Spring is trying fitfully to make its appearance here, but is having some trouble. A couple days ago it was t-shirt weather, but now it's cold, cloudy and windy again. The flowering trees and bulbs are in bloom, though, and the wheat is several inches tall so it's only a matter of time.
And, as we all know, when spring is in the air a middle-aged American's fancy turns to thoughts of income tax. I spent most of Monday doing our return, which is always a chore, even with the help of Turbo Tax, but was even more so this year because it hadn't occurred to me to bring all our financial records, such as they are, over here. I guess I was so preoccupied with making sure we packed the necessary fishing gear that the trivial details got overlooked. But thanks to the internet I was able to dredge up the info I needed (like the Sellwood Community Center's phone number, for example - vital information without which Turbo Tax, that benevolent dictator, wouldn't have allowed us to submit the returns) and complete the process. Or, rather, the first part of the process. Now we just have to figure out how to pay.
Mike and I have been riding our bikes up on the plateau behind the house and last time we heard some bells clanking in the distance and rode over to see what was going on. I'd read about the long-distance shepherding (transhumance) that goes on here but hadn't actually seen any until now. The shepherds were a leathery young couple with several big dogs and an SUV and they're headed up north to their summer pastures. They must walk several hundred miles in the course of their annual migration.
Here's Mike bronco-bustin' a wild mountain bike.
Structures like this one are scattered through the hills and we assume they're shelters for the shepherds. Most are old and in disrepair. This is the newest one we've seen.
Here's the orchid show we went to in Eguilles at the village civic center, the Salle Georges Duby. (I just looked him up in Wikipedia. He was a historian of the middle ages and one of France's prominent "public intellectuals"). It was great fun. The place was packed with orchid-minded enthusiasts. We bought a beautiful little aromatic phalaenopsis (see below).
Here's our baby. It actually does have a faint pleasant aroma, which is unusual for orchids.
Our guests were Monique and Alain, and Maria, Francois and Matthew. Monique is a friend and fellow choir member of Lois' and Alain is her husband. I wrote about our visit to their house some weeks ago. Francois and Maria are Matthew's parents, and Matthew is a classmate of Michael's. I've become acquainted with them in the way that a lot of parents do, that is, while waiting outside the school for the kids to get out. Maria is Filipino, Francois is German/French, they met while studying in Japan and they've also lived in Bermuda and Hawaii as well as France.
We prepared a traditional old-fashioned American meal - homemade guacamole, chicken enchiladas, beans and rice, salad and chocolate cake a la mode. After the main meal we took a walk to settle things down and make room for dessert. We have this stroll down to the little Touloubre river that we inflict upon - I mean, "share with" - all our guests because we love it so much.
Local elections for mayors and council members are coming up in all the villages and towns in France, and the frenzy of the campaign season is reaching its climax. La Provence is filled with pictures of mayoral candidates and their teams, we keep getting campaign literature hand-delivered to our mailbox and one can't just walk down the village streets anymore without being buttonholed on every corner by someone running for something. Eguilles seems to be experiencing an increasingly heated race. The incumbent mayor, who is affiliated with the UMP, Sarkozy's center-right party, is being accused of autocracy, nepotism, cronyism, fiscal carelessness, at best, and downright corruption at worst. He, in turn, is lashing out at his detractors and accusing his rivals of amateurism, ignorance, slander, blasphemy and torturing puppies. (Just kidding about the puppies.) Interestingly, his main rival is a woman who was his deputy for several years and who, presumably, was privy to the inner workings and dirty secrets of his office, so he's taking her campaign very seriously. Of course, she may have been culpably involved in those inner workings and dirty secrets herself. We still have a couple weeks before the election and there's plenty of time for more shocking revelations, so we anxiously await developments.
I was accosted the other day on one of the village street corners by an older woman with whom I have a nodding acquaintance as she was handing out flyers in support of the incumbent. I haltingly explained that I wasn't a citizen, that I am in fact an American, and she asked who I'd be voting for in our presidential election. She mentioned Obama but I didn't think my French was good enough to explain that I'll vote for whichever Democrat gets the nomination, so I said I wasn't sure and proceeded to the boulangerie to buy a baguette. But then I became curious and stopped on my way back to ask her who she, and the French in general, would like to see elected. She switched to English (she had, in fact, been in New York just last fall) and vigorously expressed her hope that it would be Obama and said that most French agreed with her. Underlying her sentiments, of course, is the immense relief, shared by billions worldwide, that the current occupant of the office will soon be just an unsavory memory. Although, sadly, the effects of his misguided policies will be with us for generations.
I like to end these reports on a positive note, but it may not be possible this time. As if politics and the economy aren't enough unpleasantness, Olympique Lyon (rivals of our team, Olympique Marseilles, but at least they're French) were eliminated by Manchester United (English American-owned mega-team) last night in the Champions' League. So I'll just end with a pretty picture instead.
Au revoir until next time.
Tom
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