Rocker and ex-patriot Amy Rigby writes about the longest meal she’s ever had. In France. Of course. Where she’s living. And eating. Here’s an excerpt from her blog, The Little Fugitive.
It’s the middle of the night and I can’t sleep. Why? Maybe because yesterday I had the longest meal of my life.
For
months we’ve been hearing about the neighbors’ annual get-together that
is held the first Sunday of July. It takes place in the barn directly
across the road and from what we understood it involved drinks, lunch,
and then some more food later in the day.At about 10:30 AM I
was opening the shutters, and as I leaned out the window about ten
people greeted me from in front of the barn. They were already
gathering! Shit. This was going to be a little overwhelming. I mean,
since we got here everyone has been very nice. But they’ve all known
each other for years. Having lived in cities all my adult life, the
concept of neighbors is kind of alien to me.