May 3rd--Getting ready to leave

Dear Mother,

Janice suggested that instead of e-mailing people about our trip, we should use a new blog which we can update as we get access to wi-fi.  This way, family can read our jottings if they wish to do so, and if not, there is less junk mail to delete.

Janice's study has become central headquarters, a place to dump everything we wish to pack.  We checked in on-line, paid for the extra bag (32 Euros, which is dear), have everything printed for neighbours and Harold, who has once again kindly agreed to hold down the fort in our absence.  This evening we had an additional 'final' dinner with Hans at La Bucca.  Tomorrow someone from AMBS will come here for breakfast, and then the packing begins in earnest, antique bathroom scales at hand, the one formerly used by Janice's Aeschliman grandparents.  We figure its accuracy will be close enough, though my tripod may tip it more than anticipated.

The photo introducing this blog shows Janice consulting about cataloguing matters with Neal Blough, who with Janie, looks after the Centre Mennonite de Paris in St Maurice, a suburb which shares a border with Paris.  The photo was taken in the library office, which also provides extra shelf space.  When Janice first volunteered at the Centre, there was a very small library tucked away under the rafters on the top floor, with the Bloughs family on the second floor and foreign students in the rooms on the mail floor (sharing a small kitchen and toilet).  A small Mennonite church met in the basement, crowded beyond belief in 1988-89.  Janice worked at organizing the books, a task others have picked up occasionally over the years.  A backlog two years ago prompted Neal to think of inviting Janice back for some more volunteering, and I of course as part of the package, pretending to be useful (shopping, cooking, mowing, photographing).  In addition to the sabbatical year, Janice has returned twice for a month each time, and this will be our third such visit.

By now, the tiny village of St Maurice is very familiar.  Sitting in Vancouver, I can even visualize which aisles have which goodies (Merlot farther to the right, etc.)  I now have my favourite bookstores on the Left Bank in Paris, know when the organ recitals will most likely be at St Eustache, when the baguettes are truly fresh at a local bakery (and almost too hot to carry), and which market stalls are important to visit on Saturday.  When one is 68, familiarity breeds tranquility rather than contempt.  And from this tranquil base of the familiar, we will soon begin another month in France.