Settling In

A place to lay my head

Settling in…what a relief.  Once the last of my possessions made the trip up the stairs on Monday, the 19^th, I could feel the stress draining out of the soles of my feet.  I apologize to Andrew and Lauren for not being able to relax and enjoy Carcassonne with them—but I had to get the old apartment vacated and cleaned by noon on the 19^th, since Maureen, Jason’s next long-term tenant was arriving on the 12:45 from London!

The gardenia in the bedroom

The cactus and jade plant like the living room

We managed, and now I can sort and organize and oh yes, continue to wash floors at a more relaxed pace.  I have to admit that I really had no idea how much work would be involved with getting the floors to a point where I can live with them.  I have washed the kitchen floor 4 times and it is now ready to be steam cleaned.  Only 4 more rooms to go, but those floors weren’t as grimy as the kitchen.  

I like having coffee and my paper at the kitchen window

Clean kitchen, working stove, a pot of soup

And a KNIFE BLOCK!!!!

And I did even manage to get the space for the stove cleaned before the electrician came and wired it into the wall.  Interestingly enough, some stoves (of course the one I bought) don’t have cords to simply plug into the wall, like the ones in the US…nope, this one had to have a cable wired to it and then wired into the jus, (same word as in English—juice) by a licensed electrician.  The “guy” that the property management agency sent to me took one look at it and said, “I am a plumber, not an electrician.”  But he was working on a job with an electrician and went to fetch him right away.  Christophe made short work of my wiring job.  I have some other wiring projects I want to have him do, and he’s very happy to do so.  Mostly I want to change the light bulbs to LED lights, but I need an expert to help me purchase light bulbs.  There is no standard size—and I mean of the part that screws into the fixture.  Some are longer and skinny, others are the fatter, rounder ends that would be familiar to someone from the States.  I think I have said it before, so much of this past year’s time and energy has been devoted to learning.  I expected a lot of it, but I never dreamed stove cables and light bulbs would be included in the curriculum.

My first flowers

Things are shaping up, at least in the kitchen

Now the next big “to-do” item is to get my wifi up and running.  Here the company, Orange, has a plan that combines Internet, a land line telephone and television into one reasonably priced package.  The only catch, and I do mean as in “22” is that you have to initialize your account using the Internet—but that’s why I am signing up, because I don’t have Internet…..I swear, my next book is going to be about all of these “Catch-22” situations that the French consider normal.  

The "guest" room as of last week

Early morning light touches St Vincent as seen from the "guest" room

But for now, I made a delicious pot of soup on my new stove, the fridge is humming along, I have a place to lay my head at night and I got my red etagere assembled.  I am really pleased with the way my nest is shaping up.  I found my missing dark blue Tupperware container in the bag that contained my “dressy” clothes, and I am writing this at the kitchen table by the window while enjoying a small glass of wine.  Today, in the Sunday paper supplement, there was an article entitled, “Tell Me Where You Sleep.”  When I looked at some of the places (Nepal, Senegal, Brazil) I realized afresh just how blessed and truly rich I am.  

My neighbor across the street...like the ledge two stories up

Fete de Gastonomie

Poster advertising the Fete

For a while now, I have been feeling like I have had too many “have-to” things to do.  I have been a little deprived of just exploring my town with my camera and taking part in any of the countless activities Carcassonne has been offering  these past several week-ends.

Today, after church, I had a bowl of soup and headed out to Place Carnot where the Club Prosper Montagne had organized a little festival of gastronomy, to celebrate the foods, wines and products of the region.  It was smaller than some of the “fetes” that I have seen, but the quality of the offerings were second to none.  

Endless line at Michel Rabat's tent. Michel (in red hat) is cooking

Of course, one of the reasons I believe this is that my butcher, Michel Rabat, was feeding the crowd.  There was a line that never ended to get his lunch.  Drat, I wished I hadn’t already eaten!  I ran into his wife at the tent of the local brewery, getting beer for the cooks in her own tent. 

At the artisan brewery tent

All that bread--and they are eating meat!

The bakers were enjoying Michel’s lunch as they stood in front of their own massive display of breads. Bread was offered in all shapes and sizes, and how good it all looked. The aroma of the fish soup at the poissoniere’s tent called to the crowd.  Next door, a vendor was offering locally made heavy-duty bakeware.   The local florist was hosting a “Create Your Own Centerpiece” workshop and suggested suspending gerbera daisies in the empty beer bottles from Cuitat, the local brewery.  Jams and fruit jellies from Occitanie (the new name of our region) gleamed like jarred rubies.

Beer bottle  "vases"

The bagpipe band from the atelier in the Montagnes Noires was there, playing traditional songs of the region.  I love that sound, but even I have to confess that at times it sounded like a swarm of bees.

Occitan flag on the end of one of the pipes

 

Goatskin bladders for the bagpipes.

What I liked the best about this celebration was that locals were supporting locals.  Yes, there were a few tourists, (I caught definite British accents) but the vendors were buying and enjoying one another’s products.  The crowd ate and drank with obvious relish.  So many people seemed to know one another, greeting with loud exclamations of “Ca va?”  (“How’s it going?)  Even I got welcomed with the two-cheeked kiss from someone I know.  

Organization of the Best Workers of France--a hard-earned distiction

I bought a muffin from the bakers and wended my way home.  My new apartment is really close to Place Carnot, and for once, I could climb the stairs to my apartment without having to carry something heavy with me.  I missed the rain, which came quickly and briefly shortly after I got home.  I seriously doubt that it even slightly dampened the enthusiasm I saw at the fete today.  Bravo, Club Prosper Montagne, for helping our local gastronomy experts show the town how it’s done!

Food, wine, conversation, sharing a community bounty

Moving

My calm "nest"

I have a new address.  For the past few weeks, I have been working around guest visits and appointments to get myself into a new apartment about 5 blocks away from my home for this past year.  I have loved this spot and will miss Jason, my landlord and his helpful, cheerful nature.  But I wanted one more room and an unfurnished apartment that I could make my own.

A red fridge is certainly personalized

Presently the kitchen is chaos...  Notice the new stove!

Getting things purchased and delivered has come with its own learning curve.  Who ever knew that in France you have to buy a cable separately from the stove?  I would have thought that the salesperson might have mentioned such a "small" matter, but oh no.  I found that out when it was delivered, on the very day I asked for it NOT to be delivered.  

A place to eat, read the paper

But this, too. will all get sorted out.  I am grateful to my beloved Andrew for his help in getting my possessions moved to the new place and to his girlfriend, Lauren for also hauling my bags of belongings.  It was only a relatively short walk, but it felt like the Bataan March to me, especially during that prolonged heat wave.  

New windowsill for my gardenis

A sweet place to lay my head

Now I am down to the last few items and the food that remains in the fridge.  I have some work to do here at the old place--cleaning the oven and the floors and polishing the bathroom fixtures will get me clear of #34.  I have hours and hours of work in the new place, but it will be easier once I am actually living there.

I have a bed, a kitchen table, a fridge.  Sometime this week I will get the stove cabled and working.  I will also, during this week, get wifi, phone and tv service, although at this point, I don't have a television and am not at all sure I want one.  I seem to lack the discipline to turn it off, and I am a terrible news junkie.  

The Christmas cactus and the jade plant have a new window

My plants and musical instruments are moved, although my clothes have yet to be transported.  I know where my priorities lie, I guess.   I can make a cup of tea or coffee;  the fridge is stocked with several bottles of wine.  I have all that I need.  The living room is bare, but that's okay; I haven't found a sofa I like well enough to purchase.  

One of the first things to put in my new home

After working so desperately last year to get rid of all my possessions, I am a bit anxious about acquiring all these things now.  I like the freedom that having few "things" brings to me.  I will work hard to keep my living areas spare and uncluttered.  It will be interesting to observe this "nesting" as it unfolds.

Happy Anniversary

My birthday "cale"

Today is my 65th birthday, a milestone occurrence in the U.S. but not such a big deal here.   I don't feel any older; quite frankly, so much has been happening here that joining the ranks of Medicare seems a bit anticlimactic.

For me, today is another anniversary--for it was one year ago today that I boarded an IcelandAir flight to begin a new adventure in the land of the Gauls.  I had a little idea of what might be in store for me, but nothing--neither all the Internet reading, nor hearing the personal anecdotes could really have prepared me for the ride that 2015-2016 has been.  There have been moments of pure joy and other times have been knuckle-gnawing anxious.  Above all, I have learned:  a new language; new customs; new ways of cooking; a new way of living. 

Joyeux anniversaire, indeed

I had my appointment yesterday for my long-stay visa renewal.  My stomach was in knots--did I have all my i's dotted and my t's crossed?  Had I forgotten anything?  Did I have the French wording correct on my attestation?  Should I have had it notarized?   What I found most intriguing was the physical response I was having to this stress.  I felt miserable--sick to my stomach and jangled.  To think--I used to live with that stress level all the time and never noticed.  I thought this was how "normal" felt.  

But I have been living relatively stress-free, maybe for the first time in my entire life.  (Even as a child, I worried about the things adults should have been handling.)  So this dose of stress toxins laid me low for the afternoon, once I was finished with the appointment.  I was completely wrung out.

The flow of the appointment was interesting to me--there were signs posted clearly stating in about 12 languages that if one's French was not equal to the task of negotiating this process, it was the applicant's responsibility to provide an interpreter.  I managed to get through the process, including a lengthy explanation of why I had provided documentation for TWO domiciles, not one, without misunderstandings on either my part or the part of the interviewer.  For that, I am eternally grateful to my first French teacher and to all the wonderful "teachers" here in Carcassonne who help me, correct my grammar and supply vocabulary when I am at a loss.  

Toward the very end of the interview, the agents and I were simply chatting--about the weather, about my new apartment, about women's work never being done--when she began speaking in English!!  It's not that they can't speak in other languages; it's that they want to make sure you can speak in their native tongue.  After all, you are on their soil.  

I never tire of this view

So, I got the 3-month extension to prove my legal residency here, if needed, until my dossier is checked out.  She told me that I should be getting my carte de sejour--what looks like a driver's license--before the end of that three month time.  

My red fridge delivered in the morning

Now I will turn my full attention to getting completely moved into my new apartment.  The red frigo has arrived, and more than half the kitchen is moved.  Andrew was a great help in getting things carried from one place to the other.  My to-do list feels paralyzingly overwhelming, but one bite at a time. 

And thus begins year two.