2020 DANS LE RÉTRO

Our annus horribilis will soon be over. Although 2020 started full of travel promises (the US! Vietnam! Spain or Italy! Paris!) it petered out very quickly. I haven’t logged so few air or land miles since 1976; I didn’t even spend one day in Paris. In fact, my thirst for travel was only quenched by drinking out of my Amora mustard glasses and checking “Blursday” on my Venice calendar. Not surprisingly the number of travel photos in my camera roll is shockingly slim this year. And yet, I found many fine shots to illustrate that there are gems to be found even during une année merdique. Let’s roll the tape.

January in Cahors. Since our return to France, we’ve become quite familiar with downtown Cahors. It’s the administrative center of the département so we’ve made several trips to the préfecture to solidify Rick’s status as a permanent resident. Our January meeting was the penultimate appointment before he received his carte de séjour. Fifty yards south of the préfecture, the newly renovated covered market welcomes a nice selection of local vendors who offer superb foodstuff. Best of all, the original architecture of the 1865 halle aux grains was beautifully preserved; the interior wooden frame is especially stunning.

La Halle de Cahors

February in Sarlat. I was Desperately Seeking Ridley in the Dordogne area as Sir Ridley Scott, his actors, and his crew set up shop in the famous medieval town while filming The Last Duel. Our house lies a mere 14 miles from Sarlat but I admit to limiting my visits in the Old Town to the off-season when tourists are away. February is always quiet: most of the art galleries and souvenirs shops are closed and only locals seem to populate the terraces of the cafés to warm up their hands around a cup of chocolat chaud. Nobody straddles Les Trois Oies, the bronze statue standing in the middle of the traditional goose market square, and Le Badaud can leisurely contemplate the empty cobbled market street below.

Statue by Gérard Auliac. Le Badaud sits on a short wall dominating place de la Liberté.

March in Eureka. Our yearly stay in California was cut short and I barely managed to take a road trip to Eureka with my friend Andria. As the Executive Chef at the now-shuttered Restaurant 301, her daughter treated us to a special dinner and a stay at the Carter House, a faithful replica of the San Francisco Murphy House that was destroyed in the 1906 fire (Mark Carter found the original blueprints in a Eureka antique store and decided to rebuilt it downtown.) Being the only guests, we had the whole mansion for ourselves! Although Eureka is showing signs of gentrification, the small coastal town remains a study in contrasts: a stone throw from the vacant lots that border the slightly gritty waterfront, one can’t miss the imposing Carson mansion, allegedly the most photographed Victorian structure in the US. With gables, turrets, and gothic elements, the Carson House reminded me of a Hollywood haunted mansion, especially when I captured its reflection in a stained-glass window across the street, on the porch of the Pink Lady, another Queen Anne-style marvel.

A spooky Carson mansion reflected in a parlor window of the Pink Lady.

April in Payrignac. Except for essential shopping at the grocery store or pharmacy, the whole month was spent at home or within one kilometer from the house. Of course, Mother Nature inflicted us with perfect weather during the lockdown. Permission slip in hand, our one-hour allotment of exercise time provided me with an opportunity to focus and photograph what I could (re)discover in my immediate surroundings. I walked the same roads and trails that defined my grandmother’s whole universe a hundred years ago when a trip to town was a rare and cherished adventure. Her regular activities included going to school (she passed the Certificat d’Études exam, which was a big deal at the time,) herding sheep, helping her parents at the farm, and carrying the laundry to the lavoir in a wheelbarrow. Chatting with other girls and women while washing clothes was the best way to exchange news and gossip, before Twitter.

Le lavoir du Malpat, one of eleven public wash houses around the village.

May around the farm. Flowers were spectacular during the spring. Mom’s patch of muguet keeps getting larger and we had an early bumper crop; it was pretty much spent by the time La Fête du Muguet rolled around. It’s still traditional to give a sprig of lily of the valley to family and friends for good luck but, on May 1st, floral shops were not yet allowed to open. Unfortunate timing when everybody could have used some good fortune. Fields all around us were blanketed with red coquelicots. As a little girl, I was very fond of poppies and would make it my mission to “help” them bloom: I’d peel off the green buds to unfurl the crumpled petals inside. The flowers were never quite ready for their close up and would shyly reveal their chiffon skirts in shades of light red, pink, or even white if I had rushed them along too much. I still take photos of poppy fields every year. But, this year, the Best of Show Award in the Horticultural category was bestowed to the glycine that graces my cousin’s old house a hundred yards away. Thankfully, it survived her extensive renovation!

Wisteria at Catherine’s house

June in Gourdon. Finally, a quasi-normal month. All travel restrictions were lifted and, within days (hours?) I started encountering Belgian, Dutch, and German speakers at the grocery store. Hearing English doesn’t “count” because many Brits live here year around; it’s not an accurate indicator for tourism. With a flip of the switch, life in Gourdon became festive again, especially on Thursday nights when artists and troubadours performed while strolling in the circular boulevard. We even had a mini-version of the annual Fête de la Musique. It was very exciting to see the streets fill up again and to chat with friends en terrace. Our dachshund Lily even joined us at the cafés and was on her best behavior, a sure sign that she wanted to do her part and support la réouverture des restaurants.

A fabulous strawberry tartlet served on a Distillerie du Périgord placemat. A nod to one of my former suppliers: their Guinettes cherries in liqueur were featured in every Joie de Vivre catalog I published.

July around the farm. Rick likes to keep busy around the house and the property. There’s always a field to mow, wood to chop, stone blocks to move… Besides general maintenance, he also likes to tackle one “big” project each year. This time, it was the renovation of the rabbit hutch. The original structure consisted of four stone walls, sitting on a dirt floor, capped with a sad-looking corrugated fiber cement roof. Rick’s goal was to make it larger and taller so it could accommodate a barbecue area and a storage shed for the tractor, trailer, and garden tools. He also wanted to anchor the new roof to the garage wall to construct a carport. After consulting with a local mason, we concluded the old stone walls were so unstable and crumbly that they would need to be dismantled and rebuilt. We opted to have him pour a concrete slab and build new walls with cinder blocks; they would get stuccoed to blend in with the garage and the house. Rick’s contribution was to design and build the roof from scratch. He picked up fir beams and boards that he cut, notched, sanded, treated, stained, and assembled himself. I think he was a carpenter in a previous life. Do I hear the Notre-Dame engineers calling his name?

Rick in his forest… The wooden framework was then covered with clay tiles like the house.

August in Payrignac. Many people had to adapt and to rethink the way they work to make ends meet this year. Our favorite local band has continuously reinvented itself over the past 45 years. When I was a teenager, their rendition of French pop songs enlivened many of our Saturday nights. Ten years later, the band repertoire took a hard turn toward Rock n’ Roll. In the early 90s’, they morphed again to showcase –wait for it– musette accordion dance songs. Although that style of music was hugely popular with older French folks, I’m not too sorry I overlooked that phase of their career… Their latest reincarnation: a Mariachi band! When they’re not playing on a Seine cruise, in a hotel in Morocco, or at the Festival des Lumières in Lyon, they bring their charro outfits, sombreros, and instruments to the Payrignac restaurant for the annual Fiesta Mexicaine. I believe this year’s edition was even more successful than the previous one: the chef was no longer attempting to make Mexican food!

Embellished charro pants. ¡Viva Mexico!

September in the Loire. Road trip! One of my cousins lives near Anger and had been begging us to drive up and visit. We had spent some time in the Loire Valley before but had not explored the Maine-et-Loire. I booked a Bed-and-Breakfast in Azay-le-Rideau for a couple of days and it turned out to be the perfect spot to catch some of the sights we had bypassed on previous trips. The lovely chateau sits in the middle of town, with parks and the Indre river nearby. The absence of crowds is the only upside of the pandemic. We toured the chateau at our leisure and it felt remarkably intimate and livable. If Azay is a study in elegance, the Angers castle is quite austere and shows its military origin. The city is full of architectural marvels, from medieval homes to Haussmannian buildings. The Art Deco glass roof at the Galeries Lafayette is magnificent. While staying at my cousins’, we also took several walks along the Maine and Mayenne rivers. Just down from their house, one can reach a section of Eurovelo 6, a 4,450 km-bicycle itinerary that links Saint-Brévin-les-Pins on the Atlantic coast to Constanta on the Black Sea. Something to keep in mind if you’re up to pedaling through ten European countries…

Locks of La Roussière on the Mayenne river

October in Milhac. Fall at the farm comes in different shades of brown: the light brown of walnuts, the medium brown of cèpes mushrooms, the reddish-brown of chestnuts. So, I harvested walnuts, found a few cèpes, and (carefully) picked chestnuts. The problem with chestnuts is that they are so difficult to peel. We went to a chestnut festival and I tasted chestnut cider for the first time: it’s just cider combined with some chestnut liqueur. As luck would have it, you don’t need to peel the chestnuts to make liqueur… I’ll be ready to bottle mine in a couple of weeks. Chestnuts were on the menu again during our monthly hike with other villagers: our walk started through some thick groves, leaves rustling and nuts rolling under our boots. A couple of miles later, we were surrounded by tall ferns and old oak trees. After crossing a stream and reaching a little valley, I paused to admire the perfect little chateau of Milhac: with its ochre walls and russet roof, it stood in complete harmony with the Autumn foliage, the yellow cliff, and the dry corn stalks below.

Château de Milhac

November in Gourdon. This was perhaps the strangest month of the year. It was the month that couldn’t decide what to be. One day was clear and balmy, the next was hazy and humid. Cafés were open, then they were closed. Supermarkets could sell books, then they couldn’t. Gift shops started setting up their holiday displays only to lock up that same weekend. In the old Gourdon, the streets were empty again: only a few cats were out and they often wanted in. The second lockdown surprised no one. Although it was not as strict as the first one, it felt more “messy,” uncertain, and paralyzing. After watching the Covid indicators peak, go down, and ultimately plateau at a higher level than Macron’s target, the French decided to get ready for Christmas anyway. Trees were bought and decorations went up. The winning trio of foie gras/smoked salmon/escargots was well stocked in all supermarkets. Oysters were everywhere and we’re not even close to the coast. With restaurants not opening before January 20 at the earliest, food stores bet that we would buy even more holiday-type food to eat at home. City Hall encouraged people to decorate their doors and windows with home-made decorations. The usual garlands of lights were strung in the streets and around lamp posts. Wooden reindeers, a present-loaded sleigh, and a snowy chalet magically appeared by the gazebo overnight. The town might have looked as festive as last year but it was hard to take notice: everybody looked inward and the mood was off.

Signs to direct holiday traffic. I didn’t meet any elf or fairy. Maybe they forgot their permission slip?

December from my office window. In the late 60s, I was fascinated by the Apollo missions and briefly considered becoming an astronaut. I quickly realized that, unlike Valentina Tereshkova or Sally Ride, I wasn’t born in the right country for space travel: persistence would be futile. Nevertheless, I still get excited when rare astronomical events are announced: a bright comet, a full solar eclipse, shooting stars galore… December 21st was the day of the great conjunction when Jupiter and Saturn were closer than they had been since 1623. My binoculars and I were ready to observe what promised to make this Winter solstice memorable. Zut! It turned out to be a cloudy night, a fitting way to conclude a year filled with disappointments. The next afternoon, while finalizing our Christmas menu in my office, I looked up and noticed the dark silhouette of the woods cutting through bands of orange, pink, and purple: it was just past 5pm and the sun was finishing its daily course behind the western hills. Less unusual than a great conjunction but perhaps more satisfying after all because sunsets always remind me of The Little Prince, the first book I ever read. His planet was so tiny, the lucky guy could watch sunsets continuously simply by moving his chair a few steps. He took pleasure in the little things and knew what was essential. Shouldn’t he be an inspiration for us all?

“Allons voir un coucher de soleil…” Le 22 décembre 2020 à 17h29.

It’s a wrap! See, it was not such a bad year after all, although I realize we were a lot more fortunate than many, many people. Out with the old, in with the new! I wish you all an annus mirabilis for 2021.

Vocabulary
Dans le retro: in the rearview mirror
Annus horribilis: (latin) horrible year
Une année merdique: a shitty year
Le département: county
La prefecture: administrative center
La carte de séjour: resident card
La halle aux grains: covered grain market
Le chocolat chaud: hot cocoa
Les trois oies: the three geese
Le badaud: bystander
Le Certificat d’Études: primary school completion exam
Le lavoir: wash house
Le muguet: lily of the valley
Le coquelicot: poppy
La glycine: wisteria
En terrace: at a café, outdoors
La réouverture: reopening
Zut: yikes, drat
Annus mirabilis: (latin) wonderful year

To feed your dreams of France and plan your next trip, please consider buying a copy of my book Moments Parfaits in Paris, where you’ll explore every arrondissement through forty photographs and essays. Hint: it’s also a thoughtful gift for this dear Francophile friend of yours… When you purchase the book, I will mail you a signed bookmark from France and stamp your envelope with this stunning timbre Trésors de Notre-Dame. Merci! Your support helps me maintain this blog.

Buy a copy of Moments Parfaits in Paris: I'll mail you (from France) a signed bookmark in an envelope bearing this collectible Trésors de Notre-Dame stamp!

SILVER LININGS

Who would not want to wear rose-colored glasses these days? Nine months into this pandemic, the virus continues to create chaos, our lives are still in limbo, and we still can’t see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Although France successfully flattened the curve through a strict confinement last spring, the number of infections rose exponentially after the summer vacations. After enacting curfews in large cities for a couple of weeks in October, the French government ordered another lockdown: it seems to be the only way to contain the virus propagation before all ICU beds are filled with Covid patients. Winter is coming and there will be tough months ahead.

Blessed are the dogs who know nothing about the nasty virus. Here is Lily surveying the edge of our woods. For her, life is as normal as ever. April 2020.

To shake off the blues, I binge-watched the Netflix series Emily in Paris and I was almost shocked to realize that everything looked so normal, except for her positively palatial chambre de bonne. How refreshing to see Parisians going about their life without face masks, colorful cafés packed with patrons, and fashion shows crowded with attendees close to each other! The first season was filmed in the second half of 2019 and the showrunners may have to wait a year or two before Emily can return to her charmed life in the City of Light. Since nobody needs to read a whiny post about the disruption and distress caused by the virus, I decided to showcase some of the positive things that I’ve observed over the past few months. Join me for a feel-good visual tour!

A very familiar sight for Emily’s fans: this hotel –and its fantastic glass and iron marquise– stands across from her office. November 2018.

Everybody knows how to REALLY wash their hands now
Next time someone greets you with a handshake –whenever that might happen– you will no doubt appreciate that our collective hygiene standards have substantially improved. Sales of Marseille soap have gone through the roof. Ah! It may just compensate for the disappearing use of lipstick.

But, but, but… where is the hand sanitizer? Photographed at Musée Rodin, October 2010.

Fashion is dead, long live fashion
On March 25th, my mother asked her sister-in-law to sew a cloth mask for her: it had to be maroon to match her purse and shoes! If an 88-year-old woman cared that much about the color of her mask, it was inevitable that face coverings would become the next hot fashion accessory. Predictably, the latest sartorial trend was in full display during Fashion Week last month. Of course, fashion houses will have to peddle many, many designer masks to make up for lackluster sales in other categories. I predict that, next year, all models will walk the runways wearing black leggings and fancy Zoom shirts, blouses, or jackets.

How about a stunning embroidered jacket for your next Zoom call? Spotted on rue du Faubourg St-Honoré, October 2016.

Thinking locally
In the early days of the pandemic, I kept waiting for signs of coordinated action, at least at the European level; I was dismayed when the EU hardly lifted a finger to help Italy. In my opinion, the French government’s efforts to blunt the economic impact were solid: massive layoffs were avoided, at least initially. Most of all, it warmed my heart to witness so many displays of solidarity at the local level. Cities and villages got quickly organized to check on elderly and vulnerable people, running errands or picking up medicines for them. We supported farmers who set up distribution points for local produce. We ordered take-out food from restaurants who had never offered such service before (check this post to see what one of my local “take-out” meals looked like.) And, of course, we collectively made cloth masks for the whole village in March, at a time when disposable ones were not available to the general public.

It takes a village, and detailed instructions… April 2020.

Small is beautiful
Les spectacles vivants like theater, dance, music, sports were all but canceled. Some large productions found creative ways to bring their performances in front of an anxious public during the spring lockdown, either on their websites or through French TV. By summer, many artists were later able to resume their shows albeit on a much smaller scale. Musicians were quite active indeed: they often set up by the terrace of local restaurants so we could safely enjoy a good meal and a concert. The city of Gourdon closed the circular boulevard to car traffic and organized street entertainment every Thursday evening; it could be used as a stage for a large swath of entertainers including Brazilian dancers, clowns, magicians, storytellers, and more.   

La Bedoune performing en terrace at the Hostellerie de Goujounac, August 2020.

Everyone is an artist
Social media is often decried but it enabled everybody, famous or not, talented or not, to showcase their artistic endeavors: playing the cello on a balcony, dancing Swan Lake in a bathtub, building action figures with toilet rolls and chips packets… Perhaps my favorite series was the Getty Museum Challenge that prompted humorous recreations of famous paintings avec les moyens du bord. Rick was a good sport and indulged me when I staged him as my very own Lapin Agile.

A favorite painting and my favorite guy. June 2020.

The Call of the Wild
City dwellers were forced to reevaluate the value of their lodging choices: small (and expensive) quarters may be fine when restaurants, museums, and parks are waiting to welcome you but will feel unbearable when a whole family has to share 700 square feet, 23 hours a day, for 55 consecutive days. Parisians who were lucky enough to own a second home in the country quickly exited the city to settle into their résidence secondaire, as long as WiFi coverage was decent enough. It may or may not be a long-term exodus: only time will tell. But, based on my conversations with local agents, the real estate market here is very lively and they just don’t have enough properties to offer. Many French rural areas that saw their population dwindle during the past few decades will enthusiastically welcome a fresh influx of younger working professionals.

Too late! This medieval timbered house in old Gourdon sold in June…

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose
You’ve got to love the French who were nevertheless making plans for their vacations while the epidemic was raging in April: les vacances sont sacrées! They mostly chose to stay in France (not that there was much of a choice…) and headed out to la montagne, la campagne, or la plage. For those who opted for the seaside, this was a great opportunity to (re)discover beaches in Northern France and Brittany that are not as popular as those on the Mediterranean. It’s clear that the French are in no mood to sacrifice their vacations –even during a pandemic– but it’s nice to see tourism money sprinkled all over the country.  

The French do love the beach! Avoid July and August to “enjoy” more social distancing. Piémanson, in the Camargue area. October 2017.

Bicycle kick
Trying to avoid mass transportation, city dwellers are rediscovering the many health benefits of riding bicycles: physical distancing AND exercise! Paris and other large cities are encouraging this trend and adding bike lanes. In many regions, substantial subsidies are in place as incentives to purchase electric bicycles (we bought a couple of them and our net cost was 20% of MSRP.) Although bicycle use helps lower pollution indexes, I suspect many riders will flock to buses or the métro as soon as the weather turns nasty. In related news, sales of gas-thirsty converted vans and campers are through the roof, with a 6 to 10-months wait until delivery of a new vehicle. Win some, lose some…

We love our new electric bikes! Payrignac, October 2020.

Nouveaux maux, nouveaux mots
New words are invented all the time and merely reflect new technologies and human activities. Old words that we didn’t even know suddenly invade our everyday conversations. By now, everybody knows about nose swabs (écouvillons) and N95 masks (masques FFP2). We practice social distancing (distanciation sociale) to avoid superspreaders (super propagateurs). We wear our Zoom shirt (chemise visio) while holding videoconferences (visio conférences) with colleagues. And when it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, we can toast our friends with a Skype apéro or a coronapéro. Unlike George Orwell’s Newspeak in 1984, this novlangue doesn’t aim to suppress individual thinking; it just underlines that we all share the same concerns, at the same moment.

France is a divided country: are you Rosé or Ricard? Chez moi, August 2020.

A new way to travel?
For some lucky travelers, the pandemic offered a rare chance to explore popular locations without the usual crush of tourists; for the majority of us, it meant cancellations galore. 2020 will be remembered as the epitome of armchair travel. Thanks to Facebook, YouTube, and other apps, I’ve enjoyed virtual tours to many destinations, old and new. Whether filmed by locals or professional tour guides, these videos keep me in the travel loop: exploring, learning, dreaming. Perhaps they even force me to see more of the world, not less; to watch with more intent and wonderment; and to select my future destinations with more insight and desire. Who knows what next year has in store for me. The good all USA remain high on my list, of course. Vietnam was booked, canceled, postponed; perhaps on track for late 2021. And the light of Venice still haunts me: I must return. Besides, I hear La Serenissima has a fantastic selection of beautiful masks…

 Where will you be going next?

It takes a city, and centuries of craftsmanship. Venice, October 2019.

Vocabulary
Le confinement: lock-down
La chambre de bonne: maid’s quarters (usually a tiny bedroom under Parisian rooftops)
Le spectacle vivant: live show (performing arts)
Avec les moyens du bord: lit. with the means at hand; with what we have on hand
La residence secondaire: country home
Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose: the more it changes, the more it stays the same
Les vacances sont sacrées: vacations are sacred
La montagne: the mountains
La campagne: the countryside
La plage: the beach
Nouveaux maux, nouveaux mots: new ailments, new words

To feed your dreams of Paris and plan your next trip, please consider buying a copy of my book Moments Parfaits in Paris, where you’ll explore every arrondissement through forty photographs and essays. Hint: it’s also a thoughtful holiday gift for this dear Francophile friend of yours… When you purchase the book, I will mail you a signed bookmark from France and stamp your envelope with this stunning timbre Trésors de Notre-Dame. Merci! Your support helps me maintain this blog.

Buy a copy of Moments Parfaits in Paris: I'll mail you (from France) a signed bookmark in an envelope bearing this collectible Trésors de Notre-Dame stamp!

JOURNAL D'UNE CONFINÉE - WEEK 3

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

JOURNAL D'UNE CONFINÉE - WEEK 2

March 23, 2020

Humans abhor uncertainty. Things were probably different for cavemen but modern man has become a bit too complacent, expecting trains to always run on time and toilet paper to be available at will. The Covid health crisis takes us into uncharted territory. As a news junkie, I observe how the pandemic is unfolding. I look for intelligent questioning to sift through the known knowns and the known unknowns. Science keeps me grounded.

Meanwhile, I also take comfort in the predictability of nature and, specifically, how I can always count on bulbs to signal the turn of the seasons: yellow narcissi in our woods, pink tulips in Maguy’s yard, or wild irises in front of the old pigsty. Bulbs are your friends; your unfair weather friends.

Old clay roof tiles

March 24, 2020

The Attestation de Déplacement Dérogatoire was updated today. According to the “new and improved” version, you can still go out of your house to buy essential supplies but outdoor exercise is limited to one hour per day; you must fill the form with the precise time when you leave your residence. Apparently, too many dogs complained of exhaustion after their humans used them as an excuse to walk or jog every two hours… During your sortie, you must remain within 1 kilometer from your house which guarantees you’ll become extremely familiar with your immediate surroundings. This photographer will have to sharpen her eyes and continue to focus on details: today, I give you Old roof tiles. Tomorrow, it could be Green grass, or Clear skies, or Mom’s fuzzy slippers. The possibilities are staggering.

Vocabulary
La sortie: outing

Fabric masks made by our neighbor Isabelle

March 25, 2020

In the old days, farming families here could not survive without their neighbors’ help. They aimed to be self-sufficient, thus favoring l’agriculture vivrière, but everybody would pitch in when it was time to harvest wheat, pick grapes, crack walnuts, or slaughter the pig. A schedule was established so that equipment and able bodies were pooled to work at each farm in succession. When the task was completed, everybody would gather around the table for a festive meal. In France, rien ne change…

There are still a few farmers in our village but the size of their farms has increased following l’exode rural after WWII and le remembrement in the Sixties. They all have their own farm machinery and they hire crop hands at harvest time when necessary. But la solidarité is not an empty word here: it just manifests itself differently nowadays. Some of our neighbors bring us fruits, vegetables, or flowers; others pick up medications at the pharmacy for those who can’t drive; everybody checks up on the elderly. Today, Isabelle and Sylvain dropped off some homemade masks for us and Mom. In fact, they sewed masks for the whole hamlet, about fifteen households. Isabelle even apologized that she didn’t have any fabric printed with motorcycles for Rick!

Vocabulary
L’agriculture vivrière: (f) multi-crop farming and animal husbandry to ensure a varied food supply
Rien ne change: nothing changes
L’exode rural: rural migration from the countryside to the cities
Le remembrement: consolidation of farming lands to improve the use of machinery
La solidarité: solidarity

A traditional stone house stands in a field of wild flowers

March 26, 2020

Our weather has been positively balmy; it makes my daily outings even more enjoyable. Like many people, I’m struck by the quietness of our environment. The number of cars on nearby D704 has been reduced to a trickle. A lone tractor occasionally reminds us that spring planting is around the corner.

The only ones who dare disturb the sound of silence are the birds, hundreds of them. I still hang my boules de graisse from the boxwood tree: sparrow, great tits, and my one robin are familiar sights and songs. Turtle doves and crows regularly fly over our fields. In the woods, the distinctive sounds of cuckoo birds, owls, and woodpeckers are easy to identify but other melodies remain mysterious to me. I’ve found several websites and YouTube tutorials to get more familiar with local birds. Armed with the opera glasses that my parents brought back from Kyiv in 1986 (our binoculars are still in a box somewhere in the garage,) perhaps I can pass for an ornithologist-in-training!

Today I spotted a buzzard standing at attention on top of a fence post. It was probably eyeing some field mouse for lunch but it took off when I approached. As I watched the majestic raptor unfold its large brown wings and soar into the blue sky, I once again felt a tinge of envy. If I could have a superpower, flying would be it.

Vocabulary
La boule de graisse: lit. ball of grease; a mixture of suet and seeds.

The Javits convention center in happier days

March 27, 2020

I watch in dismay as the Javits convention center in New York is being turned into a field hospital of 1000 beds. For a couple of decades, Javits was my twice-a-year playground. While running Joie de Vivre, I regularly flew to NYC to attend the Fancy Food Show, the NY NOW Gift Fair, and other trade shows there. Javits was my happy place where I would sample delicious food from all over the world, meet new suppliers, and joke with old friends. Javits was alive, vibrant, and colorful. Now, the show floor has morphed into a giant grid of 10’ x 10’ sterile cubicles, deserted, silent, expectant. The contrast is shocking. As the 2020 trade show season grinds to a halt, Javits is poised to perform a startling new mission this year: instead of embracing conventioneers and amplifying their laughter, it will cradle patients and soothe their anguish. Normality has left the building.

Wild boars were here!

March 28, 2020

The pandemic seems to have a positive effect on the environment: with less human activity and fewer cars on the roads, air pollution is decreasing. And since people are staying home, or should be, wild animals are enlarging their territories: dolphins swim in the Venice canals, coyotes roam the streets of San Francisco, ducks waddle near la Comédie Française in Paris (sorry, guys: the theater is closed.)

In related news, our wild boars are back! Technically, they don’t “belong” to us. They don’t even live in our woods but they obviously enjoy our quiet area. They already paid us a visit last Fall. Lily loves to hunt but her focus is le petit gibier: bugs, mice, lizards, and the occasional hedgehog (ouch.) Les sangliers always leave tell-tale signs of their frolicking: they dig the ground with their nose and feet, looking for roots and worms, leaving trenches that dull the blades on Rick’s mower. They only come out at night but have become quite bold: I heard them grunt behind me one December evening as I was leaving Mom’s house! I wrote a letter to City Hall so they would inform the local hunters. I heard packs of dogs and rifle shots the following weekend. I also inherited a bag of meat that I quickly prepared as “médaillons de sanglier, sauce aux mûres.” It was yummy. But hunting season will be over in just a few days and group hunting would not be allowed anyway. I suspect that close encounters with wild boars will become part of our new normal.

Vocabulary
Le petit gibier: small game
Le sanglier: wild boar
La sauce aux mûres: blackberry sauce

Green asparagus and morels in puff pastry; 7 hour lamb shoulder with garlic, honey, and thyme; sphere of crispy risotto with lemon confit center and artichoke cream; strawberry cake.

March 29, 2020

For the past thirty years, I’ve appropriated Easter as “my” holiday. More by necessity than choice: handling Thanksgiving or Christmas was not an option because of my crazy work schedule in the Fall. Besides, the French and Thanksgiving are not exactly a match made in heaven.

I usually enjoy composing my Easter menu but it’s hard to muster some excitement this year since we all need to stay in our respective homes and I won’t be playing hostess. I had resigned myself to preparing an Easter dinner anyway and delivering the plateaux repas to family members, cafeteria-style. And then, I received an email from my favorite local restaurant; their Easter menu sounded lovely. Of course, the restaurant itself is closed: they’re only offering take-out. I am sure they have a hard time paying their bills. After consulting with the rest of the family, we decided we should show our support to a small local business and help them weather the storm. On Easter Sunday, chef Sylvaine will leave her frog coat in the closet. That will leave me ample time to focus on my second job: sommelier…

Vocabulary
Le plateau repas: meal tray

LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONA

What a difference a week makes. I was in Eureka enjoying elaborate Victorian mansions, colorful street art, and a superlative dinner prepared by the talented executive chef at the Carter House, a young lady I first met when she was a mere ten years old. She says that watching me prepare French dinners at home inspired her to choose that profession! My heart is full.

Check-in counters at SFO

While I was combing spectacular Agate beach on Thursday, it was clear that we would have to cut our trip short: we were scheduled to fly back to France on March 24 but, with the new restrictions placed on travelers from Europe to the US, it was hard to imagine that airlines would not drastically cut back their destinations and frequencies.

TSA at San Francisco airport: no need for Fast Track today!

By the time I got back to Modesto on Friday evening, I had played several scenarios in my mind but they all hinged on how United Airlines would handle our non-changeable tickets. I called the customer service line and was kept on hold for less than ten minutes; another ten minutes and a very efficient representative had rebooked us on the Saturday SFO-CDG flight. No hassle, no fee, no extra money; grateful for United. We would miss a family gathering on Sunday but I felt we needed to return home ASAP and not take the chance to be stuck abroad for several weeks.

Nice to see those tails!

The sigh of San Francisco airport was eery, Whole banks of check-in counters were closed; we approached one agent without waiting a single minute. The empty lines at TSA only reinforced the feeling that we were walking through a ville fantôme.

Pick your seat at the UA lounge

We had allowed extra time to spend at the airport in case there were some sanitary controls before boarding but they were none. We spent an hour at the United lounge which is usually crowded with passengers flying to Asia and Europe. Empty seats everywhere, no food buffet, wrapped plates of salad veggies and cheese on a rolling cart, a box of disposable gloves by the wine bottles… Yep, it felt different.

All food at the lounge was wrapped

At Gate 97, it was very easy to practice distanciation sociale and the agent dismissed formality by calling Groups 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 to board simultaneously. We briefly engaged with the American couple in front of us: although museums were closed and their tours had been canceled, they were still ready to go and visit Paris on their own. When is your flight back, I asked? In ten days; supposedly; we’ll see how things develop.

I took this photo after the doors closed. Pick a row, or two; or three!

We settled in the plane very quickly and I was hoping we could depart earlier than our 3:25 pm scheduled departure. Macron had announced France would be on lockdown at midnight (3 pm here) and I thought it would be safer to be in the air before that time. Sure enough, the announcement came in at 3:10 pm: the gate agent was trying to figure out whether we could fly out or not.

It would have been so easy to score an upgrade. Not free, but easy…

The crew had already agreed to work this flight even though they were told they would not be allowed to disembark on arrival: they would need to stay aboard until the plane turned back to the US. Non-French citizens or permanent residents of France had to deplane as they would be refused entry on French soil. The American couple we had talked to earlier, and a few more passengers, quickly exited the plane. We waited a little longer while the corresponding luggage was removed from the cargo hold. I was sooo relieved that Rick had finally gotten his residency card ten days before we left! When we pushed back from the gate, there was a grand total of 27 passengers in our 787: that is the closest I’ve ever been to flying in a private jet.

Out of luck if you were planning to purchase discounted alcohol or tobacco products

Take a rain check for that café experience. All bars, restaurants, and cafés in France are closed.

The flight itself was uneventful and so was our arrival at CDG1. No sanitary control there either. Most shops in the terminal were closed, except for the Relay newsstand and, oddly enough, Ladurée. I guess we could all use a box of tasty macarons to weather what’s ahead. I had decided not to take the train back to Gourdon: in a fluid situation, many reservations were being canceled and the stations, unlike the airports, looked like zoos: expecting severe restrictions on domestic travels and looming confinement measures, many Parisians were making a quick exit to the province. We spent Sunday night at a hotel by the airport, picked up our rental car on Monday morning, and drove home.

CitizenM at CDG airport: our home for the night.

On Monday night, Macron announced that the French population would stay in confinement the following day at noon. Any travel would require an Attestation de déplacement dérogatoire that you must have on your person if you must leave your residence to go to the pharmacy, get food, assist an at-risk person (i.e. elderly or vulnerable people living alone,) go to work (if your job is “essential”,) exercise outdoor or take your dog out for a walk. On Tuesday morning, we made a quick trip to my sister’s house to pick up Lily so that she, too, could be confined on her beloved home turf. We were back at the house at 11:57 am, just in time to join 65 million countrymen for what is shaping up to be our fiercest war since WWII.

The permission slip to go out of your residence while we are confined

All of us will be impacted by Covid-19, wherever we live. Le confinement will be easier for those of us who live in rural areas and have more space around them. Rick will continue to run the tractor, mow down the weeds, clear the woods… Some of his home improvement projects will take a back seat because Bricomarché is closed and he can’t get supplies. As for me, I’ll be looking after my mother: she lives only 30 yards away but I’m not supposed to go inside her house. I’ll tend to the garden and start the vegetable seeds I picked up in Eureka. I’ll bake cookies and leave them at my aunt’s door across the road. And I’ll continue to blog. In fact, I plan to go through my photo files and share with you my stories about the places I love. Escapism is a good way to cope in times like these. And those of us who love to travel always dream of our next destination.

Be safe. Be well. Be dreaming.

Yes, Paris loves you and will be waiting for you when the skies clear up.

Vocabulary
La ville fantôme: ghost town
La distanciation sociale: social distancing
La province: any area of France outside of the greater Paris
L’Attestation de déplacement dérogatoire (f): permission slip to travel
Le confinement: lockdown, shelter in place