Adventures in France Episode 26. Final

The sunny days are icy cold; the leaves are turning glorious shades of yellow through to red; and the birds are lining up on the telephone wires, discussing the best routes south. The time has come for us, too, to head southwards and back to the warmth. We have one week left and at least six moths of ‘things’ to do in it. We have a lot of goodbyes to say, to all the good friends that we have made. Also numerous items that have been so generously lent to us to make life more comfortable, have to be returned. And I now know that none of these activities can take place in a minimum of time. Things happen slowly around here, even goodbyes!
On Wednesday we took our friends Sandra and Kevin to the airport in Biarritz. They had intended flying out for a week arriving the previous Tuesday, in Pau, and returning a week later. However the day before they were due to arrive they received a text message telling them that their flight had been cancelled due to some or other strike. The first alternative booking was for Thursday, which they accepted and we had fetched them from Pau, arranging to return them there the following Tuesday. However, the strikers struck again and their return flight was also cancelled. This time however, the first available flight was on Saturday which was too late for them so they arranged to return from a different airport, namely Biarritz, for which they were charged a penalty – for changing their flight plans!
The trip there was uneventful, but on the way back we got caught up in a huge traffic jam at one of the toll booths. We are still not quite sure what the problem was, but after sitting in a queue for half an hour, we drove past a three kilometer long line of trucks to reach the toll booth and then drove past a five kilometer line of cars and trucks that were going in the opposite direction. Or rather, not going! Perhaps the toll operators had also gone on strike
Thursday was a brilliantly sunny day but with a very cold breeze. A farmer friend brought his Rotavator – a portable engine-driven plough – up to the house and he and Neels turned the weed patch that used to be a vegetable garden into a perfectly tilled area, all ready for re-planting. The same day, Neels cut the lawn, so everything is neat and tidy outside. It was quite sad to have to cut the lawn as it was almost covered with huge patches of cyclamen, and their delicate pale pink and white flowers were so pretty, but they had to go. Tant pis, as they say here “too bad!”
Now it just a case of clearing up, tidying away, washing and cleaning and then next Sunday the 31st, we are off. Thanks to all the people who read my ramblings and more thenks to those who wrote and actually said they enjoyed them. We have had a wonderful experience and I can only hope that you enjoyed hearing about it.

Adventures in France Episode 25

It really is quite hard to believe that in two weeks today we will be climbing aboard a plane for the long trek home again. The six months that we have had here have just flown and we have enjoyed every minute, even the times when we nearly froze with cold and the other times when we were so hot that we thought we would explode. Living, as we have been, in the heart of rural France has been en experience that we have long dreamt of and I’m glad to be able to say that it has fulfilled all our expectations. Apart from being here ourselves, we have also been able to have visitors to stay and to introduce them to some of the gems of the area. The latest of these visitors was my sister and her husband from England, whose visit was real bonus. They are busy with renovations to their house and the trip was very much an ‘on-again-off-again’ item. When finally they found a gap in their occupations and said they were coming, I was over the moon. We fetched them on Sunday night in the pouring rain which continued in a drizzly manner most of the next day. Not a good start for us to show them how beautiful this part of France is. Rain and mist they have plenty of at home! It did give us time to talk though, and to each show the latest batch of holiday photographs. The weather did clear later in the week and I think they enjoyed all that we managed to show them. All too soon it was Friday and time for them to leave again. A real flying visit, but so much enjoyed and appreciated.
By Saturday the weather had become very, very cold and the breeze had a damp, icy nip to it.A load of washing hung out in the morning hadn’t dried by early afternoon and we had to bring it indoors and drape it over drying racks. We had been invited to go and pick grapes again at a neighbouring farm, but we both chickened out. We do not need to get ill at the moment and I am sure we would have both developed colds if we had gone out in that weather, especially in our inadequate clothing. South African winter clothing is not really sufficient to cope with the European winter.
Sunday’s weather forecast had been for a sunny day so we were rather disappointed to awake to grey mist. Happily though, it soon cleared and the promised sun began to shine. It was the day of the Goose Fair at Riguepeu and we had booked to have a meal there. Not that we were in the market for a goose, of course. We were more intrigued to find out what went on there. The town is so small that we couldn’t imagine a fair of any great size taking place there. How wrong could we be?! By the time we arrived, all the parking places in and around the centre of the village had long since been snapped up and we ended up parking a little way off in a field. We walked back into the village and found it to be fairly buzzing with people. I imagine the fair started out as a trading fair but nowadays it is an opportunity for stall-holders of all kinds to display and sell their wares. To be fair, there were some geese for sale, quite a lot in fact, but there was plenty more to see and buy too.
At 12.30 everyone started queuing up for the pre-booked meal and in a relatively short time six hundred meals had been served out and everyone was seated at long tables in a huge shed, enjoying their food and wine. Suddenly a group of men and women sitting at one of the tables broke into song. It transpired that we had a choir among the assembled masses and they entertained us for some time with songs, some of which required us all to stand up, sit down, clap hands or wave a handkerchief in the air. It was all very jolly and I’m sure went on long after we had left. Another experience of village life to add to all our other wonderful experiences.

Adventures in France Episode 24

Adventures in France Episode 24

Two highlights this week, beside which all other activities pale! We were informed, with great glee, some months ago, that we would be expected to take part in the ‘vendange’, the grape picking. Being still the ‘outsiders’ in the community, we smiled and nodded and didn’t expect anything more to come of it. Then on Monday, Ady came over to tell us that she would accompany us on Wednesday morning at 9.30 am, to show us where we would be picking. With some trepidation, we readied ourselves for what lay ahead, not knowing if it was something we were even capable of. When we arrived at the vineyard there were about ten or so other people there, ranging in age from late 30’s to almost 90. If one includes the two children who were running around doing their bit too, the age can be lowered to 6 or 7 years! We were each given a pair of secateurs and pointed sort of in the right direction and off we went. Picking is done from both sides of the vine and the more experienced ones really pick fast, so you have to be fairly careful if you accidentally poke you hand right through the vine to the other side. It is very sociable and everyone chats away merrily. It was soon discovered that these two newcomers amongst them were South Africans who normally spoke English, and then we were gently teased in one way or another. Someone would make a joke, which we obviously didn’t understand, and some one else would shout out ‘Een Eengleesh, pleeze’, which would make them laugh all the more. When we had been picking for a few minutes, surrounded by the clicking of the secateurs, one man said ‘Listen! You should know this. It’s the Click Song’! In spite of all the jollity though, it was quite hard work. The grapes all hang from the bottom of the vine, and although they are trained up on wires, one has to work either on one’s haunches or in a semi-bent position. Towards the end, when we had been at it for nearly three and a half hours, the rows seemed to be getting very long and then, suddenly, we were told to stop. Apparently we had reached the quota set by the ‘cave’, the local co-operative winery. We were very pleased, as there was no way that we would have given up while there were still people far older than ourselves clipping away furiously. All in all, nine four hundred meter long rows had been cut That’s quite a long morning’s walk for yours truly! Everyone then wandered back to the start, collected jerseys and returned clippers and while everyone was still gathered there, the owner of the farm announced that we would now be going to eat – all of us! So we made our way to the farmhouse where we found a long table set out under an awning in front of the house. Sixteen of us sat down to dinner, which turned out to be a five course meal. Before the meal started we were offered water, beer or Floc which is a locally produced sherry type drink. It is delicious but has a fairly high alcohol level. Then the soup arrived in big tureens, and lots of crusty fresh bread. This was followed by a starter of ham slices and chunks of sausage, made, I was told, with pig’s blood.. I didn’t want to appear to be a wimp so I took some and tasted it, and found it surprisingly tasty, but my brain wasn’t completely happy with the idea of what I was putting into my mouth, so I refused any more when the plate came around. After that we had roast duck with vegetables, then a salad and to finish off the most divine dessert I have had for ages. It looked like a little upside down cupcake on the plate, but as soon as it was broken open hot chocolate sauce spilled out. I have asked our hostess for the recipe as I have got to try this. While all this eating was going on, the wine was flowing. There must have been a vat of it somewhere because what appeared on the tale was in two-litre water bottles that still had their Evian labels on! In fact, make that several vats because there was red, white and rosé, and no-one was using wine-glasses, we all had small tumblers. When we had got through all of this, the coffee was served and finally the Armagnac made an appearance. This is a drink which is peculiar to this region and is a distilled wine, similar to schnapps in Germany or to witblits in South Africa. It is about 40% proof and I don’t like it at all, but there are others who can manage to drink large quantities of it. All in all, the day was a wonderful experience, and next year when we buy St Mont wine that says ‘2010, hand-picked’ we will know that some of our effort went into making it.
A couple of days later, ady came to the house again, this time to tell us that the rest of the grapes were being picked by machine if we wanted to see it. We jumped into the car and drove over to the field and watched with amazement as a leviathan of a machine rumbled and roared it’s way up and down the rows. It covered the same area as had taken twelve of us such a long time to hand-pick, in little over ten minutes. The machine shakes and drags at the vines, pulling the grapes off the bunches so that they fall into the big hoppers as individual grapes. However, they get horribly mangled in the process and the resultant mush that gets tipped into the tractor trailer oozes juice all the way to the winery.
Our other highlight of the week was a phone call that we got from my sister in England to say that they were coming to pay us a flying visit for four days. As they are only arriving tonight, I will have to relate our experiences together next week.

Adventures in France Episode 24

Two highlights this week, beside which all other activities pale! We were informed, with great glee, some months ago, that we would be expected to take part in the ‘vendange’, the grape picking. Being still the ‘outsiders’ in the community, we smiled and nodded and didn’t expect anything more to come of it. Then on Monday, Ady came over to tell us that she would accompany us on Wednesday morning at 9.30 am, to show us where we would be picking. With some trepidation, we readied ourselves for what lay ahead, not knowing if it was something we were even capable of. When we arrived at the vineyard there were about ten or so other people there, ranging in age from late 30’s to almost 90. If one includes the two children who were running around doing their bit too, the age can be lowered to 6 or 7 years! We were each given a pair of secateurs and pointed sort of in the right direction and off we went. Picking is done from both sides of the vine and the more experienced ones really pick fast, so you have to be fairly careful if you accidentally poke you hand right through the vine to the other side. It is very sociable and everyone chats away merrily. It was soon discovered that these two newcomers amongst them were South Africans who normally spoke English, and then we were gently teased in one way or another. Someone would make a joke, which we obviously didn’t understand, and some one else would shout out ‘Een Eengleesh, pleeze’, which would make them laugh all the more. When we had been picking for a few minutes, surrounded by the clicking of the secateurs, one man said ‘Listen! You should know this. It’s the Click Song’! In spite of all the jollity though, it was quite hard work. The grapes all hang from the bottom of the vine, and although they are trained up on wires, one has to work either on one’s haunches or in a semi-bent position. Towards the end, when we had been at it for nearly three and a half hours, the rows seemed to be getting very long and then, suddenly, we were told to stop. Apparently we had reached the quota set by the ‘cave’, the local co-operative winery. We were very pleased, as there was no way that we would have given up while there were still people far older than ourselves clipping away furiously. All in all, nine four hundred meter long rows had been cut That’s quite a long morning’s walk for yours truly! Everyone then wandered back to the start, collected jerseys and returned clippers and while everyone was still gathered there, the owner of the farm announced that we would now be going to eat – all of us! So we made our way to the farmhouse where we found a long table set out under an awning in front of the house. Sixteen of us sat down to dinner, which turned out to be a five course meal. Before the meal started we were offered water, beer or Floc which is a locally produced sherry type drink. It is delicious but has a fairly high alcohol level. Then the soup arrived in big tureens, and lots of crusty fresh bread. This was followed by a starter of ham slices and chunks of sausage, made, I was told, with pig’s blood.. I didn’t want to appear to be a wimp so I took some and tasted it, and found it surprisingly tasty, but my brian wasn’t completely happy with the idea of what I was putting into my mouth, so I refused any more when the plate came around. After that we had roast duck with vegetables, then a salad and to finish off the most divine dessert I have had for ages. It looked like a little upside down cupcake on the plate, but as soon as it was broken open hot chocolate sauce spilled out. I have asked our hostess for the recipe as I have got to try this. While all this eating was going on, the wine was flowing. There must have been a vat of it somewhere because what appeared on the tale was in two-litre water bottles that still had their Evian labels on! In fact, make that several vats because there was red, white and rosé, and no-one was using wine-glasses, we all had small tumblers. When we had got through all of this, the coffee was served and finally the Armagnac made an appearance. This is a drink which is peculiar to this region and is a distilled wine, similar to schnapps in Germany or to witblits in South Africa. It is about 40% proof and I don’t like it at all, but there are others who can manage to drink large quantities of it. All in all, the day was a wonderful experience, and next year when we buy St Mont wine that says ‘2010, hand-picked’ we will know that some of our effort went into making it.
A couple of days later, ady came to the house again, this time to tell us that the rest of the grapes were being picked by machine if we wanted to see it. We jumped into the car and drove over to the field and watched with amazement as a leviathan of a machine rumbled and roared it’s way up and down the rows. It covered the same area as had taken twelve of us such a long time to hand-pick, in little over ten minutes. The machine shakes and drags at the vines, pulling the grapes off the bunches so that they fall into the big hoppers as individual grapes. However, they get horribly mangled in the process and the resultant mush that gets tipped into the tractor trailer oozes juice all the way to the winery.
Our other highlight of the week was a phone call that we got from my sister in England to say that they were coming to pay us a flying visit for four days. As they are only arriving tonight, I will have to relate our experiences together next week.

Adventures in France Episode 23

On Monday we could see the still snow-capped Pyrenees when we got up, but at this time of the year it is not supposed to mean rain in three days so we weren’t concerned. Pieter and Jessica had a lot of correspondence to get through but we managed to find a gap during which we drove around and showed them a bit of the countryside. Also on Monday, another cousin of ours had arrived to spend some time with Nicky and as Tuesday was her birthday, all six of us went out to lunch in Marciac, which turned out to be a very jolly affair. When we got back from lunch, Jessica found that she had been sent an email saying that their flight from Barcelona the following day, had been postponed to Thursday, due to a countrywide strike. This caused a huge amount of consternation and subsequent frustration in the Ferreira household as their hire-cars had been on a special price for a certain number of days, which was now exceeded, and the car waiting for them in Mallorca could not be held over for another day without attracting penalties. What a palaver! And really, whatever the strike was about had nothing to do with the airlines anyway, but there you go! That is strikers for you.
However, their misfortune was our good luck and as it turned out, really good luck as the weather changed again and Wednesday was another simply stunning day. I think both of them enjoyed the chance to rest and get over their colds, but in the afternoon we took them off to a local winery to sample some Armagnac. When we arrived we found three other people who had just started a tour, so we joined them and were joined by another three people. Together we made up quite a cosmopolitan lot – two Hawaiians, with their French friend and guide who could speak English; three South Africans and an American; a New Zealander and an English couple one of whom was fluent in French. Whenever our tour guide was stuck for a word, there was always someone who could help her out. It was an interesting tour and we came away with some red wine and some Floc, which is similar to a sweet sherry, but no Armagnac which is quite harsh and to me tastes almost medicinal.
The next day the weather had done a complete turn-around and we had to say goodbye to Pieter and Jessica as they drove off in pouring rain. They soon drove out of the rain though and we later heard that they had arrived back in Mallorca without mishap.
On Friday we had various chores to do in different towns and some time in the afternoon finally turned back towards home but decided to take only backroads. At one point we missed our turning and ended up in a farmers backyard. While turning around to retrace our steps, we glanced into one of his barns and saw an ancient car parked inside. Sadly, the farmer had just driven off, so we didn’t feel that we could really stop and investigate, but it certainly looked like something that dated from the early 1900’s. I really feel that we should ‘get lost’ again soon and ask if we could have a look at it.
On Saturday the weather was obviously going to be good again so we drove off in the opposite direction (West, this time) and soon found ourselves in the area known as the Landes which is relatively flat with enormous maize fields which would make any Free State farmer proud. At one stage we whizzed over a bridge, but then stopped and went back to look again, and saw the most charming old footpath bridge across the river with a weir below it and a water mill beyond. So pretty and we could easily have missed it had we stayed on the main roads.
All good things have to come to an end though and today was a stay-at-home day to get the house straight and all the washing and ironing done. Unfortunately these chores still have to be done even if we are in France and on holiday. And sut here looks pretty much the same as it does at home, although the spiders have far more energy here and can rebuild a spider web overnight, and often do, more’s the pity!