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The weather has been strange the last couple days. According to Louise’s family, late July is typically hot and most of the time is spent jumping into rivers and sitting by pools. Since I’ve arrived the weather has been most cloudy with intermittent rain. Therese remarked that, due to the unusual weather, the peach and pear trees in the garden haven’t yielded fruit this year.

Two nights ago we drove back to Sarlat for street performances that included a strong man pole dancer and a wonky magician. We garnished the night with ice cream.

Yesterday we woke up late and I spent the morning reading going clear, a book documenting Scientology. The family moves slowly and time passes similarly. Eventually we ate lunch and the younger clan of the house headed to another spot along a river.

This particular river was frigid. After each hesitating we jumped into the algae speckled water. The cold-water shock to the senses was a high. Soon after I fell asleep on a rock nearby. By the time Louise woke me up, a cloud in the shape of India had floated over my head. The car ride back to the house was goofy with Cyril playing DJ and the rest of the passengers singing along. We ended up listening to Empire of the Sun and Smash Mouth.

At home, Michel, Martine’s boyfriend, arrived along with Florence, Martine’s twin sister. We rinsed off the river water as the house prepared to head to Eyrignac et res Jardins, marketed as the most beautiful gardens in Périgord. As requested by the garden itself we dressed in white attire.

Entrance to the garden was 18 euros (ouch) and after parking our picnic in the white garden area we took a tour of the gardens. The gardens have been maintained by the same family for more than 500 years. The grounds are covered with bush sculptures (?) and well maintained grass. Louise and I laughed about trying to think of activities more bourgeoise than paying entrance to marvel at 500 year old gardens. We struggled to come up with examples to top it.

Inside the white garden around 150 people sat on blankets surrounded by their food. A cocktail bar served patrons nearby and a DJ played songs along the lines of Bob Marley, Otis Redding, and Somewhere Over the Rainbow. We unpacked our coolers and Cyril passed around a variety of Belgian beers for us to sample. My favorite was Val Dieu, a monastery-esque brewery that also makes cheese. For dinner we passed plates of cheese, quiche, tomato pie, and eventually another peach cake.

Gradually the DJ’s song selection migrated from easy listening to pop and eventually all the way to 2010 era big room rave with appearances from Avicii and Steve Aoki. To my surprise, most of the families appeared to enjoy the music immensely, and ultimately we gave in and half danced around the grass. The night culminated in a brief fire breathing performance and firework show. The fireworks were close to the spectators as the garden was relatively small and fragments of discarded pyrotechnics rained down on us throughout the show.

Today, after a french breakfast of toast, butter, and homemade apricot jam, I took another run near the strawberry farm. Louise trailed me on bike through the cool, tree covered path, and I was happy to break a sweat after days of pies and wine. This afternoon Florence gave us a ride into town (around 20 minutes) and we spent the afternoon working at the library. Currently I’m working on a couple websites which the limited internet access makes slightly difficult.

We stopped in old Gourdon to buy some fruit to bring back to the house, and the vendor looked exactly like smart, short woman with large glasses from The Incredibles. Instead of throwing out a tray of bruised peaches, she offered the lot to Louise and I and we happily accepted. To get home we hitchhiked and after twenty minutes of walking we were picked up by a friendly middle aged woman and her toddler son, Louie. As is becoming the usual in France, I spent the majority of the ride looking like this: (picture of dog in science outfit with i have no idea what I’m doing on it)

I’m really grateful for the way Louise’s family has approached my lack of French language skills. Having someone patronize limited language ability is brutal. They have been wonderful with helping me understand without making me feel like an imbecile.