Our kind of fun

Sunday midday. It was sunny outside but cold.

We unlocked the car and got in. A date was awaiting us, probably the 4th one of the day. We usually have many dates within a single date day. Without even realizing we usually end up having many different dates on the same day, spending time and attention specifically with each other, nothing else. 

This fourth one of the day was sharing two pieces of cake fait maison that we’d just bought from an elderly association we came across spontaneously. I chose ananas caramel, seeing as I had never tried it before. Em didn’t want to risk it and went for a traditional one. We shared them, and looked at each other, and laughed, and talked about what had just happened. 

On the way home from one of our favorite dates together (that being us going to the car boot sales) Em demanded some bread. I knew a boulangerie on the way so I decided to stop there. There were a lot of people congregating next to the bakery so I decided to ask the baker, what it was about. The woman told me it was the association de jeunesse du village doing something. I let Em know and we decided to give it a try. 

We reached the small building and went in. There was a meeting around wicker baskets, but there weren’t any young people around, we were the youngest no doubt. But we didn’t care, we looked at each other, realized this fact and immediately started discovering the place. The room was full of elderly people showing off their wicker baskets. It was quite impressive to be honest, there were also some paintings and drawings, and of course, something you can always expect in this kind of gatherings in rural France, a long table with an arrangement of homemade cakes and hot drinks. We’re in it for this. 

Em told me: estamos en nuestra salsa (we’re in our element). We spoke with a couple of women at the other side of the long table and asked for two pieces of cake. Of course they were really gentle with us, of course they reminded us that they’re fait maison (probably some of them made by themselves yesterday), of course they realized we’re not locals, and of course they didn’t mind about that. We felt welcomed, and appreciated. And we love it when that happens. We’re more than glad to spend our money on your home made cakes madame, more than in any other place.

At the exit, one of the older men was playing around with some branches, making a basket. We spoke with him, he kindly informed us about the process, and answered all of my questions. He didn’t mind my pronunciation and he tried to understand me. Sadly it doesn’t usually work as well the other way around, but I try my best anyway. 

Random people came up to us and gave us a handshake and a bonjour. They don’t mind who we are but they see us here, and for that very reason today we’re all one and the same. And we love it.

Not doing this would be one of the things I’d regret the most in the future. I love discovering what local people do in their villages. I want to see what they see, I want to do what they do, and I want to eat what they eat; that last one’s important. I kindly asked my only neighbours (a married couple) if they could run me through what a local French family eats during the week, and of course, they told me all about it.

So, when we got to the car and looked at each other holding our cakes with a big smile on our faces, we realized that that's our kind of fun. We wouldn’t trade it for anything. No party, no holidays, no nothing could give us the same feeling. 

I know, it may sound like we were delirious. And we probably were (who knows what these homemade cakes were made with), or maybe it was because it was the 4th date of the day (the second one involving cake) and I didn’t speak to you about how magical the ones before were. But let me tell you, they were just as special as this one was.

Maybe it’s not only about the experience but the company.