French camping

When I think of camping, I think of beautiful views and magnificant sunrises like in the photos above. I think of quiet, of nature and wildlife. I also think of "roughing it." I think of packing as little as possible because I know that I will have to carry it for several miles. For a meal, I think of peanut butter sandwich, a banana, and maybe a granola bar. At the most, some marshmallows or hotdogs to roast over the fire. What I do not think of is fois gras, red wine, marinated pork-chops, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, oatmeal for breakfast, non-instant coffee made in a special press, full loaves of freshly baked bread, or several types of fancy french cheese. So, you can imagine my surprise when I went camping with a french family this weekend and all of the aforementioned items (plus several others I didn't list) were a part of our autumn adventure in the Vosges mountains.

My first warning should have been when I arrived at my friend's apartment and she handed me an extremely large pack and asked if I could transfer over the things in my daypack because they needed me to help carry some of the extra food and supplies. I had taken care to pack as lightly as possible, but, of course, I didn't mind carrying some weight for the team. I'm in pretty good shape and I knew that we were bringing more children than adults, so I figured we would need extra water or maybe some extra clothes. No big deal, right? ..........wrong. I did not realize what I had agreed to until I put on the pack after my friend finished stuffing it full. Let's just say it was so heavy I needed help lifting it to put it on. But I wasn't about to complain because the other adults were carrying as much as or more than me and all of the kids that were with us were carrying packs as well.



By the time we made it to camp, my back was aching, and my shoulders were so sore, they felt bruised. I figured I must have been carrying some of the water, or maybe the tents for the kids, or some other heavy, but necessary item. Imagine my surprise and I'll admit, frustration, when we started unpacking and setting up the camp and I started pulling items out of packs that I don't even order at restaurants, much less consider as camping food. And when I jokingly asked them about it, the conversation went like this:

Me: " Fois gras? Are you serious?"
My completely straight-faced French friend: "Of course we're serious. We're french."

Ok, I guess no more explanation than that is needed.