La Shack!

The genius of the shack is that it is the most beautiful middle of nowhere that we could ever hope to find. The nearest village is St. Lary which features the typically wonderful French restaurant, the worst bakery in France, and a chance to watch the Tour de France zoom past.  But first there is the story of getting there.

We decided to fly into Barcelona to save money on airfare, and this would give us all a chance to see a little of the city.  Nancy and Phil drove across the Pyrenees and to the sea to fetch us, and they had a great day in the city.  We arrived late at night, caught a cab at the airport, where taken to the wrong hotel, and arrived at the correct hotel at 11:30.  As I stepped out of the taxi I saw a dog taking a poo on the sidewalk directly in front of the hotel.  Evidently this dog had stayed at the hotel and was offering his review. 

We went to the front desk to check in--double bed and a travel cot--standard request for our travels and had never once been a problem.  But they didn't have the cot in the room, didn't know that we wanted one, even though I'd written it on the reservation.  Worst of all they didn't have the key to get into the closet to give us a cot.  Chloe understands a lot, and she knew something was wrong and that it was preventing her from going to crib.  So there we stand with crying child, I realize we aren't getting the cot, so I say forget it give me the room key.  We need to repeat this request three times, because the boys behind the counter are still busy explaining why they can't get the cot.

We get to the room and take in the ultra sleek and modern furnishings, flat screen TV, huge shower.  I see that there is a square armchair and figure that Nancy and Phil must have another.  As the hotel boy is bringing up luggage and explaining the features of the room, we are dragging furniture around to build a crib.  Finally, with Chloe happy, we decide to turn the AC on high because it's very stuffy in the room.  After some time and fiddling, we realize that it's not working and so call down to the desk.  One of the boys comes up, now fairly sick and terrified of us.  He informs us that we just turned it down too low.  We spend a sleepless night sweltering in the heat, and the next morning when I ask for a discount for the dog-crappy service, I find out that indeed the whole building was without AC.  So that was Barcelona, but we do want to go back.  We figure all the bad travel experiences were condensed into that one night.

We were all very happy to stuff ourselves into the car and get to France.  Lots of fields of sunflowers and lots of toll booths later, we were still driving.  Did this trip ever end?  When we stopped to get gas at a gas station that had more prostitutes that gas pumps, Nancy figured that we'd saved about 5 euros by going with the cheap airfare.  But we did get to the shack.  The end of the trip had the highlight of picking up Sam Doggy.  Chloe was delighted, but the car was so full that Sam had to ride on Phil's lap, so Sam was delighted too.  Chloe and Sam actually agreed with each other on almost all points except the eating of toys.

Throughout the trip Nancy and Phil had express concern about whether we would like or be able to handle the ambiance of the shack.  It's list of virtues is that is doesn't not have plumbing, electricity, or road access--sustainable living in the highest.  So all that stuff that was in the car: luggage, food, water, child had to be carried five minutes up the hill in a light rain. It was 9 pm when we arrived, and I hadn't fully understood the panicked hurry until the race to cook dinner began in the fading light.  But honestly, we loved it!  Phil had put down cushioned floor foam in the living room.  The upstairs had two beautiful bedrooms and a crib corner.  There are huge windows that look up the hill into the meadow, and we can hear the stream running. 

Chloe was in heaven.  Candles everywhere.  Loir (squirrel like things in the walls of the kitchen) who stole her banana during the night.  Dirt, beetles, water, leaves.  Oh happy day!  And best of all she was back with Aunt Nancy, Uncle Phil and Sam Doggy.

Each morning started with French press coffee, fruit (any left by the mice) and croissants.  Then there was the work of dishes, brushing teeth, and, um, "flushing the toilet".  This was the hardship of the shack for me because French baked goods have a lot of dairy, I'm allergic, thus causing some rather dramatic episodes with the poo bucket.  Let's just say that everyone always wanted to be included in on the trips to town.  Buying one beer, coffee, or wine equaled unlimited toilet access.  Ah, the miracle of flushing!

On July 23 we had the excitement of the Tour de France going through the local village.  People flocked to the village and lined the side of the road two hours before time, and lots of publicity vehicles go through tossing out free stuff.  We sent Jimmy the baseball player down and he came back loaded with keychains, balloons, and best of all coffee that lasted us the entire week.  Finally when the helicopters show up and the support vehicles come through it gets very tense.  Everyone is armed with their cameras.  The actual race last about 30 seconds.  Luckily there was a breakaway pack and then the full group.  We even managed to get a photo of the yellow-jersey wearer who got tossed out of the race two days later for allegations of blood doping. 

I haven't even gotten to the French food yet.  That deserves a blog all to itself.