March 30, 2020
I drive to town for my weekly grocery run and briefly stop in the post office parking lot. Even at this time of the year, before the tourist season starts, the restaurants and cafés on the tour de ville should be animated. All are shut down except Le Pot Occitan because it also serves as a tabac. See, liberty and the pursuit of happiness varies between countries and dictates what is deemed “essential business:” cigarette stores in France, gun shops in America.
My little town looks pretty and peaceful; a little bit sleepy, perhaps. A striking contrast with the gloomy images of New York, Paris, or another megalopolis now devoid of cars, bikes, and even the dreaded electric scooters. Humans are invisible, staying safe behind thick walls. It’s like a neutron bomb hit the cities, snuffing out life but preserving buildings, statues, and monuments. The photos are both disturbing and mesmerizing. I wonder how it would feel to stand on top of the Arc de Triomphe and gaze at an abandoned avenue des Champs-Elysées? To only hear my own footsteps resonating in the métro corridors. To sit alone at a café terrace and watch… nobody and nothing? Having Paris to myself would be both a dream and a nightmare.
Vocabulary
Le tour de ville: circular street around the center of town
Le tabac: tobacco shop
Confinement? I know a thing or two about that. My cousin’s drawing for April Fool’s Day.
April 1, 2020
No kidding! This is the strangest April Fool’s Day I’ve ever experienced. Nobody seems in the mood to be playing pranks. No paper fish slapped on the back of (unsuspecting?) parents. No fake hairy spider stuck on a lampshade. No Oreo cookies stuffed with toothpaste. Worse of all, no tiny chocolate fish candies to savor with my espresso.
Perhaps we collectively exhausted our witty ideas over the past two weeks. We’ve seen masks made with bras, or wine glasses, or hollowed orange halves (extra vitamin C!) A puzzle aficionado tried to “rebuild” a pig with two hundred packs of bacon. Some people disguised themselves as trash bags so they could discreetly “walk” on the streets longer than one hour per day. The internet has been full of improbable stories and funny memes. We had probably reached our quota of jokes by the time April 1st rolled in.
The visitor center at the prehistoric caves of Cougnac
April 3, 2020
I walked to the grottes préhistoriques of Cougnac today. I knew it would be a little further than my 1 km radius. Also, I would be out longer than 1 hour but the gendarmes don’t seem to patrol our small roads and trails. My parents had owned a small vacation home in the hamlet of Cougnac for twenty years: at that time, the caves were practically in our backyard. We would routinely take our dog on le chemin aux noisettes (as my sister dubbed it) that would lead to the limestone hill and the cave entrance.
There are many prehistoric caves in our area but most of them are no longer open to the public. Lascaux (the “real one” as there are two excellent replicas) closed in 1963 before I had the privilege of visiting the “Sistine Chapel” of cave art. Cougnac was actually discovered by our former neighbor. It’s smaller than Lascaux but still accessible to anyone who wants to admire drawings of mammoths or ibex in charcoal and red pigment.
In normal times, the caves would open tomorrow to coincide with Easter break. But these are not normal times and I was surprised to hear some noise as I approached the visitor center: a man was trimming bushes and raking leaves. Le jardinier was cleaning up the area as if he expected a convoy of visitors to show up the next day. It made me smile. People joke that French backyards are looking like mini versions of Versailles and le gazon is mowed so frequently that it rivals a Wimbledon court. I know my countrymen: I can assure you this aberration will not last. But professional gardeners are a different breed: whether the caves open this July or next July, it is imperative to keep on schedule. Time may have stopped for us but not for nature.
Vocabulary
La grotte préhistorique: prehistoric cave
Le chemin aux noisettes: hazelnut trail
Le jardinier: gardener
Le gazon: lawn
Game show host Nagui and his audience, before social distancing!
April 4, 2020
Many reporters brandish the word dystopia these days. While we are cooped up in our homes, le petit écran shows images of a world that’s both familiar and unrecognizable: lengthy shots of a pristine beach a Les Sables d’Olonne; TGV trains reconfigured to evacuate patients from Alsace to less saturated hospitals in the West; endless videos of Times Square, the Champs-Elysées, and San Marco Plaza all barren of cars and pedestrians. Clashing with our current living conditions, pre-taped game shows remind us of what normal life used to look like: a packed audience sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, host and contestants exchanging handshakes and bises, crew members sharing microphones and high-fives.
The show follows a predictable format and leads to its natural conclusion: the champion gets some money, the challenger is elated to win a Brittany Ferries cruise to Spain. Wait, what? I roll my eyes, fully aware that I’m witnessing a not-so-distant past when cruising and Spain both sounded like splendid ideas. Was it only two months ago? I still want to think that soon –very soon– we’re going to wake up from this bad dream. Once again, we’ll leave our footprints in the sand; we’ll board trains to visit family; we’ll join fresh batches of tourists in large cities. We’ll even complain about the crowds.
I take note of some hastily fine-tuned commercials. The supermarkets promise to help our farmers and sell only French produce. In a sheepish nod to the baking and snacking frenzy induced by the confinement, Comme J’aime now peddles their diet program as a way to “maintain” weight; losing a few kilos might be out of reach. Car manufacturers double down and continue to fill our minds with visions of escape, travel, and freedom. That’s what we miss the most right now and they know it.
Vocabulary
Le petit écran: the small screen; TV
La bise: kiss