Little Surprises

Life unfolded yesterday as it is fond of doing in Provence, bringing the unexpected in two small and sometimes moving surprises.

We were warned that parking would be difficult here in Mollans due to an influx of Sapeurs-Pompiers for a conference. Sapeurs-Pompiers, or pompous saviors as Hallie's friend Carl nicknamed them, are firemen and they descended on our little village complete with trucks and uniforms, gobbling up the public parking spots and gumming up traffic pretty thoroughly. We don't have a garage and parking is not normally a concern, except if the summer Saturday market is happening or if it's the annual, village-wide tag sale in September. However, we took the warning to heart and settled in to a day in the village. After lunch, we went for one of our multiple mini-walks and, en route, heard band music coming from the other side of the village. Hoofing it over towards the mairie, or city hall, we found firemen and women arranged in formation, dressed both in working duds and dress uniforms with a twenty piece marching band doing its best with the Marseillaise. They, like the fire trucks and rescue vehicles parked in the main lot, came in all shapes and sizes. Our favorite was the four and half foot saxaphone player who may have been born just shortly before Jesus Christ and the tall, lanky fire fighter in dress blues with a Charles de Gaulle nose.

After the Marseillaise, a speaker came forward and introduced various dignitaries from villages and towns throughout our region of the Drome. One by one, as each name was announced, he or she stepped up with a bouquet to be escorted to the war memorial that lists the dead from our village. With each bouquet gently left behind, the moment became increasingly touching. Afterwards, the first of the fire trucks fired up its engine, topped with a gleamingly metal helmeted fireman waving a flag, and started slowly out the village, followed by all the other trucks, each representing towns in the Drome. The other firefighters assumed a raggedy formation and marched off, mostly in step, led by the band, mostly in tune. Quite the display for our tiny community.

Later that afternoon, heading out for walk two, a couple stopped us to ask where were the Americans with the cooking school. We introduced ourselves as the very thing and they broke into English. She turned out to be from Louisianna while he was clearly French. They've lived in the village for three years and this is the first time we've met each other. How in a town of around 900 inhabitants could we have missed each other?

Tallying things up, two surprises for one day. That's what letting things unfold brings to our life. More is sure to come.