This morning I woke up at 5:00 AM, without an alarm. This is very unusual for me, but it has happened on the morning after each of the 4 debates this election cycle. It’s an absurd hour in France, but back in the United States the debates have just ended. For half an hour I scan Nate Silver’s twitter feed, Slate.com, Google News, and my Facebook news feed, which is covered in posts from those watching the debates. Having gotten a sense of the night’s outcome, I return to bed to snatch a couple more hours of sleep.* It’s not the same as watching myself, but it has to suffice.

Following the election from Europe has been a strange experience for two reasons. First, I feel disconnected from the major events of the campaign. I still follow the news closely, but the time change makes watching the debates live out of the question, and anyways the château’s slow internet means that watching anything more than the highlights after the fact is more trouble than its worth. So this morning I chuckled over an 80-second clip featuring Obama’s “bayonets and horses” line, but that’s all I’ve seen. I’ve read quite a bit of analysis, but I wish I could be with those of you watching in real time.

The second strange part about following the election from Europe is that despite the distance, people here are following it closely. This morning I came downstairs and started to tell Xavier about the bayonets and horses, but he laughed and said he’d already heard about it on the radio.

Yesterday I went out for a long walk and on my way back I ran into Monsieur Reymond, an elderly man who lives across the street from the château. We chatted briefly about what I’m doing in France, and then he asked about the election. He was thrilled to hear that I’m voting for Obama.

Jean-Claude, who worked with us on building the stone wall, respected Clinton and loved Kennedy. In his broken English he told me again and again “Obama, for me, the best. The best! I hope he will be elect.” I’ve promised to buy him a celebratory drink if Obama wins. He still stops by the château every once in a while, and each time he asks about the latest news in the election.

It’s not just France. When Julian and I were in Scotland we were asked about the election by most of the people we had extended conversations with. They were curious about the relationship between the president and Congress, fascinated and appalled at the role of money in campaigns, and anxious to hear my prediction about who will win.

In the nine weeks I’ve been in Europe, I have yet to hear anybody say that they don’t want to see Obama reelected. He is admired here, he is respected, and those sentiments carry over to the United States as a whole. This alone is not enough of a reason to vote for Obama, but it would be a mistake to disregard it.

* * *

Today I filled out my absentee ballot and placed it in an envelope to which I taped a signed statement affirming that I am, in fact, me, and that nobody else had filled out the ballot for me. This went inside another envelope addressed to the town of St. Johnsbury, VT.

I walked three miles through the woods to the post office in the nearby village of Blaisy-Bas. The trail was muddy and I had to crawl through barbed wire fences twice. When I got there, I found the post office closed. I didn’t have a stamp for the envelope, so I had to turn around and come back, ballot still in hand.

It’s a funny thing, this election business. It can be a miserable ordeal, and the outcome isn’t always what we hope for. But when that happens we try again.

I’ll go to the post office again tomorrow.

*I didn’t get much sleep after the first presidential debate. I’d already had a bad night, bothered by dreams in which I checked news sites and read that Obama had lost the debate. When I woke up I checked news sites and found reports that were eerily similar to what I’d dreamt. As cool as being a seer may be, that’s not an experience I want to repeat.