Franche-Comté, 12 and 13 July

I've fallen behind in writing this blog, which is no longer in chronological order. I'm writing this on Saturday, trying to tell you what I did on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Here goes:

On Monday evening, I said goodbye to Jean and Nicole in Dijon and boarded the train for Frasne. (That's pronounced something like "Frahn.")  Frasne is in the region of Franche-Comté, which extends to the boarder with Switzerland. 

Do I have a photo for you of the train? No. Those moments of saying farewell before boarding a train are just too emotional, as are the moments of arrival and searching for the familiar face on the platform.

But the inter-city trains in France are wonderful. They are called, "TGV" —Train à Grande Vitesse (high-speed train) 

Here are the people who met me at the station in Frasne:

Marie-Therese is on the right. Marie Therese is my second cousin; our grandmothers were sisters in Krosno, Poland. Marie Therese and I met for the first time in 1967 in Paris, when I was on my way home from Peace Corps Nigeria. (When I was a child growing up in Chicago, I had no idea that I had cousins in Paris!) 

In the center of the photo is my cousin's good friend, Anne-Marie, who spends part of the year here in Franche-Comté. 

Mateo, on the left in the photo above, is Anne-Marie's grand-nephew — the grandson of her sister. Babette. (You'll meet Babette later.) Mateo and his sister and parents live on the French island of Réunion, east of Madagascar. Mateo is here in France on his school holidays.

Together, we drove to Anne-Marie's country home in the little town of Malbuisson. Malbuisson is just south of Pontarlier, on the shore of Lac Saint-Point.

Here's Anne-Marie's home in Malbuisson:

From the window of my upstairs room in Anne-Marie's house, I could see the lake:

Somewhere, in the fields between the neighbor's house and the lake, there are cows. These cows are not taken inside at night. They roam at night, and every cow has a bell. They sound like wind chimes all night long.

Here's the view from the kitchen window on the other side of the house:

The houses is Malbuisson made me feel that I was in Switzerland. Or maybe in New Glarus, Wisconsin!

Here's the smoke-house in Malbuisson where they cure the local sausage:

We had hoped to go out onto the lake in paddle boats, but it was raining. It rained the whole time I was there in Malbuisson.

The rain did not deter this sailing class:

Or a couple of brave kids who went in swimming!

Instead of going into the lake, we drove around it. 

At one point, at the northern end of Lac Saint-Point, there is an old fishing village. Or, better to say that it used to be a fishing village. The first tiny house was built in 1904. 

 Today, these houses are rented out by the week as vacation homes.

We encountered a little family of swans munching on grass near the old fishing village:

The best part of our drive around the lake was the one-lane road through the forest:

Back at Anne-Marie's house, we enjoyed a rhubarb tart she had made. Yum!

These two old friends enjoyed the time to chat in the kitchen:

The rain outside brings out the snails. We found this critter right outside the front door:

You can see that this snail is much bigger than the one I found on the rosemary plant in Flavigny. But he was traumatized by our handling of him. Marie gave his some grass to eat and we left him alone. An hour later, he emerged from his shell. See?

In the evening, we drove back along the high forest road to the town of Montperreaux for a concert in a church:

It was fantastic!