Bonjour! Today is Notre Dame de Lourdes Day!
Last Sunday we had the pleasure of spending a long afternoon and eating a wonderful dinner at the home of Lois' friend and fellow chorister, Monique, and her husband Alain. There were several other guests and conversation was conducted in 3 languages: English, French and German. One of the neighbors, who was also a guest, had 2 kids, one of whom was a killer ping-pong player and we played in shifts on the table outside the living room in the front yard. Fortunately, the weather was beautiful. They also have a piano and Alain and I found ourselves playing, haltingly, piano/sax duets. After appetizers (2 types of tapendade on endive leaves) Alain, whose family comes from Martinique, prepared Caribbean shrimp and rice to follow red cabbage salad. Lotsa bread, a green salad, wine for those who so desired - delicious and plentiful. After an interlude for digestion, Monique whipped up 25 or so crepes and a pot of coffee for dessert. A long, relaxed afternoon. By the time we left, the conversation had turned to politics. We escaped just in time!
I had learned on Sunday morning that the Super Bowl was being broadcast here on public network TV. I had assumed it would only be on cable, which we don't have, so during our visit an internal debate was raging in the back of my mind: Should I or shouldn't I stay up till 4:00 to watch it? I decided in the affirmative and I'm glad I did. We got the game itself, but not the American commentators or commercials. The commentators were all obviously former players, giants with no discernible necks, but they were speaking French! Talk about cognitive dissonance! I still don't know where they came from.
In another sports note, I was at the bank trying to trace a check and when the clerk, a young man, noticed the word "Portland" in our records, he brightened up and said, "Oh, Trail Blazers, non?" (Actually, he said something unintelligible in a heavy French accent which I was only later able to translate.)
Later that morning there was a tremendous lightning/thunderstorm (or so I'm told - I was sound asleep, having been up all night) and we lost our electricity. We figured there was a switch somewhere that needed to be thrown, but we didn't know where, and we also figured that someone, most likely our landlord's daughter, would be home by early evening to take care of it. Through a fortunate fluke, I saw the woman who keeps her horses here and asked her if she knew where the switch was. She said no and further informed me that Patricia, the landlord's daughter, had gone up to Tours for a couple weeks, so she called Michel, our landlord, on his cell phone to report the situation. It's a good thing she did, because he was in Marseilles and hadn't planned on returning to Eguilles, but he made a special trip, flipped the switch (which is in his house downstairs), and we gave him dinner - Lois' homemade ratatouille, bread and cheese.
Mike is on vacation now - winter break - so we've vowed to make lots of day-trips. In pursuance of this objective, yesterday we went to Isle-sur-la-Sorgue in the Luberon district north of here, a destination which is mentioned in every guidebook to Provence. The Sorgue river splits and weaves two strands through the town - very picturesque - and its Sunday market is quintessentially Provencal. It received the highest recommendation possible: enthusiastic praise from Dr. Ruden, Michael's pediatrician and dedicated Francophile, so there was no way we were going to pass it up. I'm glad we went in February because it's notoriously crowded in the summer. Heck, it was crowded enough yesterday! Here are some pictures.
There are waterwheels scattered throughout the town. They're old, rusty and covered with moss. And the river is filled with fish that we couldn't identify. There are many species here that we don't have in the States.
There's the regular market and there's the brocante where antiques and collectibles are sold. It's way more interesting in a way, as you can imagine. Like Antiques Road Show in French.
As is often the case, this smallish village has a big, opulent church. And that's all I know about it.
We figure that as long as we're paying a jillion dollars every time we fill the gas tank, we might as well take the scenic route whenever possible, so we drove through the hilltop village of Bonnieux on the way back.
The local elections are coming up in a few weeks and the tempo and quantity of leafletting, rallying, name-calling and accusatory finger-pointing are rising to giddy heights. (Yes, sir, just like home!) And when one thinks French politics, one thinks You-know-who. There's no escape, really. He was in the news this week bigtime!
It seems like just a couple of months ago, doesn't it, that we were sadly observing the departure of Cecilia Sarkozy from the Elysee Palace.
And that's because it WAS just a couple of months ago. But in Sarkoworld time moves at a different speed and this week he and Carla Tedeschi-Bruni were officially married (see photo below). I've talked about this whole saga at length and have nothing further to add (unless and until something else newsworthy occurs, which is just a matter of time) except to share the most recent tidbit to drop from the divine Carlesque lips. In one of the spate of biographies being rushed into print, she is quoted as saying, "Je veux avoir un homme qui a la pouvoir nucleaire (I want to have a man who has nuclear power)". Whether she's referring to the French military capability or her lover's amorous capability, I don't pretend to know, but in either case it's a little scary. Especially, one would think, for the President himself. Go, Rocket Man! (He looks a little tired, doesn't he?)
Well, it's my night to cook and tonight I'll be featuring one of the highlights of New World Cuisine: cheeseburgers! So we can KETCHUP on things next time.
Au revoir!
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