Getting down to business

This week has been a good mixture of work and play, accompanied by a real mixed bag of weather too.
Last weekend was really wet all day on Sunday, so we decided to go to Le Thoronet Abbey for the midday mass service.  Not because we have been religiously converted in any way, but because the abbey is very well known for its acoustics, and the service is almost completely sung.  Building began on the abbey in 1160 and was completed in 1230, by Cistercian monks.  We had been forewarned about the temperature INSIDE the abbey, and sure enough, if we thought it was freezing outside, it was much colder inside, and everyone's breath was clearly visible coming out in steamy clouds!  Four men formed the "choir" and their singing was truly amazing.  The echoes and vibrations around the abbey were incredible, and we quite happily sat there for an hour, not knowing what was going on, just listening.
Yip those monks must have had some seriously good thermals because it was subliminally cold despite having 3-4 woollen layers on plus winter cycling gloves and woolly hat.  Fortunately we left the abbey before the end of proceedings otherwise we'd have been frozen to the seats.
One of the most amusing or perhaps surprising event during the service was a display of discipline by a French parent.  Several children were there with their parents.  As usual 2 toddlers (< 5yrs old) were running around the cloisters and eventually went right up to the alter and starting messing about.  Their father at this stage was clearly not amused and headed up to retrieve them from under the Priest's feet.  To ensure the children got the message and right in front of the alter the wee boy got a good whack around the backside with a stick and the girl was dragged back to their seat by the hood of her coat. I don't think anyone noticed!  Obviously there are no anti-smacking rules here in France or maybe they don't apply in church.
When the sun came out the next day, we decided to attack the area in and around the pool.  I scooped all the leaves out of the base of the pool, then brushed down the pool walls and floor with a very long broom.  Finally I scrubbed the water line in my Marigolds to get rid of the start of some algae that has built up over winter.  This is after breaking the ice that covered the pool in the morning...I had two pairs of gloves on under the Marigolds!

Lew got stuck into the bank and gave the toi toi (or pampas grass, depending on which side of the world you are reading this) a good haircut, then started clearing out some of the dead leaves and weeds in amongst the rocks.  While we got the toi toi cut back in a day, the rest of the bank is taking a bit longer to complete.

While shifting some logs for firewood from one end of the section to another, we came across this gecko happily enjoying the winter sunshine.  We also found some ENORMOUS huhu grubs in amongst the dead wood - the chickens were soon fighting over them for lunch!

The sun stayed out for a day or 2 so we made the most of the idyllic conditions and found our way from the Office du Tourisme in Le Thoronet village to the top of a hill overlooking the region and beyond to the mountains in the North.  Took about 50 mins to reach the observation tower that was like a forestry fire lookout - mounted up a pole with steps and totally enclosed, double glazed 360 degree views with a topographical map mounted on a round table with all the visible features and towns.  Fantastic.  Apart from being out of the wind we could at last get a better perspective of where everything was in relation to Le Thoronet.  I have had trouble getting myself adjusted to where North and South are.  With the sun crossing the southern sky it takes ages to get orientated.  The lookout also gave great views of the bauxite mining activity in the area.  No rehab of mine sites here in the past.  Apparently the French moved out to Pacific Islands and other French colonies when labour costs and bureaucracy became a problem.

The Renault 4 ute was in a garden on the way to the lookout.  Not the usual thing to notice and only of relevance to me perhaps.  I had a Renault 4 in Ireland in the 80's and would have loved a ute for carrying fencing gear and posts in but I didn't know they made them.  This one actually looks in pretty good order for a 30 year old vehicle!

This week has been a bit of a challenge for me on the language front.  In cleaning the pool, we found that the pump isn't working correctly, so I had to phone the "pool man" to arrange a time for him to come next week.  He asked me what I thought was wrong with it - sadly my French wasn't up to the challenge, but hopefully I have managed to correctly understand what day and time he's coming next week!

The next task was to get a gas heater working, to supplement our log-burner, which isn't exactly pumping out the heat when its minus 5 outside.  There are two portable gas heaters in the basement, with a variety of hoses, fittings and gas bottles to choose from.  Lew worked out the best combination and found we needed a different type of gas cylinder, with a different thread.  We decided the easiest way to find out what went with what, was to take the whole lot down to the shop in Le Cannet where they not only sell gas but also straw, dog food and an eclectic array of other useful items.  Two very amenable men were quite excited by the challenge of getting one gas heater going, and things were going fairly well with a bit of talking and lots of sign language and arm waving.  Plus a lot of puffing out of cheeks that the French men love to do when things aren't going according to plan.  Lew is also getting quite good at the cheek puffing manoeuvre when required, it seems to be quite a male bonding sort of thing in equipment and building supply shops!  Sadly I disappointed him when I couldn't translate "the left hand thread on the hose won't work on the right hand thread cylinder that we've got at home"!  Anyway, we've now got a functioning gas heater, a pool man coming on Tuesday at 2pm, and a builder coming at some point to replace the the chimney draft stopper, to stop all the heat going straight up the chimney.  Monsieur Simionetta  the builder doesn't speak any English, so maybe some more arm waving and cheek puffing will be required to get the job done.

After all that language, a serious day trip was required, so we planned to go to St Tropez, but going via the coast road which is a bit longer, but more interesting.  And it was...so interesting, we didn't make it as far as St Tropez at all!  

First stop was Cavaliere beach where we had a short walk along the sand.

We stopped off for a picnic lunch at Cavelaire beach about 5k down the road: no, that's not a mistake - two places with almost identical names, almost next to each other on the coast; check the spelling carefully!  A lovely promenade with seats, railings and mosaic designs - we thought we mind send a few pictures to Nelson council to give them a few ideas for the Nelson waterfront....if they ever get round to upgrading.

Leaving the coast, we drove up into the hills and came across Gassin, "a medieval hill-top village".  I put that in italics, because  that description is surprisingly common around this area - there are an awful lot of villages built on the top of hills, between the 5th and 15th Centuries!  Not that we're complaining, as they are very pretty......

Back into the car, still intending to get to St Tropez, round the next corner......a windmill!

Not sure if it's medieval, as there was nothing to explain what it was doing there, whether it was still in working order, or even if it ever had been.  Back into the car once more, round the next corner.....another hill-top medieval village, this time Ramatuelle, which is more hill-side than hill-top.

Abandoning all pretence of getting to St Tropez, we had a look around.  I don't know what the inhabitants of these villages think of people like me taking photos of their front doors and windows, but at this time of year its so quiet, there's virtually no-one around anyway.  The only sign of life seemed to be builders/contractors/plumber/electricians working on the houses, which apparently is a major activity at this time of year - it gets too hot to do much manual work in summer.

Glad to see they were into recycling even in medieval times!

After another couple of days around the house, fixing the fence holes where the pigs are getting in, and cleaning terraces, today saw us driving back over to the coast again, this time with Jeremy for a walk from Gigaro to Cap Lardier.  According to Jeremy, this area of the Var region has very well signposted walking tracks; its down to individual conservation departments to decide on signposting walks.  Walking tracks are identified by yellow markers of some sort; this might be in the most basic form with a strip of paint on a tree trunk (not too sure what happens when the tree dies/falls down in a storm/is cut down!) or a simple signpost with an arrow pointing in the vague direction of the track.  However, today, we were treated to the creme de la creme of signposting:

So, no mistaking where you're going here, or even, where you've just been.  However, as many of you will know, the French love to tell you what to do.  So let me take you on a tour of the signpost, just so you're clear about what you can and can't do on your day out, because I'd hate you to do something wrong.
Obviously, watch out for....

But you're certainly not allowed to......

And you must be joking if you think you can.....

And forget about.....

And don't you dare....

And there are spies in the bushes to make sure you don't.....

Sometimes the signs have to be quite tall to fit it all on....

 Have a nice walk!!!

A week of walks and villages

We've been keen to get out into the surrounding country and go for some good walks, so we started off the week with a walk around Carces, a village not far from us here in Le Thoronet.  We went walking with Leanne, who used to house-sit here at Les Fadons, and Jeremy, an English neighbour who lives just up the road from us.  Jeremy has an amazing knowledge of all the local tracks, and despite being somewhat older than us, and getting over a broken ankle 6 months ago, he gets along at a great pace and makes an excellent walking guide.  It was a mixture of woodland track, lakeside path, village road, and alongside the irrigation channels.  These channels are man made little canals which divert the water from the rivers to the vines, and there's a huge network of them all over the region.

This photo was actually on a walk the following day.  Lew and I decided to walk to the village to see how long it would take to get our croissants: last week Lew got there on his bike in less than 10 mins.  Walking along the roads took us 30 mins, but to come back we decided to follow the irrigation channels home.  All went well until we were about 800m from the house, when we came across  3 large red signs in quick succession "Acces interdit" or "no entry".  Being good Kiwis, confident of our riparian rights, we carried on, until we got to a chained and padlocked gate which was obviously protecting a private garden, very close to their house.  Not so confident now (and having seen a huge number of men with guns about the place recently, supposedly hunting pigs, but largely standing around talking, or sitting around a camp table drinking red wine at lunchtime!) we decided to follow a goat-track nearby through the woods.  800m turned into a couple of kilometres detour through the woods, but we got there in the end, by walking across the vineyards opposite the house.

Obviously the middle of winter at the moment, so the vines are bare, and make the fields around here look very brown and stark.

The vines are in varying stages of being pruned, with varying degrees of skill, in our novice eyes!  Some look as if the stalks have just been snapped off, rather than pruned with secateurs.  Certainly there are some beautifully kept vineyards around here, and some that look decidedly untidy.
On Tuesday we went to Lorgues, the village 10 mins drive from us, which has one of the best markets around.  Even in the middle of winter, when the market is relatively small, we couldn't get a park in any of the car parks nearby, and ended up parking on the road on the outskirts of the village.  Within 10 minutes it was snowing on us, so we retreated to a cafe with Brian and Leanne.  Lorgues is such a lovely French village, we went back on Thursday to have a good look around in the sun.  Prepare yourselves for the start of many "typical French village" photos that will appear over the next year...we just can't help ourselves, there's a photo opportunity at every corner!

And no French travel blog is complete without a few "doors, letterboxes and knockers" photos thrown in for good measure!

And then of course, there are the fountains....

Other than walking around the country and villages, we have been getting to grips with the upkeep of the property here at Les Fadons.  Brian and Leanne came round one day and gave us thorough and detailed instructions on the pool pump and maintenance, operation of the ride on mowers, strimmers etc.  We've sealed the roof of the chicken palace, so hopefully they are keeping dry out there tonight.  We're getting a couple of eggs a day now, so they're starting to settle in.

Other than that, we're all keeping close to the fire, none closer than TuTu the cat, making sure he has pole position each day.  However, he is still finding time to do his yoga poses, even in his sleep.....

One of the big excitement events of the week was the sighting of a very large "sanglier" or wild pig running along the boundary fence.  Not only was it a surprise to see the pig trying to find a way into the property but it was the height of it.  Over here pigs have legs like racehorses.  It was as tall (at the shoulder) as a large dog.  A big huntaway would have definitely been a bit short.  I wonder if they have long legs to avoid the numerous thorns and spikey things that grow low on the forest floor?  There are thorns known locally as Turkish Barbed Wire that will rip you to shreds with ease.  

Pig hunting is a serious business here and you need to be well protected on your legs to survive.  We haven't seen the dogs they use here yet but they must be pretty tough or better at avoiding the thorns than humans.  

Hunting is also very civilised in France.  We often come across hunters in full camouflage gathered at a road junction or clearing, standing  around a fire with picnic tables, wine and food.  Wondering what these gatherings were all about we asked the locals.  Apparently hunting involves  the hunt itself followed by a roadside picnic.  The eating seems to last for several hours so if they don't shoot anything they certainly have a good time eating and drinking.

Success with our first project!

After a day to settle in here at the house, we launched into our first project with Lavinia and James: to build a chicken coop!  Designs had been drawn on the back of an envelope incorporating five trees in the garden as the corner posts and an assortment of timber and materials were gathered from around the property.  This was the ideal location for building a coop or so it was thought.  Yes, I can hear the builders amongst you starting to laugh already.   This was certainly going to be a challenge.

After two long days of measuring, sawing, remeasuring, tweaking... starting again...we all realised the difficulty of building a structure where nothing is straight or level or you never have quite the right piece of wood for the job.  Then there is the need to allow for the 5 corner posts / trees to sway in the wind.  This coop is without doubt an engineering feat of some note.   

 However, persistence and a good deal of creativity was applied and over one week later, we had our chicken coop all ready for tenants, complete with French shutters for the doors.

 

The cardboard box in this photo contains 5 Rhode Island Reds - we finished the structural work at 3pm, went and selected our chickens and had them in the coop by 5.30pm, and the next morning....un oeuf!!  We were so pleased with ourselves (and the chickens) we cooked up the egg, divided it into quarters, and had it as an "amuse bouche" before dinner, with a light salad and mustard mayonnaise!

So, with all this work going on, we haven't had too much time to explore far and wide just yet.  However, we've managed a few quick trips, firstly up to a hilltop village very near here called Le Vieux Cannet".  The church here was built in 11th Century, so the word "vieux" meaning "old" is probably justified.  It's a tiny village, with no shop, cafe, or town hall,(that seems to be the minimum requirement for most French villages)  just the church, and a group of houses, largely made up from the  buildings like the girl's school, and separate boy's school.  When we visited, there was no-one there at all, other than one resident with his dog.

We've got out on the bikes once so far, cycling about 35k to Vidauban and back, along the Argens river.  Drivers are very courteous to cyclists over here.  The law is to ensure one metre between the car and bike if overtaking and drivers certainly observe this rule more than any other road rule.  The area is very popular with cyclists with lots of rolling hills and light traffic amongst the forest.  Le Tour is apparently going to pass through the region within a few miles of Le Thoronet so we're looking fwd to that.

Mid-week, with progress going well on the chicken palace, James and Lavinia took us down to Antibes for lunch.  That's about a 45 minute drive on the motorway, but it turned into a 1 1/2 hour trip due to a go-slow in the traffic at Antibes: police all over the place, helicopters flying overhead, we were convinced there was a serious search on for an escaped terrorist.  But no, it was just a taxi driver's strike.  The French love to protest, and do it so well, in this case, driving at snail's pace through the city centre, just slow enough to annoy everyone and disrupt things.

On arrival we had a walk around the marina to check out the super-yachts:

Lunch was a wonderful experience.  Just the sort of thing we have come to France for.  We had a 19.5 euro menu ( approx $30+ dollars) for a three course meal, which ended up being 5 courses with the 2 extras they threw in, plus bread.  A choice of two dishes for each course, we both started with pumpkin soup with prawns (ironic that we have come from the pumpkin soup capital of the world, but this was no ordinary pumpkin soup, no Alison Holst recipe here!)  That was preceded by a tiny piece of olive and cheese loaf and a caramelised cherry tomato.  The main course was salmon fillet on a saffron risotto while Lew had an incredibly rich and tender wild pig "sanglier" ragout on mashed potato.  Then a tiny quails egg fried, on top of a mixture of raw carrot and celeriac with lobster.  Finally onto dessert, where Lew had a pear and almond tart, and I had marinated citrus fruits with lime zest with a lemon mousse "under a chocolate hat" as you will see below!

  After finishing off with coffee, homemade chocolates and almond lemon miniature cakey things, we rolled out the door and waddled back to the car.  Beautiful restaurant, multiple good looking attentive French waiters, what more could we ask for.  Lets hope there are many more of these experiences to come, although we'd better pursue the bike riding a bit more seriously if we want to still fit into our clothes by the end of the year!

All this chat of food reminds me of my journey into the local village recently.  Jean went running and I headed into Le Thoronet on the 29'er (bike) for croissant and bread.  It was pretty cold in the valley but it only took 9mins to get to the boulangerie.  6mins to get home because it's all downhill.  That gave me time to rehearse the phrases for what I wanted.  All was going well.  On entering the shop it is polite to greet everyone including the other customers with the usual Bonjour.  I don't know the women at the bakery well enough yet to be also greeting them with kisses as the others did.  Then it was my turn  - Je voudrais quatre croissant et un croissant aux amandes et un pain noire s'il vous plait.  At that point I thought I had it nailed but didn't anticipate that there are at least 2 types of croissant. I simply chose the ones that looked the nicest.  Problem solved - well not quite.  I hadn't learnt how to ask for the bread to be sliced but with a bit of pointing and animation and it was sorted.   

Week ahead is looking pretty chilly so we'll be splitting firewood and staying close to home and the fire with the cat.