A time of HIGHS and lows .....

This week brought all sorts of challenges, that if you were in a country where you could speak the language it would be a doodle but being here, turns it into a feat of jumping hurdles.

The promised wood was just not coming and I couldn’t go and collect it as the car was still not road worthy.  It got to the point where I was desperate, we possibly had one night of wood left.  This is our only heating in the house, current temperature in the minuses most days.  New tyre or not; I decided I had to go and find this wood place. I telephoned for directions and vaguely knew where they were.  Confidentially I set off, I discovered a place that ‘looked’ right with lots of wood piles which I was told to look out for.  Put my best foot forward and all that, smile, French phrases practised, our conversation goes something like this: I’ve come to buy some wood.  What wood, I have no wood? Did M not tell you I was coming? Who is M? (Clearly this is not going well.) Do you sell wood? No, this is MY wood.  Ok, feeling very foolish now, do you know where the wood place is, NON, and he disappears inside.

Not panicking yet must have taken a wrong turn, I can call and/or check the map again. Damn it, left the phone at home which has all the details. This is so stupid, why can I not get my act together?  Never the less I solider on this is a small village it cannot be too far but after a wild goose chase - end result – no wood, lots of tears.

Later that day, finally get the tyre sorted after numerous attempts and thought, in spite of my lack of language I going to get some wood.  I go to the local wood place near the school.  The only person there is a wizened woman whose job is to operate the machine that chops the wood, and no she cannot sell me any wood.  Defeated I turn around to go home, thinking which friend can I call on to help me out.  As I leave a van arrives and the gentleman flags me down.  He can help me but he needs to see my fireplace first.  So he jumps in the car and tells me to ‘take him to the fire’, literal translation.

On our return he packs my car full of the ‘right’ wood and extra kindling and promises to make a full delivery tomorrow.  On the way home from the school run, I see his van and explain to the children that he is the man who helped me with the wood and he will deliver more tomorrow, no wait, he is delivering NOW.  We all help pack the wood in a neat wood pile, and then he insists in giving me a lesson on the proper way to operate the fire. He is very sweet and helpful and chats to the children a lot, he then asks me how old I am, reluctantly I tell him but he refuses to believe me even though I haven’t fabricated at all.  We all have a good laugh and after he leaves ‘ma fille’ says 'Mum I think you have a new boyfriend', well maybe he will keep for Gogo!

We then get a call from the original wood supplier saying they tried to deliver today and can they deliver tomorrow morning at 8.30am, ok, but I’m on the school run then but they can deliver anyway as the gates will be open.  I return to find a HUGE pile of wood in my driveway which was great but no driver to pay! What I do like, is we have enough wood for now.

That morning we got the delightful news that my latest and probably last nephew had been born in Durban.  We were all in celebratory mood so I decided to turn our weekly French lesson/lunch into a celebration. I was going to make my beef bourguignon anyway, so let’s just jazz it up.  So I quickly prepare the ‘boeuf de feu’ and then finish cooking it on the feu, which was a first for me.  J (newer French granny) who also joined us for lunch pronounced it 'délicieux' which I took as a huge compliment.  Never really imagined the celebration of such a precious birth to be with relative strangers but it was a wonderful lunch and yes, we did our French lesson too.

After the various car repairs it’s still not right. There is a battery fault and the power steering goes, which is not funny.  As I had been doing so many little ‘hop’ trips I thought I would take it for a longer run.  I was not in the mood for shopping in Perpignan so I headed for the mountains.  It is a beautiful bright day but still cold it was -1 at 9am.  As I am driving along I see this man who needs a lift, literally in the middle of nowhere next village at least 5kms away or more.  So I shoot up an arrow prayer and stop for him.  I can hear you all yelling now, but it felt right I was trusting my instincts.  Anyway it turns out this guy Jose speaks Catalan, a little French and Spanish but actually is Portuguese which was a great surprise.  (Aside: my sister in law who just had the baby happens to Mozambique Portuguese = connection). He was moving stuff from Lansac about 10 kms away back to St Paul in a shopping bag on wheels.  So off we went  to Lansac and as I was waiting for him to get his stuff I thought maybe I should let someone know what I’m up to.  So I call hubby who is still in London, if I am not home tonight when you get back, this is what happened.  However all was well, he was a sweet guy who plays guitar (blues and jazz but loves classical) and his English girlfriend had kicked him out on religious differences!

On returning him to the bridge a beautiful creature, (thought it was a deer but turns out it to be a Pyrenean chamois) jumped out in front of us, it was a lovely sighting.  Jose got really excited I thought it was because he maybe wanted to shoot it but it turns out he has never seen one before and was really happy to see it.  I was over the moon too, to see it and thought, thank you God, that was a good reward, but of course the biggest joy of this week is our beautiful new nephew, he is such a blessing to all of us and cannot wait for him to get to know his crazy ‘French’ family. A bientôt.

Time to get real .......

What’s it really like living virtually alone in a foreign land?

 

Not that bad really.  Now, I know I have been waxing lyrical about the beauty and all around gorgeousness of this area and this remains to be true.  However, the weather changed literally overnight from a barmy 20C to five days of torrential rain (very unusual I am told) to now brighter skies with waves of sleet and sometimes snow, which is settling on the higher mountains. The temperature has obviously plummeted down into the minus and highs of no more than 9. 

Panic, this is not a house built for the winter living it’s definitely designed for the summer heat, tiled throughout and the bedrooms are glacial at best.  We have some heating but not very effective however our saving grace is the stove fire which does keep the downstairs area quite toasty.  We had some wood but clearly not enough for the winter, where is the best place to get more from?  I text one of our neighbours (the easiest way to communicate) to ask;  where the best place is but unusually I still have not been answered.  Fortunately J  (long distance neighbour, a street away) arrives and rescues us, there is a decent place down the road and they speak English, yay, result.  Any way we duly order some but are still awaiting delivery, fingers crossed it comes before the supply here runs out , as then I will be seriously grumpy. The cat and I DO NOT LIKE THE COLD.

Husband is back in the UK for nearly two weeks which means I am effective on my own all day every day until the kids get back from school at 5pm.  I relish in the luxury of the quiet house and I'm able to do my ‘own’ thing but this soon loses some of its shine.  The lovely French ‘grand-mère’ has moved back to Perpignan for the winter so is obviously no longer around.  Yes, I can here you shouting, get out do some exercise, go for a walk enjoy the beauty, did I mention the torrential rain? Now that its stopped I will be enjoying the splendour that surrounds.

The problem is as soon as I step out the door I feel like a toddler and am just as articulate if not worse.  My French is at the stage of, I know what I am saying is correct, i.e.: some of the grammar and most of the vocabulary is correct but I am still not been understood as my accent is completely pants, which is so frustrating but completely understandable. Therefore unless I am speaking to some good English speakers it is so much easier to email or text people if the conversation needs to go further than the daily niceties.

Before I went back to 'proper' work my life in London was not that different.  I had many hours on my own. What was different then, was I could go out the door and have a chat to anyone even if it was only about the weather.  Here at the moment that is a step too far, which make me feel more isolated than I really am.

Where does this leave me now, well exactly as I said more or less on my own but I am making good use of this time.  It’s given me a lot of time to think about what I really want and how I think we should proceed in the New Year.  It’s also given me loads of time to keep going at the French, which is clearly essential.  It is  great to be able to give my undivided attention to the kids when they do get home as there is nothing I ‘have’ to do, it’s all been done.

So as I add another log to the fire and curl up on the sofa with my French books, ok sometimes a sneak peek at a novel or too.  Life here is still good; I still just love looking out at the beautiful vista we are lucky enough to have. Just as a write this ‘our’ resident eagles give me a fly past, that is truly good for the soul. So, I cannot pop down to my old favourite coffee shop and have a brew with my mates and I am too shy/scared to do it here with my new mates. As I reflect on this time I have come to realise that I am happy to be on my own, I am alone not lonely, now if any of you knew me  20 years ago you would know that is a HUGE leap for me.

 

In week or so time hubby will be back, with all the razzmatazz that comes with that and I will be longing for some quiet time. A bientôt.

 

It's offical .... we belong!

Well I thought things were quietening down a little but we have just had the busiest week ever.  It always seems a bit more holiday-like when hubby returns from London. For a few days holiday mode sets in and daily drudgery is forgotten to be regretted at a later date.

The kids returned to school after half term but this ‘Wednesday no school business’; is really unsettling you are just getting into a routine of the week and then they are home again for the day, which is lovely I do really like spending time with my children, it just somehow upsets the rhythm of the week as we are not used to it yet.

This week of course was hectic with the young man of the house’s ninth birthday which fell on Thursday.  We were determined to keep things as similar as possible as before, so as not to highlight the difference and him missing his London mates.  His first request was fish and chips for supper – ‘Dad can just go to the chippy’, uhm.... no he cannot. So I did my best and it seemed to pass muster.  Then the birthday party itself, well trying to control 20 kids at any one time is a headache in itself but try and do it in another language it’s a whole new ball game.  They either really didn’t understand me or chose not to, not sure which is worse. To top it all, le fils decided to go for a swim, determined to do so on his birthday, forget that is was absolutely freezing; it had to be done, he was joined by two of his crazier male friends, the girls all laughed and took video’s on their phones to later be uploaded to Facebook...... they are 9, for goodness sake! I believe General de Gaulle died on the 9^th November just wondering if there is a connection?

As the house was going to be in chaos anyway we decided to invite the parents, neighbours and various friends for drinks and cake too, WHAT was I thinking, well clearly I wasn’t.  I was so tired by this stage I forgot how to speak at all and any small amount of French I did have completely deserted me all that was forming in my head were phrases of Zulu, not so helpful.  However we survived, the rain came at the right time and didn’t ruin the fireworks, such as they were.  Obviously no bonfire night here so we hoped to do a home job on the 5^th but it was way too windy and dangerous so we did them on Saturday instead.

Sunday saw hubby and son off to son’s first rugby league tournament, they left at 8.30 and returned at 5ish, (so not just the morning then). Son completely chuffed with his first rugby medal albeit for the wrong code! La fille and I had the joy of cleaning up after the party but we rewarded ourselves by curling up on the sofa together and watching Saturday’s Strictly, always a treat.

Monday was a public holiday to commemorate Armistice Day and as mentioned before we were the guests of Monsieur Mayor.  What we didn’t realise was that it was his last official ceremony after 19 years of service to St Paul.  So the great and the good of St Paul gathered outside the Marie and then walked the short distance to the Place de République where the war memorial is.  We were lead by the oldest veterans of the village carrying the colours, followed by the pompiers and gendarmes, then Monsieur Mayor and other dignitaries.  We formed a semi circle around the memorial and all waited respectfully, the mayor began to speak and then, wait yes, I am not going crazy, and he’s speaking English and officially welcoming us to St Paul.  It was a great surprise and a bit of shock but it just highlighted how welcome we have been made to feel here.  The Representative of the Conseil General not to be out done also welcomed us in English and was very proudly wearing his British Legion poppy, made me feel awful I hadn’t bothered, not because I didn’t want to it just felt like a very British thing to do in a small French town.  The ceremony was followed by drinks and nibbles in the Marie, where we met more fellow town’s people. 

There was one lady who was speaking really rapid French and seemed very concerned for our ‘prayer life’ I tried to explain we were not Catholics but this was not registering.  After a few pleasantries we came to some sort of understanding.  On our walk home, me carrying the baguettes, (the Mayor commented I was doing the perfect imitation of a French mother) la fille noticed this same women at her gate very close to the turning to our road.  She was waiting for us with the church program for the winter; she then accompanied us the short distance to our house.  Husband invited her in for a drink but she had to go home and lock up, she returned minutes later with a bottle of vin rouge which is made by her family. Stay with me: her husband’s, brother’s son (so nephew once removed?) made the wine and owns the cave.  We were pleased it was one we had visited recently so were able to show some knowledge and appreciation.  We invited her to stay for our simple lunch of said pain, fromage and saucisson, oh no, couldn’t possibly.  Of course you can, no I need to call my daughter (policewomen in Paris) otherwise she will worry about me, so off she trots to return 10 or so minutes later to enjoy our simple déjeuner.  What an amazing character, we learnt she originally hails from Lorraine and has lived in St Paul for 57 years.  She and her husband built their house together which I have always admired.

So from a chaotic children’s birthday party and drinks party all on the same day, to a official welcome at the Remembrance ceremony and attending the Coupe de Monde;  I think we are making our mark in a small way and making friends along the way. We may still be the ‘fou Anglaise’ (or in my case ‘fou Sud-Africain’) but we are also officially residents of St Paul, what JOY!

Harvest and le Sanglier

May 2013

We visited St Paul in the May of this year and it was the wettest, coldest spring in many a year, depending who you speak to, this is unprecedented it’s never been as cold and wet so late in the year. I certainly hope there is not a repeat performance as I have been guaranteed 300 days of sunshine in this region (not sure by who, probably the tourist board) and I may have to go all the way to the top to complain if this is not achieved. What I do know is the ski slopes were opened for the weekend when we were here in spring, so cold it was.

Whatever the facts and figures are concerning the weather it is definitely changing and certainly affected a lot of the harvesting.  One of the joys of the Roussillon is that a well managed vineyard can turn into timely and well managed harvest.  If you take the traditional grapes of the area (namely Muscat, Syrah, Grenache and Carignan) and they all behave properly you can harvest each one in turn as they ripen at differing times in more or less that order depending on vineyard location.  However, in the main that did not happen this year.  Harvest started more or less on time at in September but it was well into the latter weeks of October that the reds could even be considered for picking; they were just not ripe enough and then to top it off, they all ripened at once even the late-ripening Carignan.  So this made cellar management really tricky especially for the smaller producers and some long hours and frenetic days and nights were spent making sure all was on course.

In days gone by before mechanical harvesting the travelling pickers could literally start at the bottom of France and work they way north as the weather was consist and even moving in an orderly pattern but that is no longer the case.  In theory the hotter southern part of France should be harvested earlier than the northern cooler regions but this year this was certainly not so. The weather played havoc on all regions and some of the northern regions were done before their expected harvest date unlike these southern parts.  Global warming having its effect or an abnormal year? Only time will tell.

 

As to the grapes themselves as mentioned before 2013 is a harvest of quality but not quantity. In a whispered voice: I personally think that some of the reds may benefit from less grape sugar so we will not have the searing alcohol levels and possibly softer fuller fruity wines at less abv. For many traditional producers this is not what is wanted so I have to be careful to not upset them with my opinions.  From early observations I think this year will be remembered for the fresh, aromatic whites and roses and velvety, fruit driven, long lasting reds.  One producer is convinced their wines will be as good as 2010 if not better!

 

Many vineyards have electric fences around them to protect the crop from the le sanglier and  unlike the harvest it appears the sanglier population is booming!  We are constantly hearing the shots of the chasseur and wondering how we can get in on some of the action – not the shooting just the consuming. We had the privilege to be part of Mas Peyre 10^th Anniversary celebrations and it was our first big foray into the French community.  We were the only ‘l’anglais’ there but we were welcomed warmly and met some real characters.  Tables were laid out in the storage cellar and we were treated to a real feast, the highlight of which was the sanglier served with haricot, it was so delicious and we had the added bonus of the chasseur sitting at our table! (The one on the phone). That party went on well into the wee hours not for me though I came back to watch the Currie Cup Final! (Take the girl out of Africa.......)

 

I had been inquiring and even asked our charming chasseur at our table how to get hold of some le sanglier as this is not a bought and sold thing it’s all about who you know and hubby is not out there hunting yet!  I was resigned to maybe next year but the ever faithful Gigi came to our rescue once again and arrived with a rump of sanglier from her neighbour as a gift for us. I was overwhelmed by the generosity of total strangers but very grateful. It was sent with a recipe too because of course no l’anglais would know how to cook it properly.  There is a chance it might be sanglier for Christmas!

As the season changes and the wines settle the beauty of the region blossoms  to breath-taking magnificence. The autumn colours against the mountains and blue sky (in the main) is simply stunning and we are treated to the most perfect rainbows, clear and full with each colour defined, awesome in its truest sense. (Wish I could paint!) There is a definite shift in attitude and feeling as the colours ripen, the weather cools and the summer fruits disappear from the markets.  There is a sense of closure especially now as the kids return to school after their half term break, the pool needs to be shut down for winter, the logs need to be collected, mushrooms should be foraged.  It somehow seems quieter but content it was a good summer and now we can rest on the bounty of it, with quiet satisfaction; and with that sanglier in the freezer it just feels ‘right’ and that we are a little part of this wonderful land. A bientôt.