Christmas guests

It was the day after Christmas day when more guests arrived. My sister Anna and her husband Andrejs joined us after their whirlwind holiday tour of NYC, Chicago and Eau Clair before their short sightseeing trip to Dublin. Although they had spent a whole day traveling to get here, they were still gung ho to get out and see the city at night. All seven of us took a ride in the Ferris wheel, but it was the fog that made the night memorable.

The fog was so thick we could hardly see the Christmas tree from the top of the wheel, much less the cathedral. Once back on the ground we continued our walk through the near empty streets, all the way to Cathédrale Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption and the Marché de Noël, where only the hot wine and food vendors were still open for the night.

By the next day the fog had lifted, but we spent it doing more of the same; walks through the city with some shopping and cafés thrown in, a visit to the supermarché for Indra and Matīss, naps, presents and relaxing near the Christmas tree and finally, a superb dinner at a local restaurant.

My Two Kings

Friday France celebrated Kings Day (Epiphany); the day Catholic tradition states that the Three Kings arrived in Bethlehem to honor the Christ Child (the Latvian Zvaigznes diena). Celebrating with a “King Cake” in France is quite common, for Catholics and non-Catholics alike. According to Wikipedia, in Provence the King Cake is gâteau des Rois made of brioche and candied fruits and in the northern half of France galette des Rois, a puff pastry with frangipane. Historically there was a bean baked inside, and when eating the cake, the person who gets the piece of cake with the trinket becomes “king” for a day. The beans have over time been replaced first by porcelain and now by plastic figurines.

We were lucky enough to partake in the celebration twice, the first time with our mom & baby group here in Clermont. Nadine brought a delicious King Cake (a brioche with chocolate) to share with the group, and although we skipped having a child crawl under the table to determine who receives which piece (so that there is no possibility of the chef or cake-cutter rigging the process), there was indeed a little plastic king figurine hidden in the cake. Lauris was the lucky one to discover it, and I was the lucky one to have to explain that the plastic piece is in fact not edible, and not meant to swallow, eat or place in mouth. However he was crowned king for the day and we enjoyed a couple of hours spent catching up with our Clermont friends, sipping coffee and enjoying the King Cake.

I first heard of jubilārs vēlās from my aunt and her family, where on their birthday, the birthday boy/girl is in charge (within reason) and calls the shots. They can request special meals and favors, a sort of king for a day. And so it happens that the other man in my life becomes a king for a day, as Roberts celebrates his birthday today.

Today was also our second celebration of Kings Day. In the morning I ran out to our local bakery with Lauris for a couple of fresh croissants and found a line out the front door and a camera crew filming the action. The shelves were full of galette des Rois, and I couldn't help but change my order to include one of the beautiful looking pastries to eat with our breakfast of fruit salad. It seemed only destiny that Lauris find the second figurine in his mini portion of the pastry: this one an Auvergnate rugby player!

Robert, the coming year will bring another addition to the family as well as many wonderful adventures and challenges, and I just want to remind you that your “queen” will be by your side for all of it! Daudz laimes dzimšanas dienā, mīļais!



My two kings



Super-Lioran and Murat

On their previous visit, we took Matīss and Indra on a whirlwind tour of the Gorges du Tarn, complete with château, boat ride, hike & getting lost, and tons of scenic overlooks and stops for pictures. Let’s just say, being 37 weeks pregnant is not conducive to any of the above. On the day after Christmas we did hop into the car for a much closer destination, Puy Mary. Roberts had been once with a couple of out of town guests, and although I very much wanted to climb to the top from which there supposedly is a superb view of the Auvergne, I was content to let our guests have this experience and sit this one out with a chocolat chaud in the café at the base.

So you know Pas de Peyrol, the highest mountain pass in the Massif Central? In December? Yeah, they have snow. And lots of it. The pass was closed, and so we were rerouted from Puy Mary to Super-Lioran and the cable car that runs up to the top of the highest peak in the Cantal range, Plomb du Cantal. Super-Lioran is a winter sports resort that was jam-packed with skiers, sledders and half the population of the Auvergne decked out in their winter gear. I parked myself in the local brasserie with a pizza and hot chocolate while the rest checked out the scene.

Well, as it turns out the cable car was not running due to high winds, so once again we changed our plans and instead continued down the Cère river valley to the Cascade de la Roucolle and a quick peek at the Château de Pesteils (a beautiful medieval castle overlooking the Cère and Polminhac).

On our trip back we stopped in Murat for a quick dash up Rocher de Bonnevie. The sides of the hill are composed of large basalt columns, and where there used to be a castle before Richelieu ordered it razed, now stands a statue of the Virgin Mary. We enjoyed a fabulous sunset, the view of Murat, the Alagnon valley and the Cantal mountains before the disappearing daylight urged us back down to the car.

The third of the twelve wrought iron crosses leading up to the Virgin Mary statue

We had been hoping to dine in Murat, but once again were foiled by the typical “dinner is only served starting at 8pm” and holiday closures, and so we returned to Clermont-Ferrand for a dinner in one of the restaurants on Place de Jaude.

I'm also proud to announce that I have officially been blogging for one year. I posted Happy New Year!!! exactly one year ago and although it seems like such a short time, when I think of all the places we've visited I'm glad that I've recorded some of it here. Will the next year bring as many adventures, that we have yet to find out, but here is to the new year and another year of blogging.

Le Père Noël

It was with some trepidation that we awaited the arrival of le Père Noël this Christmas. Sara in Le Petit Village was the first to warn me about le Père Fouettard, the evil partner of the French Santa who travels around with him on Christmas eve to hand out coal and whippings to the naughty children... I will not repeat the terrible crimes he stands accused of (you can read about them here) but will admit that the stories scared me into behaving! And so on Christmas eve, when Lauris was finally tucked into bed (and we’ll wait a few years before mentioning Father Christmas’s partner to him) we hoped that in lieu of the good and evil duo we would be paid a visit by Sala vecīts, Santa Claus or Saint Nicholas.

As it turns out Lauris, our guests Matīss and Indra, Roberts and I must have been extremely good last year! While I started the crêpes in the kitchen Lauris discovered the giant construction crane in the living room (which truthfully was as much of a surprise to mom as it was to son!). We’ve been spending some time watching the construction site next to the Carrefour here in town, and Lauris’s favorite are the giant cranes (although the cement mixers come in a close second). He has become adept at spotting them before I even see them: looming over a building, out the car window and even in the dark! So imagine his joy at having an “AM-ĀH” (in Latvian the word is ceļamkrāns and Lauris has shortened it some) of his own to play with.

Learning to operate the crane with onkulis Matīss

After a late breakfast we opened presents and I was once again absolutely astonished by the lovely gifts and well wishes that appeared under our tree from across the Atlantic and Latvia. Being our first Christmas away from the parents/grandparents it was especially meaningful to me to know that all of our relatives were thinking of us and missing us as much as we them.

The rest of the day was lazily spent between the living room and the dining room, with a short break before dinner to take another walk through town and enjoy the beautiful lights. A beautiful Christmas with some of our favorite people!

The town hall, Place Delille and Place de Jaude

Noël a Clermont

This was the first Christmas I have ever spent away from the Midwest; for the last 29 years I have spent Christmas Eve at my grandmother’s house or my husband’s parents house, and Christmas day has mostly been celebrated at my parent’s house. I’m not sure what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t this wave of homesickness (and by that I mean for the familiar, for I consider our apartment here in Clermont-Ferrand home) and increased sense of distance from family and the United States.

Being about a month away from my due date we decided early on that we wouldn’t be traveling, and were blessed with family choosing to come to us instead. Matīss, Roberts’s brother who visited us last Easter, and his girlfriend Indra arrived the evening before Christmas Eve, flying into Lyon and then taking the late train to Clermont. We learned another valuable lesson about travel in France; around the holidays it is better to book first class to guarantee a seat, the four hours spent aboard the train must have been cramped and tiring as Matīss wasn’t even able to get a seat. But our guests made it in good spirits despite an one-hour delay, and shortly after their arrival we were seated around the table digging into some local cheese and charcuterie.

With our guests and the Place de Jaude Christmas tree

Christmas Eve day was much more relaxed than ever before as most of the presents were wrapped and all that remained to be done was one final trip to the store for last-minute supplies. We took our guests for a tour of the Christmas sights in downtown, starting at Place de Jaude with its giant Ferris wheel and Christmas tree (whose lights and top had been repaired since the big wind storm), and on through the old section of town decked out in lights, finally arriving at the Marché de Noël for some roasted chestnuts, mulled wine and fried dough for the pregnant lady. After a ride on the petit train taking us through the rest of town we were home, just in time to grab a bite to eat before a short walk to Eglise Saint-Pierre les Minimes, the nearby church that we had visited for a friend’s son’s first communion.





Our next lesson was soon learned, arriving 15 minutes early was enough to guarantee a seat, but not enough for normal seating; the last remaining spots were all the way in the very front of the church in the corner with no view of the altar, the priest or any of the children participating in the service. Lauris, who had not yet napped, showed great patience for the first hour, making friends with some of the other three foot tall service goers. However, in the end it proved too much and we made our exit during communion. Maybe it was because of how little I was able to participate due to my lack of French, maybe it was because of the enormity of the church interior or maybe it was because of the lack of the familiar (such as the dimming of the lights and lighting of the candles during the singing of Klusā nakts, svētā nakts (Silent Night, Holy Night), but the feeling of inner calm I usually find in church on Christmas eve was missing this year. It was only later, sitting around the table surrounded by my family, with candles and the Christmas tree lighting the room and with a big Christmas dinner on the table that the Christmas spirit returned for me. Roberts led the singing of all the traditional Christmas carols, and it was late before we all retired to await the arrival of le Père Noël.