Making an entrance!

How the French love to put up a gate!  Whether it's to keep children in, to contain the vicious guard dogs, to keep the public out, or just to make a financial statement, they never miss an opportunity to erect something to define the boundary and let you know that beyond here lies something important!

There is an extensive variety of available models, some OK

Some not so OK, depending on your taste...

Some have obviously invested more money than others...

And occasionally the gates actually open...

Having chosen your gate, there is then the more serious matter of what to put on the gate posts.  Shall we go for posterity and have a lion or two...

Or do we go for the more rustic squirrel...

Perhaps a frog....?

Or the more jaunty and somewhat out-of-place-in-the-street sailor...

And while we're at it, shall we have a bell, a plant, a painted roof tile, and a picture of a man on a motorbike with the words "biker lives here"?  Less is definitely not more when it comes to gates.

There is a thriving industry in remote controlled gate mechanisms, which keep French men gainfully employed driving around the country fixing the sensors, which can't cope with the smallest amount of moisture - as we have discovered, and therefore expanded our French vocabulary accordingly.

There is also a worryingly thriving industry in the production of large stone animals to place at your entrance, particularly native animals like elephants..

And our favourite so far, the Provencal bear...

Anyway, we don't spend all our time taking undercover photos of people's gates.  This week we went to St Maximin la Sainte Baume, a city about an hour drive from here.  We were on our way to Aix en Provence, to pick up my brother Mark and his partner Amber, who are here for a week.  St Maximin is a very significant religious centre, as a huge basilica was built to house the bone fragments of Mary Magdalene, and is considered the third most important place of Christianity after Jerusalem and Rome.  Certainly, to call the basilica a 'church' would be a serious understatement.  Apologies for the poor quality of our photos here...Bill and Brian, you might just want to skip the next few!

For all you budding organists out there, this one has a double case, 4 manuels, 43 organ stops and 2962 pipes!  Whatever, it looked very impressive.

All the woodwork was carved from walnut, including the pulpit, which must have deprived the squirrel population of a fair few nuts.

The adjoining buildings were equally impressive, initially housing a community of Dominican monks, and subsequently used as the local prison!  Looks quite palatial for a prison, but then we didn't see inside.

Some observations can bring quite a bit of amusement.  One that has been providing a lot of entertainment recently is the choice of English words for various car models sold here in France.    Up til now the Asians and Chinese have dominated the scene with some rather creative translations into English but the French seem to be having a good attempt at spreading the laughter into Europe.  The French don't seem to utilise the large expat population to check their translations.  The numerous tourist information pamphlets are one example where a quick review by an English speaking person could be helpful.  And why do they want to put an English model name on the side of their French car anyway?  Does the name mean anything to the French?  Here's a few examples to start with but others have been spotted so more will follow in another posting.

This particular car was dented in almost every panel so clearly the  driver had not been very evasive!!

The sister model in this  Citroen range is "Jumper".  Inspiration was clearly not at its peak on the day they chose these names!!

    

While Jean was in the UK the Renault went to the garage for a bit of maintenance.  The English salt had rusted the rear shock absorbers into a solid mass of rusted fragments (rouillé) that no longer functioned so they got hack-sawed off and replaced.  Not surprisingly the ride is vastly improved and the chaussée déformée (deformed road surface) no longer has to be taken too seriously.  The air-con was also recharged and serviced which has made some improvement to performance but we're not totally convinced it is going to keep us cool enough in the summer.  It's these situations that highlight the importance of having a decent grasp on the language if you're going to live in a foreign country.  My understanding of French is minimal and even less when it comes to jargon and words associated with car repairs so no amount of arm waving is going to improve the situation.  Google Translate and getting things written down is the best option but doesn't replace the usual conversation with the mechanic that explains the finer details of the work undertaken or other things that might need attention.  Clearly more time has to be spent learning French if things are going to get any easier in the future.

Finishing off with a very French scene, just down the road from us.  There are some signs of tiny buds starting to appear on the vines, so it shouldn't be long before we get a bit more colour on the landscape.

Yes, it does rain in the south of France....

Well, last week was almost a complete wash-out, with rain at some point nearly every day.  However, at least its getting warmer, so with the rain, spring flowers and crops are starting to flourish.  As most of our work here is outside, on rainy days we tend to catch up on emails, phone calls, and trying to learn a bit more French: this week's linguistic challenge was finding a garage to service on the air-conditioning, and getting the rear shock absorbers replaced on the car! Oh, and maybe we have a problem with an engine mount?! Lew had sweated over the computer for many hours conversing with Mr Google Translate, and between them they came up with several descriptive paragraphs of the noise when we turn on the fan, whether the shock absorbers were "critique ou non" and how much all of this was going to cost.  I duly rehearsed my role in the forthcoming drama and we presented ourselves at a likely looking garage, feeling suitably prepared.  After approximately 3 minutes of attempting to keep a hold on the conversation, I gave up and gave the mechanic Mr Google Translate's speech we had printed out!  Luckily that did the trick, and within seconds the car was up on the stand and various French men were crawling around underneath, puffing out their cheeks and muttering "oh la la" under their breath.  Seeing as we had fronted up off the street with no warning, they were surprisingly obliging and polite, and quickly had an official looking quote printed off the computer.  All of which looked very reasonable, so we've booked the car in for Wednesday....when I'm in England!  Lew is already rehearsing possible scenarios and questions that might arise; he already has the puffing out of cheeks perfected.

So, what else to do on a rainy day?  Go to Ikea of course!  For the Antipodeans who may not be familiar with the name, Ikea is a Swedish homeware brand, which produces cheap but stylish (according to some) self-assembly furniture and stuff that everyone "needs" for their house.  So why are we going to Ikea?  It's not as if the 30kg baggage limit with Emirates will let us bring back a flat-pack kitchen plus a reading lamp and 4 scatter cushions in pistachio green.  No, we were going for the lunch!  According to many reliable sources, Ikea "bistro" has the best value lunch this side of Bordeaux, so off we went to check the recommendation.  Our nearest store is Toulon, about a 45 minute drive.  Arriving at 12.30, we obviously hit the peak lunch rush, with the half the Toulon population queuing up for the experience.  However, a very slick operation saw us grabbing our trays and loading up like the locals.  Lew was very pleased with his selection of lamb shanks and chips, the obligatory bread roll (the French don't call it a meal if there's no bread ) and chocolate brownie (not sure about the authenticity of that one)

Unlike the rest of the Toulon Ikea lunch crowd, we didn't go for wine.  The glass of some sort of cherry soda on the tray is just masquerading as a glass of rose, so we didn't look conspicuous by our teetotal state.  My lunch of soup and bread didn't really warrant a photo.  Was it the best lunch we've ever had?  No.  Was it amazing value for money and good quality?  Yes.  Was it fascinating watching our fellow diners from all walks of life consume their three courses plus wine?  You bet.

By the time we had finished lunch, wandered around the store and found a pair of barbeque tongs and a mosquito net (I knew there was something we needed) it had stopped raining, so we carried on into the centre of Toulon for a look around.

The city is on the coast, and has a large and active naval base.  It was noticeable different being in a city, after 10 weeks of living in and around villages.  For a start, there were a LOT of people around, both in the shops and on the waterfront, walking or sitting in cafes.  Lots of black leather and denim around, or smart city suits - quite different to the Le Thoronet village wardrobe!
Toulon is well known for the ironwork on the buildings - apologies for the repetition in the theme, but I got carried away with the beautiful buildings in the centre, and spent all my time looking upwards...

As usual with France, there's a lot of inner city living, and you've got to hang your washing somewhere....

We spent a bit of time walking along the waterfront with the rest of the Friday afternoon crowd, before heading home in rush-hour traffic: its been so long since we've been in a city we didn't think that leaving at 5pm might not be the best idea!

There was a lot more to see in Toulon, so we'll go back for another trip soon, maybe spending less time at Ikea!

A short blog this week, as I'm off to England tomorrow for a few days, leaving Lew to manage the cat and chickens alone!

Last week winter, this week spring

Yes, within the space of a few days, we have gone from deep snow, marooned at the house unable to get the car out on the road, to 19 degrees, stripping off to T-shirts!  Long may it last...we are hoping the worst of the winter is now over and we can look forward to a long European summer.

Our main event this week was preparing for the arrival of the Russians!  No, not an invasion, but a viewing of the house...or was it the same thing in the end?!.  The property has been for sale for about 18 months, and this was the first time we have had people through the house.  So, much time was spent trying to get the place looking presentable after all the snow.  All was looking good the night before, when we received a call from Ludmilla, the Russian estate agent who was bringing the Russian family the next morning. Just one small thing: "the Russians will not find it acceptable to enter the front door, as it goes straight into the kitchen.  Please will you create a new front door to enter?"  A new front door.  Well, lets see now.  In New Zealand, no problem, just  a quick whip round with the chain saw and a new front door could be opened up in a jiffy.  But here we are in a 14th Century stone farmhouse.  The front door has been in place for over 600 years with no complaints so far.  But hey, if the Russians want a new front door, who are we to argue?  So, it was all hands on deck - which means Lew and I: the cat flatly refuses to do any manual labour, and the chickens, although enthusiastic, can't be relied on to lift their end of the the sofa without dropping it.  A bit of creative manouvering of furniture outside, rearranging furniture inside, severe pruning of greenery, and we had our "new front door" through the French doors opening out to the pool!  Russians duly arrive in large black car, accompanied by Ludmilla and her husband in large silver car.  Mum and Dad, three teenage children, and one unidentified other.  Then followed the fastest house viewing I have ever experienced.  Bearing in mind we are in a 7 bedroom 6 bathroom property spread over 4 levels and two interconnecting residences, I would say they were in and out within 3 minutes flat.  None of your opening and closing of drawers here, no examination of cupboard sizes, crawling under the house to check the foundations, or measuring the room to see if your super-king size bed will fit.  Just breeze through, barely glancing left and right, muttering in Russian throughout.  Surprisingly, they were more interested in the grounds, and walked all the way round the river path, carefully wiping the smallest speck of dirt off their shoes as they went (and there's a lot of mud our there at the moment - it wasn't a quick walk!)  Then off they swept in the aforementioned black and silver cars.  So that was that.  Sorry, no photos - didn't think it would go down well!

On to much more exciting events: my birthday on Saturday!  Naturally, the day was all about me!  In fact, maybe the whole weekend!  So, after the usual start to the day with feeding chickens and cat, we set off for Carces.  This is a village quite near us, about 20 minutes away, but this was the first time we had visited, and we loved it.  It was market day, and a beautiful sunny warm day, so of course anywhere is going to look good on a day like that, but even so.  Things got off to a good start when we found 3 patisseries within 20 metres of each other.  Croissants and pain au raisin in hand, we found a cafe in the sun, packed with locals, and did our best to blend in with the French.

Am I looking suitably French yet?

Carces has a very interesting mix of people.  There were quite a few well dressed, almost trendy people around, then some down to earth farming types, plus the sound of English voices every now and then.  These three chaps were sitting outside a cafe off the main square, enjoying the peace and sunshine.  Lew "made me" go and talk to them, and they were just delightful, quite happy to pose for a photo for the bizarre New Zealanders!

There are two main interesting features in Carces, firstly the "trompe l'oeil" which roughly translates as "deceiving the eye" - large pictures usually painted on the side of buildings to make you think you are looking at another scene.  The ones in Carces depict life as it was in the village in past years, and they are very impressive.

There are quite a few others around the village that we didn't have time to search out - we'll leave them for next time.
The other, slightly stranger feature in Carces are the "fish scale" tiles on the side of a few of the buildings.

Quite difficult to photograph effectively, and there's no real reason for their presence as far as we could find out, but they provide a bit of colour and variety.

While we're on the subject of variety, I'll just slip in a couple more French-doors-and-knockers photos....

So, the morning has passed by and we're now off to Cotignac.  Not wishing to sound repetitive to those of you who are reading about our village visits regularly, but it's another medieval village, just not quite a hill-top one this time.  However, like Villecroze, it does have a backdrop of troglodyte caves once again.  And, once again, they were closed so we couldn't explore too far without coming across gates barring the way.  Seems like a lot of places don't get going until Easter at the earliest.

Luckily the troglodytes had impressive forethought, and kindly constructed garages in the caves, for future car driving generations...

Cotignac has a lovely central main street, lined with cafes and restaurants on each side.  The big plane trees will provide great shade when the leaves appear in spring, so you find these trees in all the villages in Provence.

Of course birthdays are all about food, especially in France.  By now the croissants and coffee were a distant memory, so we sat down outside a creperie and had savoury crepes for lunch, mine filled with goats cheese, tomatoes and mesclun, and Lew's with ham, cheese and mushrooms.  For those of you in Nelson who haven't yet experienced La Gourmandise French restaurant, you should give it a go, their savoury crepes are spot on.

A wander through the streets provides more opportunity for photos, both traditional....

and not so traditional...

French graveyards are functional and easy-care!  No grass to mow, paths to tend, flowers to rot, just a lot of concrete, stone and plastic flowers galore! 

The drive home provided two examples of French attitude to rules and regulations.  As you know, the French love to make rules, and the more trees they can consume in the process of filing paperwork, the better.  However, when it comes to complying with these rules, there is sometimes a "subtle" display of resistance, and the wish to "make a point"....

Dear home owner, trees must be trimmed clear of power lines at all times

Just need to add the shutters then we're all done.

On the way home, we stopped off at the local vineyard so Lew could pick up a bottle of wine to go with dinner.  However, they didn't provide a wheelbarrow to get it to the car, so we saved ourselves 600 euros and settled for our usual 3 euro bottle instead.

Continuing the eating-for-France challenge that we have gamely taken on, dinner finished with the unveiling of the Birthday Cake.  Lew had, of course, spent hours slaving over a hot oven, baking, glazing, decorating.....I was particularly impressed with his knife skills slicing the apple!

And so ends my first French Birthday, with the puzzling question: with all this food and drink, how do the French stay so slim.....?!?