“Can’t you see it?” she asked me. “It’s Leonardo Da Vinci’s tiny French commune.” “I’ve been walking for like an hour and I’m exhausted. I’m going to sit on this bench over here for about two days,” I told my ephemeral guide. “Perfect. Right over there. Nope, one more bench over. There, you got it.”…
Preparation for my upcoming trip was littered with travel expectations and extensive, more like obsessive, planning. France owned me. The kids made it clear they were over it. “All you think about and talk about is France,” my oldest repeated, deservedly irritated with a lack of parental attention. “What will you do when you don’t have…
My ancestral family name is de la Rivière, Of The River. When I traced those ancestors back to the time they arrived in Canada, more than four centuries before this moment, I hardly understood. Of The River. A very straightforward translation. Land owners in Burgundy and further north. Farmers in France at a time when…
With about forty days left before I hit the skies for France, the pace of preparation is picking up. And so are the travel jitters. It’s no mystery that I’m excited for this research trip. Hiding my enthusiasm isn’t a thing. Nor is it something I attempt to muster the capacity to achieve. I let…