Luncheon with the BWC
Yesterday I had lunch at a hip restaurant downtown right on the river that runs through downtown Bordeaux. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and 60 degrees, and I had a lunch date with the Bordeaux Women's Club, a club I joined to find other English speakers. The lunch was delicious but the company was really what I needed. I ended up sitting next to an American woman who came as a guest of a regular member. She was visiting from California and we had great conversation during the whole meal.
To my right was an English lady in her 60's who moved to Bordeaux just three months ago. We had some conversation as well, and somehow we got to talking about Maryland. Someone at the table asked if my family was originally from Maryland (and that made me snicker in my head, "Ariel Rainey of the Millersville Raineys" like some snooty social climber). I said, "Yes, on my mother's side, but my father is from the mountains of North Carolina."
Maggi, the English lady, said, "Oh, the Blue Ridge mountains! How lovely!"
"Yes, we still have a family summer home there, and it is very beautiful there in the mountains," I replied.
She continued, "I was only in North Carolina once, in a little town called Blowing Rock, but it was unforgettable!"
My eyes opened wide in shock, "That's where our house is! That's where my father grew up!" Everyone at the table was amazed that a British lady in her 60's, having only been to the US three times in her life, would know the little mountain town of Blowing Rock. I am continually amazed by the small world we live in.
In other news . . . I know that all of you on the East Coast are probably complaining about the snow and ice storms, but I would gladly transport myself there if I could. I miss the snow! I miss looking out the dining room window at home watching the snow flakes fall in the halo of light from the church parking lot next door. I miss wondering how much will accumulate and whether schools and businesses will be closed the next day. I don't miss shoveling at all.
To my right was an English lady in her 60's who moved to Bordeaux just three months ago. We had some conversation as well, and somehow we got to talking about Maryland. Someone at the table asked if my family was originally from Maryland (and that made me snicker in my head, "Ariel Rainey of the Millersville Raineys" like some snooty social climber). I said, "Yes, on my mother's side, but my father is from the mountains of North Carolina."
Maggi, the English lady, said, "Oh, the Blue Ridge mountains! How lovely!"
"Yes, we still have a family summer home there, and it is very beautiful there in the mountains," I replied.
She continued, "I was only in North Carolina once, in a little town called Blowing Rock, but it was unforgettable!"
My eyes opened wide in shock, "That's where our house is! That's where my father grew up!" Everyone at the table was amazed that a British lady in her 60's, having only been to the US three times in her life, would know the little mountain town of Blowing Rock. I am continually amazed by the small world we live in.
In other news . . . I know that all of you on the East Coast are probably complaining about the snow and ice storms, but I would gladly transport myself there if I could. I miss the snow! I miss looking out the dining room window at home watching the snow flakes fall in the halo of light from the church parking lot next door. I miss wondering how much will accumulate and whether schools and businesses will be closed the next day. I don't miss shoveling at all.