The story of our family of five six that has been uprooted from a city on the plains of Canada and find ourselves in a village in the French Alpes.
Consider yourself informed.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Le Bal
There were signs up around town for the local bal. When we told the kids, the girls were quite excited as they heard “a royal ball, just like in Cinderella” and not “a small dance in town square with some people from the village and a cover-rock band.”
But rest assured, no one was disappointed. Certainly not the girls who put on their best gowns for spinning in, nor the band who were now playing for 3 times the amount of dancers as they were before the 10 of us got there. They boys were pretty pleased that the fountain in the square has potable water, so they could dance, then just stick their heads in the fountain for some fresh water. OK, I admit, I was a bit disappointed when I blew out one of my flip-flops, but that was a minor set back to the evening. In a way it almost felt like we showed up - took over the dance (as we were probably 70% of the collective town dancing troupe) and then we stole away at 10pm for our next event of the night - with the 6 kids.
PS: right before we left for Le Bal - our youngest informed us that he was going to “dance like a meatball” We weren’t’ sure what that meant - but when he had danced for a bit, he asked if we had seen him do the above mentioned dance. Then a few days later when driving though the village, he pointed to the square, and reminded us that that was in fact the place where he had danced…like a meatball.
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