Saturday morning I took the TGV to Sète, just like last time. The family was just so happy and excited to see me. I was really tired. I slept for 12 hours on Saturday night, after the usual grilling on our fertility plans. Plus the junior brother asked exceptionally annoying questions like, "Can you pronounce "r" in French?" Typical teenager. I'm always amazed how strong the imprint of Moroccan culture is in their lives. I could easily imagine, if it weren't for the infrastructure, that I was in a small village somewhere in the mountains - their village, in fact. Not only the food, but the music, the TV blaring Moroccan channels, and my sisters-in-law with their headscarves and henna and gold jewelry. I had thought of getting my haircut so we strolled around downtown Frontignan with its medieval structures. No luck though on a busy Saturday. How funny to think that (according to the Wikipedia article) Thomas Jefferson stayed there. It was a change for me anyway from my usual solitude (I'm an only child) to spend time in the noisy (and nosy) warm embrace of a large family.
On the train back there was a young lady several rows ahead of me whom I could tell was an American (instead of a Frenchie reading Scientific American) because she had the same journal as I do (purchased at Target).
Back at the Y I slept another 12 hours and now I feel reasonably normal.