Wearemovingtofrance.com made perfectly good sense in February 2020.
We didn’t even know about the global pandemic, it’s magnitude, or ‘Murica’s insane and crippled response. We wouldn’t even experience the full frontal impact for another month.

We didn’t know about a lot of things. We weren’t really sure how this move to France would work out. The logistics, the hoops, or the new life that awaited us.

Here I am, 4:00 in the morning, Monday, the 24th of March, and less than our 2nd anniversary here.

I am in France.
Writing this blog under this banner feels awkward.

A blanket of normalcy is being wrapped around me. The stupid shopping carts are normal now, the sans permis vehicles like the Citron AMI are normal (as normal as can be), and the crazy modern architecture is now normal.

Every panel is symmetrical, the front right and the real left quarter panels are the same, the driver door is a suicide door, the passenger door, being the same door, opens normal. The front and rear are the same. It drives both forwards and backwards at the same time.

Driving is normal.
I have my license; won through hard work and determination, is in my wallet.

Food is normal.
Delightful, seasonal fresh produce is normal, and the fact that the seasons are reflected so well at my grocery store is normal.

I am learning that French country life and French city life are different entities. Here the regional foods of pate and duck dominate. Getting a bowl of ramen requires a 15 minute drive to the train station, an hour train ride and a short walk to the Ramen restaurant. Back in ‘Murica I could get a bowl of ramen from a variety of places, from 20 to 40 minutes away. Little Tokyo was, however about the same, if not longer of a trip.

Some things are taking a while to get used to

With our mutuelle insurance, I go to the doctor, it is €0.
I go get my prescriptions, I pay €0.
This feels weird.

I am, unfortunately, under assault from the pollen.
Order of magnitude more than anything I dreamed of.
Oh the mucus… (sorry) (not sorry)

That is the one things I did not expect.

The architecture that is old, the chateaus and old stone buildings… those are still shocking. I grew up surrounded by stucco and wood veneer paneling. Building that are older than ‘Murica…everywhere… Amazing.

The one thing that I truly did not expect was that France has almost completely removed my ability to photograph landscapes; Let me explain.

Just yesterday, I was on the way home from dropping off my daughter.

It had been raining on and off.

I am driving towards the gentle ascent to the road we live on, there is a field with a small group of cows to my right. I round the bend, on my left is a chateau, but dead ahead is the sun shining through the clouds and misty rain, crepuscular rays beaming out across the sky.

Verdant hills below, lit at an extreme angle, accentuating every ripple of the landscape. I literally teared up at the beauty.

I bask in this glory as I drive towards my home, past the chateau, past more cows on the right (these are white, the others were brown) past the verdant hill with the startling illumination, now in close up view, and I get goose bumps. I giggle.

I start to ascend the hill, wind around to the left, more brown cows in the field to my left, and there it is, a fucking glorious rainbow.

I laugh out loud.

I rush home to show my wife, before the winds shift the clouds and the rainbow disappears. It lingers, we go to the back yard and bask in its glory.

A few minutes later, the clouds shift and the other end of the rainbow is revealed. We take the dogs for a walk, the rainbow disappears, but we still get to see the pastures, fields and vineyards. Roiling clouds on the western horizon shift slowly, some more crepuscular rays of light, wild flowers painting the landscape with the ruins of an old windmill from the 1600’s in the foreground.

I would rather stare at the beauty of this landscape than photograph it.

My photography happens in the wee morning hours, at 2:00 or 3:00 am when I can’t sleep. Sure, sometimes it boils up inside me and I grab a camera and take photos of landscapes, but never for very long.

I even wrote about this for a photography site called PetaPixel.

Kitchen News
We were promised that the final iteration of the final cabinet would be in the warehouse last week. We have received no phone call.
That is 235 days of waiting.
That is more than 33 weeks.
We are a few days away from 8 months…

The portions of the kitchen that can be done are done. We have put up the stone veneer, the tile, the grout and outlet vanity plates.

The kitchen that is up is showing the signs of wear.

Imagine a baby that is being delivered, is growing up, going to school and hasn’t even been completely delivered yet.

Here is what can happen in 33 weeks:

A breeding pair of rabbits can turn into a total of 1500 rabbits..

I can fly from Los Angeles to Paris and back 213 times in 33 weeks.
Volkswagen makes over 5 million cars in 33 weeks.

But apparently a kitchen can’t be finished.