I’ve really gotten behind this time. So much happens in the course of a day there is little time to write. (Again, Susan Tiberghien’s advice — keep a pad handy and jot down notes). Since the concert on the 1st the next big event was a trip to Versailles to take a cooking class!

No – not at the palace, but in someone’s home. Most people who are not French think the only thing in Versailles is the famous palace. But, in fact, Versailles is a town just like any other where people live and work, where there are other attractions and things to do.

I’ve no words to tell you just how much fun last Friday was from the time I took left our apartment at about 9:45 a.m.until I arrived back home.

The goal? To attend a cooking class in Versailles given by a woman who loves to cook and has begun to give cooking classes in her home. We were going to have lunch first at my friend’s sister’s home in Versailles before the class, and then drive back to Paris. Since my friend Veronique was not in Paris, the plan was that I would take the train to Versailles from Gare Saint Lazare meeting up with two other women (whom I’d didn’t know) along the way who were going as well. Names, cell phones numbers were exchanged and the time was set — we would get the 11:15 train arriving in Versailles at about 11:45.

I had reviewed the best ways to get to Gare Saint Lazare and decided that since I had plenty of time I’d take the bus — Bus #28. Gare Saint Lazare is the last stop. Well — I then decided to walk a good part of the way catching the bus just before it crossed the river so I could stop to buy a small pot of flowers for our hostess. The walk was wonderful with the morning air cool and misty, the streets freshly washed and Rue Cler, which I took to find a good flower shop, usually packed with shoppers and diners, was nearly empty. Good — I got to the bus stop and waited – and waited — and waited. No bus! This was highly unusual and equally unusual was the fact that there was no GPS information giving the minutes to the next bus. What should I do?

I knew that the minute I moved from my spot the bus would come. I called Amanda — one of the women I was to meet, “I’ve been waiting for nearly 20 minutes — there is no bus — I don’t think I’ll make the 11: 15. “ She was cool and said not to worry. We’ll get the 11:30 if I miss it, but to let her know so she can call Helene who was going to get on the train one stop after Saint Lazare. OK. I started to walk toward the metro and just as I was almost too far from the bus stop the bus appeared rounding the corner 3 blocks away. I turned back and started running as fast as I could (which isn’t that fast), and as the bus passed me and stopped to let a passenger off at MY stop, still running, I was yelling, “Entendez!! Entendez!” — which means “Listen! Listen!” — but others around the bus realized what was happening and started signaling to the driver to wait. At the same time I realized my error and started yelling “Attendez! Attendez! S’il vous plait!” (Wait! Wait! Please!)He waited, I thanked him and I made it to the train station in time to buy my ticket from a clerk, and get to the train in plenty of time to meet Amanda.

Helene joined us and exactly as planned, Veronique pulled up to the station, Versailles Rive Droite, as we came out and we drove the short distance to her sister’s home. She had already dropped her mother off – a wonderful, lively, energetic self-sufficient computer savy women in her late eighties. We were quite a group!

It was noon. The aperitifs came out and were poured before lunch. The jokes flew fast and furious and when I looked totally lost, someone would explain. Everyone at the table spoke English from excellent to pretty good, but they and I wanted the day to be in French. When I started to speak — ask a question or tell a story – in English, the group would turn to me and say, “En francais!” for my benefit. I so appreciated their willingness to listen to me plod along, correcting my mistakes and supplying the right word when needed.

It was like listening to a 33 rpm record at 78 rpms at first. (Remember what that sounded like?). At high speed — French – fast – everyone speaking at once (or so it seemed), jokes, laughter, fun. I felt as a little baby must upon hearing spoken language for the first time – “these sounds –what are they? I’ve never heard them before. Mommy! Help!” They all did. Little by little my ear began to become accustomed to the tempo and chatter more and more the sounds became understandable words. Of course, the women helped me with the specifics. I loved it!

Everyone was relaxed, even our hostess who was serving lunch. She did it with such ease, as her sister has so many times when we’ve been to her home for dinner (mind you –for never less then 8), and her mother, too, at her home. How gracious they are — how easy they make it look. No stress — no rush – take your time – enjoy – relax. The moment was to be enjoyed and shared around food and drink, friendship and family the key and the link. At least that is how it looks to me. It is what makes being here so special.

When the time came, the 6 of us piled into Anne’s car, and headed to our class. Tomorrow’s blog…..