The haunted house

Well I'm not really saying it's haunted, but these old stone houses creak and groan all night, and any noise that your neighbours make that is loud enough to come through the foot-thick stone walls sounds pretty eerie as well. Unearthly graunches, thumps and metallic shrieks. And last night we had strong wind and rain, with all the accompanying bangbangbang scrape of shutters and outdoor furniture, well, it's a wonder any of us slept at all. Even the trees round here - there are lots of them and they are BIG - in the wild wind it sounded like we were in the middle of a waterfall. But strangely I did sleep well, very well - normally I am woken by the 7am church bells (which go off at 6.58) but this morning I slept through it all and woke up with a rude rush to the alarm clock.

The electrics are a bit odd as well. The TV turns itself on, usually in the early hours of the morning. Suddenly you will wake in the pitch dark to the sound of motorsports blaring up from downstairs, or .... aaaargh! .... James Blunt .....The radio in the dining room decides when it will play as well. Yesterday during lunch with friends it turned itself on 3 times - just didn't want to be left out of the conversation I guess. We unplug them from the wall when we aren't using them now ...

Em and Al reckon the gate in the picture above leads to Frankenstein's mansion. On walks they entertain themselves with spooky stories about it (it's not far from our house). It's probably the residence of a prominent wine-making family (the front yard seems to be full of grape plants) with no laboratories at all. Or maybe there's a lab for testing the wine.... definitely no creepy half-men ... ok, now I am scaring myself ....

A plate of fruit

It's raining today, and we didn't go on our planned market trip. So to cheer us all up, I've posted here a picture of some fruit we bought a couple of weeks ago. There are green and black figs (the green ones were my favourites), green and black grapes (the black ones, the muscatels, were the favourites here) and little orange mirabelle plums.

We are enjoying life here in the village. After weeks of diligent 'bonjour'-ing I am starting to have conversations with people, although my French still leaves a lot to be desired. I think I will seek out a French language class - someone told me yesterday that they have them in the next village.

Emi has been getting frustrated with the language. School is rather boring when you don't understand what's going on, although playtimes seem to be good fun, with lots of miming and running games. We've asked a friend, who speaks both English and French fluently, to give E some French classes. I also had a meeting yesterday with a specialist teacher who visited the school - his job is to test foreign students in their own language to determine their knowledge level and to advise on how they should be taught alongside their French companions. (He told me she is 'well-educated' - thanks Murrays Bay!)He was great, really nice, and had lots of suggestions. He also met with E's teacher and gave her lots of suggestions as well, and E reported that class was much more interesting in the afternoon. It must be hard for the teachers, if they haven't been trained in how to teach students who don't speak much French. I can't speak highly enough of the school here in Aniane - they are really trying to do their best for E.

Al's been getting frustrated with all the paperwork that we have to do to get our cartes de sejour. I don't think it is worth worrying about. It's just part of life here in France, everyone knows that, and they accept it. I think you just have to relax and let things happen as they will in that respect. It's always hard for him to relax, but if he learns to do it here in France, it will be a very good thing!

Mine is bigger than yours

How is this for an outstanding display of power and wealth! It's the cathedral in Montpellier, built in the 14th century. And yes, the pillars were part of the original design. It's hard to convey the scale in a photograph, but if you look closely at the second picture, you will see a tiny little person standing at the base of the right hand pillar. Truly, they are breathtakingly audacious, and quite incongruous - the design doesn't seem to match that of the cathedral at all.

A wedding!

On Saturday we were having a drink with some new friends - Americans newly arrived in the village as well, with a little daughter at the school - when we heard a ruckus coming from the main road into town. Hooting, tooting, beeping, and so forth, at first quite distant, but getting closer and closer. We raced out onto the balcony in time to see what appeared to be a bridesmaid and groomsman sitting up in a convertible, followed by lots of other vehicles with white ribbons tied around their antennae, making as much noise as possible. How sweet, we thought, a village wedding.

But wait, there's more. No sooner had we gone back inside and settled down at the table again, than we heard music. Could it be an unscheduled announcement from the Mairie (town hall), which is often preceded by some stirring patriotic sounding music? No, it sounds like a real band, and it's getting closer. Back out onto the balcony again, cameras out ... yes, it was a traditional post-wedding parade through the village, band, wedding party, plus all the guests. Everyone looked like they were having a great time, and I'm sure it made the happy couple's day to have a bunch of foreigners cheering and waving at them and taking their pictures!

Et puis, la pluie

Suddenly, after two weeks of perfect weather, it started to rain. It's been raining for 3 days now, and the weather has cooled right down. People have started complaining that winter has arrived (I am starting to understand what they are saying even if all I can say in reply is 'oui, oui' and chuckle inanely like the village idiot - it's a tough job but someone has to do it!). Friends tell us that we are due some really heavy rain, with flooding. The little creek behind the house increased in size a little bit, but we've been told of rainstorms when it burst its banks and flooded the paths where people park their cars, and even the gardens. I notice that all the cars disappeared during the rain - they are starting to creep back now. Apparently there was a bit of flooding down in Montpellier and in other towns nearer the coast.

I've been right out of my comfort zone on numerous occasions in the last couple of weeks. I never really appreciated the value of language and a good vocabulary until now. So many times I have wanted to communicate with people but just couldn't. In the end I stopped trying, except for 'Bonjour' and of course the big smiles. The worst part is when they respond to you and you don't understand what they have said. They have an interesting accent down here in the Languedoc that I haven't quite figured out yet. For a few days I felt quite down about my inability to understand anything, and to speak back to people. When Emily is at school I have been sitting down with the dictionary and translating anything I can get my hands on - her comics, magazines, the Montpellier Gazette ... hopefully the penny will drop before too long, and things will start making sense.

We've met another English speaking family at the school - their daughter is only five, but Emi is really excited to know that there is another child who speaks English that she can play with. It's hard for her at school - one of her teachers won't speak English to her any more - she's doing it so that Em will learn French, which she won't do if they speak English to her all the time, but even so, it's hard. She is taking it all in her stride though, we are so proud of her.

St Guilhem le desert

Founded in 806, St Guilhem le desert is a stunningly pretty little town nestled in the Gellone Valley, about 10 minutes drive from Aniane. The Rough Guide to the Languedoc and Rousillon raves about St Guilhem, while it calls Aniane 'uninteresting', so we thought it must be pretty good.

Aniane is down on the plain, but the drive to St Guilhem is across the Pont de Diable and up the hill, the road snaking up the gorge with a bluff on one side and a steep drop on the other. Almost immediately we drove into a large group of cyclists. We managed to pass the rear group of them but then got stuck among them for a few kilometres. This was harder than it sounds - the ones behind us were tailgating us, but we didn't want to knock the guy in front of us off his bike, although we did occasionally come perilously close on some of the corners, neither did we want to tumble over the cliff.

Finally we managed to pass the rest of them and negotiate the winding road up to the St Guilhem car park - no vehicles in the village, you have to park there.

The Guide mentioned that you could get a great view of the village by walking up a track to a ruined castle. We looked around at the spectacular hills around us. Hmm, that looks like a ruined castle but it's a long way up a hill that is virtually a 90 degree slope ... well, it's a testament for his affection for me (hopefully) but Al agreed to walk up the hill in the midday heat without a backward glance. We toiled up the very well-maintained trail and yes, the view was panoramic and surprisingly, the walk was not too hard either. Emi would probably disagree, but she's not here...



It was very hot though, and after some refreshment in the village we checked out the rest of the sights. The village is very pretty, but rather touristy. There were colourful flowers in every window box and there was no dog poop on the streets, although there were plenty of dogs (on leashes). This is in contrast to Aniane, where dogs of all sizes enjoy the complete freedom of the town, and the smell of dog doings can be almost overwhelming on hot afternoons. In fact, in St Guilhem there were strategically placed pooper scooper bag dispensers throughout the village.



Inside the very old church felt cool and serene. There were plenty of opportunities to light a candle for 1 euro, and legend held that when St. Guilhem himself arrived to found the original abbey, he brought with him 3 pieces of wood from The Cross. Supposedly his sarcophagus was somewhere in the church as well, and Al spent quite a time trying to find it. We weren't sure he did, although there was a tiny casket on one of the walls (with candle-lighting opportunity below) that contained what were supposed to be a couple of remnants of St Guilhem's bones (we're not very good at translating French yet but we think that's what it said).

There were loads of shops and cafes open in St Guilhem, despite it being a Sunday, and it was pleasant to wander through the clean pedestrian only lanes looking at artwork, tiles, pottery, glassware and locally hand-made knives. Oh, and shops selling crystals, fossils and gemstones - the Grotte de Clamouse, a cave famous for its beautiful crystalline structures is close by. Now I know where to go if I am desperate for some shopping therapy on a Sunday.

Le vin

I’m not going to mention any names but I know that one or two of you back there in New Zealand are wondering about the wine situation here in the Languedoc. Well I’m here to tell you that actually it’s pretty good. It’s harvest time here and every day the roads are full of guys driving small tractors pulling trailers full of grapes and holding up the traffic. A lot of them are heading for the winery down the road – the tractors pull in, back up and dump the lot into the big bins out the front. Al’s got a friend here who knows a bit about wine, and he reckons that the rose is good to drink straight away, but if you want a good red, try to get something made in 2003, which was a Very Good Year. 2006, incidentally, looks like it will shape up to another Very Good Year. Avoid 2005 at all costs, it was Bad for red wine in this region. Apparently.

So anyway, the winery up the road has a Caveau, where they sell their wine very reasonably by the bottle, or – get this – you can get a re-usable 2 litre plastic cask thing, and they will fill it for less than 5 Euros, if you live in Aniane!! Red, rose or white. We haven’t tried the white yet, and I’m not a red wine person but the rose is going down a treat ... right now ...glug .... clshpo6q-0973....zzzzzzzt......

Tuesday

Not one to rest on his laurels, today Al decided to tackle the task of getting to the Institute on the bus. There is a bus, well, actually, two of them, that leave Aniane in the mornings to go to Gignac, where you can get one to Montpellier. He took the later one, at 7.30am, made the connection, and then caught the tram up to the Hospital district without any problems.

Tomorrow we are going to try again to get to the Institute in the car, as on Wednesdays there is no school. However there is school on Saturdays – just mornings I think, although among the notices that E brought home last night from school, there was a list of free Saturdays. We had to get the dictionary out to read the notices, but there was one that was quite clear – that there is absolutely NO PARKING OR STOPPING on the road outside the school during the times that children are entering or leaving the building. It’s impressive how well the children are cared for. Every morning, lunchtime and evening there is at least one uniformed policeman on duty at the crossing – sometimes they are both there, stopping traffic so that the kids can cross safely.

No sign of the modem for our internet connection yet unfortunately. We did sign up about a week ago now, and we have received the confirmation email, which said that we would receive the modem in quelques semaines, which looked to me like ‘some weeks’, but our friend reckoned would be a couple of weeks. I hope it comes soon. I feel lost without an internet connection and although the guys in the computer shop are really nice, it takes me ages to write the blog and answer emails, so I can’t really do it there. So if you are waiting for an email from me, I hope I will be able to reply to you soon!!

I had thought that having Em come home at lunchtime would be a pain, it would break up the day, I wouldn’t be able to get anything done etc and if I needed to travel to Montpellier or anything that would be true. However, so far I am enjoying it. She’s not too tired at lunchtime, it hasn’t got too hot, and we pass a pleasant couple of hours, having a bite to eat, walking back and forth and chatting. At home I could hardly be bothered to have lunch, unless I was meeting a friend. Then I would get hungry and grouchy in the afternoon.

She had another good morning – she told me that school was turning out to be better than what she had thought (although goodness knows what she had thought). She finally understood what one of the girls was asking her this morning – to join in a game, which is great. I can’t wait until she starts correcting my pronunciation! The locals (mostly shopkeepers and the teacher at this point) who I manage to engage in conversation currently correct my pronunciation. I’m not sure if I am making any sense to them, but they are starting to make sense to me, and I had a nice chat with the lady in the Bio Co-op (organic shop) this morning about getting lost in Montpellier ... at least I think that’s what we were talking about ...

La rentree

Well, the big day finally arrived. Lundi, 4 Septembre, Le Rentree. The start of the school year. We all woke up early, and we all felt nervous as we walked through the village to the school, one of us more than the others, I dare say.

And there were a few tears at the school gate ... and Emily cried too ..., no, only joking. We found her classroom, no problem, identified her teacher, who is a delightful young woman, - yes, she knew Emily didn’t speak French, yes, it’s normal to be nervous. No problem. Then the bell rang, and the kids all ran to their classrooms. Mlle took Emily in (there were a couple of tears) and we left. We passed a nerve wracking morning, then made our way back over to pick her up for lunch at 12. We walked quietly and quickly, desperately hoping that we wouldn’t be confronted with a crumpled heap of girly distress when we got there.

11.58. We waited outside the school gates with all the other parents ... 11.59....12.00 ...the bell rang and the gates swung open. Out comes the first class, then the second, then ... hang on, there’s Emily, and she’s smiling ... and laughing ! A tall blond girl is turning and gesticulating to her, and a shorter dark girl is walking beside her. I nearly fainted with relief. Sure enough, out she comes, she’s had a good morning, the teacher, who turns out to speak a bit of English, introduced her to the class and got her to show them where New Zealand is on the map – they all went ‘Oooooh’ in suitably impressed voices apparently. Then they made origami pencil boxes, followed by math – times tables, which Emily knew, so she felt great. At morning tea the girls all crowded around her asking her questions that she didn’t understand, while the boys ran about shouting ‘game over!’ , which presumably is the limit of their English!

She was keen to go back after lunch at 2pm, and still happy when we picked her up at 5pm.

God, what a relief. Neither Al nor I had realised how tense we had been about the whole school thing. Now it feels like we can get on with the things that we want to do, which for him is writing his papers, and doing science, and for me, well, I’m not really sure. Taking pictures, writing the blog, learning French (I’m currently using the ‘watching TV’ method), watching the lizard on the balcony ...

Sunday

Exhausted (and a wee bit embarrassed) after our recent Clouseau-esque romps through the French countryside in our little car, we decided to spend the weekend closer to home.

Saturday morning is market day in Gignac, our neighbouring, slightly larger village. The ‘esplanade’ in Gignac is a fun place at the best of times – the central island is full of cafe tables and chairs with waiters crossing the road bearing plates and glasses. However on market day it’s a real happenin’ place. The tables are gone, and in place are mobile cheese shops, refrigerated butcher wagons, a wine stall, plenty of fresh fruit and veges, and a good selection of other markety-type stands – hippie stuff (I bought incense), clothes and shoes, trinkets, and even a guy selling yarn. 2 Euros 50 for 100g, and it was untagged, but he described it as a melange d’acrylique et laine (mix of acrylic and wool) so I bought some.

We had to dash back home to meet our landlady, but she had been held up, so after lunch we strolled over to l’ecole to see if the class lists were up. They were! And there was Emily’s name – in one of the CM2 classes. (CM2 is the last year of primary school).

She is handling the imminent ‘rentree des ecoles’ really well. She had a bit of trouble getting to sleep last night but apart from that she seems to be doing okay. Al and I are very nervous. Security is tight at the school – the doors and gate are locked at 9am and reopen at 12 to let the home-lunchers out. They close again at 12.10, and reopen again between 1.50 – 2pm to let the home-lunchers back in. Afternoon school lasts until 5pm, which is hometime for the day.

We have been very impressed by the French appreciation of the importance of rest and leisure. Everything in the village closes at least between 12 and 2, even the police station. The only places that are open are cafes and restaurants, but they have their rest-times too, and you will be out of luck if you want lunch after 2pm (as we did when we arrived last monday). Luckily supermarkets are open all day – there is a reasonably good one in Gignac. Sunday is also sacrosanct here – nothing is open, not even the supermarket. Apparently in some of the larger French cities, you can find shops open, but not in Montpellier. Our French friends, who moved back home from NZ 6 months ago, found that one of the hardest things to get used to – no shops open on Sunday. You just have to organise yourself around that.

On the other hand, it is good to know that you can’t go and do the weekly shop on Sunday (or even hang out at the mall) – you have to do something else, like we are doing as I write this. We are at the Pont de Diable, (the devil’s bridge), which is a very pretty spot on the Herault River, just out of Aniane, where the swimming is excellent, if a little cool, there are loads of little fish including what looks like a young trout, kayaks for hire and enough rocks and channels too keep children of all ages amused. Little ones splosh around in the shallows trying to catch the fish, larger ones jump off the big rocks under the bridge.

The only problem is that the pebbles here on the wide and very clean river bank are rather hard and lumpy to sit on ... We brought an impromtu picnic of nectarines, cut-up cucumbers and red peppers, and chips. The French family sitting next to us are dining al fresco off china plates, with proper cutlery, and are onto their final course now, which looks like (craning my neck but trying not to look obvious) some sort of apple or pear tart .... mmmmm..... we will have to learn to do these things properly ....

The last leg

Next day on to Montpellier, and then to Aniane. After all the travelling of the past couple of days and feeling so tired, I found the plane journey really harrowing. Boy did I feel sick! Although I did notice that the two male Air France flight attendants were very handsome (obviously not that sick).

Arriving in Montpellier reminded me a bit of Palmerston North airport ... well, except for the armed soldiers guarding the luggage carousel. By this point I was probably acting very suspiciously (actually I was trying not to throw up).

Our friend Stephane was waiting for us and we picked up our car without any problems. It is grey (of course ... sigh...) but at least she's not government grey - she's about as dark as grey can get before it becomes black. She's very cute, and we have named her Francoise. Thank God Stephane was there, because we might not have been able to find our way to Aniane by ourselves (more about this later).

I nearly fainted in ecstasy when we did arrive in Aniane. It's just the cutest village you ever saw, like the one in Chocolat, except with real people, nice, friendly people, who generally don't speak much English at all, but try very hard to understand what we are saying in our very bad French. The houses are made of sand-coloured stone, and are joined together in the central part of the village, and there are lots of tiny streets, too small to fit a car into. Right across the road from us is la Chappelle des Penitents, a 12th Century church, which is now an information centre and art gallery. The bell rings the hour and the half hour, as does the bell from L'Eglise de Saint Saveur, the 'working' church just up the road, also very old.

The house itself is stone, inside and out, but quite cosy. Our first view, once we entered, was of a steep stone staircase leading up to the main living areas and kitchen. The house is narrow and tall so there are two more sets of steep stairs leading up to bedrooms and bathroom. I think we will get fit living here!



Which is just as well because we have been stuffing ourselves with delicious bread, cheese and meat from the artisan butcher up the road. Emily didn't go into the butcher shop, luckily, as there were skinned rabbits, plucked birds that were not chickens or ducks and various body parts just lying around in the display case. The ham was extremely good, though, as were the sausages, although I kept thinking about the body parts as I ate the sausages, spoiled it a bit for me ..

The first few days we have spent sorting out administrative stuff, as well as strolling around our new home and trying to find our way to and from Al's workplace. The first two things have gone well, so far, but we have had terrible problems getting around in the car. Yesterday we decided to do a trial run down to work and jumped into the car with a map and off we went. The journey was supposed to take 28 minutes. I've never been so lost in my life! After an hour and a half we gave up and phoned someone to come and lead us to where we should be. We made it back home okay, by following the signposts to a town called Millau (pron. miaow) which is further away from where we are. Today we had another go. How hard can it be! Oh, very hard. Very very hard! Al had this whizzo computer programme that told us the way ... part of the journey took us through a village street so narrow that we clipped someone else's wing mirror .. it was that or scrape Francoise's paint on the other side. But we did eventually make it here on our own steam, although we did take a wrong turn somewhere (after the narrow street) and ended up pretty much where we were yesterday. Still it only took an hour today, so we have knocked 30 minutes off the travelling time. This evening we are going to try a different route that avoids going into Montpellier at all, this one was given to us by a woman here whose parents live near Aniane, so we will hope for the best.

France at last

Hello again!! We had a bit of a gap there, because we didn't have internet access for a few days. However I'm pleased to say that we arrived safely in Aniane on monday afternoon, as scheduled.

We arrived in Paris on Sunday, after a 2-leg flight from Mexico city via Montreal. We didn't get much sleep on the flight but we still really enjoyed Paris. Our hotel was close to the Eiffel Tower and after a quick nap and a shower we headed off to check it out. We were feelinng a bit energetic after being cooped up for so long, so we decided to climb up to the first viewing level. The air was fresh and smelt great, and the views were expansive - it almost made up for the fact that my legs felt like jelly for the rest of the day! We had a couple of good home-style meat and several veg-type meals, and wandered around our quartier for a while, stopping outside Les Invalides as well.

The hotel rooms were amazingly small. Just tiny. Literally just standing room only around the beds. BUT - we scored a room with a view of the Eiffel Tower, which made up for the lack of space (view pictured above).

We had forgotten how expensive Paris is. A small bottle of Pepsi in a restaurant cost $10NZ, and lunch came to $100NZ.

We saw lots of those cute little Smart cars in Paris, and most vehicles were pretty small. I don't think we saw one SUV. It was different from what I remembered from my last visit in the 1980s - people were friendly, and lots of them spoke English as well.

What else can I say about Paris - it's so beautiful, so elegant, I love it, I wanted to lie down and merge with the sand-coloured stones, I was sooooo tired ....