Marvels of Man

This is the tallest piller of Le viaduc de Millau, the highest traffic bridge in the world, located just outside of Millau, in South Western France. It crosses the Valley of the River Tarn. For the French of the Southwest, the opening of this viaduct in 2004 was like the opening of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The summertime traffic jams in this area are legendary. Prior to the Viaduct, travelers had to descend into the valley and then climb out again. If you are interested in the full story of the viaduct, I urge you to visit the link.

Each time I go to France, my host father finds something new to show me. He loves nothing more than load my host mother and me into the car, usually at some gastly time in the morning (not my favorite part of the day) for a daylong drive. My host siblings usually poke fun at me for having to take these jaunts. "Ah Tara, have a nice drive with Papa?" They ask with smirks on their faces.

These trips aren't always jaunts either. I remember the Easter weekend that he loaded us into the car, drove non-stop Toulouse-Paris (a 9 hour trip) with a smile on his face the whole way. We stayed the night with relatives on the outskirts of Paris, drove 3 hours the next day to Mont St. Michael which my host mother and I thought we'd get to visit. Instead, he stopped in the parking lot in front of the famous rock long enough for me to snap two pictures, and then took off again to St. Mère Eglise in Normandy. My host mother was less than amused.

Stanis was a salesman, and he spent his days driving and visiting his clients across the Southwest of France. He knows every corner of the area, and loves to show it off, playing tour guide. The first time I visited France, he took me on some of his client visits. I am glad he did that. I can say that I have genuinely seen France from all angles- from the people of the deep country to urban elite. That is more than I can say about my own country.

Stanis doesn't just show you the sites, he quizzes you unexpectedly! You drive around for an hour, and at every field with a cow in it, he points out the window and says, "See! See! Cows of the Midi!" Then he starts the quiz. As you wiz by a field, he calls out, "What kind of cows are those?" I must answer, "Cows of the Midi." In France, the first two numbers of the license plate indicate what "department" or municipality someone is from. "What department is that car from?" I must answer, "Tarn and Garonne" or "Bordeaux". "What number is our region?" "32". "What is our county seat?" "Toulouse". And so it goes. Drive, get a tour, get a test. It used to make me crazy. Now it amuses me. And I quiz him back, sometimes pre-empting him. "Stanis, quick! What kind of trees are those?" He laughs at me and replies, "peach!" "No, white peach! be specific!" I made a point of doing it a lot when my host parents visited me in California. I pointed out every palm tree, limo, and semi-truck , and then quized him just like he did me! " All is fair in love and tourism.

When I first visited France and stayed with my family, I was often very tired. Trying to speak French all day, remain a gracious guest, and adjust to a totally new environment took its toll. So I tended to fall asleep in the car, which frustrated my host dad who was quick to wake me up saying, "You have a lifetime to sleep, but today you have to see this." Of course when HE got sleepy, he'd pull off on the road, kick my host mother and me out of the car, and take a 10 minute nap. Then he was ready to roll again. He was right of course. We have a lifetime to sleep, and we must see all of this!