A night with the kids

It is possible that God was amused with my timing for my vacation. It seems that everywhere I went, the local place was on holiday. While it is certainly true that Europeans take vacations more liberally than Americans (which is a good thing), I didn't realize that everyone staggered their vacations in such a way. I have no way of knowing for certain (other than intuition, and mine is very bad) that Europe scheduled their vacations just to spite me. So it is. France has holiday until May 1. When was I in France? Until April 29... Labastide D'Armagnac was already quiet and sleepy, but I went when no one was there. No visitors, no locals, no one. Luckily, the Bouglons WERE there so I had a place to sleep. The single fortunate thing about being at Chateau du Prada during those days was the fact that the children (early 20 somethings) were there doing some maintenance on the estate along with several of their friends. So, on the second night in Armagnac I found all the kids sitting in the parlor directly adjacent to the room in which I was sleeping, listening to music, smoking, and generally having a gay time. So I joined them.

What ensued was an excellent evening. The oldest son speaks a touch of english. More than I speak French, so we got on just fine. He asked me, "Do you like Armagnac?" I wasn't sure if he meant the geographical place or the drink of the same moniker produced therein. So I asked which he meant, and he said, "the drink, of course." I told him, my whole reason for showing up was to drink some brandy. So he went and fetched a couple bottles that were "just sitting around." When he returned he was carrying two bottles, one a 1992 Colombard and a 1994 Folle Blanche. I was amazed at these bottles that were just sitting around. I'd already consumed way too many armagnacs that day, and here he was with two more amazing bottles. So, what to do? That's right, drink up. In the meantime, I'd collected on my travels, some brandy from Lebanon, and was also carrying around some of my own moonshine. So I made a paltry offer in return. What struck me as extremely odd was the fact that the kids living in a chateau famous for its distilled product were shocked that I knew how to distill on my own. So I let them taste and smell my 70%+ concoction. The consensus, "It's too strong." Well I KNEW that...

After we all got a little more tipsy and they kids all smoked a pack more of cigarettes the piano playing began. That's when I think I impressed them the most. Again, strangely, in a house with several beautiful old pianos, no one had taken much time to learn beyond that of a novice. Well, it was fine. In one sense I wish I'd stayed an extra night so I could hang with the kids once more, but alas, they were working, and returning back to school and other duties on May 1, and I was on vacation enjoying their hospitality.

Final, interesting thought. The eldest son of Baron Phillipe Bouglon does NOT speak his native Gascogne. I figured in a family as prominent as such that the language tradition would actually be carried down. But no. In Labastide D'Armagnac, Gascogne is a dying language. Therefore, I didn't get to learn any gascogne words or funny phrases involving drinking.