France Summer 2018: It's a wrap or a crepe!

It's August 16 in Paris, the night before my flight home to Portland. I have been gone 75 days. Who sent me to the best sleep away summer camp ever? My friend Angela calls Monflanquin an adult playground. Agreed!

Bill and I are dining at one of the many creperies near our hotel in the 14th. Somehow Bill's vegetarian order transformed itself into a charcuterie extravaganza which even I couldn't eat. The waiter was very apologetic about the mix up. We ordered an especially tasty dry Breton cider.  All good.

Looking back, this summer in France stands out as one of surprises.  Wonderful unexpected experiences, new friendships, and increased self confidence. The latter grew from being the director and chief of our house in France, managing repairs, entertaining guests, adding to decor and comfort. Amazon.fr is my best friend.  On the road, I navigated an SUV. Way out of my comfort zone but without mishaps. Each week, I forced myself to take an out of comfort zone drive. Good for me I rationalized. Then there was swimming practice. The municipal pool felt like second home as my practice sessions grew more and more frequent during the heat wave, and my breast stroked progressed.

In a small village where so many people know each other, there is a diplomatic art to relationships. Often, I would hear two sides of the same story and just nod with interest.  People's problems become gossip,  embellished versions of the truth, or a source of conjecture.  Again, the sympathetic nod. It works for me.

The village boasts many octogenarians and nonagenarians. They eat well, live less stressful lives, and enjoy community and village activities.  Back home now, I am aching to hear Bonjour, an acknowledgement of simply being a person, see the twinkle in a French person's eyes, relish the enjoyment of conversation. The village mailman stops his truck in the middle of the street to give me the traditional French kiss on the cheeks greetings through the open yellow postal truck window. My visiting American family just stars. But c'est normal!

So it's a wrap or a crepe!  The  French summer memories will nurture me until next time. I worked hard to make my life in Monflanquin  soulful and  joyful.  Out of all my experiences,  I leave you with this personal challenge:  Follow your dreams!

Much love,
Giselle

Medieval Madness

 Every August 15, Monflanquin gets a Medieval Makeover for the annual Medieval Festival.  Ten pigs are roasted on a spit. Wild boar and sausages are served in food stands. Drinks include a beverage called Donkey's Piss and Medieval Meed.   People parade in glorious Medieval costumes. Music, dancing, flag waving, and reenactment of Medieval life abound in the streets and alley ways of the village.  We enjoy watching a jousting tournament, a choreographed dog herding duck and geese program, elegant French dressage, snake tricks, and more.  Hundreds of people pour into the village for a couple of days of festivity.  Tourists love it, locals not so much.

Herding dog named Darkness stands guard,

 Our visiting family finds the shows highly entertaining. My favorite would be the dog leading his web footed prodigies through an intricate dance routine then showing us his talent for math and counting.

I do like to get into the spirit of the festival by dressing up a little. Many refuse finding the weather too hot for costumes. The Medieval Market down the hill sells beautiful leather wares, jewelry, books, and accessories in accordance with the festival theme. 

In this picture below, I am posing in front of our house. Unfortunately, the grapes above the door suffered from extremely cold then extremely hot weather this summer. By the time they ripen, I am at home in the classroom for another term. Hopefully, neighbors get to enjoy them.

We are planning to leave the village tomorrow. I have spend the last few days packing away valuables, giving final instructions to the family staying on, and saying my good-byes. The good-byes feel flat. I am too tired and numb to feel anything.  Leaving is so hard.

Me in my Medieval Garb

A Child's Delight

Loving chocolate, I barely pay attention to other kinds of candy. The weekend I hosted my French pen pal, her two daughters, and sister, all that changed. One of my favorite sections in the local French grocery store is Confiserie/ Bonbons. Falling under the category of academic research, I regularly try all kinds of flavored chocolate, mostly dark. The weirdest one was dark chocolate with sesame seeds. It sounded better than it tasted. Dark chocolate salted caramel came in among the top five as well as dark chocolate orange, dark chocolate raspberry, dark chocolate pistachio, and just plain dark chocolate.

When Fanny age seven offered me the candy pictured to the right, I was taken aback. Why was she offering me pills? But no, the colored pills proved to be candy. I could see why a kid might like them. Fanny acquired these candy pills while on vacation with her aunt. Aunt Nadege offered me black licorice shaped like a snail. These I loved, but Fanny hated. Before she left, sister Wendy, age three, gave me more licorice as a parting gift.

 Friends Gary and Ellen who visited me mid July seek out unusual candy wherever they travel. They couldn't find anything unusual in the French grocery store. I wondered where they could get the kind of candy offered by Fanny and Wendy. Wouldn't you know it, the very week after the departure of my pen pal's family, I discovered an amazing candy stall at the Monflanquin Thursday market. Must be  a new addition for the summer. As you can see from the photos, the variety is  stunning.  Behold, the candy pills and licorice snails among the choices. With gleeful abandon, I started to fill my candy bag. Total for the bonbons, 50 euros. Oops. Out of my budget. Luckily the kind vendor told me I could easily change the desired amount.  I left the market feeling like the proverbial kid in a candy shop.

Fascinating to spend the weekend with two little French girls. Some childhood behaviors must be universal. Grave concern about boo boos and sleeping in  new places. The desire to touch merchandise in stores. I must confess I still do this. The love of coloring and the little girl attraction to pretty and pink.  How affectionate Fanny and Wendy are! Fanny insisted we hold hands whenever we left the house. She drew sweet  heart drawings for me and my friend Diana. Wendy let me hold her. She also wanted to see my pyjamas. I was in heaven. Of course, they had their melt downs too. Totally normal. Fanny and Wendy eat really well. No avoidance of vegetables.  What really cracked me up was their desire to put butter on radishes and slices of ham. We are not talking a pat of butter here.  I must agree. Delicious flavorful French butter makes everything better.

Our sweet weekend came to an end. The two little girls said good-bye with "Je t'aime, Giselle."
Awww.   Je t'aime Fanny and Wendy.

My friend Christine love these. There is a surprise in the middle.

Dog Sitting

I am  taking care of little Miss Penny today while her parents pack up their house to movie to the country. She is such a well behaved dog! She is panting due to the heat. It has been in the high nineties all  week.  What a challenge without air conditioning!  I go to the pool as often as possible.  My breast stroke is improving!

Post World Cup

Jazz/Blues at the Brasserie in Monflanquin 

Love these talented musicians!  They play so many instruments. Most impressive is the harmonica.

Life has gotten back to normal here in Monflanquin after the World Cup.  The Tour de France is still going on, but it does not have the same fervor as "le foot".  Our heat spell continues. I try to make it to the pool daily to get in some practice. Still working on the breast stroke. My comfort in the water is amazing compared to last summer when I was terrified.  The best time to go to the pool is mornings when there are less children flinging themselves into the water. The kids make me jealous and get in the way of my swimming exercises.

I have been gone so long I feel like I am away at summer camp. I forget the names of places at home and occasionally feel more French than American. My French friend Francoise invited me for lunch at her country home about 15 miles from Monflanquin.  My car and I are still not at ease. It is an SUV that is too big for me. Well, I have learned my lesson. I will only accept a petite car in the future. Some people might prefer a big car, but it is a pain in parking lots and on all those narrow country roads. 

I loved Francoise's house and vegetable gardens. She grows most of her food, cans  for  the winter, and even makes homemade ice cream. I tried to picture myself living in such a remote location, and honestly, I couldn't. I need people, and the liveliness of a town. It delights me when the mailman greets me and invites me to sit with his family to watch soccer or I run into my plumber at the bar. Market Day, Thursday is the most fun animated day of the week. Besides the pleasure of buying French produce, I see most of my friends in one place, and join friends  for coffee to end the morning.

A new microbrewery opened here and a coffee/organic grocery store that serves lattes. Both are nothing like our American concept of these places, but bravo anyway.

That's about it for this week. Time to watch a Turkish movie on Netflix. I think I see Istanbul in my future.

Much love and good health to all,

Giselle

French Road Trip!

Roman City, with a beautiful cathedral and hostel for pilgrims.

 Mid week, Francoise, Mado, and I head off east of Monflanquin to Figeac where the Champollion Museum of the History of writing is located. We stop along the way to get bread for our picnic lunch. The bread turns out to be something very special called pain d'epeautre made of spelt flour. It even has bits of orange zest in it. To Mado, it is akin to dessert. We will munch on it later after we visit the museum.

Figeac  is lively, full of shops, cafes, and charm. The Tourist Office representative tells me of a concert this weekend put on by a school from Michigan called Blue Lake. They perform every summer. Francoise and Mado insist on telling everyone we meet that I am from a far off land called America but speak good French. The Museum of Writing delights me. It tells the story of Jean-Francois Champollion who was the first with his brother to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics.  It includes the history of world handwriting: Chinese, Arabic, Hebrew, and more.

Outside, the temperature hits over 90 degrees and humidity thickens the air.  We finally find a shady spot to picnic. The haricots verts, tomato, and hard boiled egg salad prepared by Francoise is delicious and satisfying. We drinks lots of water and head out to Conques to visit the magnificent abbey and its cathedral renown for its unique stained glass windows fabricated by Pierre Soulages, France's equivalent of  Dale Chihuly, only in black and white. Conques is a key pilgrimage stopover on the way to Saint Jacques de Compostelle.  I am curious to see the monks who
preside here but can't find even one walking around town. Be careful what you wish for. Mado tells the religious bookstore clerk that this woman from far away America would like to meet a monk. She makes a phone call and before I could think of a way of to stop what is happening, I am standing before a man clothed in white.  Graciously, he asks me to follow him in to the church where he ushers me into a small room and closes the door. Horrified, my imaginative mind immediately races to pedophilia and all the crimes that have come to light about the church in the United States. And where are Francoise and Mado?They have abandoned me, thinking I wanted a private session to clear my conscience or ask for advice.
Face to face with the man in white, I ask him to describe a typical day in the life of a monk. He spends the next half hour explaining the difference between a monk and a brother. He is the latter. Clearly, he looks down on monks. Honestly, I just wanted to talk about monks and cooking since some of my favorite cook books are written by monks.  Never mind. It takes about three tries before the BROTHER realizes I am saying good-bye and thank you. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Before I left, he said please close the door.

Francoise and Mado ask if I am  happy with my interview. What can I say, but fascinating, truly fascinating. Conques' magnificent cathedral is truly worth a visit. Although the stain glass windows are modern, they fit in beautifully. Next stop Rodez to spend the night.  Since I had made the booking, I felt responsible. Fortunately, the hotel was welcoming. We each had our own air conditioned room for about 40 euros for the night. In the morning, we drove over to the Pierre Soulages Museum.  His paintings are open to interpretation. Strokes of black, gray, and brown acrylic  with a light patch somewhere to given the impression of illumination. Super modern, no message attached. Not my cup of tea, but it grew on me. The most fun is to share what each painting evokes, kind of like a Rorshach test.

Perhaps we saved the best for last: the Millau Bridge, an elegant cable stayed bridge, the tallest in the world, 343 meters high,  two and one half meters long. It took three years to complete and is located in the Tarn River Valley.

As we headed back to Monflanquin, I reflected on the beauty of the sights we had seen, and all that I had learned traveling with my two French friends. And if you ever want to know the difference between a monk and a brother, feel free to ask.

 

Ornate Cathedral in Conques

Note the unusual stain glass windows in the cathedral.

Th coquille or shell marks the Pilgrim's route to Saint Jacques de Compostelle

View of Conques walking into village

Elegant Pont Millau

Loving Village Life

My  Little Garden

Sunset Over Monflanquin
View from Terrace

 Have you ever loved something so much, you are afraid it will be taken away? I feel so fortunate and grateful to have found Monflanquin.  Those of you who have read my book, MY LITTLE FRENCH VILLAGE, www.amazon.com know the back story and why this place means so much to me. Really, it's the little things which alone would be enough, but the little things are happening in French, which makes my heart sing. A French couple strolling by around 10 P.M. wished me "Bonne Nuit" as I closed my shutters for the night.  A French friend went out of her way to make me paella because I told her I had a craving for fish. This dish takes a massive effort and strain on the budget.  I taught her how to make a crumble, so happy to contribute in some way. It is my turn for Sunday lunch this week.  No way will it be the 6 hour paella extravaganza. Stay tuned for the menu, ethnic not French and the guests' reactions.

A friend made me paella. Amazing!

I taught my friend to make a raspberry apricot crumble.

 Over the weekend the village not only celebrated the Fete de la Musique in honor of the summer solstice, but also launched the first ever Festival of the Arts. Forty artists around the village opened their homes to the public. Some even offered workshops. The village came alive and hopefully people purchased an art object to take home.

 This week the chimney sweep came by, "a pinch me experience" in 2018. His wife scampered to the top of the roof and did most of the hard work. She offered that climbing on roof tops suits her just fine due to the beautiful views! My chimney got a clean bill of health and a certificate for insurance purposes.

Chimney Sweeping

By necessity and perhaps laziness,  much of our house decor comes from Amazon.fr. It's always a risk to order sight unseen, but after much study and some mastery of the metric system, online shopping works out well.

I ventured into the big city of Villeneuve -sur-lot last week and stumbled across Aldi, Trader Joe's German parent. How comforting to see the Trader Joe's brand, and yes, the prices are good. Aldi's feels like a warehouse and carries every thing from French cheese to bathing suits.

So there you have it. If you have any tips on conquering the fear of losing what you love, please send them my way. And to all of you, I hope you have someone or something you love as much as I love Monflanquin.

Be well!

A Taste of Home at Aldi's

My best  friend is amazon.fr