Dotin' on Dotan ('s hospitality)

There is something strange and exciting about intense weather. Last night the wind was so strong I thought it was a train. This morning it began to pour and the rain blew around in waves. Everyone is soaked, their cheeks red from rushing through the water. It's kind of funny. A prof offers me a ride home, and we run through the rain to his car, hopping over puddles, clutching our bags. I run from his car to my door and a guy holds the door open for me so I won't have to fumble with my keys. I thank him, my bangs dripping. This rain also forces french sounds out of me, usually “ouuf,” sigh.

This weekend, however, we got lucky. Erin and I traveled from Saintes to Niort to Melle and back, which involved a bit of waiting and wandering here and there, and it seemed only to pour once we got in a car and stop before we got out. Watching rain from a backseat is pretty pleasing. Also pleasing was our experience with covoiturage, an internet-based ridesharing forum that everyone from hippy to business man seems to use in Europe. Our ride from Saintes to Niort was with a cute 20-something photographer who had a little dog, Flex, in the back seat giving us love the hour long ride. The ride back to Niort from Melle was in a big white bus/truck/camper with an extra license plate reading FUCK G8 and dried roses hanging from the rearview mirror. Jeremie, the driver, had a little cat that accompanied him and curled up in his lap the whole ride.

The drizzle was also particularly becoming in Melle, which is a hilly village in the middle of the countryside, surrounded by green and views of overlapping french roofs. Erin and I met Dotan, an intelligent, wholesome guy from BC, on the first training day and have wanted to visit him and his French girlfriend Elise since then. Unsurprisingly, they turned out to be top-notch hosts. Erin and I felt like we were on a vacation in the countryside staying in a cozy bed and breakfast, never mind that our bed was in Dotan's livingroom/diningroom/bedroom. Together they made us delicious risotto with mushrooms and chorizo and treated us to glasses of Pastiche (an anise-y liquor that turns cloudy white when you add water) and another aperitif from the other side of France that tastes like trees and flowers. It is made by monks with 170 (I think) different herbs and flowers collected from the region.

After dinner, a couple rounds of hearts and some vin chaud, we went down the local bar. It says something about Melle that one of the town's two pubs is collectively-run association, often hosting concerts and brewing their own beer. They were out of house beer, but we tried some other microbrew that was delicious. Since I arrived, I've been pretty smitten with the Belgian wheat beers like Leffe, but this reminded me of the complex, yummy microbrews that the NW and apparently certain small French towns are spoiled with. We also admired the life-size paper maché trumpeting man that hangs above the counter, which made me miss Portland quirk a little less.

In the morning Dotan solidified our high rating of their appartment B&B by serving us hot espresso and crepes. Because the crepes had milk in them, he made me two perfect fried eggs. And I'm not just being flowery, Erin can vouch that these were some good lookin' eggs. Warm and happy we went walking all over Melle. Dotan took us through the countryside, down little paths, into beautiful stone cathedrals and through two old clothes-washing pools. The landscape is different from La Rochelle, and I welcomed the autumn colors, the taller trees and the rolling hills. It rained lightly, but we agreed that it was quite fitting for our cozy little vacation. Xoxo, and thanks again to Dotan and Elise.