrow. This was the next – and most important – phase of the year, and one which would ultimately determine whether this little experiment of ours was a success or not. 

The girls have no idea what’s about to hit them.