Still Trying to Catch Up

Lets start out with a great French saying: When the frog gets angry, the pond doesn't care.

Tardy again on posting, but here it is, written during the first week of august. Remember this is the most important stuff in my life these days:

I finally found a Frenchy looking table and chairs for my terrasse. The current crop of patio furniture here in the south of france is teaky stuff, which is heavy, perishable, and frankly butt ugly. I've looked for vintage stuff, but don't seem to be in the right place at the right time. I got a new set, very cheap, which is quite charming -- and of course its chinese. Metal table and folding chairs with cutouts of an artsy leaf pattern. I have some actual vintage french bistro furniture back in the garage in San Diego. So what's fabulous is that I'm sitting outside on my terrace, with my views of the petit parc across the rue, and the hills rising behind Roquebrun, sipping my E1.40 litre AOC St. Chinian (bought en vrac - in bulk with my own bottles). And its absolutely still, except for an occasional person walking or possibly driving by. There is no ambient noise here, if one gets closer to the river, you can hear it, but I can't up here. It's almost 10 pm, and not fully dark, and refreshingly cool. I'm actually wearing a shirt with sleeves. It's been mostly hot for the month of July, sleeveless clothing morning and night, and no blankets on the bed. This is a pleasant break, as the rest of August will undoubtedly be very, very hot.

My only real complaint about France at this point involves technology and paperwork. I currently have no internet unless I hike up to the park near where I used to live, set up on a picnic table or a rock wall, and poach the internet from my old house. That's on a good day. Sometimes it fades in and out, and sometimes it isn't there at all. And sometimes I have to sit on a rock step halfway down the path. I can't get my own internet without a french bank account. French bank accounts are not handed out like Halloween candy. You need quite a bit of paperwork, and you also need to find someone at the bank who isn't on vacation. I want to use the Banque Postal, a service of the french postal service, as there are not a bunch of hidden and extra charges to deal with, like making you take their debit card, and charging you E7 per month for the privilege. Unfortunately, Martine, the postmistress, is "en vacance" until the middle of August, and no one else in Roquebrun can do this for me. Plus it requires that I call her when she returns, and make an appointment for the bank account extravaganza. I could try to go to a nearby town, like Beziers or Saint-Chinian, and do it there, but first I would have to make an appointment. If I got there, and some piece of paper was missing, I would have to make another appointment to bring it in. I think Martine will be helpful, as I am a resident here. Interestingly, my passport is not the most important item to present, nor is my long stay visa. It is my lease with Alain, and his identity card and *utility bill* -- yess, you heard right, utility bill. This is the coin of the realm in france -- no utility bill, nothing gets done. Its your proof that you actually live somewhere. Since Alain is paying the utilities, and I am reimbursing him, I have to present not only my lease, my passport, my visa, but also his identity card and his utility bill!! This is so bizarre. The same goes for phone, internet, and anything else that requires a monthly payment. I have no idea what happens to people who can't provide these things. They are probably pooping into a can and cooking on a wood fire. Anyway, I look forward to having my account at the Banque Postal, as then the entire world of technology here in France will open to me, and I will no longer have to sit at a picnic table squinting into my laptop screen trying to communicate with my nearest and dearest.

Pat arrives August 19, I can't wait!! I've made some friends here, but haven't had a visitor from San Diego for months. Margaret (bless her adventurous heart) was here shortly after I arrived, then my friends from Paris (Ellen and Jean-Pierre), then my family from Oregon, all in quick succession. I've really enjoyed my new friends here, but it will be fantastic to have Pat as my victim for 3 months. And a couple of weeks after she arrives, Jessica and Rita will be here, and I'm dying to see them also. We are doing a tour de France, Burgundy, and Paris. Pat and I will return to Roquebrun for the vendange. I want to help a friend (actually a couple of friends) pick grapes, just for entertainment, and to be here for the event. Its a very busy time, foreign workers, tractors with trailers full of grapes blocking the roads, everyone in work/party mode. It should be very interesting. Then my current plan is to return to Paris when the vendange is over, and stay through the end of the year. Keeping my place here, of course, as I've rented it through April. I will look at apartments in Paris, and see whether I think I want to own a place there. I want to be everywhere at once, it seems. "Life is too short" is one of the most understated expressions in the vocubalary. I can imagine many more years (probably many more than I have available) exploring France, Paris, Eurpoe, and the rest of the world, plus living in San Diego. How will I manage to do all of this at once?

This is truly a magical place -- for those of us that are new here -- but I wonder how magical it seems to people like my landlord, Alain, who was born here? This is just basically his life, where he lives -- he might think San Diego is truly magical .... I met his older sister the other day, and had one of my conversations in French where I understand a half to a third of what's going on. However, I did glean that she worked most of her life in Paris, and has retired here in the family home, probably was her parents and grandparents. Its a turn of the century "maison de vigneronne" -- a grape grower's house -- on the main road through the village, with a view of the vineyards to the rear and a big terrasse -- and she and I talked about her travels to Italy (seven times), including Venice, Florence, Rome .... and I'm struck by the fact that she isn't some tiny elderly woman who has never seen anything, she's a tiny elderly woman who has lived in Paris, visited Venice .... you get the idea. On the one hand, these villages seem simple and appear to be rooted in another time, but in fact they are not. Many of the people have great experience of the world, and some, of course, do not. Like the elderly man who died recently -- his claim to fame is that he fed feral cats. He had a stroke in his house, and the firemen had to break in and remove him. He died in hospital a couple of weeks later. He was living in a house with a gorgeous view of the river, with no bathroom. He was using the public toilets near his house, and I don't want to think about his bathing arrangements, if any. The rumor is that the pompiers had to wear some kind of masks in there.

Have I blogged about the pompiers (the fire and emergency people) and the way they are called into town to deal with emergencies and fires? There is a klaxon style horn on top of the town hall, which sounds like a WW2 air raid siren. It can be heard for some distance, and the pompiers who are either sitting in the cafe, home eating lunch, working in their vines, cheating on their spouses, etc., hear it, get on their tractors or in their cars, and come into town to deal with the problem. Don't be bleeding heavily, you could be in for a long wait. Just like in the US, they are all good looking -- and many of them are female. There are no high rise buildings here, so a prospective pompier doesn't have to carry a 250 pound person down a ladder, thus making it more ressonable for women to be able to pass the physical test. A week or so ago I was taking a short cut single lane road through the vines, and encountered a rather bad head on collision. I've wondered whether this happens on these narrow roads, and apparently it does. There were the two cars, both old (no airbags), which had sustained some serious damage. One of the drivers was still trapped in his car. There were also two other cars that had come from opposite directions and encountered the accident. I, and the person who was behind me, were not approached to assist, so I assume that cell phones had been used to call for help. I had to back up for several hundred feet to turn around, and on my way back I didn't see an emergency vehicle. I wonder how long it took to get someone there, and then how much longer to a real hospital. The nearest one is in Beziers, which is about 20 minutes from that particular spot. I decided to drive more slowly on that road and others like it.

There are several "shops" that appear in front of people's houses during this time of the year. They are people who have gardens outside the village, and who sell their produce from their homes during the season. I have had peaches that are beyond description. They are small, but intense in flavor. Never have I had peaches with this taste in the US -- the steriodal peaches we get, watery and weak in flavor, seem like cartoons in comparison. They are both white and yellow, and my US experience of white peaches is that they are tasteless and have a poor texture. These are wonderful. I wish I could find less common and trite words to describe them. During cherry season the same thing happened. I've known for years that you don't judge produce by how it looks -- but I've had this reinforced during my several visits to France. I don't doubt that its the same in many other parts of Europe.

I feel like I have to find something to complain about besides the technology stuff. How about boredom? I'm not sure I could live here year round. There isn't much to do, unless you have a house to fix up, or a vineyard to maintain. You get up. You have coffee and bread, maybe some of the yogurt you made. You take your dogs for their morning walk through the vineyard at the corner. You go to the village and buy some bread and vegetables. If you're feeling particularly social, you stop in the cafe/bar and have a coffee. You walk home. You water your outside potted plants. You wash your dishes and straighten up the house. Maybe clean or do some laundry. If you don't have a garden, you don't have that to occupy your time. You read. You maybe go across the road and tidy up the public garden. You eat lunch, and take the dogs out again. You take a nap. OK, the day is progressing, and maybe you have plans with a friend to do something. You play with the internet if you are fortunate enough to have a connection. This is now approaching a really tough time of the day.. Walk the dogs again? Eat some more? Another nap? Maybe take your recycling to the public bins! Wash your car at the public hose place by the river!! Yes!! And maybe a late afternoon boulangerie run. And before long it will be time to cook dinner. Slowly. And then read, or try to watch french TV ..... You get the picture? Its wonderful to have lots of time to yourself, but filling it up can be a serious task. And one thinks about getting some kind of satellite TV that will have American things, and subscribing to dvd services ..... So perhaps living here is not a year-round solution. Perhaps Paris for part of the year, where there is always action and excitement, and something you haven't seen yet. Food for thought ...

This batch of photos are of the walk I take thru the vines in the morning, then around past the cemetery and the big wine co-op. The stop sign is pretty amusing. Someone hit it and knocked it into the concrete utility pole behind it, so it has just been bungeed onto the post and left. Also, if I didn't post it before, one of the gardens down by the river which are part of the property of a house in a different location. The house with the striped awning is where I get my produce, they grow it and sell it from their house.