Category Archives: Being Active

More physical than mental, more active than sedentary, but generally done for the fun of it.

Another Icon gone forever – And I’ll miss Spock forever


Spock died. Ok – I know – it’s not Spock – it’s Leonard Nimoy – but to me he was Spock. He was a visitor from another galaxy with issues related to his birthright that made him both intriguing and sometimes – lets admit it – annoying.

He was the torn in Captain Kirk’s side, the nemesis of Bones, and often the brilliant problem solver that saved the day for the Enterprise.

He took chances – both as himself, and as Spock – and challenged me at least to consider the benefits of not just doing the same old over and over again.

Getting scared isn’t a bad thing if it also means getting ahead. And one of my favorite posters has always been of a turtle with the slogan – a Turtle never gets ahead if he doesn’t stick his neck out.

And you are never too old, too set in your ways to ignore the pleasure of doing something that makes you happy.

So in honor of Leonard – in honor of Spock – in honor of growing up but not growing ‘old’ in the sense of same old, same old – let’s all go out and do something unique today. Something just a bit challenging – walk a little further, say hi to a stranger, make a plan to do something you’ve always wanted to do, try a new exercise, drive down a different road.

It’s in honor of Spock and Leonard!

Signing off so she too can go do something fun – and different – and challenging – The Soup Lady

A Tale of 2 Ski Hills – Deer Valley and Jackson Hole


Jackson Hole – wild, wooly, in your face, hard-core, deep powder, tight trees, lousy grooming – VS – Deer Valley – elegant, fashionable, respectfully, friendly, warm, happy, sunny, clear skies, awesome grooming.

A Tale of 2 Cities – Jackson, Wyoming and Park City, Utah


It’s odd how cities with so much in common can be so fundamentally different. So lets start with what they share.

Is Travel Broadening?


Travel plans – or is it true that Travel is Broadening?

I love travel – I hate flying. Too bad teleportation is still in the future. I had hopes when I was younger that by the time I reached the impossibly OLD age of 65 – someone would have figured out the technology.

But no. You can send information around the world in seconds – but yourself – 35 hours of travel time from Montreal to Bali – going either way around the globe. You have got to be kidding me.

Speaking of Bali – I officially blew it. I could have done a round the world trip – flown Montreal, Paris, Singapore, Bali, Toyko, Vancouver, Montreal – but I lost focus when I saw I could get first class for only $1000 more – and opted to go and come via Paris. Missed opportunities.

So – is Travel Broadening? I think the answer depends on your definition of broad. If you mean fattening – I think that depends on who you travel with. When I travel with the Intrepid Traveler – we live cheap and simple – and we walk everywhere, eat little. So nope – that kind of travel is not that kind of broadening.

When I travel with my husband, it’s a bit trickier. I don’t generally put on weight – but I do have to watch how much I’m eating because the meals tend to be more elaborate, longer, and often fattening just because they last so long! But still – in general – I’d say that for me – travel isn’t that kind of broadening. I have friends who complain that a trip = 5 extra pounds, but I don’t think that’s the way it has to be.

What about the other kind of broadening – learning about new places, new cultures, learning new things. Again – this can depend. I’ve chatted up fellow travelers and discovered that they are accidental tourists – not travelers. They came armed with a certain point of view – and are determined to leave with the same. Been there – done that – don’t need to do it again seems the dominating characteristic. And they don’t give places enough time. I’ve been guilty of skimping on time too – so I know what I’m talking about. It takes time to experience a place, to get past the running around – need to see that museum today – headset and start just being there.

Sometimes people can’t help but limit their exposure to a new place. In South Korea we ran into a delightful Indonesian family that had very severe diet restrictions – so they had to cook all their food at the hostel. And they couldn’t even use the pots and pans provided – they brought their own. Trust me – they missed out on a lot of what South Korea has to offer – the food there was amazing. But I get the need for restrictions – it’s a tough choice.

What can you see in a city like St. Petersburg or Rome in just 2 days? It takes a day just to figure out how to get back to your hotel. 2 days is enough to say been there – but not enough to say – BEEN there. Which is why the Intrepid Traveler and I generally try to a lot a whole week per city.

It’s still not enough – but it’s a gesture in the right direction.

And then there’s preparation. I always want to read up on a place before I arrive – in case there’s something that needs to be organized prior to travel, in order to give myself a chance to get more comfortable with what I’ll see, and to map out the must do vs the can do options.

My preferences for planning are a combination of Tripadvisor (if 1000 people love it – you should at least check it out) and print media. I find on-line sources are too often about selling you something (their services, their bus company, their tour plan), and less about reporting what is and is not great about a particular activity. Guide books are quickly out-dated – we have all carefully followed a suggested route to discover that the thing we most wanted to see changed it hours, closed, is under re-construction – what ever. So checking on-line (watch those last updated dates!) and a guide-book and tripadvisor – and common sense – all of these play a part in organizing the perfect trip.

All of this muttering is leading up to my next blog – clearly another trip!

Keep eyes peeled.

Signing off – The Soup Lady!

Belles Soeurs – Sisters-in-law – Just Friends


The distinct advantage of living in a big city like Montreal is the amount of Theatre one can choose – or not choose – to see.

I choose yes. I love to see ‘live’ theatre – give me some actors, a stage, and a story – I’m a happy camper.

So this week was pretty well amazing. 3 great pieces of theatre in 7 days. It just doesn’t get much better – well except that it’s going to be 4 in 8 days tonight. Again – advantages of living in a big city.

Belles Soeurs – that’s a french title – but what we saw was the English version – done as a musical. So it was actually a premiere – if you ignore the fact that the play itself is 50 years old.

First – a bit about the story line and history of the play. Written by Michel Tremblay when he was just 23, this play was quite the stunner in 1965. It portrays French Canadian Women of the lower class in a hyper realistic way – from their dress, to their language and their concerns about religion, family, friends, and their lives. To the staid society of 1965 Quebec, that these women had a voice was considered shocking. To say that it’s a great piece of theatre is an understatement. Belles Soeurs is the most frequently performed play in the French Canadian repertoire. So I suppose an English language Musical adaptation was just going to have to happen.

And I loved it! While no song is particularly memorable – you aren’t going to go around singing Somewhere over the Rainbow, although I love Bingo has a certain catchy lilt – the ensemble is stronger than the sum of the parts. I was particularly impressed with the gal that sings the role of Pierrette – the much maligned ‘bad’ sister who got sucked in and spat out of the ‘club’ scene on St. Laurent.

As a musical – the flow of the play starts and stops as the performers break apart or gather to sing. I rather enjoyed this ebb and flow – it made great use of the Segal Center stage – it’s very shallow and quite wide – and definitely kept my eyes moving. Nice use of the space, I’d say.

But back to the story line – in brief, Germaine has finally won something – a million trading stamps. For those of us of certain age – we remember these stamps. You got them for shopping in stores, pasted them into books – and then in the words of the play – traded them in for worthless junk. But nifty junk – like toasters, and dresses, and wooden carving boards. All the things that today you shop for on the net – in those days they were only available thru these catalogs – and because you didn’t pay for the stamps – they seemed ‘free’. An early loyalty program like Sky Miles, but without the electronic tracking!

To suddenly have a million stamps – or once pasted into books – over 800 books – would be a god-send. And that’s exactly what Germaine thinks it is – a gift from her favorite saint.

But the stamps have to be pasted into the books or they are worthless – so Germaine gets the brilliant idea of inviting her friends from her parish (hence the title – Belles Soeurs – officially Sisters in Law – but in this case – sisters as in unrelated female friends) to come and help her paste. Their reward will be a few cokes and the company. Germaine plans to keep her winnings to herself.

This party sets up the rest of the musical. The ladies gather, they paste stamps and they complain about their lives, tellingly miserable stories of bored husbands, ungrateful kids, or the loneliness of the single woman who sees in a traveling Fuller Brush salesman her one chance at happiness – once a month.

These are not witty women, these are women stuck with the fuzzy end of the lollipop – and they know it. But despite the challenges of their lives, the play and the musical keep you tuned in. All is not hopeless – as Germaine’s teen-aged daughter gets to remind us.

I left feeling that I’d had a chance to meet some people I wouldn’t normally get to know. The Walmart greeters, the cashiers, the cleaners – who want the best for themselves, but lack the education and finances to pull it off. So a million trading stamps looks like a good way out.

Great theatre if it makes you want to tell others – go. It’s worth it.

On until November 19th at the Segal Center in Montreal – but coming soon to a musical theatre house near you. And definitely worth it.

Napoleon’s Elba – More Dancing, More Food, More Fun – Part 2


To catch up – do read Part 1 of our Elba Weekend first – but to quickly recap – we were invited to be part of a grand ball held in Napoleon’s Honor on Elba – the 200th anniversary of his first ball there. An opportunity we just couldn’t miss! So we didn’t. We went with full period dress – expecting to have a ball – and a ball we had.

The weekend started well – First up – period theatre attended by Paulina Bonaparte, Napoleon’s sister who visited him on the island. She is ‘played’ to perfection by Irina Mishanina a lovely Russian lady with more changes of clothes than I have birds in my yard. Glorious, stately, and very nice. I’m pleased we had a chance to get to know her.

The theatre building was built under the orders of Napoleon, and finished just one month before his daring flight back to France. I can’t say that the performances were worth writing about – but Ben, our very British host who is currently living in Italy, did his best to explain audience behavior during the period. As we are seated in a box seat – we are allowed to visit other boxes – Victor even went to greet Paulina, but got too embarrassed to say anything to her! There is much flirting, waving of fans, and catcalls from the ‘floor’, particularly if one of the men in a box takes off his waistcoat. Simply not done!

After the theatre we had a light dinner (lack of seats was hard on old legs – but I scored one of the 5 tables for 4 that were provided – and we quickly became a group of 8) – and then 2 hours of period dancing under the stars. While onlookers could have joined us – they didn’t. Everyone dancing – and there were almost 155 of us – all period appropriately dressed. Victor was definitely the most dashing in his Marin de la Garde outfit. There were a smattering of other soldiers, many well-dressed ladies, and lots of music, laughter, and fun.

Saturday started early with us getting on a bus to tour the very tiny island. We visited Napoleon’s ‘summer’ house – built-in just 3 months. Perched high on a hill overlooking the main town of Elba, it was small, compact – and hot. Very, very, hot. I was relieved when we were summoned back to the bus for the ride to lunch.

Lunch was a period picnic – sailcloth spread on the ground in a lovely home on a far corner of the island. This was the location, and the house where Napoleon, ever the showman, spent his first night on Elba. He wanted to make a grand entrance into the main city – and needed to ‘freshen’ up after the fairly long voyage. Rumor has it that he spent his last night on Elba there as well.

We sipped champagne, chatted about this and that, waved our fans, and generally relaxed in the shade. My favorite part – meeting other guests! People came from everywhere to attend the event – including Austria, Australia, England, France, Germany. Malta, Russia, and Canada. Ok – we were the only 4 from Canada – out of the 155 – but hey – we looked good.

Back to the hotel for naps (I went swimming), a lovely but too quick dinner, and then to the Grand Ball. Held in the Ballroom of Napoleon’s ‘Palazzo’ turned museum – it was a tiny space for such a large number of guests. This was compounded by the fact that at the last-minute – the organizers were informed that the huge late night dinner spread could not be placed in the Museum proper, but had to go in 1/3 of the already small ballroom. But never mind – we were there to dance, and dance we would.

Many of the women sported trains – some longer than others – so watch your feet was pretty much the rule. The musicians were talented, the dance master tried his best to remind us of the steps required, and the company was simply too much fun. Even though I wore my ball gown, I frequently danced as a man – which just means to the left of the ladies – the steps being exactly the same. Given the heat – I’m glad I wore my silk dress. Victor as usually looked dashing – but found the heat pretty oppressive (two layers of heavy wool over his cotton shirt) and took frequent breaks.

During one of which he danced with ‘Paulina’ at the bequest of the photographer. You can check out the pictures all over Facebook – I think everyone but me got a photo!

Try following this link for pictures: https://mbasic.facebook.com/profile.php?v=timeline&timecutoff=1378867100&page=6&sectionLoadingID=m_timeline_loading_div_1420099199_1388563200_8_6&timeend=1420099199&timestart=1388563200&tm=AQAWkKRvhRVUpz66&id=126463247927&_rdr

I danced every dance – Victor and I admired the work required to create all the food, and I slugged down water. At some point during the evening there was a thunderstorm to end all thunderstorms – which occasioned much oohing and ahhing. Lucky for us -we grabbed a taxi home just as the dance ended – otherwise we’d have been soaked and wool takes a really long time to dry! Others were less lucky – either they walked ‘home’ in the rain – or had to wait over 2 hours for a taxi. Timing is everything.

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear – as if the thunderstorm had never happened.  Our hotel provided breakfast – and while it wasn’t the most amazing feast – the coffee was delicious, and I was able to get 2, 3 ever 4 cappuccinos! And most fun – other people we’d met were also eating breakfast there – so we had pleasant company.

The plan on Sunday was to sail on ‘La Grace’ – a completely wonderful new boat designed to look exactly like a 200-year-old sailboat. 2 masts, tons of sails, and hemp lines running everywhere and a crew of at least 2 dozen seamen – we’re talking serious sailboat.

There are 3 sailings to choose from – I convince Victor to sign up for the last – late afternoon sailing. You are more likely to have a breeze, the sky is likely to be glorious, and most importantly – there are likely to be fewer takers – so more chance to take a turn at the helm.

Arduina and Michel take the multiple sailings seriously – including acting the part of parents saying good-bye from the dock as a younger couple wave madly from on-board!

We arrive on the dock about 30 minutes before time to sail – to an adoring crowd keen to get pictures with the gloriously dressed men and women. Who knew I’d married a peacock? Well Victor was definitely the hit of the parade. Literally everyone was keen to be photographed with the brave solider – and of course the solider was pretty keen to pose. I helped by holding on to purses, umbrellas, and light jackets while their owners snapped away to their heart’s content.

Eventually we wave good-bye to our adoring fans and are ‘piped’ on board to be greeted by the captain. We cast off – ‘motor’ around to the center of the harbor – and then – raise the sails and sail off into the sunset. A nice breeze gives us a solid headway – and we pose for picture after picture. I do get my chance at the helm, Victor gets to pose holding the lines – and we even get to watch some of the braver re-enactors climb to crows nest. Not sure I’d try that – definitely not in my dress.

A fight breaks out between 2 of the crew members – to the delight of the guests. Words, Knives, and Swords fly – and the winner is declared. I’m a bit surprised that the captain didn’t call both fighters to task – but then again – this isn’t really 1814!

All good things – including great weekends – must end. And we sail back into the harbor to a welcoming crowd of onlookers. Our group of 6 makes our way – in period dress – to a near-by fish restaurant to relax, de-compress – and enjoy more delicious food. And of course – after dinner – there’s a must stop at an ice-cream parlor. I did mention that the ice cream on Elba is outstanding.

Tomorrow it’s a reverse of our trip in – but with more luggage since 2 of our friends decide to join us in our car for the 2.5-hour trip to Florence. A wonderful weekend with great friends, fine food, super dancing – and tons of fun.

I loved Elba. Probably will never go back – there’s just much else to see in the world – but I’m glad I got to visit this tiny island. And I totally understand why Napoleon was really glad to leave!

Signing off – The Soup Lady

Napoleon’s Elba – Flash of the Past – Part 1


Elba – tiny Island – big place in History!

In 1814 Napoleon abdicated as Emperor of France, and accepted being the Emperor of Elba – a tiny island just off the coast of Italy. When he arrived – he described Elba as a village of fisherman – and set out to ‘modernize’ it. He had a home turned into a ‘Palazzo’, he had a theatre built, he built a summer home in just 3 months, he even smuggled Marie Walewska onto the island for a quick romantic visit.

And it is known that he gave grand balls.

Fast-forward 200 years – and a group of English Country Dancers from Florence (believe it or not – the kind of dancing done in French Society during the 1er Empire) decide to hold the first ball in Napoleon’s ballroom in 200 years. And we’re invited.

How could Victor and I miss such an opportunity?

And to make it a weekend worth the travel time – not only would there be the grand ball – there would also be a public dance featuring all the people willing to dance on a outdoor plaza at the foot of Napoleon’s home. There would be a dance workshop – a period picnic in the place that Napoleon spent his first (and last) nights on Elba – a visit to Napoleon’s country home, a mid-night period-correct swim, and a chance to take a 2 hour sail on the “La Grace” – a wooden sailing ship the same size as the one Napoleon used to escape from Elba in 1815.

So – we figured – hey – we’re going to Montmirail two weeks before (check out my blog – re-enacting 101) – let’s extend the trip to include the weekend in Elba. We made the best decision ever – we invited our dance master friends, Arduina and Michel to maybe join us. They agreed. And because they are dance masters – they also decide it would be a good idea to practice the dances in advance.

So – while still in Montreal 2 other couples joined us for the practice sessions, followed by a period appropriate dinner party. Great start to a fab holiday, no? The dance practices were fun – dinner was amazing. Turns out that Stephan’s family makes their own smoked salmon – and he arrives, fish in hand – with a slicer. Best Salmon ever. Meal ends with a period correct Croque-en-Bouche. But enough about a dinner party – this blog is about Elba.

Ok – so – first Montmirail, then Venice, then Nice, then Elba. To get to Elba, you must take a ferry – and I love boats. Getting on was a piece of cake, even with a car. Nice being off-season. Anyway – on, lovely ride, off. Find the hotel. Done, Done, and All Done.

Since the first dance practice was that night, we ate quickly and then walked up and up and up. Elba is a hilly little island – and Napoleon picked the top of the highest hill in the biggest town to make his ‘home’. And we were having dance practice near-by.

Coolest thing – Victor immediately meets someone he knows! The official Waterloo (and this event) photographer – who recognized Victor as the person whose photo he used for the ad for Waterloo 2010. Way cool, eh?

Dance practice is fun – a bit hot, but fun. Good thing we’d practiced. It made us look like some of the better dancers – always nice to feel superior. On the walk back we find a ‘closing’ ice cream parlor that agrees to stay open just long enough to sell the 4 of us some Gellato and Sorbetto. Italian ice cream is awesomely good. I’m just saying.

Friday we spent the day relaxing – checking out the stone beach, reading, and generally just moving slow. Then at 4:00pm we got dressed (Period Correct of course) – and started the weekend event.

Quick comment on dress – Men of this period wore waistcoats, vests, stockings, and ornate watches, neck scarves. Or they wore their uniforms if they were soldiers. Women wore Empire wasted (regency period) gowns – different gowns during different parts of the day. I only have 3 dresses with me – my silk ball gown, plus 2 lighter cotton dresses for Friday, during the day on Saturday, and Sunday. I have a parasol, gloves, and appropriate jewelry. I do not have a wig – which is a shame since most women are wearing either hairpieces or full wigs to get the right effect.

And a comment on numbers – there are 155 dancers – about 2/3 women, 1/3 men. So often the women must dance the ‘male’ role. This results in some pretty funny multi-lingual adventures – We form circles for example, alternating man – woman. But if there are two women, is the ‘male’ on the right side? The dance master goes from person to person identifying their role. Man, Woman, Man, Woman, Man, ????..

—- My adventure continues tomorrow —

 

Signing off for now – The Soup Lady!

How much does a shack on the beach cost?


Interesting question.

I’m always looking at real estate – there’s something about a home for sale sign that just tingles my nerve endings.

Why are the selling, is the furniture nice, what does the other side of the house look like? How long has it been on the market? Are there more houses for sale this year or last year?

In Maine – on the beach – most signs are ‘for sale’ – they are ‘for rent’. People buy homes, use them for 2 or 3 or 4 weeks – then rent them out. Or – people buy multiple properties and run the rentals like a business. Or – there are companies that list rentals – and do all the work – you just collect what they send you at the end of the summer.

We are staying in the middle category. Frank Sr. was the original owner, Frank Jr. and his sister now ‘run’ the business – we rented just one of his several homes – a 4 bedroom tiny shack across the street from the entrance to one of my favorite sections of Wells Beach. There’s a life guard stand that is manned (well this year – womanned) most days – and at high tide – there’s so little beach left that most people use that time as ‘break’.

But there are trade-offs. Yes the house has less than 1000 square feet – yes the bedrooms are so small that they have no closets (which I think means they can’t be called bedrooms), and yes there is just one tiny bathroom. But – there’s a washer and dryer – a full kitchen – both a front and a back porch (you need both to track the sun) – and as mentioned earlier – we’re right across from the entrance to the beach. Easy to nip back for bathroom and lunch breaks.

For this glamor – we pay $1400 a week. By Maine Beach standards – it’s about average – maybe low average since the house is so tiny. We could get a smaller place for less – and a larger place for more – but this one suits our needs, and our holiday schedule.

That said – I toured someone else’s digs – and now I’m seriously jealous.

I’ve been in other places of course – but never one that appealed to me the way this one did.

It’s called WinkinPaw – why – I don’t know. It’s located on the ‘wrong’ side of the road (ie: not on the beach side) – further south than us – on Moody Beach. Moody in that section is just beach. No tide pools, no rocks, no stones, no shells – and no lifeguard. Just miles of Maine sand in both directions. This makes it easy to walk and swim of course – but cuts down on the play and castle building opportunities that a more rocky – Maine-like – beach offers.

On the other hand – it has real sand at the very top where the high tide doesn’t quite reach – soft and fluffy even. Nice.

The house is a bit further from the entrance than our shack – and is clearly not a beach shack. There are 4 bedrooms (well – 3 bedrooms and a curtained off kids area) on the first floor – and upstairs is the living space. A huge open area of living, dining and giant kitchen. There’s a full bathroom on the first floor – and a 1/2 bath on the 2nd floor. There’s even a hot and cold shower outside for rinsing off beach sand – But this isn’t the reason for my envy.

Nope – I’m about the view. And the view is amazing. There’s a porch that wraps around 3/4 of the house – so full front porch with views thru the houses in front to the ocean, a side porch, and a back porch with 180 degree views of the marsh. And the marsh is a wonderful sight. Full of birds, and kayakers, and waving cat tails and meandering water ways that curve and twist in a relentless search for the open ocean. I couldn’t believe the view. Stunning. I want that.

Good think that the Pink Lady doesn’t care about views! She’s about how close are we to the beach – and in that regard – our shack wins.

What does a palace cost? One that is not on the ocean? $3400 a week. Makes you wonder what 4 bedrooms ON THE BEACH might run, eh? Serious dent in pocketbook money I’m guessing.

Oh well – better 2 weeks than one – but I’d still love that view….

Signing off – The Soup Lady and her companion – the Pink Terrier

What is a Maine holiday worth to you?


For years my family and I have been going to Wells Beach, Maine for our annual lobster, chow’da, and ocean fix. I’ve come with my husband alone, I’ve come with my entire family (and there are a lot of us). I’ve come when my kids were small – I’ve come when my kids were grown and their kids were small.

Right now I’m here with just one grand-daughter – Sophie. She’s 7 – and we’re totally into her time schedule. Wake and start the day when she does (which is around 9:30 am – but don’t tell her parents – I think I’m supposed to wake her earlier), eat, go to the beach, practice reading (I’m teaching her to read English), eat, go to the beach, practice reading, play dominos (she’s killer at that), and read stories and go to bed.

Occasionally there’s a bath in there – and occasionally – like today – we have to break down and use the car to go get some food.

Our needs – as you can imagine – are pretty simple. We’re walking distance from the Well’s Lobster Pound – which sells amazingly good clam chow’da. They have lobster too – but we just like to admire them swimming in the tanks. We’re really all about the chow’da. I happen to love sauting veggies in butter (yes – real butter – my ateries will survive) – so I have a tiny bit of chow’da and mostly veggies. Sophie loves the chow’da.

So – chow’da and fruit and corn on the cob if we can find it are pretty much the staples of our diet – when we’re not on the beach of course.

Last night we broke down and visited the Scoop Deck for ice cream. Huge portions – even the kiddie size is insane – and a zillion flavors. Of course I only get pistachio and Sohpie likes either Cotton Candy or maybe Bubble Gum. Which is better than it used to be when her flavor was color selected – PINK of course.

We spent yesterday doing our favorite thing  – exploring the tide pools near our shack. Us and about 50 other kids (ranging in age from 3 years to over 80) clambered over and on the rocks and into the pools. Sophie’s bucket contained a tiny lobster, 4 star fish, and a huge (at least hand sized) crab. There were also a selection of smaller objects – most of them still alive after being man-handled by probably 20 kids on their way into her bucket.

The rule is – nothing that was ever alive goes to the house. You do have to be firm on this – rocks are ok – even dead lobsters are a no-no.

Plan for today – replacing my dead aero bed, get food for dinner (we’ve cleaned out the house), and beach, beach, beach!

Signing off – the Soup Lady and the lady in Pink (what can I say – Sophie is still in her pink phase)

Re-enactment 101


Why would anyone dress up like a solider – march around for 3 days – and go back for more.

Excellent question. And this time – we are doing 2 re-enactments. First we’ll re-enact the Quatre Victories in Montmirail, France. Then we’ll journey to Elba to celebrate Napoleon’s arrival on the Island – not so good for him – but great for Elba.

But first Montmirail. Instead of doing one battle each day in each or the Quatre Victories locations – we’ll do 2 battles in 2 days – both on just one battle field, the Montmirail-Marchais.

But first – we must arrive, find our friends, set-up a tent, get started. It turns out that Victor is well-known by almost everyone – including the Emperor. We barely walk 20 paces before people recognize Victor and rush over to say hi.

For this re-enactment – Vic is going as Marin de la Guarde and I’m a doctor. Not a very high-ranking doctor – a low-level doctor, who has just graduated. My uniform is perfect for this role – and it gives me the opportunity to march with the troops, provide them with water, tend to the ‘wounded’, and move among both enemy. Which is why I’ve been shot at several times by my own troops. Nice guys, eh? Don’t they know a doctor when they see one?

We’re bivouacked with the other Marin – who are staying with the Grognards de Fontainebleau. And we are on the right flank of the Emperor’s tent. Which means we get to watch him (in civilian dress – actually combat fatigues) – setting up his tent! Naturally – the emperor doesn’t get his feet dirty – once he’s the Emperor. So first thing is to lay down huge carpets to form the ground of the ten and dinning/meeting/combat prep room. In his sleeping area there’s a cot with a leopard skin spread, several of his saddles on display, and various other items, including a wash cabinet. In the ‘Pavilion’ area there is a huge table with chairs bearing the Emperor’s Bee’s – cabinets for holding his silver, candlesticks for light.

The Marin and the Imperial Guard set up guard posts – 15 to 20 minutes on guard when ever the Emperor is in ‘Residence’.

When all is done – the transformation happens – and out from the tent strides the Emperor. Cheers from every corner as he visits each bivouac – troops line up at ‘Gardez Vous’ – and he strolls down the line – commenting here and there on this and that. He remembers Victor from Fountainbleu and singles him out for a comment. He gives the young son of one of our officers a coin with his likeness – and after prompting (this is how it would have happened) – gives a Medal of Honor to one of the troops that displayed great bravery at a previous battle.

More Cheers – and he moves on.

Friday night we eat dinner late, relax around the campfire, visit the tavern (there is always a tavern), and eventually people drift off – some like us to a hotel, others to bed down in tents or even in the open air.

Saturday is the day of the great battle – all day friday and all friday night troops and Calvary and cannon crews have been arriving. The number of re-enactors has grown from one or two, to several hundred, to several thousand. There are well over 100 horses, and I counted over 20 large cannons. But not everything is for us – there are also facilities that have bloomed up overnight for the spectators – and that’s a source of much fun for the re-enactors.

There are several different food vendors – this is France – so the cheese is amazing, there are croissants available to buy – 1/2 price for re-enactors. We spot tents with books on Napoleon, others with antiques (and not so antiques) for sale. Ladies in long gowns, white parasols and long gloves stroll amid soldiers in various uniforms, officers in gold braid, Calvary in all their finery, and the strangely dress tourists!

Bleachers have been built with seats – but standing room only space is the norm, and provides great views of the entire battle field. To the amusement of the growing crowds, the French Line decides to drill in the middle of the space allocated to the viewers. We do our drill in a separate area, and I’m not sure where the allied forces were drilling. Everywhere there is Calvary – and the cannon crews practice their drills.

As a doctor – I’m free to roam – and I watch the cannon crew for a while. Cannons are very very loud – and there’s a ton of smoke released – much to the surprise of a photographer who had gotten up close for a perfect shot. It was perfect ok – until he had to run out of the dense smoke cloud!

Drill complete – we resume camp life – then gather for the muster of the troops prior to the battle.

We don’t really know the plan – we just follow the shoulder pack of the guy in front of us. I spot a collection of Medical men – all French – standing off behind the army. But I greatly prefer to be in the heat of the action, and stand directly behind our troop of around 100 Imperial Guard, made up of Marin, Grenadiers, Moyan Guard and Jeune Guarde. Victor is positioned to the front – and acts as an NCO, repeating orders as the Marshal and Generals and Majors yell them out.

Napoleon canters by with his entourage – to gay cries of Vive L’Emporeur.

For this battle, we are being held in reserve – so while the solders of the line see plenty of action, our involvement is limited. When we finally do charge the enemy – we quickly over-run their lines – and I’m busy helping the wounded – of both sides. I suddenly realize that I’ve become separated from the Imperial Guard. There are soldiers every where – just done of them my ‘team’.

Shoot.

This is awkward.

I search madly for someone – anyone I recognize the uniform of – and eventually spot Rudy marching with the 85th. At least I know for sure they are on ‘our’ side. I march with them off the battle field – relieved to get off the field, and to put down my now depleted supplies of water.

We re-form lines for a final salute – we break ranks to ‘Vive L’Emperour’ – and collapse into our tents, our piles of straw – or head to the tavern. Whew – one battle down, one to go.

Sunday we repeat as above – only this time we start the battle much earlier in the day – around 10:00 am – and thus it is neither so hot – not so ‘touristy’. And this time the guarde is called upon to fight. We rush uphill towards the ‘town’ – firing as we go. We are rushed by Calvary – and form square to defend ourselves. As the doctor, I’m ‘smushed’ into the middle of the square – unable to see much besides the heads of the horsemen as they gallop around our outward facing bayonets.

At the town, we rescue the townsfolk, and defend the town. We even take over several cannon positions  – it’s really hard to move a cannon quickly. I minister to the wounded – narrowly avoiding being shot by my own troops again. I heard the command to load the muskets this time – and fled before they could fire. Whew.

The battle continues, boiling down the hill of long grasses towards the bleachers – until the Marshal’s call for a cease-fire. When I finally catch up to the Guarde – Victor proudly shows me his saber – nicked in battle with a Prussian who was up for a bit of a fight.

Eventually we march off the field, dismantle the camps, and head back to the hotel for a very much-needed bath and shower.

Success was ours today!