Counting My (Food) Blessings

French berries

I never envisioned life as a retiree, because I never expected to retire.  I always thought I would just die on the job, like an old horse that drops over in its traces.  Fortunately, somewhere along the line, the light dawned.   So, with no plan or outline about how life should be, I am blazing a new path--for me. Part of that new path is shopping for and cooking with wonderful ingredients.

I have wanted to live in France ever since I was a teenager.  It took a long time for that to happen, but I am enjoying every single day of it.  One of the major blessings I count is the food: the quality, the variety, the abundance, the fact that fruits are ripe.  I know that there is a lot of food in the US, but frankly, what I got at the supermarket never tasted that good.   I now know that food is raised for ship-ability, rather than taste.  So, yes, there is plenty to be found in the market, but who wants it?

The other issue I love about buying food here is that I don't have to buy in quantity.  I found fresh asparagus this morning at the local fruitier....and I bought only enough for one meal for me---about 6 spears.  If I want only half a dozen clementines, I don't need to buy an entire bag.  This has taken some getting used to, as it's easy to fall into the trap of over-buying. Everything looks so tempting and I know that it tastes good.  I am better about it now, because I keep telling myself that I can get some tomorrow if I am still craving it. (whatever it may be)  I can buy only one pork chop if that's all I want.  I don't need to get the big family-sized anything. 

With all this obsessing about food, one would think it might be easy to gain weight like crazy.  Actually, the opposite has been true for me.  Since leaving Brookings, I guess I have lost about 25 pounds....the first half without even trying.  I found myself eating less and enjoying it more, and of course, I had to walk to get it!  I told the doctor when I had my health exam for my visa validation that living in France was good for my health.  She smiled, but I wasn't kidding.

A closer look...carrots, onion in the background are for soup

The second half, I have lost by consciously altering what I eat. Plenty of real food--nothing marked lite, low or non-fat, or pre-packaged.  Plenty of water, and no GPS...grains, potatoes or sugar. Crazy to think that I moved to France and now don't eat bread....To prevent bingeing I budget maybe one piece every two weeks--I actually find that I don't really miss it.

Fortunately, the market makes it easy to stay on track.  Lots of vegetables:  leeks, squash, cabbage, and now that spring is around the bend, spinach and asparagus are showing up.  Artichokes by the dozens, beautiful lettuce, wild garlic, avocados...

Now the strawberry wars are on--Spain vs France.  Since I live so close to the Spanish border, I don't feel terribly guilty about buying Spanish berries if I can't find French ones, because the energy to ship them here isn't so costly.

If only I could transmit the aroma.....

I treated myself to a little barquette of French strawberries....with just a little dab of creme chantilly, it will make a nice dessert. True; they are small--not the fist-sized berries of California, and they don't crunch. Imagine that!

From time to time I send a box of goodies back to friends in the US. What do I really want to send them?  The wonderful fresh fruits, meats, and vegetables I have access to on a daily basis. I won't get into the food policies of the US government: all I will say is that I am indeed blessed.

Looking for Spring

Leftover winter "berries"

I have been under the weather with my first French cold.  It's been an up and down two weeks.  As my grandmother used to say, "A week to come and a week to go."  I have kept up with my chores, as I could lie down when I got tired, which happened more often than I would like to admit.  What suffered was my daily walking routine.  Some of the deficit was due to not feeling well and some was due to rainy, cold weather.

My beautiful Aude

But the sun came out today and I set off, camera over my shoulder, in search of spring.  I took a new route out of town, and ended up on the road to Limoux.  Found the fire station, which is good to know for the firemen's bal on the eve of July 14.  Finally I decided I had best turn around, so I made my way to the Aude, thinking surely there would be signs of spring along its banks.

Some variety of cedar

Not blooms, but yellow cedar "needles"

I didn't find much.  I have to keep reminding myself that it is only February, which can be a long, long month, no matter what the calendar says. But I did get some good photos of the gargoyles of St. Michel's. And I got some lovely photos of the river I love so much.

Silvery river-loving tree

The Paicherou...slated for work this spring

The 5:00 Ryanair--another sign of spring and the start of tourist season

Signs of Spring

Major purchase at this morning's market

It's not yet Saint Valentine's Day and already spring is creeping into the markets.  I got fresh spinach this morning.  Artichokes--sold in bouquets sometimes--are loading down the tables at the vendors' stalls.  The occasional stalk of asparagus makes an appearance.  Can the Spanish-French strawberry wars be far behind?  But the surest sign, for me, was the vendor selling bunches of daffodils.  I could not resist that happy yellowness. 

After a couple days of rain, the sun has made a glorious reappearance this noontime.  There's some wind coming as well, but nothing like what they are experiencing up in Brittany and Normandy.  Gusts there up to 147 kph...that's sort of like a hurricane.  But here in Le Grand Sud, skies are clearing (for now) and temperatures in Perpignan, a little southeast of here along the coast are expected to be nearly 70 today.  

Finally, a red purse.  A good one at a very good sale price.

This little taste of weather to come is beckoning me outside.  I have been cooped up for a week and a half with a nasty cold, and the need for a walk is overpowering me.  I think I'll pack a picnic, a thermos of coffee and see what's peeking out from winter's skirts.

Happy yellow petticoats

Common Sense and Resistance

Many people have asked me what I find so appealing about living in France with the French. (usually said with a shudder)

Well, beyond the obvious points of the pace of life and the quality of the food, there are a few other qualities I admire about the French.  The first is their common sense and practicality.

I've told the tale of the guy across the street who, two years ago, was caught red-handed with the loot he acquired in the course of multiple burglaries.  He was arrested on a Thursday.  The following Wednesday saw him in front of the judge and by that afternoon he'd been sentenced to time in prison.  They don't fool around when the facts are unassailable.

I also like the fact that they consider personal responsibility important.  There are no guard rails or chains on the rampart walks of the walls of La Cite.  If you don't want to fall off, don't go up there.  Simple. I think it used to be that way in the US.  Common sense.

And that common sense sometimes takes the form of resistance.

Recently, there's been an outbreak of avian flu in the Southwest of France.  The government decided that perhaps all ducks and geese should be slaughtered, just to be safe.  This action not only would have endangered the production of duck confit, a major ingredient in cassoulet, which is a BIG tourist draw for this area, but would seriously have harmed next year's foie gras supply.  We are talking not only about serious economic damage to the people who raise these birds, but a major catastrophe for holiday meals.  So, the eleveurs--the raisers--have revolted.  If their birds are not infected, they are refusing to wholesale slaughter their "crop."  Makes sense.

The same thing has happened to the platane trees that line the banks of the Canal du Midi.  These trees are at risk and some are infected by a blight.  There are two methods of treatment: chop them all down, which has been done in some places; or use a vaccine, which is more expensive. The government ordered the trees to go--and the mayors of the little towns along the waterway are banding together, demanding, "Keep your hands off our trees."  They want the right to use the vaccine.  

The people here in Occitanie live close to and in rhythm with the land.  It has been thus for centuries.  They are a practical people who know exactly the sources of their livelihoods and the pace of their lives.  They are not afraid to stand up and protect these sources; it's only common sense.  I like that.

 

Carnival at Limoux

The pigs and the Chinese started off the festivities

Limoux is a small town a little to the south of Carcassonne.  It's actually upriver on the Aude, and is sort of a gateway to the high valley where the foothills to the Pyrenees begin.  The town has several claims to fame, one being the bubbly white Cremat de Limoux and the other is Carnival.  Limoux hosts the world's oldest and longest running celebration of revelry, supposedly a last hurrah before the beginning of Lent and the period of having to give up everything that's fun, tasty and or "bad" for you.  No wonder Carnival is so over the top.

The bands were much better this year

Traditional masks, not movie monsters

I am woefully ignorant of almost all Carnival customs and traditions.  I know that in Limoux, especially, political satire is at the forefront of their costumes and their float.  In most locations, Carnival runs only for a short period of time; in Limoux, it begins the first Saturday of January and runs every weekend until Easter.  I guess they choose to ignore that Lent part, where they stop partying.  Bad for tourism, and plenty of tourists park themselves in the town square to witness the frolicking.

This guy spent lots of time gazing into restaurant windows

Headed indoors for refreshments

Traditionally the millers open the first procession.  In their white coats and bright red scarves, they inaugurate the season by first paying a visit to the prefecture, probably to poke fun at local officials.  This year, the state of emergency put in place nationwide as a result of the Paris attacks in November meant that they weren't allowed to prance around in front of what we'd consider the town hall.  It made for anguished editorials in the local papers--tradition was being trifled with, and nobody liked it.

I hope the guy on the right is wearing a mask

A blur of tulle and feathers

On subsequent weekends, other groups have the honor of displaying their costumes and creativity.  When I saw the festivities in 2014, it was the Basques, dressed in traditional black and red.  I have seen photos of people dressed like the ingredients for crepes--a bottle of Grand Marnier, a bag of sugar...some of these costumes get very creative and very involved.  There is almost always a theme, even if I can't figure out what it is. Stores sell masks, and I think that anyone can wear one and march along with the revelers, although to be honest, I have not seen that done in Limoux.  I did see it at that creepy Carnival here in Carcassonne in 2014. 

I think he represents the charcuteries

I decided to pay a visit this past Saturday. It was a nice day, the train ride is cheap enough, I was needing a break from being sick (my first French cold) and I wanted to see what was on tap for the day. 

Member of the chicken group

There are three "processions" a day on both Saturday and Sunday.  This year there were two groups, each with its own band following behind, playing lively tunes that, unfortunately, get stuck in your head.  The first group was made up of people in pig costumes, most of whom were carrying meat cleavers marching along with people dressed as Chinese..brocade and "coolie" hats.  I don't have a clue what their connection or theme was.  "Chinese pork," maybe?

Cleaver-wielding pig

Poultry representative?

The other group, again with its own band, consisted of chickens, brides and cross-dressers, all waving things, from a toy trumpet to switches, to wands, to a very red ukelele?  I can't begin to guess what they represent.  

Onlookers and the guy with the red "guitar"

The activity sort of goes like this: one group starts the fun;  they prance and twirl around in the arcade, dance, and wave their arms in time to whatever the band is playing.  They then proceed to go into the bars, band and all, where I assume they are all given a drink.  While they are inside, the other group starts at the opposite end of the plaza and gives its version of revelry.  They alternate putting on a show for about 90 minutes.  Then they take a break.  

This guy marched with the cleaver-waving pigs

I don't know--it seems just a little creepy and a little forced to me.  There's not much interaction with the crowd, nor are there many invitations to the crowd to get involved and come along with the "merry-makers."  I don't know what I expect, but every Carnival I have seen here has left me unimpressed.  There is some great artistry in the costumes and especially in the masks.  I don't get the feeling that anyone is having fun; they are there because, by God, it's a tradition that must be upheld.  And in Limoux's case, it is what brings in tourists to patronize the restaurants that enclose the Place de la Republique.  The town has to do what it must to survive.

I don't know who this is supposed to be

Little pink lady

So, if anyone can enlighten me as to the origin of the willow "switches," or those masks with the long beaks, I would be grateful.  If the participants were really following the purpose of Carnival, wouldn't they be trying to eat plenty of "fat"? 

The Aude at Limoux, looking upriver

Aude at Limoux, looking downriver

It wasn't a horrible day.  The costumes were impressive.  Lunch was magnificent!  Duck breast (where I both surprised and impressed the waiter by ordering it rare) accompanied by the best legumes--vegetables-- grilled fresh wild asparagus, and pureed yellow and orange carrots.  The weather was great, the train ride (only 1 Euro each way) was interesting--I had a non-stop conversation with some bum, but I got to practice my French!   Not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon in the south of France. 

Ugly American

Interesting shapes in Collioure

English speakers are not especially unheard of here in the Aude; there are plenty of Brits living and visiting, but Americans are pretty rare.  So when I hear obvious American English being spoken, I often will speak to the people, especially if I think I can help them in some way.  But there ARE exceptions.

While in the Narbonne train station, waiting for my train back to Carcassonne the other day, I was seated near the information desk.  Travelers from all over were milling about, trying to deal with the delays in their travel plans caused by the horrible accident near Montpellier.  It was bad, and had train schedules snarled for hours.

One man strode up to the window and asked the clerk, "Do you speak English?"  There were none of the polite things the French say...no "Hello," no "Excuse me..."  Just "Do you speak English?" in a tone of voice that implied that this guy was better and more important than anyone else in the station and that the woman on the receiving end of his tone was stupid and hardly worth his breath. 

I cringed.  He was obviously American and was trying to get to Barcelona....as were a lot of people in that station.  But nobody could have been more inconvenienced that he was, according to his delivery.  He was loud, oafish and unbelievably rude.  

This jackass then went on to ask the clerk, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, if the train was going to get to Barcelona sometime today.  Growing more caustic with each sentence, he kept at her.  "When?  Two hours?  Three?  Eleven?"  He was such a jerk, and yet the clerk never lost her composure.

He finally left the window.  I was tempted to stop him and tell him off, but decided I was having too nice a day to spoil it by interacting with him.  You hear stories of Americans being sent in the wrong direction when they ask how to get to a destination.  I understand why, and if I ever encounter him again, I will indeed send him off on a wild-goose chase....and in ENGLISH.

Collioure

Grey-skied Collioure

I went to the Mediterranean on Wednesday, just to get my train ride and blue water "fix."  I wanted to go to the market in Collioure--it's colorful and the merchandise is a good mix of cheese stands, fresh vegetable stalls, pottery and fabric.  I was in the market for a bright straw basket with leather handles to take with me to market.  My "paper" one is getting a little worn and collapses on itself.  Sometimes it's too awkward to handle.

This tower is sort of the "logo" for Collioure

Deserted beach, shuttered buildings

I left Carcassonne before first light.  I love walking through the streets of the Bastide at that hour, even though I HATE getting up so early.  The pre-dawn is still and quiet; only the chittering of the starlings provides vibrations to the air.  A few city workers were out and about,  cleaning the streets.  The residents of the Bastide aren't up at such an early hour, or if they are, they don't turn on any lights.  The walk to the train station was a real pleasure.

Vineyards rise to the west on the hillsides

On to Narbonne and then to Collioure.  I had expected some clouds, but it was quite a bit cooler than predicted.  I guess I am spoiled by the mild winter we have enjoyed.  After all it is only the first week of February.  However, some of the flowering trees were in full bloom.  As we rode through the salt marshes, I saw only sea gulls.  I suspect the egrets and herons have gone elsewhere.  Vacances, perhaps?

Green saplings sprout from the sides of the Chateau

Art also sprouts from the sides of the edifices

I caused a big confab at the market when  I asked the green-grocer for raifort.  That's what my dictionary says is the word for horseradish.  Well, he'd never heard of it.  Then the cheese lady got into the conversation.  Raifort apparently is a kind of cheese,  and I couldn't make her believe otherwise.  The grocer tried to tell me I wanted celeri, (the root, not the stalks) or perhaps salsify ( I love them, but they are not horseradish)  Then the sausage and cured meats lady got in on the act, and told these other people that I was right: raifort is the French word for horseradish, but she'd never seen it before. These people had never even heard of such a thing.  Ever try explaining what it is to someone who's never experienced horseradish?  Finally, after much good-natured gesturing and laughing we all gave up.  No horesradish for me. 

Sculpture along the walkway

To commemorate the deportation of Jews

Then, heaven help me, I asked for dill.  Aneth.  (Pronounced like Annette--the French have no "th" sound in their speech, which makes hearing them try to pronounce my last name sweet payback for all my mistakes that give them such giggles)  The guy thought I wanted eggs--oeufs.  His partner corrected him; she knew what I wanted.  He followed up with a lesson for me.  Catalans do NOT use dill, nor basil.....I was stunned. Basil is a Provencal thing (or Italian).  So I learned something at the Collioure market.  No dill, no basil, don't ask for it, they don't use it. We had a spirited discussion with everyone chiming in and trying to help this stubborn old American woman who only wanted horseradish.  I  bet I have to go north to find it.  These southern French strongly identify with the Catalan region of Spain, even flying the Catalan flag with the French, EU and  Occitan flags. 

Reflections of the chateau in the Mediterranean

Collioure was shuttered and mostly deserted.  There were a few restaurants open, serving local clients.  There was plenty of activity; however it consisted of workmen renovating, restoring, repairing and getting new and old stores ready for the massive tourist onslaught that will start after Easter.  I was happy to have the place to myself, to beachcomb, to take photos, to write while having a cafe creme and gazing at the Mediterranean.  The sea started out grey, reflecting the sky, but after lunch the sun came out, turning the water that breathtaking blue.  The wind was too strong to permit walking along the ramparts; I found myself nearly blown off my feet at one point.  But in a sheltered spot, in the sun, with a coffee?  Delightful.  

And when the sum comes out?  Blue to take away my breath

The sun appeared but the wind got stronger, and I got tireder.  I decided after lunch to head home; the nice thing about these regional train tickets is that I can change them with no penalty.  On the ride home, I was rewarded with a flock of flamingos--delicate pink floating on the blue salt marsh water.  The train window wasn't clear enough to take a photo, but it's in my mind.

Strong wind makes for white caps beyond shelter

Once in Narbonne, I walked into a mess.  There had been a terrible accident involving a TGV over by near Montpellier and the trains were snarled.  The TGV that was supposed to arrive at 12:30 that afternoon was delayed for at least 4 hours.  Then there's the domino effect--other trains run late, connections are missed.  I was lucky--I was booked on a regional train, so we had only a 30 minute delay.

Gathered beach glass here

I wasn't in the least bit inconvenienced.  I accomplished my objective for the day--a terra cotta colored straw market bag, a handful of beautiful beach glass, pages of writing done by the seashore, a couple of not-bad photos, a long walk, a nice lunch out. I didn't have to drive anywhere and contend with traffic. And, since I bought the senior discount card for all train travel on SNCF, I got a large savings on the price of my tickets.  What more could anyone want?

Collioure's windmill

A Beauty Among Queens

A Beautuy Among Queens

One thing I have experienced since coming to France is being pestered by on-line scam artists.  mostly on Skype.  I get several requests a day from people I don't know--always men--who would like to add me to their contact lists.  When I send back a message asking who they are and why they want to add me to their lists, I usually get a reply from someone whose native tongue is obviously not English.  I then decline, block and sometimes report as abuse.  Most of these requests come from supposed military men; I think their accounts have been hacked.  I never add them to my contacts.  One guy sent me a request using some bogus name and--are you ready for this?--Ted Cruz's picture.  Sometimes I have to just laugh.

In November joined an ex-pat group with a chapter in Toulouse.  They are a legitimate organization, and often send me notifications of trips, happy hours, courses, lectures or outings that they are sponsoring for members in the area.  However, Toulouse is not particularly convenient for me.  A Friday night cocktail party starting at 8:00 would mean a hotel stay in addition to a round trip train ticket, so I always decline the invitation.

This morning, on my Internations account e-mail, I had an incoming message from a man telling me that he thought I was beautiful.  His exact words were "A beauty among Queens."  Okay, does that sound like a guy from Texas?  But it did start my day with a smile!

Beyond Montpellier

I cleared the final hurdle and I am now, as my friend Betty Siegrist phrased it, a "documented alien" in France.  I can relax, at least until June, when I start the process to renew.  I think it's considerably less involved than the first validation.  Nonetheless, I am sure I will find something to worry about.  For now, I am floating; it feels like my life has more possibilities now that I am a fully legal resident.  The question is how to shape it. 

"normal" life in the living room

My lease is good until the beginning of September.  I would like an unfurnished apartment, however, so I will begin the hunt in a couple of months. A little apartment--500 or so square feet, in this area, with a little balcony for some plants and a spot of sunshine, and either two bedrooms or one bedroom and an office/dressing would suit me perfectly.  I will be sending thoughts out to the universe. 

I have found a used furniture store that is jam packed with wonderfully mismatched household goods.  I can't wait to see what I can come up with.  I made good on my vow that my first purchase after obtaining that card would be an electronic piano.  I found a nice one, at a good price and it fits in my space as if the place had been made for it. 

I am rediscovering the joy of working on my technique and being able to play for my own enjoyment.  I will make a decision about playing for the church in the next few weeks--things there are rockier than I expected.  Having the keyboard here will make practicing the hymns easier, but I am not doing it for that reason.  I want to be able to play, simply put.

My "Welcome to France" gift to myself

I feel like I can travel a little more, although at present I have no burning desire to go on any major trips.  There is still so much here that I have not explored.  I am wanting to see the Mediterranean, and am planning a short trip on Wednesday to Collioure.  It's market day there and that market is wonderful.  When Jason feels like he can take a break from getting his own house ready to sell, we'll take a Monday jaunt to Mirepoix with a trip to Montsegur. 

Even though the big hurdle is behind me, there are everyday tasks to attend to.  In no particular order, I need to:  find a physician; a dentist; and an ophthamologist. I need to open a bank account and make some decisions about how to handle my money. I can finally get my few remaining possessions shipped out of  Lorraine Gordon's garage.   I also need to find: a realtor to help with the apartment search; a delivery service/moving company that can help me when the time comes to change apartments.  I have purchased a French as a foreign language for adults workbook--it's time to formalize my studies just a bit.  There is writing that needs doing, and the manual mode for the camera to learn.  A friend of mine gave me two links for free courses.  There's one coming up about the French Revolution--is there any better time and place to learn about it?  All of these things will allow me to move my life here forward. 

I often wonder how there was time for anything while I worked and boredom doesn't appear that it will ever be a problem.  And for that, I am grateful.