Playing Hooky

Limoux's old bridge in the afternoon autumn light

As I typed that phrase in the title box, I realized how strange it looks in print.  Do people still "play hooky?"  We used this expression when we skipped a day of school or failed to show up for some obligation....

The sun turned the leaves into stained glass

I don't have to answer to anyone buy myself now for how I spend my time.  It's a condition of my new life that I intend to zealously guard.  But sometimes I am my own worst taskmaster.  I know that I have certain chores I should be accomplishing every single day, and taking the afternoon to hop the 1 Euro train to Limoux felt very much like playing hooky from piano practice and French grammar lessons.   

The Aude was low but clear.  Mr. Duck's green head glowed.

I am not going to feel guilty.  It was a spectacular day and I got to stretch my legs and turn my face to the autumn light.  I took my camera and played.  It was a splendid afternoon that bears repeating as often as possible.

 .

Upriver view of the Aude from under the "New Bridge"

The Mystery of the Missing Lid

There were three...

I seem to be missing a pot lid....and I am truly baffled.  I have only one cupboard with only two shelves where I keep the pots and pans--and their respective lids.  

I have only three pots and each had a lid.  The pots were stored side by side, each one with its lid on.  Now one of the pots is bare-headed and I am at a complete loss as to explain where its lid could possibly be.  I have completely emptied both shelves--no lid.  I have looked in the oven, in the fridge, in the freezer, in the cupboards where I store my food, on the shelves where I keep my few dishes.  No lid.

It's not in the dishwasher; I don't have a dishwasher.  I have even gone so far as to look in my nightstand.  I have been known to carry something with me, get distracted or overtaken my by house-keeping ADD and leave items lying in places that they don't belong.  I am fairly certain that I did NOT put it in the trash accidentally, which I have been known to do to flatware--even sterling silver--because my trash bags aren't that big.  I would have noticed if I had put a pot lid in with the butcher paper. 

It has to be somewhere.  I am going to try to remain calm about it.  I suspect that one day, I may run across it while looking for a piece of sheet music or a winter scarf.  I did, after all, just get my walk-in closet organized.  In the meantime, its whereabouts remain a mysterious nuisance. 

Simple Life

Sun streams in over my lunch

I am loving my new apartment.  Though it is far from perfect, it's cheerful, and sunny and I like being in the space. 

For so long, I have been weighted down by what feels like a never ending scroll of items on my to-do list.  Not only do I never seem to get to the end of it, items once crossed off, like wash the kitchen floor, are reappearing.  Maybe I am getting a better grip on the situation or maybe my attitude has mellowed, or maybe a it's a combination of the two, but I feel more relaxed than I have felt for some weeks now. 

Tidy sun filled bedroom

Getting some major tasks accomplished has helped.  First, I received my carte de sejour, which means I don't have to worry about being here "bureaucracy" for another year.  Secondly, I received my French social security number, which means I am now fully covered for health care.  Those two items are important and I am happy to have both things officially accomplished.

Bread and butter--could it be simpler?

My new "nest" is far from furnished or finished.  But, I have everything that I need to live a good life.  I've  a bed to sleep in, a desk at which to write and work, a table to hold my meals, a fridge and a stove.  There's now a sofa on which to sit, and my piano. When I turn a knob in the wall, hot water comes out for a shower--how many people in the world will never, ever have that kind of luxury?   What else could I possibly NEED?

Maybe I can tempt you?

Cheerful red!

Today was a simple day, occupied with the business of living. I marketed, did a few household chores, had a simple yet delicious lunch and have spent the afternoon working on some French grammar lessons.  In a minute or two, I will make a batch of muffins.  I am going to the boucherie tomorrow to get a turkey thigh ground up to make some chili and I want to take some of my baked goods to Michel and his equipe, his crew.  

The windows are open to the world, just like I like them, the sun is warm on my back and cheering the apartment.  Nothing feels very complicated at the moment and I am loving the  simplicity of life in  south-west France.  I highly recommend it.

Fresh flowers from this morning's market

Perfect Concert

 Last night I attended a perfect concert at St. Vincent's.  People who know me well will be surprised, perhaps, because I don't remember ever using the word perfect before to describe a choral concert.  But this one was--perfect.

I was a little worried about attending, because I walked out of the last concert at St. Vincent's because of bad programming resulting in acoustical mud, not really music.  But I shouldn't have worried.  These singers, The Gregorian Voices, sang the music written to be sung in this kind of acoustical space.  There was no mud, just glorious sound that materialized out of the air, out of the stonework, out of the stained glass.  

One might think that two hours of Gregorian chant, could get-- boring. This concert left us all wanting more.  They programmed chants in different keys, with exceptional dynamic ranges, and from different periods.  For good measure, they added pieces from the Eastern Orthodox ; those haunting Arabic influences send shivers down my spine.  I actually recognized one of their chants, Humbly I Adore Thee, Verity Unseen, from my days as a soloist in St. John's Episcopal back in Baltimore.  The words didn't come back to me right away, but come back they did.  They also had a magnificent arrangement of Andrew Lloyd Weber's "Pie Jesu," from his Requiem.  That's when I noticed that tears were dropping onto my purse.    As an encore, they performed an uncluttered arrangement of Amazing Grace. The English was pretty good for guys from Bulgaria! As badly as I wanted to sing along, I refrained, but I did mouth the words.

The church was darkened, they were dressed all in black, but not robed.  That added to the mystery and the beauty of the sound.  There were only 8 singers, and that was enough.  The young basso profundo looked to be 8 feet tall and his sound came from his feet, I do swear.  I thought of Ed Polochick and all the choral techniques he tried to drill into his singers, me included.  I didn't hear a single breath intake the entire evening, the sound was simply--there.  Obviously they did have to take breaths but the technique of entering dead center on the pitch rendered the musical line utterly seamless. 

I was reminded of the power of music to connect us:  as singers with the choirs long past who've sung the same pieces, with the composers who gifted us with beauty;  as singers with listeners, who communicate far more than the surface words; as listeners to one another and to something more powerful than we are, individually or collectively.  For me, choral music is both the portal to and the language of  the Divine.  

I could have listened to them all night long.  Or until my supply of tissues ran out.

You can listen here for yourself

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ygv5E2Vii0

Settling Down

Rectangular pillows and my newlyt assembled nightstand

Life is settling down, and I am living in my new nest as opposed to merely coping with my new nest.  Every day I make a to-do list;  some items have been on that list for a month!!! But with the cooler weather, my energy level has returned to normal and I am better able to keep chipping steadily away at the items that keep re-appearing.  The most odious have to do with floor washing...and while it's not a task I loooove, it's not normally one I hated--until now. 

People must be tired of hearing about these floors, ( I know I am tired of thinking about them)  but I never in my life have seen anything like them.  It takes multiple washings with 7 or 8 changes of water to finally get through to the surface.  I think I need a better mop, one where the washing cloth doesn't separate from the hardware when the cloth gets saturated.  I have two more rooms to tackle; fortunately they aren't quite as grimy as the kitchen and the entryway, although they are definitely bigger.  One bite at a time. 

Entryway runner to help keep the floor clean

The last of the IKEA furniture is coming together--I ran out of light today and will finish in the morning.  The enormous pile of cardboard has all been carved up and taken to the recycling bin.  I have the non-skid material down under the rugs, and found a little runner today to put in the entryway.  I even managed to wash a little of the hallway outside my door, but that task is for another day and another blog entry.  

I ordered a clic-clac today--a nicer futon-- and they will deliver it this week.  So the guest room will be ready for visitors.  I am cooking in my cheerful little kitchen, and making my usual weekly pot of soup.  My routine is returning to normal.

My camellia will soon need a new pot

I even felt like I could take time off last night to see a movie at the local art house theater, which is now only a block away! Michael Moore's Where to Invade Next was playing and although I knew what was contained in it, I still wanted to see it.  It's worth the price of admission, for sure.

Endless possibilities for the living room

I also received my carte de sejour--my permit to be in France legally.  It's good through August 2017 and I will renew it again in September of next year. That little chore is settled!!  So, I am getting on with the business of living, but still learning, still discovering.    During Saturday's marketing, at the boulangerie (the bread store) I saw something called "nid d'abeilles"  Literally it means "bees nest" but is better known as honeycomb. It's a simple vanilla custard between two layers of yellow cake--yummy!  I had never seen nor heard of this confection before, so I just had to try it.  I can still be delighted by something new on a regular basis. I am confident that this coming year will bring yet more "finds."

I am considering a white sofa!!!!

Object of Terror

Object of torture and terror

I am making my way in a foreign language.  I am not in the least hinting that it/s been easy.  I had a marvelous teacher, but that was 50 years ago and I have forgotten 95% of what he taught me.  But, I am living in France, speaking French and most of the time, it's not a huge obstacke.

But the phone???? I nearly go into cardiac arrest when it rings and I don't recognize the number.  That usually means it's "business," and I had best pay attention.  I have known for some time that I read lips when conversing with French speakers.  That luxury is unavailable on the phone.  Additionally, I never get very good cell phone reception, so the language barrier is further complicated by conversations fading in and out.  I hate conducting anything, even in English, on the cell phone.

And if someone leaves a voice message?  Oh dear heaven....I have managed to navigate my French voice mail retrieval system, but native French speakers, already fast talkers, deliver their voice messages in even more rapid fire fashion.  To get an entire recent message from the Prefecture, I had to go to my bank and ask my customer service representative (who speaks English) if she could translate the last half of the recording--even after hearing it nearly 20 times, I could not understand, so fast was the speech.  In my defense, the lady at the bank had to listen to it twice in order to get it.  Yes, it was that fast.

I have better reception in my new place

This morning was a case in point.  I got a call about my "order," and from then on I was lost.   I was able to get out my standard line, "I can understand if you speak slowly."  I finally understood  that she was giving me delivery instructions for my futon, my "clic clac".  I thought she was calling from the kitchen shop where I had placed an order for a wooden citrus reamer.  Big difference.  The clic clac is coming tomorrow; the citrus reamer, who knows?

Season Changes

It rained today and I managed to get caught right in the middle of it.  It just didn't seem all that threatening when I left this morning to go to the market.  On the way back from Michel's where I bought some beef for stew, while I was in the fruitier's getting veggies, the thunder rumbled and the drops began to fall.  I ducked into Eurodif and bought an umbrella (another one) and splashed my way to Monoprix for some whole wheat flour and a small bottle of red wine to put in the stew.  By the time I got home, my pants, my blouse, my shoes--all drenched and cold.  Socks and dry long pants felt really good for the first time in months.

Storm coming in from the Pyrenees

It reminded me of a Brookings rain, except for the fact that it didn't last for three months.  It rained hard for about thirty minutes and then it stopped.  This was our first real rain since maybe May.  It's been awfully dry here, enough to impact the grape harvest.  The rain gave the sky a different look--perhaps we will once again see that hard blue summer sky, but I doubt that there will be many more such days for some months to come.  

Change of seasons sky

I also think we have seen the last of the 80 degree temperatures.  It's getting darker noticeably earlier.  And sunrise is coming later; dawn and the birds who get up with it are allowing me to sleep a little later each day. I needed to turn on a light when having breakfast this morning.

Last of the summer blue sky

I put on jeans this week for the first time in months.  Hallelujah!  Last season's pants still fit and still predictably bag in the rear end. I wore a jacket last night when I went out, and I have put the summer short sleeved things to the back of the new closet. 

The first stew of the season is simmering on the stove and sending delicious smells throughout the apartment.  I am learning how to cook in my new kitchen.  I used the oven for the first time this morning to make a hot lunch for myself.  .  

First beef stew of the season. 

Time is never still, and I feel myself more in tune with natural seasons than since my childhood days growing up in Frederick County, Maryland.. I got a piece of good news today--the Prefecture called and left a message saying that my carte de sejour de retraite--my card giving me permission to stay in France for another year is ready to be picked up at their office any weekday after 8:30.  I will get to see another cycle of seasons in this beautiful part of the planet I now call home.