The Extreme Family Heaton is no stranger to road trips – we’ll saddle up the ole Partner Tepee and ride her for six hours at a stretch if need be, no questions asked, stopping only for rapid-fire bathroom breaks at dodgy French rest stops, more diesel, and perhaps the occasional top-off to our crucial chocolate/meat snack reserves (the car runs on diesel; the Heatons run on chocolate and meat snacks – don’t get these things confused or it’s a long wait for AAA and/or the French medical system depending on which direction you erred).

So, at this point, we’ve driven from the Alps to Paris more times than Napoleon – we know the warning signs that signal trouble with the troops. Diarrhea, dysentery, trench foot – everyone knows to keep an eye out for those (and who can forget the time Kristanne nailed down a typhus outbreak using only a handful of meat snacks and some Handi-Wipes? The woman’s a miracle-worker). But the real red flag? Delirium. That’s why we knew it was time to perhaps consider a break from today’s road trip to the lovely Roman town of Vienne when Quinn piped up loudly from the back seat, “Look! My monkey can do rude gestures!”

And, sure enough, he could, too. It’s a long story and I don’t want to get into questions of blame (Kristanne’s fault) or guilt (all her – I’m pure like the driven snow), but somehow the kids were privy to a full-blown French Flip Off in traffic a couple weeks ago. The offending digit was not Kristanne’s, mine, or the monkey’s, but rather that of an otherwise unassuming young woman who was nearly plowed in the crosswalk with the light in her favor by someone committing the near-felony of Driving While French (that’s a topic for another day). So, rather than let the kids think that that’s just the way French women use crosswalks – screaming in anger while brandishing their middle fingers at the sky – Kristanne went ahead and, uh, annotated the scene for the kids, explaining that this was a rude gesture conveying extreme displeasure, not to be used in polite company. Which, of course, explains why Quinn was having a merry old time having his stuffed monkey toy make the same gesture for our driving pleasure.

but why vienne? why, why, why?

It wasn’t actually supposed to be like this. With lovely weather at hand, we were planning on spending Sunday skiing. But both kids are fighting off the tail ends of colds and Quinn had an extremely sore leg on account of skiing Friday with two left ski boots (long story), so we decided on an impromptu day trip to Vienne instead.

Vienne had been on our list for months. Situated on the east bank of the Rhone river (the west bank is so, like, last century), it’s a small town with a remarkably well-preserved Roman heritage. Well before Caesar conquered Gaul and started bossing everyone around about rendering unto him this and “Et tu, Brutus”-ing that, well his predecessors in emperordom had already established Vienne as the center of a vast Roman province stretching from Lake Geneva in the north all the way to the mouth of the Rhone down near Marseille in the south. Empires, man – they can be big.

Yes, this is exactly the sort of laser-like historical insight you’ve come to expect from this feature: “empires can be big”. You’re welcome. Be sure to check in next week when I offer up gems such as, “Dictators, man – they can be bad” or “Aqueducts, bro – they can really carry water”, or my personal favorite, “Hitler, dude – he was kinda over the top.” I can practically smell that Pulitzer.

okay, then….moving right along

Our first stop in Vienne was the impressive Temple de Auguste et de Livie you saw pictured at the top of this post, then again in the middle of the post, and, well, here below, too. This temple, peeps – it was pretty sweet.

When Kristanne sees a temple like this, naturally she gets a little excited. Not only is she a trained art historian who revels in scenes like this, well, she’s also an amateur practitioner of The Force. Yes, that Force. No, I’m not kidding – she really thinks she’s part Jedi. Watch as I resuscitate an ancient artifact of the Olden Internet – the animated GIF – that shows her training our young Padwans in the ways of the force, attempting to lift the entire temple using only their minds and the pencils in their hands. Breathtaking.

okay, So that was possibly a bit lame

I’m going to add a little note to myself here, reminding me that next time the urge to invest a few paragraphs in Star Wars related schtick arises, well, I should probably just step away from the keyboard for a bit, possibly take a brisk walk, or just slap myself in the ole grill a few times. Sorry about that. I’m back.

So, instead of any sort of Jedi training, what was really going on was a quick sketch session, spending a few minutes creating a little personalized postcard. I think Kristanne picked up this idea from her Mom, occasionally suggesting that we draw a sketch or write a short reflection that helps us crystallize and remember a particular moment or place. It’s a nice habit, though I much prefer Kristanne’s practical-yet-casual approach to Rosalie’s authoritarian, fill-your-daily-postcard-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you regime. I love my mother-in-law, but when she shows up for the first day of a vacation with a purse positively bristling with blank 4×6 cards and a slightly mad glint in her eyes, well, let’s just say you know what’s in store for you for the next five days, buddy. There ain’t no meat snacks and chocolate that’s getting you out of that one.

got any weird stories about armies of rats?

After lunch, we took a leisurely stroll through the warren of tiny streets that constitutes Vienne’s vieille ville, proud owner of the coveted Triple-V award. I spent more time than was probably warranted or even healthy trying to come up with new ways to add more “v” words to that moniker (“Boy, guys, Vienne’s vieille ville is virtually vacant, vraiment!”), but the silent death stares from the rest of the family gave me the subtle sense that this brand of clever wordplay wasn’t really finding a foothold. Personally, I found their veto very vexing.

Nah, the kids wanted action and not words (Facta, Non Verba!), so we spent some time gallivanting around the remains of one of Vienne’s several amphitheaters, pretending to be barbarians and beating back armies of imaginary rats. Well, we’d already played “tag”, so this was kinda next, you know?

god, i miss the feu vert

With the rat uprising sufficiently quelled, we decided to head over to the Cathedrale St-Maurice (perhaps better known as “that big church down by the river”) before heading out to the Gallo-Roman museum and then home. The walk to the church took us near enough to our car to ascertain that it had developed a disquieting list to the left during our absence. Rather than chalk it up to ongoing exposure to French politics or any sort of creeping socialism, we decided to investigate.

Somewhat unbelievably, it was a flat tire – our second in the last two months. Which is good news, because it means I get to visit my vacation home at the old Feu Vert. I’ve never spent more time in auto repair stores than I have in France, though it’s not like that’s covered in Lonely Planet or anything. That picture below is me doing the standard Male Evaluation – “Yep,” that look says. “Got me a flat tire here. Better fix it. Rather have a meat snack.”

Fortunately, I had help, as you can see in the pictures below. Quinn helped work the jack and Kinsey did some of her patented, gravity-defying, parking lot leaps to demonstrate her support. Thanks, guys.

 

 

 

 

For her part, Kristanne was only too happy to get back at me for the “Star Wars crap” she successfully predicted was en route by shooting that lovely shot of me changing the tire you see below. That’s Quinn helping out by providing up-to-the-second Plumber’s Butt Progress Reports. It takes a village.

Hmm. Apparently, I’m not really scaling the heights of high-brow this time out, am I?

church on time?

The only good thing about this being the second flat tire I’ve had to change on the Partner Tepee is that this time out, I knew where the tools were and could get to skinning my knuckles and cursing under my breath much more quickly than last time. We NASCAR’d that puppy off and on inside of about 15 minutes, which may not get me much street cred down in Daytona, but was more than fast enough to leave us with plenty of time to tour an impressive Romanesque church. Yes, this may be the first time “NASCAR street cred” and “Romanesque church” have appeared in the same sentence.

the joys of day tripping

Outings like today’s are one of the real joys of being where we are for as long as we are. Vienne is an extremely interesting town with a fascinating heritage, not to mention the historical sites and museums that accompany that. However, it’s simply not on the itinerary for your average foreign visitor. Even if you did somehow manage to include, say, Lyon as part of a three-week itinerary (which, personally, I think you’d be crazy not to – Lyon is fabulous), it’s not likely that you’d venture farther afield to see Vienne or any of several other small towns within an hour or so. There simply isn’t time for everything.

 

That’s true for us, too, even with an entire year to work with. Still, with our expanded window, we have the luxury of checking out some places that the average foreign tourist might not see. It’s not so much the lack of other US tourists that makes it pleasurable – Vienne is definitely a tourist town, with a bustling Tourism Office and a massive effort made to help you see everything there is to see, from interpretive signs to omnipresent maps, to handy directions painted on the streets. It’s more the freedom from expecations. One should certainly see the Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Mont St. Michel, etcetera, etcetera. Those places are famous for a reason and deserve to be seen. But there’s little in the way of surprise there. We all have a stored up reserve of acculturated/institutionalized knowledge about the world’s Great Places that makes them occasionally a bit dull to see. How can they possibly live up to all we’ve read and heard for so many years?

But a new place…an off the track place…a place like that has the element of surprise working in its favor. With a chance day at your disposal and a little bit of good luck, well, it can feel like you’re discovering some hidden treasure…even if you get a flat tire.

See you next time…on the Odyssey!