Carte de Suaveness

OK, I’m back from vacation (like the rest of Paris) and let me start by sharing the fabulous news: I got my temporary carte de sejour today, sans hitch! Nate and I arose at the crack of dawn and arrived at the prescribed Prefecture at 7:40a.m., only to be the third party in line. (We were widely cautioned to do this, as the line winds up getting quite long and you can consequently spend half your day just waiting to see an agent.) It was cold and I was underdressed for the occasion of waiting outside a police station for 90 minutes, but then the doors opened slightly after 9:00 and we wound up getting helped rather quickly. We kept marveling at how speedy things seemed, which buoyed us through the 25 minutes we spent with the dourest, most unenthused government employee I’ve ever encountered. She never cracked a smile, and even glowered at us a couple times, such as when she discovered the lack of a customs stamp on my passport upon entry to France and that we didn’t have a French translation of our marriage certificate – to which I say, Huh? In all the CDS literature I’ve seen – and trust me, I’ve been triple checking facts on this matter left and right – this item never made any list of requirements. Turns out neither item mattered, but why the sourness? Anyway, I strutted off happily, temporary CDS in hand, with an appointment in two months to get the real document (this is protocol). When we emerged from the building, the line’s length had quadrupled – which made us feel even better about our early wake-up time and our express (for France, mind you) service. Now I can work, get a phone, open a bank account, and gain access to the French healthcare system and probably scores of other things. Now it begins!

We had a lovely time at DMD and Stella’s wedding in Provence over the weekend. The event was set in Saint Saturnin les Apt, a charming village in the Luberon region. Nate and I had driven around the region when we visited France five years ago, and were delighted to return. The Luberon’s rolling, verdant hills dotted with vineyards and the occasional village cropping up bear a resemblance to the Tuscan countryside (our guess, confirmed by those who have been). Most villages have been standing for hundreds of years and much of the land has been undeveloped (at least by American standards), so at a glance the region looks almost untouched by time. By early September, the lavender harvest is already over, but the fragrance still looms in the air, adding sweetness to the breeze rustling through abundant poplar, olive, and fig trees. It’s a magical part of the country, one that I certainly plan to return to (although the list goes on of places I want to visit!).

Something I adore about destination weddings is the intimacy created over the course of a weekend between people who hadn’t yet known each other, but are brought together out of common love for the happy couple. On the night before the wedding, all guests were invited to a lively rehearsal dinner at a French-Tunisian restaurant, honoring the heritage of the groom’s family. It was fun meeting DM’s French relatives, Stella’s family and her fun American and British friends, and reconnecting with our own crew. Now, apparently this is a Jewish-French-Tunisian (love that combo) tradition carried out at bar mitzvahs, weddings, and so on – but none of us outside that cultural category were quite prepared for the surprise of the belly dancer. It was a riot watching DMD shake it with her, and even better when Stella joined them.

The wedding was held at the elegant Domaine des Andeols, a hotel set in what was once an ancient village. Each building houses its own domaine and is decorated around a theme. Ours was Maison Blanche, appointed in all things white, including a chair that felt like sitting in a white feather boa. The grounds were absolutely beautiful (potentially one of the most idyllic settings for a wedding I’ve ever encountered), but nothing compared to the joy of seeing two good friends celebrate their love. The ceremony was heartfelt and moving, and I honestly feel touched to have been there and share in the beauty of it all.

It was also a blast to spend time with dear friends. Although surely there were many others who couldn’t make it, we had solid representation from both college and Bay Area days. My gut is still sore from all the laughter. We spent a lot of time relaxing, eating, and drinking wine in the charming villages of the region. This was my first opportunity to feel French, as we hadn’t even been here more than a week and I was already on vacation – and what a way to do so.