It’s late October and la grisaille de Paris has announced itself. The gun metal grey atmosphere of the season has settled in in all its mind-numbing glory. Time to start popping the Vitamin D. Time to stock up on extra wine in the cupboard. Buckle up, Jacques, the ride’s going to get bumpy… winter’s coming. Thankfully, there’s a little gift the blessed French have given us gratis… a little Christmas in October. It’s called Toussaint and it’s a two-week vacation… pause… for school children. Growing up in the States, the only “vacation” we had before Christmas was Columbus Day, now basically obliterated due to retroactive disowning of Christopher Columbus’s hero-status, and the obligatory day and a half off at Thanksgiving, creating the long weekend that truthfully felt like heaven on earth. (I can smell the turkey cooking in the oven now.)

So today, here in Paris, you’d think I never lived a day in my life without the generous two-week October break. How, I ask myself, did I survive the puny days-off given in the United States? Now, under the grey skies of Paris – oops, now it’s raining, everyone in the house suddenly gets agita around the middle of the month of Toussaint break, and we each act like a horse in full gallop back to the coral as the holiday approaches. Hey, can you go any faster buddy? Out of my way! I need les vacances now or I’m going to drop dead right here! I can’t open another page of my French grammar book! No more maths problems! Can’t take one more walk to school in the dark. J’en peux plus..!

Seriously, what gives? When did we get so soft? Soon I’ll be marching in the streets demanding to retire at 49. Oh wait, I forgot. I live in France.

Photo by sodapopper via Shutterbug.