June in Vaison la Romaine

This is the first time we have spent June in France. I am glad we did. The weather is warmer and though we had several severe rain storms at the beginning of the month, it has not rained since - and that is a good thing as no rain means low humidity which means the temperature drops after sunset and the sleeping is easy.

Activities in Vaison increase markedly in June. (It also helps when the European Football Championship is going on and the bars and cafés have their big screens tuned in.) On weekend nights when there is no football, there is music. No matter the reason, people seem to flock to the central square of the town and enjoy the long and cool evenings.

The Alliance Française - Michigan Capital Area Chapter has always dedicated the June soirée to La Fête de la Musique (the music festival). We listen to French music on CD's or sometimes played by talented members of the group, sometimes we sing French songs. I have enjoyed our little tribute to La Fête de la Musique but had no idea of how big the celebration was in France or more accurately in Vaison. 

On the evening of the Solstice, musical groups started playing at around 6:00 PM. There were at least six venues where musicians were playing simultaneously. The groups came and went but the music continued well into the night. All of the cafés and bars had added tables and chairs and they were all full. I have never seen so many people in town as were there for La Fête de la Musique. The central square was filled with people as were the other streets and gathering areas. It was harder to walk from one venue to another than it is to walk through the Tuesday market. Some of the music enticed people to dance - and they did! It was a fun-filled enjoyable evening and a wonderful way to celebrate the Solstice.

Health Care in France

I am continually amazed at the French health care system. 

On Friday morning, Ellen and I walked to the Vaison hospital so that I could have a cyst removed from my eyelid. The operation was the culmination of a four-month process the extent and success of which I am in awe.

When we arrived in France in February, I had developed what looked like a boil on my eyelid. My local doctor referred me to an ophthalmologist. The ophthalmologist corrected my diagnosis: I had a cyst that had become infected. He prescribed antibiotics and suggested that I should have it removed.

Before proceeding with the operation, my physician suggested that I consult with the local cardiologist which I did. The heart doctor did an EKG and an echo cardiogram and he wrote to the ophthalmologist that my heart was functioning well and there would no reason that I could not have the operation. I did not schedule anything for May as we had Lansing visitors and then a trip to Porto, Portugal.

Friday was the day. The cyst had reduced in size from being about the size of an olive pit to being only the size of a grape seed which pleasantly surprised the ophthalmologist. We met him as we were walking to the hospital and he got to meet Ellen. He told her that the surgery would take about an hour and then he asked me to follow him to the operating room.

As promised, we were walking home an hour later. I had a big patch over my left eye which covered four stitches closing the spot from whence he had removed the cyst.

This is all pretty boring stuff except when one compares health care in France (Vaison) with health care in the US. Some things jump out as differences:

• Regular visits to a doctor cost 23 € - under $30 at the current exchange rate.
• Visits to a specialist like the cardiologist are more expensive. I think I paid 150 € for the visit during which I had the EKG and the echo. 
• Before going to the hospital for the surgery, the ophthalmologist had given me a list of medications and supplies that I needed to buy and bring to the hospital. All of the supplies that the ophthalmologist used during the surgery - minus the thread used for the stitches - were in the things that I had purchased at the pharmacy (about 9 €).
• Doctors work alone. My physician does not have any office staff. If I call for an appointment, it is he who answers the phone. The cardiologist has an office assistant but he performs all of the procedures himself. The ophthalmologist performed the surgery by himself. He had no assistance at all.
• As we left the surgery, the ophthalmologist gave me an invoice to pay to the hospital. He reminded me where the billing office was and said: “You don’t have to stop there right now if you don’t want to. Pay the bill when it is convenient for you.” (The bill for my time in the hospital surgery was under $100.) The ophthalmologist had told me that my bill for his time would be about 150 € - $175 - a bill that I won’t see until he removes the stitches.)
• Medical school is free, so those who become doctors are not burdened with overwhelming debt. Malpractice lawsuits are rare in France so doctors do not have to spend huge sums for insurance.

I remember speaking with an emergency room physician several years ago when I had gone to the ER. He said that health care in France costs about one/tenth of what it costs in the US. (He was a French doctor who had worked as a doctor in California before settling in Vaison.)

Not only is the cost of health care significantly less than in the US, prescriptions are equally inexpensive. I had told the cardiologist about a drug that I was taking and that the copay portion that I paid was extremely expensive. He wrote me a prescription for this same drug and my total costs are now about one/third of what my copay was!

I am pleased that we finally have The Affordable Care Act in the US but when I compare it to health care in France, I know that the US has a long way to go in meeting the health care needs of its citizens. We can and must do better in the US.

Chocolate wars

For the eight years that we have been coming here, Vaison has had one gourmet chocolate  shop. There are, of course, chocolates made and sold at some of the bakeries/patisseries and there is the Comptoir de Mathilde which is a franchise and to my way of thinking a tourist shop. 

Peyrerol has been the gourmet chocolate shop in town since it opened in 1998. The chocolates are excellent and always presented in creative ways. For instance, we took a fish made of dark chocolate and painted silver to our friends to celebrate “Poisson d’avril” (fish of April) which is the French version of April Fool’s Day. At Easter, the shop was filled with gorgeous creations of eggs, bunnies and bells (in Europe, Easter goodies are delivered by the bells of Rome). The store has earned the respect of the people in town. When one takes a gift in the distinctive black and red Peyerol bag, the recipient is always delighted and knows that the gift is special. Peyerol has been synonymous with gourmet chocolate in Vaison and has been the best place to buy high-quality chocolate and chocolate creations.

Until now... “There’s a new kid in town...” Renting space in a newly renovated shop and situated right around the corner from Peyerol is Jeff de Bruges. 

Jeff de Bruges is a franchise gourmet chocolate shop. I first heard about the chocolate shop twenty years ago when a Lansing friend asked us to bring some Jeff de Bruges chocolate back to the states for his wife. As the name suggests, it is Belgian chocolate (a hands-down favorite of my brother-in-law.) I don’t know when the company got so big but there are now Jeff de Bruges shops all over France.

This new store has me sitting on the horns of a dilemma. (A very uncomfortable place to sit!) On the one hand, I find myself feeling somewhat chauvinistic and protective and thus thinking that our store (Peyrerol) is enough - thank you very much - and I don’t want this franchise crowding the playing field. On the other hand, I love chocolate and am interested in tasting whether Jeff de Bruges is still as good as I remember. On the other hand, I always prefer locally-owned. And on the other hand, can there ever be too much chocolate?

Belle Provence or Beautiful Michigan?

We’ve been in Lansing for two weeks. The vegetable garden is planted, most of the home maintenance chores are finished and I am back on my volunteer schedule at the two nearby child care centers. Clearly, we are settling into our state-side routines.

As we encounter people we have not seen for six or more months, we are often asked about what we missed while we were away or what strikes us as a source of differences between Lansing life and life in Vaison la Romaine.

From the get-go, I turn around the first question and reply that I miss living in the center of a village where a car is not necessary. I miss the walking to – everywhere! Not just in steps logged but in people encountered who smile or stop to talk or simply offer “Bonjour Monsieur” as I pass. (At some point in time though it must have been recently, I stopped being middle-aged and became old. People say “Bonjour Monsieur” as a respectful way of greeting someone older – and to most of the world, the someone older is I.) In France, I averaged 12,000 steps a day. In Lansing, I may get to 12,000 steps once a week. In Lansing, one can’t walk to any grocery or butcher shop or bakery… - did I say ‘butcher shop’? I am not sure where there is a butcher shop outside of a grocery.

I have missed the camaraderie of people with whom we have forged friendships over the past 30 years. I have missed our neighborhood and the special connections/supports that our neighbors offer.

I have missed NPR and the Sunday word puzzle with Will Short on Weekend Edition. And John Stewart, and Steve Colbert and John Oliver. (I have missed understanding subtle humor and political comedy.)

In general, people speak louder here than in France and we Americans laugh louder than the French.

I like the pervasiveness of “the customer is always right” attitude in stores here. It may also be true in France but you might have to do penance before your shopping error is absolved and the item is taken back…

I miss good, cheap wine. In the US, food is less expensive – even though the produce in the grocery stores comes from three different continents – but wine here is more expensive. Similarly, a baguette in France is only a dollar. In Lansing, a baguette costs three to five times as much.

On balance, there are so many things to make each “home” attractive. We are fortunate to have such wonderful options.

Missing You! Missing France! 2

A week from today, we leave our apartment to go to Marseille. Our flight to Lansing is at 0 dark thirty on Tuesday morning and it is a whole lot easier to deal with the early departure from a hotel at the airport.

Given our departure, we are working on turning our apartment into a rental property for the summer/fall. The focus on work helps me not think about leaving here but I nonetheless do think about leaving and what I will miss most. (I looked back through my old blogs to the one I wrote as we prepared to leave in 2009 after our first six months here. My list of things I will miss has not changed a lot. For the sake of redundancy, I offer my 2014 edition of “Missing You! Missing France!)

·         FRIENDS! We have developed wonderful friendships here in Vaison la Romaine. The village is ‘just the right size’ for encountering friends on a regular basis. I realize that the village is also large enough that it could feel isolating without friends.

·         The “Bonjour, monsieur” greeting as I walk into almost any store (followed by: “Au revoir, monsieur. Bonne journée” as I leave a store – even if I didn’t buy anything.

·         The plethora of wineries and all of the wonderful wines of the Rhone Valley. We are fortunate to live amongst some of the best wine-producing villages of the southern Rhone Valley: Cairanne, Chateauneuf du Papes, Gigondas, Rasteau, Roaix, Sablet, Vacqueyras, Vinsobres, Visan. An American friend once asked if one could drink the water in France. I replied: “Of course! But wine is cheaper!”

·         The emphasis that the French put on good (and fresh!) produce, meat and fish. Barbara Kingsolver’s book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, underscored the importance of buying fresh/buying locally produced. Right now, asparagus, strawberries (from the next big town – Carpentras), spring melons make shopping more fun and cooking easier. I learned from the fish monger that the best mussels are from Brittany but the ‘moules de Bouchot’ have a season – July to March.

French grocery stores and shops as well as the Tuesday market vendors always display the country of origin of the produce, meat, fish and cheese they are selling. As I have tried to become more of a “locavore”, I have started paying careful attention to the country of origin of my foods.

·         Our world-class cheese store and the choices of cheeses. I am pleased that our market in Lansing has a very good cheese shop but in Lansing, the choice is usually binary: ‘Do you have Roquefort?’ Yes! (or no!) Here in our village, if I ask for Roquefort, I have to clarify what style of Roquefort I want. The same is true for Gruyere, goat cheese, brie, etc…

·         The varieties of meats and poultries

·         The View! from our small but viewalicious balcony on the 3ème étage (4th floor) The spectacular views as one drives/walks around the area.

·         Our daily bread (baguette)

·         Being able to clean the WHOLE apartment while standing in one spot (almost) – in about 12 minutes

·         Leaving the apartment at 5:25 for a 5:30 movie and being on time

·         Playing with the kids at the crèche.

Luckily, the sadness of leaving here is replaced by the joy of returning to Lansing and our wonderful friends there. Life is good!

Troyes

France is often called “the hexagon” by the French. If you squint while looking at a map drawn by a lazy cartographer, you can see that the name fits. Two weeks ago, we started a triangular tour when we drove from Vaison-la-Romaine to Troyes on our way to Paris. We then went to Ornans and back to Vaison. Given the distances covered, we might have driven over about one/sixth of “the hexagon”…

Troyes was a pretty town. It is located in the champagne region of France on the Seine about 150 km from Paris. We found a B&B there that was in a loft apartment in an old factory. The skylights (a veritable ‘glass ceiling’) and the renovations made it a beautiful spot to stay.

The old town was just five minutes away by foot and has beautiful churches and buildings with a hint of the architectural style we saw in Besançon and Ornans. Many of the old buildings date to the 1500s.

These buildings lived apart for too many centuries...

The hosts at our B&B gave us several recommendations of restaurants and we chose Pizzeria Giusepino where one can get “…the best pizza in the city, in the department, in France! – or so we were told by a man who gave us directions when we got lost.

Troyes is worth a visit. The next time you are driving in France, try Troyes!

Anna

We have been taking care of a dog for the past three weeks. The owners (our friends) needed to go to Amsterdam for business and asked us if we would like to care for their “berger” (mostly German shepherd). Ellen jumped at the chance.

We have enjoyed having her here. She is well-behaved (mostly) and very quiet - except for loving to chase cats when I walk her. And Vaison has a lot of feral cats!

Since I always enjoyed the routine of walking our dogs, taking this berger out three/four times a day has been enjoyable. Walking her at night around 10:00, I realize how small our village is in winter. It is quiet and there is rarely anyone on the streets – except other dog-walkers and feral cats. This village is truly a “roll up the sidewalks” kind of town in winter. I know that the population will double in summer but in March it is VERY quiet at night.

A downside of the dog-walking routine is bad weather. In the past three weeks, there was one heavy rain day (pleuvoir comme une vache qui pisse) but when the north of France got all of the snow earlier this week, we got the Mistral and its 120 k/h COLD winds.

She adapted well to our little apartment and made herself quite “at home”. In a place this small, one might think that supervision would not be a problem but she managed to clean Ellen’s plate one evening when I was out and Ellen went to wash her hands before eating. Like the deerhounds we used to have, she loves butter and emptied the butter dish that was on the kitchen counter – twice! (we should have remembered that behavior!) 

The owners were supposed to return to pick her up last Sunday but their car broke down (requiring a rebuilt engine that had to be shipped from Spain) and once it was repaired and ready to go, the snow storm closed the roads. They managed to arrive here late yesterday afternoon.

Now that Anna has returned to her owners, our little apartment seems larger – but empty.

Vaison's Tuesday Market

We have been back a week. Since we arrived on a Tuesday, that means that today, I get to shop at the Vaison market day.

“Vaison la Romaine has one of the best weekly markets in the Provence and perhaps in France. Its origin goes back to 1483, when Pope Sixtus IV granted a license. In 1532 Pope Clement VII stipulated that the market be held every Tuesday and this is observed to this day… It is one gigantic open air department store, offering everything here, from clothes and shoes to furniture, meat, fish, ham, and sausages, vegetables, fruits, cheese and wine and while you are doing your shopping you won’t need to stay hungry either. This is actually one of the best places to shop for Provençal items, like table linens, earthenware and toiletries. The market is held every Tuesday from 8 AM to around 1 PM in the town proper. Many streets are closed off. Parking is definitely a problem. The trick is to arrive either early (around 8:30 AM) or after 11 AM. If you see a group of Americans expertly shopping for vegetables, fruits, fish and meat, it is probably Patricia Wells and her cooking class.” (Provence Hideaway www.provence-hideaway.com)

I haven’t made a count, but my guess is that there are about a hundred vendors who load up their trucks and leave their homes at 0 dark 30 to get to our village to set up the displays of their wares. The description of an open-air department store (Provence Hideaway) is accurate but doesn’t include music (street musicians as well as music CD vendors), furniture repair, live plants, vendors of fabrics and the notions to sew items. You can get roasted chickens, paella, pizza, oriental dishes, soup and/or crêpes take-away, cookies and nougat, dried sausages (pork, wild boar, with herbs or plain…)

The Tuesday marché is not just a shopping destination, it is a social event. The vendors know their customers and exchange pleasantries/jokes while filling orders. One vendor surprised me when he said “Vous êtes de retour!” (You’ve come back.) I was impressed by his memory. I find it hard to remember my own name when I am not wearing a name tag. The village denizens spend time exchanging local news (and often blocking the traffic) but they (as I) are hoping to see friends and neighbors. French women always dress well but they seem to dress better for the occasion of shopping at the marché.

As my friend Margaret used to say about the Solstice: it only gets better from here. Every week from now until the summer solstice and beyond, the market will grow larger: more vendors, more customers, more gridlock to the point where the locals complain about the success of the Vaison marché day. They ‘doth protest too much methinks’ (Hamlet, III, ii, Shakespeare) Tuesday at the market in Vaison la Romaine is an event everyone should have the opportunity to enjoy.

Sounds

In addition to the semi-annual exercise of realizing that “we’re not in Kansas anymore”[i] and we have to adjust our lives and life style, I was awakened the other morning by a train whistle. Trains crisscross Lansing on a regular basis and one can hear train whistles as the trains cross roadways.

Since France has invested in a high-speed rail system where the trains never have to cross a roadway, one rarely hears a train whistle in France. (Vaison la Romaine is not a village with rail service.) In fact, the trains use quiet, electric motors and thus are so quiet, the sound they make is “whoosh” as they speed by. Probably the loudest sound connected with passenger trains is the conductor’s whistle as s/he signals that the train doors are closing. French trains are quite a contrast with the US where the automobile reigns and trains must traverse roads on a regular basis. Even if the US rail system could handle high speed trains, the engineers would still need to maintain lower speeds to reduce risks at railroad crossings.

Given the location of our house, we can hear the vehicular traffic on the expressway that cuts through Lansing just a few blocks from here. There is a constant drone from the interstate. Over the years of walking our dogs in the evening, I have noted that the drone disappears on Sunday evening. I guess Sunday evening television is so good people get home early to watch their favorite programs.

In our village in Provence, one hears the local traffic – often moving too fast – and the annoying sound of motorbikes with two-stroke engines. The motorbikes sound like chainsaws and the teens who ride them love to race everywhere.

In Vaison la Romaine, we are serenaded by a rooster who takes his role very seriously. Starting at 5:00 AM (in the spring), the rooster announces the arrival of a new day and then spends the rest of the day crowing about the success of his prediction. Lansing has passed an ordinance permitting residents to have hens, not roosters. While in France, every time I am awakened by the rooster, I try to go back to sleep by listing the ingredients that go into “Coq au Vin.”

When I volunteer at the crèche, the kids enjoy pointing out jets, planes and helicopters as they fly overhead. Here in the states, if we notice air traffic, it is almost a subconscious awareness. In Vaison, we regularly hear and see the French Air Force jets as they fly by (low and fast) in an eight-jet formation. (The sorties seem less frequent now. My guess is that several of the jets/pilots have been ordered to Libya.)  

I miss the happy screams (or crying) of kids at the crèche on our street in Lansing. The closest child care is about five blocks away and the two toddlers who live in the neighborhood are happy, secure kids who are just beginning to talk, so they are very quiet. I miss hearing one of the teachers at the crèche telling Gaston (not his real name) to go to “time-out.” He spends so much time in “time-out” that it seems that he spends his time there thinking about his next transgression rather than reflecting on why he had to go to “time-out.”

The Rhone Valley from Chateauneuf du Pape

We have had a few severe thunderstorms and tornado warnings recently in Lansing. These weather events usually include high winds but they occur much less frequently than the Mistral winds of Provence. The Mistral blows from the north and brings dry air as it races down the Rhone Valley as it heads to the Camargue on the Mediterranean coast. Vaison la Romaine is situated among several high hills and does not get the full brunt of the wind but our friend Beth who lives at the very edge of the Rhone Valley has said that a person who committed a heinous crime would be able to claim that he temporarily lost his mind due to the Mistral because the winds are so forceful and so constant, it can drive one crazy!

---

[i] Wizard of Oz, 1939

Nesting

Wow, it has been about six weeks since my last blog entry. In that six weeks,  Sarah Palin has provided a new interpretation of Paul Revere’s role in American history, a Congressman has added his name (and body part image) to the list of notables on the “What could he have been thinking?!” list, and our Michigan governor gave a big tax break ($1.3 billion) to businesses at the expense of low-income residents and senior citizens’ retirement incomes (read “ours”).

I am honored that people read and comment on my blog entries – some even comment on the frequency (or lack thereof), reminding me that it is time for another entry.

Life goes on and may be spinning out of control but our focus has been on nesting: recreating our space at our US home. Our wonderful tenants and dog caretakers have moved out and we are making the house ours once again. Though all was well-cared-for in our absence, for the past three weeks we have been cleaning, reorganizing cabinets, adjusting furniture, as well as adjusting ourselves to the switch from one culture to the other. It is a gentle hit-upside-the-head reminder that perceptions and values are very different when comparing France to the US—and vice versa.

Before leaving France, we hosted our good friends Marge and Charley, showing them some “new finds” since the last time they were in Vaison la Romaine together in 2007. Since they were hard at work setting up our newly-acquired apartment on their last working visit, we were determined to eat well, taste/drink the wonderful wines of the Côtes du Rhône and generally enjoy spring in Provence. Mission accomplished!

Our friends in France gave us great send-offs and we enjoyed two end-of-year class parties with our two French language study groups. A bittersweet aspect of our class parties was saying goodbye and merci bien to our devoted and talented professor, Michelle Paris, who is retiring from her volunteer teaching commitment after nearly ten years. How fortunate we were to have her for our first three half-years in Vaison! 

Spring was beautiful with vines covered with green leaves and orchards already producing cherries and flowers everywhere. Ellen was so pleased to enjoy the early spring in Provence and the spring in Michigan after our return that she doesn’t think of it all the time as suffering through allergy season twice! She and Charley could commiserate through their sneezes and runny eyes over a soothing glass of wine.

With spring, Catherine reopens the Musée du Vigneron, located between Roaix and Rasteau, where one can see a vast collection of ancient winemaking implements and old vines that tell the history of winemaking. The winemaking family of Domaine de Beaurenard has been in business since the 17th century and their family collection shows vividly the tools and methods used over the years. An audio tour available in several languages, including English, enables understanding. And what is not to like about having their success illustrated by tasting and enjoying the fine wines of Domaine de Beaurenard! Their Chateauneuf du Pape and Côtes du Rhône Village Rasteau are award winning wines—and we like them, too..

Only one day after our return to the US, we travelled to PA for Ellen’s nephew Will’s wedding to his dear Deanna. Since our return to Lansing we have hosted a US reunion visit from Marge & Charley and also enjoyed a long-overdue visit from our friends Ellen & Bob and their now adult son Jeremy. We last saw Jeremy when he was about 10 years old so it was a treat to again meet this recent Yale grad on his way to a Ph.D. program at the U of Michigan in the fall. One of the pleasures of being at home in Lansing is that it offers us space to entertain and to have visiting friends stay overnight with us. On the other hand, I love that I can clean our whole apartment in Vaison la Romaine while practically standing in one spot (as per Dan S.)! It could be said that we enjoy the best of both worlds, couldn’t it?

La vie d’un célibataire (life without a partner)

How do you make a 400 sq. ft. apartment seem too big? Live there alone.

Ellen is attending L’Institut de Français (www.institutdefrancais.com) where she enrolled in a French immersion course in Villefranche sur mer. It is a one-month course that focuses on practical, oral French. L’Institut de Français is one of the premier/the premier French language school(s) in France. Villefranche sur mer is located just east of Nice – between Nice and Monaco on the Mediterranean coast. She has already completed two weeks at the Institut.

She has a beautiful view from her apartment though she doesn’t get to spend much time appreciating the view. The school opens for breakfast at 8:30 and then the students spend the next nine hours working on improving their French. With two weeks under her belt and two weeks to go, it is already obvious to me that it is having a positive impact on her ability to speak French. This past weekend, for example, Phil, Margaret and I went to visit her and when rain ruined all of our Sunday plans, Ellen worked on her homework (devoirs). We offered to help her but she wanted to get it right and to understand why, so she worked alone. (Meanwhile, Margaret, Phil and I tried to improve our French by correcting each other on subjunctive verbs, pronouns, etc. Not a day at the Carnivale in Nice nor the Lemon Festival in Menton, but we still had fun.)

I have visited Ellen on each weekend that she has been at the school. The first weekend, the Institut offered a walking tour of Villefranche sur mer. On Sunday, Ellen and I went to Nice. (The bus service between Nice and Monaco costs only one euro so it was easy and inexpensive to enjoy the city of Nice – we haven’t yet been to Monaco.)

This past weekend, we went to two villages on a tour again organized by the Institut. In St. Paul, we went to the modern art museum at which there are many Miro and Giacometti sculptures as well as many paintings. 

We saw a chapel that was designed by Matisse. The tour continued to the village of Tourettes sur Loup (towers on the Loup river) which is a medieval village located between Nice and Grasse. Tourettes sur Loup is known for its tanneries which I learned is the reason that Grasse became the center of the perfume industry. Apparently, in the early days, tanned leather was sought after but its products smelled bad. Working with people from Grasse, they found a way of adding a scent that was less offensive – thus creating the perfume industry in France.

Ellen’s apartment may have a beautiful view but it has not been updated and thus there is no wifi and the kitchen is wanting in terms of preparing foods. Ellen has a stove top with four elements and a microwave (no oven). When I arrived to make dinner, I had to change my ideas of what to prepare as I rely on casseroles and dishes that require oven time…

I am continually gratified that we chose to live in Vaison la Romaine. The Mediterranean coast is gorgeous but it is crowded with people who want to live with a view. Too many hills (and stairways up the hills!) and too many people. I like the calm and easy flow of life here. Secondly, I have been surprised at the number of people in our village who know that Ellen is away and are routing for her. It is a rare day that someone doesn’t ask how she is doing (and how I am getting along without her). It seems that they all know that she has a lot to say and they want to hear it from her – rather than through her interpreter.

Bonne chance, Ellen! (Good luck, Ellen.) We are all routing for you.

Walking in the park

According to “France on Foot” www.franceonfoot.com, France has more than 110,000 miles of hiking trails. The same website says that there are 38,000 miles of “sentiers de grande randonnée” (long, national paths).

I first learned about the hiking trails when Tish came to visit two years ago. She had done her research on hiking in France and came ready to start walking. We picked up a few hiking guides at the Tourist information office that listed the starting point(s) distance, elevation, etc. Tish, Ellen and I had some very fun walks by picking hikes from the books. (For long-time blog readers, you may remember my text about our hike through the Dentelles: “Les Dentelles de Montmirail”, January 5, 2009.)

As a result of being introduced to the system by Tish, I have become very aware of the markings that indicate national paths or grande randonnée. Grande Randonnée 5 (GR5), for instance, goes from Amsterdam to Nice. If you are in France and see a tree or a light pole or a building with yellow or white and red horizontal stripes, you will know that you are on one of the national paths. I was reading “Follow the Yellow and Red Striped Road” by Anne (www.justanotheramericaninparis.blogspot.com) in which she talked about seeing the red and yellow stripes on posts in Paris. Local trails have single, yellow stripes designating petite randonnée (PR).

The hiking trails include urban centers as well as rural areas. I would have said frontier areas but France has been traversed and settled by so many groups, there really is no true frontier anymore. You go for a walk in an area in which you think that you must be the first person to trek down this path and you learn that the path was one that the Romans created in 400 AD or the Celts used in 700 AD.

We learned recently that there are excursions each Sunday that leave from the Vaison la Romaine Post Office parking lot where the hikes are 10 to 20 kilometers and of varying degrees of difficulty.

In addition to the “GR” and “PR” trails, we have had friends show us other promenades. (Remember MB – “Embay” – standing below one of Les Demoiselles Coiffées? Tuesday, December 1, 2009.) This year, Tish walked with us past the ‘coiffed women.’

In addition to the well-marked trails that are part of the national paths, there are shorter, more local trails. There are also the ubiquitous yellow signs that one sees in town and in the country that show directions and the number of kilometers to the named destination.

Last weekend, Jane called and asked if we wanted to join her on a little walk above the village of Piégon. We had a great time (though the Mistral wind made it feel very cold when we got to the top of the ridge). The picture below is of a carving in Piégon. 

So, the next time somebody tells me to “take a hike!” I will answer: happily! (and I will know where I am going).

Gobble gullible

There are cars and then there is Rolls Royce.

There is caviar and then there is Beluga.

There is turkey and then there is “dinde de Bresse”

Ellen read these phrases as she was trying to find special recipes and information on the turkey (the expensive turkey) that I had bought from one of the butcher shops in town.

I had gone to a butcher shop on Wednesday wondering if I would be able to order a turkey for Christmas. We had invited a friend to come for dinner and we wanted to cook an American-style dinner. We thought it would be fun to repeat the wonderful menu we had in Paris at Thanksgiving. I was relieved when the woman behind the counter said that I could still order a turkey and that I would need to pick it up on Friday before they closed. I gave her my name and left the shop.

On Friday, I went to the grocer to get Clementines and then to the butcher shop to pick up the turkey. I told Ellen that I was also going to stop at the barbershop if they weren’t busy. When I got home, Ellen noted: “You didn’t get a haircut.” I replied: “No, I got fleeced! I picked up our turkey and it cost almost as much as our apartment!” Ellen opened the package and showed me that the turkey was tied with a cute red bow. Not only had it arrived with the head still attached, it was numbered and had an “AOC” tag.  AOC stands for “Appellation d’Origine Contrôllée” and is a guarantee that the product – be it wine or cheese or even this turkey – comes from a specific region and in that region, one obtains the “AOC” tag only if one meets the defined standards. One of our friends said that at the butcher shop, AOC really means “American is coming. Raise the price!”

I have calmed down since Friday morning. Time permits perspective and mine has permitted me to think about how humorous (ludicrous?) the episode was. I will never again place an order at the butcher shop – or any store – without asking the price per kilo/price per pound. Had I taken the time to do that, I would never have ordered the turkey I felt compelled to purchase. I would have willingly purchased one of the fresh birds available at the supermarket. (Turkey is not #1 on the French Christmas dinner menu. Our friends said that they would more likely have duck or lamb but would rarely think of having turkey for Christmas.)

As I calmed down and Ellen read a few recipes to me, I began planning the cooking of the turkey. At this point, I was no longer blushing about my error, but I was still upset enough that when I unwrapped the turkey again, I had to cut off the head (while thinking to myself: “I paid for this!?!”) The turkey came with the cavity filled with sausage stuffing (“I paid for this!?!”). Turkey in France is generally leaner with less white meat and less fat but this bird from Bresse was at least 10% fat (“I paid for this!?!”) We started talking about finding ways to use the bones after we made stock out of the carcass so that I could begin to think that I got my money’s worth.

I told my sister Sue about the turkey-purchasing episode and before the bird was even done, she had sent the following poem.

Turkey in the barnyard, what does he say?
  Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble all day.
Turkey in Vaison, what did he say?
  I got here but you're gonna pay.
Turkey in our tummies, what did we say?
  We could've gone to Paris for a day.

She then added: “What can you make from leftover turkey BRESSE?  Turkey hash, turkey casserole, turkey soup, and, as they do here in the south, don't forget the turkey feets!!!  We hope you enjoy every golden bite.”

I hope your holiday meal was as joyful and tasteful but less expensive than ours. 

A Picture is worth...

Thanks to Betty for sharing her pictures with us including this collage.

Another half-year in Provence

Leaving Lansing was bittersweet. I was ready to leave but we had so much fun at the gatherings of friends prior to our departure. I was happy to see that our deerhounds continue to defy the odds and live on but also know that they really are not immortal… On the other hand, we left the dogs in the care of two wonderful folks who will give them more attention than they deserve.

Alors, it’s back in France for another six months. The strikes and demonstrations did little to prevent our return. We are now comfortably settled in our village of Vaison la Romaine and enjoying the company of wonderful American friends John and Arleen and their friends Betty and Cecilia. It has been cooler than I remember from years past but on sunny days, the beauty of Provence shines through (and the temperature climbs to the 70s.)

Friends were really concerned about our return because of the strikes. They had seen photos in the American papers of burning automobiles and angry demonstrators and expressed concerns about our safety. While the strikes were frequent and included interrupting public transportation, we were lucky enough to arrive without a hitch. Our friends reported similar successes in coming from the states (though John and Arleen did have to wait several hours in Frankfurt after a flight was cancelled because of fog.)

From my perspective, the strikes and demonstrations in France are “le pipi du chat” (small potatoes) compared to the machinations going on with the mid-term elections in the United States. From what closet did all of these crazies emerge? – One of Ellen’s regrets about returning to France was that we were going to miss the John Stewart/Stephen Colbert rallies in Washington this weekend. I can think of no other time in my life’s history when the distinctions between equality and liberty have been so clear and so far apart. – and I used to think that Halloween was scary!

At times like these, one finds security in things that don’t change.

• ·   Our apartment is just as small as when we left – but feels like there is more space.
• ·   The village is about to begin the renovations to Place Monfort – just as they were about to begin when we left.
• ·   Our friends here appear the same – maybe happier – or may be it is I who am happier to see them?
• ·   I recognize a bunch of kids at the crèche. Some of the older kids must have not been old enough to move to Ecole Maternelle.
• ·   Our French class is again on Thursday and again taught by the wonderful Mme Paris.
• ·   The village workers have begun pruning the plane (sycamore) trees by cutting all of the branches that have leaves back to a knarly stub of a main branch.
• ·   The bakeries have not forgotten how to make baguettes – though there was not one to be found on Wednesday afternoon…
• ·   Mont Ventoux appeared to have snow on it – though it was just being as “bald” as usual.
• ·   The church bells that ring hourly still start ringing five minutes before the hour.
• ·   The vendors on market day have not changed their locations so I can still find the olive vendor that I like, the fruit vendor who sells the BEST pears, the cheese lady…

All in all, life returns to normal – and continues to be wonderful. It is good to be back!