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

SECOND LIFE

What happens when trains don’t run? Major inconvenience. France is slowly emerging from one of its longest strikes. Spearheaded by RATP and SNCF rail workers, this national grève had its biggest impact on banlieusards, those who live on the outskirts of Paris but commute to work in the capital. I used to be one of them; let me assure you I’m not one bit nostalgic about those times.

Gare de Gourdon at dusk

In our little corner of La France Profonde –where public transportation is minimal– this strike mostly affected high school and college students who rely on train service to reach their schools in Brive, Cahors, and Toulouse. At times, the Gourdon train station was completely deserted as traffic between Paris and Toulouse came to a standstill. But what happens when trains stop running for good? What happens to the stations, the grade crossing keepers’ houses, the bridges, the rail beds?

Gourdon then…

The historical importance of train service can’t be overstated. In the US, whole cities grew up as rail centers, especially west of the Mississippi: Rick’s hometown Modesto was founded in October 1870 with the coming of the railroad. In France and in the rest of Europe, where towns and villages had developed over the course of centuries, the establishment of a train stop was a highly anticipated and celebrated event: it favored economic growth, regional and national commerce, and population migrations. It also provided a lot of jobs.

Gourdon now

Our train station in Gourdon was inaugurated in 1891 and life changed overnight: it would now take only 15 hours to reach Paris, instead of the 14 days (!!!) required by horse-drawn coaches. The station is four kilometers from our house and sits on the Paris Austerlitz to Toulouse line: nowadays the trip takes about 5 hours. Although we can’t get TGV service on this line, I treasure the convenience of reaching the center of Paris in a comfortable Intercités, without transferring to another train. For the past decade, frequency has declined and there are rumors of SNCF wanting to cancel the stop at our station, thus forcing us to transfer in Brive. Locally, nobody likes the idea and demonstrations regularly take place in town and at the station. Sometimes, les manifestants gather on the rails for a picnic.

Payrignac then…

Payrignac now

Today, I’m taking you along a local rail line that disappeared… and experienced a second life. At the tail end of the 19th century, a young man from the Aveyron came over here to work on a brand-new junction between Gourdon and Sarlat. While working in the area, he met and married a young woman who lived in Payrignac. After the line opened in 1902, he moved back to Espalion with his bride, my great-aunt.

The lampisterie in Payrignac: the small building next to the station was used to store light bulbs and portable lamps.

Restrooms behind the lampisterie.

My grandfather worked as a trackman on that line before moving to Paris where he continued to work for the Chemins de Fer d’Orléans. During school breaks, Dad and his siblings took the train for free to return to the family farm. Catching their train at Austerlitz, they would get off in Gourdon and transfer to reach Payrignac, the first stop on the Gourdon-Sarlat line. Their grandfather would meet them at the station and load the suitcases in his wheelbarrow. After a short 250-yard walk, they were home.

The old schedule

The line was single-track with one train and there were three roundtrips per day. It took about 40 minutes to cover the 10 miles separating the two towns. Sarlat was not a tourist destination yet but a main hub for commerce. Agricultural products like tobacco and walnuts were handled and transformed in local plants: my great-aunt rode the train to Sarlat to sell her load of shelled walnuts to a wholesaler. Shelling walnuts at home, à la veillée, was a way for women to chat with family or neighbors during the long winter evenings and bring in extra income.

There are still many railroad bridges on that stretch of RD 704

Things changed dramatically in 1937 when the SNCF was created to merge and operate all French rail companies. The Gourdon-Sarlat line stopped transporting passengers in 1938 and freight traffic ceased two years later. Most of the rails were pulled from the tracks and melted down to be used for weapons in WWII. From that point on, Dad and co. had to schlep their luggage from Gourdon to Payrignac on foot, a long hilly four-kilometer walk.

Saint-Cirq-Madelon then…

Saint-Cirq-Madelon now

The line was decommissioned in 1955 and SNCF subsequently started selling off the buildings along the way. The Payrignac, Saint-Cirq-Madelon, and Groléjac stations were purchased and transformed into private homes.

Mobile barrier at Saint-Cirq-Madelon

Original ties at Saint-Cirq-Madelon

I followed the line and stopped at all the old stations to take pictures and sometimes talk with their owners.

Payrignac was a cute fixer upper

The Payrignac station was fixed up many years ago and serves as a second home.

Vintage signal at Saint-Cirq-Madelon

More vintage equipment

The man who originally bought the Saint-Cirq-Madelon location still uses it as a second home. He has kept old signage and equipment as “décor” in his yard around the building.

Groléjac then

Groléjac now

The Groléjac station is now a workshop for a chaisier.

La Voie Verte: bike and foot path around Groléjac

Trains used to cross the river at Groléjac; now bikes and hikers use the same bridge.

The Dordogne département had a good idea and purchased all SNCF properties along the line. After removing the leftover tracks, they turned the rail bed between Groléjac and Sarlat into a piste cyclable that is used by hikers and cyclists.

The railroad bridge of Groléjac crosses the Dordogne river

Picture-perfect hamlet framed by an old bridge

A remarkable stone bridge crosses the Dordogne north of Groléjac. Smaller bridges arch over a scenic stretch of Route Départementale 704.

Carsac then…

Carsac now, with the bike path

The old Carsac station was turned into a primary school. It was the last stop before Sarlat.

Sarlat then…

Sarlat now

The Sarlat station is still in use. Bordeaux can be reached via regional train service (TER) in about 2 hours and 15 minutes.

These old signs seem to illustrate the competition between road and rail. Guess who won that battle…

It’s not difficult to know what the future holds for our remaining “local” stations in rural France. Most folks own cars nowadays but trains are vital for students and the elderly who rely on them to reach schools or medical specialists in larger cities. With privatization on the horizon, the trend in France is to favor regional hubs, especially those served by high-speed trains, and abandon smaller markets. Large train stations are being transformed into shopping malls; smaller ones may well become endangered species. Perhaps I should join the demonstrators in Gourdon and bring cheese and saucisson to the picnic…

Inside the gare de Gourdon, ceramic tiles tell the story

Vocabulary
La grève: strike
Le banlieusard: someone who lives in the suburbs
La France Profonde: lit. deep France; out in the country (way out…)
Le TGV: high-speed train (Très Grande Vitesse)
L’Intercités: (m) classic train between major cities
Le manifestant: demonstrator
La veillée: after dinner hours in the countryside, usually devoted to conversations between family members and/or neighbors that also included “productive” activities (knitting, mending clothes, shelling walnuts, etc.)
Le chaisier: someone who makes and restore old chairs
Le département: county
La piste cyclable: bicycle path
La route départementale: a road maintained by the département (county)
Le TER: Train Express Regional; a regional train that is not so “express” since it stops at many stations…

OF BEADS AND FLOWERS

Any cemetery aficionados among you? Père-Lachaise, Montparnasse, and Montmartre often show up on visitors’ must-see lists. If you’re planning to visit any of them this week, brace yourself for large crowds and colorful seas of chrysanthèmes, the official flower of La Toussaint. November 1st is a paid holiday here: it provides an opportunity to flower the graves and remember our deceased loved ones over a family meal. Just like your typical Sunday lunch, minus the singing.

Shopping for mums in the 17th arrondissement

People visit Parisian cemeteries for many different reasons. Locals in search of a quiet haven within the bustling city can be found reading their book on a sunny bench, just as they would in the Luxembourg Gardens. Armed with maps apparently designed for a chasse au trésor, tourists scurry around wide aisles and narrow alleys in search of “that” grave, be it Oscar Wilde or Jean-Paul Sartre. Architecture and art lovers marvel at the variety of structures and sculptures that mark the burial sites of the famous and the unknown.

Funeral wreaths and glass enclosure at the Payrignac cemetery

My local cimetière is less grandiose and less crowded. No “walk-in” stone mausoleums housing crypts or sarcophagi there, but I’ve always liked the understated elegance of the glass enclosures that surround some of the older caveaux. I also find them practical because the iron posts make it easy to hang wreaths and, in particular, my favorite kind: les couronnes de perles.

Wreaths of white pearls are often used when the deceased is a child or a young woman

Most of the time, the outline of the wreath is made with purple beads

These exquisite glass bead wreaths seem more prevalent in old cemeteries en province. They were very popular for about a hundred years, roughly between 1850 and 1950. They usually measure about three feet in height; thousands of small beads are strung on thin metal wires, then shaped like leaves, flowers, or dentelle patterns; typical colors include many shades from pale mauve to deep violet, pink, green, white, and black.

Countryside setting

Some designs combine pearls and cloth flowers. Intricate work!

Rust: their worse enemy

As a little girl, I looked forward to my weekly trip to the cemetery before attending mass. While my grandmother set up fresh flowers from her garden onto family graves, my cousin and I scoured the dirt alleys, searching for loose beads that we took home to make bracelets for ourselves. We were already “recycling” before it was fashionable.

Loose beads are easier to find (and pick up) when you’re smaller and closer to the ground!

This past week, my aunt and I spent a little time sprucing up my grandparents and great-grandparents’ graves. I reflected that, after more than twenty years, grandma’s wreath still looked pretty good. I found myself meandering in the alleys and looking down in the vicinity of old wreaths, hoping to spot mes petites perles. I came home with a small handful of beads and a big smile on my face.

Grandma’s wreath

Vocabulary
Le chrysanthème: chrysanthemum
La Toussaint: All Saints Day
La chasse au trésor: treasure hunt
Le cimetière: cemetery
Le caveau: burial vault
La couronne: wreath; crown
La perle: pearl; bead
En province: out in the country, outside of Paris
La dentelle: lace

BRIQUES ET GALETS

This year’s edition of Le Tour de France is wrapping up and I can only admire the courageous riders who are braving an intense heatwave and climbing treacherous Alpine passes. It’s nice to see the maillot jaune on the back of a Frenchman but, as I mentioned in my post La Grande Boucle, I mostly watch for the scenery, especially the aerial views from helicopters that keep track of the peloton along with stately chateaux nestled in the hills and cute little villages stretching along a river bend. Le Tour vu du Ciel archives short videos that highlight some of the architectural marvels revealed at each stage (addendum: France TV doesn’t seem to allow viewing the videos in all countries; try searching for Le Tour vu du Ciel on YouTube instead.)

This used to be a barn…

Even a casual observer will notice the amazing variety of construction materials used in France. A trained eye would probably recognize a particular region based on the stones gracing its buildings: tuffeau in the Loire Valley, marble in Provence, blue granite in Brittany, etc.

In Grenade-sur-Garonne, there are many examples of houses built with bricks and river stones.

If you find yourself in the vicinity of the Garonne river around Toulouse, Montauban or Agen, you will see countless examples of structures made with briques et galets. Although Romans introduced brick-making in the Toulouse area, builders in medieval times favored wood and mud. Brick was used in Toulouse again in the late 11th century during the construction of the Saint-Cernin church. Sainte-Cécile in Albi was built in 1282 and eventually became the largest brick cathedral in the world. But the high cost of bricks made it prohibitive for common folks.

A “briques et galets” wall adjacent to Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption church in Grenade

Mostly bricks, a few river stones… Window at the Grenade church.

Bricks are made of clay that’s molded, dried, and fired in large ovens. Clay is plentiful along the Garonne and Tarn alluvial plains: draining the swampy river banks provided the raw material for brick-making while reclaiming more land for agriculture and reducing the mosquito population. The rivers also held another treasure: smooth fat galets. Walls build with a combination of bricks and river rocks were less expensive and gradually replaced the fire-prone timber structures from the Middle Ages.

Stables at the château de Merville

While nobles and rich merchants continued to build their homes with bricks alone or paired with cut stones, farmers combined briques et galets to construct retainer walls, barns, and pigeonniers. Many civil structures such as public markets, cemeteries, and city buildings also used the same technique. I first noticed them when my sister moved to Grenade-sur-Garonne.

This old wall has seen better days but it’s still holding up.

Too fancy a wall for Pink Floyd, I guess :-)

Unlike standard bricks that are prevalent in Northern France, brique Toulousaine (or brique foraine as it is also called) is large and flat: its width to length ratio is 2/3 instead of 1/2. Walls made with briques et galets are thick; they provide better insulation and help regulate seasonal temperature fluctuations.

Loveliness at every street corner. Check out those shutters in Cadours!

One added benefit is of an esthetic nature: river stones break up the regimented structure of bricklaying and introduce variations in colors and patterns. Necessity might be the mother of invention but it sometimes leads to artistic solutions as well. Don’t you agree?

It looks like someone chose very large river stones, or got a bit carried away with the concept…

Vocabulary
La brique: brick
Le galet: river stone
Le maillot Jaune: the yellow jersey worn by the leader of the race
La Grande Boucle: the big loop, the nickname for the Tour de France
Le tuffeau: white chalky stone widely used in the Loire chateaux and houses
Le pigeonnier: pigeon house
La brique foraine: from Latin foraneus (coming from outside); suggesting those bricks were not made on site but brought from a brickyard

DOORS AND FLOORS

Farmhouse renovation, episode 3

Rural France can be extremely quiet in Winter: nature hibernates and the pace slows down, including that of construction workers. After the new roof and new walls were erected in late 2018, the house was officially hors d’eau.

Jean-Luc’s workshop

Since Rick loves wood, we took a short ride to Montfaucon and visited Jean-Luc le menuisier in his workshop. Everything is custom-made. As you can see in the opening photo, he gets raw planks from the scierie, cuts them to size, preps and assembles them to create the six exterior doors and eleven windows that we need.

Kitchen door with opening for Lily the dachshund

Because he builds everything from scratch, we could ask him to customize the kitchen door and cut out a panel to accept Lily’s doggy door. Jean-Luc installed doors and windows on January 10: the house was officially hors d’air.

French doors. In France…

Meeting with the subs on a cold January morning

A meeting with all the subs quickly followed to review the blueprints and “fine-tune” the schedule. Originally, we were shooting for a completion date of mid-February but it was becoming pretty clear it was unrealistic. We were now looking at a late April move-in date.

Blueprints. They’re not blue.

Jean-Luc and crew were back very quickly to install poplar ceiling slats between the beams in the great room.

Poplar ceiling between the beams

Poplar “ceiling” viewed from the (future) walk-in closet upstairs

Next, Gilles le plombier and Raymond l’électricien would come to perform the unsexy (but essential) part of the project: install all the tubes that would bring water and power to the various rooms.

Plumbing and electrical tubes running from their respective meters

A lot of tubes converge into the old cistern; it will house the furnace and the water heater.

Then, Dominique le plaquiste and his team of drywall workers started insulating the new walls and the ceilings.

Kitchen insulation

Ceiling insulation upstairs

They covered the new walls with sheets of plasterboard. They partitioned the upstairs addition to establish the walk-in closet and my future office.

Kitchen drywall. Lily is the inspector-in-chief.

The premise of a partition wall between the office and the closet

Philippe le peintre and his crew stained the wood beams in the kitchen and the great room. They also smoothed the walls and applied base coats.

Rémi stains the kitchen beams

Valérie preps the wall before painting

Thierry and Michel –the two masons who were instrumental in the demolition– returned to finish the old interior walls.

Interior stucco with a rough finish. The old stone sink will get refurbished later on.

We had decided to apply an interior stucco on two of the walls and to have them point the stones on the other two. Love the result!

Keeping the old stones visible

Jean-Luc came back to install the subfloor in the upstairs bedroom.

Subfloor installation

While we were in California in March, Joël le carreleur barely found the time pour the first concrete slab. Then it needed to cure for a good 10 days before Gilles could install the floor insulation and thread the tubes for our sub-floor heating system.

Gilles applies foam panels to insulate the floor

A maze of heating tubes running all over the floor

That was the state of the house on April 2, just before we made a family emergency trip to California. We would be gone for only a week; all the subs had been briefed about the sequencing of their work; we hoped everybody was on the same page…  

View from my future office on a crisp February afternoon

Vocabulary
Hors d’eau: lit. out of water; waterproof. In construction, it refers to the stage where all walls are built and the structure is covered.
Le menuisier: woodworker
La scierie: sawmill
Hors d’air: lit. out of air; airtight. In construction, it refers to the stage where all openings are equipped with doors or windows so the house can be sealed.
Le plombier: plumber
L’électricien (m): electrician
Le plaquiste: drywall worker
Le peintre: painter
Le carreleur: tile setter

Missed Episode 1? Read it here.
Missed Episode 2? Read it here.
Read more about This Old House

WALLS AND ROOF

Farmhouse renovation, episode 2

It’s really happening! We’re actually building a house or at least, it feels that way. Let’s be honest: our subs are doing all the heaving lifting. But after witnessing an extensive demolition during the Summer, it has been quite rewarding to see our future house take shape under our watch. As much as I would have enjoyed moving straight into my finished house, I must admit that it is a tremendous advantage to live less than one hundred yards from the construction site and be able to address issues as they invariably crop up.

Kitchen foundations

First item on the list was to build an extension so I could have une vraie cuisine to play in. We decided to pretty much follow the footprint of the 19th century house which included some low structures for the farm animals. My new kitchen will sit where the cochons and the lapins used to reside! I have high hopes that our Lapin Agile painting will eventually find a home on one of the kitchen walls.

Preparing the kitchen floor

After digging trenches for the foundations and pouring a rough slab, les maçons laid out waterproof membranes to prep the kitchen for a smooth pour of concrete.

Great room floor before the concrete pour

Wood planks and subfloor had been removed from the “great room” (i.e. the old fireplace room) and the downstairs bedroom during the demo. The exposed dirt got the same treatment as the kitchen.

Pouring concrete

On October 2nd, a huge cement truck negotiated its way between the linden tree and the boxwoods, deployed its telescopic arm, and started shooting a steady stream of dark grey béton all over the rez-de-chaussée.

Michel smoothing concrete in the future bathroom

The kitchen slab

For a few hours, the smooth wet floors glistened under the bright sun. Lily didn’t feel the urge to check them out too closely and was kind enough to leave them alone, free of souvenir paw prints.

Great room slab after curing

Kitchen walls are going up

The concrete cured rapidly and our masons were back onsite with pallets of red brick blocks to build the kitchen walls.

New walls!

By mid-October, they also had erected the walls for the downstairs bathroom and brought up the walls of the downstairs bedroom up to the roof level (we wanted one height and pitch throughout instead of the three different roofs we inherited.) New openings were created for les portes and les fenêtres. They also consolidated (hum, rebuilt) the chimney.

New beams in the bedroom

Downstairs, Jean-Luc le menuisier brought and installed rows of beams to define the ceiling above the bathroom and the bedroom. Oak, chestnut, poplar, and fir are routinely used for construction as they are plentiful in our area. Instead of going to the local Home Depot equivalent, woodworkers order what they need directly from the local scierie and beams are custom made for your project.

The great room, original ceiling removed

We knew the ceiling planks above the great room were weak and would need to be replaced. After testing the beams and noticing a fair amount of wormholes, we decided to err on the side of safety and install a fresh set of those as well.

Adjusting the new beams for the great room

Steel bars prior to pouring concrete on the porch

It was almost time for Patrick le charpentier-couvreur to get started on the roof. But first, the masons had to come again to pour some concrete on the future porch area so that Patrick could set up his scaffolding all around the house.

Building the roof above the bedroom and bathroom

To frame the roof over the added rooms, Patrick and his team brought in some fermette or what I like to call roof-in-a-kit: the trusses are pre-assembled in triangular panels and lifted up to sit on top of the walls.

Patrick and his son framing the roof

Waterproofing the roof

Almost covered

Finished! Time for a ride…

In a protected area like ours, roof pitch dictates the type of tile (and the color options) that can be used. For the main body of the house, we chose a tuile à côte universelle, a traditional tile widely used around 1900 on residences and public buildings; for the kitchen and porch where the pitch is shallower, it would be a tuile double canal, a stronger and more water-proof version of the tuile canal typically used in Southern France.

Working on the kitchen roof

When laying tiles on the kitchen, the roofers used the buddy system: one stayed down and would throw a tile up to his friend who was stationed on the roof. For the roof over the main house (two stories), they would load their green backhoe loader and use it as an elevator.

Timber frame construction with fitted joints for the porch

Beautiful oak. Note the wood pegs…

It was fascinating to see the porch take shape. The oak posts, beams, and rafters were custom-made for our location. Instead of butt joints and nails, the components are shaped to lock-in together with wood pegs holding the fitted joints. These guys still follow the same artisanal techniques that were used centuries ago.

Oak rafters and poplar planks

Facade hors d’eau

When we left to visit my sister for New Year’s Eve, our house was hors d’eau: all the walls were up and the roof covered. We figured we might only be half-way through the renovation project but, at least, we were getting a pretty good idea of what the house would look like in the end. I think my grandparents would approve.  

Missed Episode 1? Read it here.
Read more about This Old House

Vocabulary
Une vraie cuisine: a real kitchen
Le cochon: pig
Le lapin: rabbit
Le maçon: mason
Le béton: concrete
Le rez-de-chaussée: first floor
La porte: door
La fenêtre: window
Le menuisier: woodworker
La scierie: sawmill
Le charpentier-couvreur: carpenter-roofer
La fermette: pre-manufactured scissor trusses
La tuile: roof tile
La côte: hill, rib. In this case, the tile has a rib running down lengthwise to better channel water.
La tuile canal: this tile is shaped like a half cylinder.
La tuile double canal: two-thirds of the tile is shaped like a half cylinder, the other third is flat. Unlike the tuile canal, all tiles are laid out curvy side up.
Hors d’eau: lit. out of water; waterproof. In construction, it refers to the stage where all walls are built and the structure is covered.

THE GETAWAY

Rick served his sentence and was released from jail a week before Christmas. He didn’t look worse for the wear. It was only a three-month stint. He got some education and a couple of free meals.

Enter at your own peril…

Rick moved to France with a visa long séjour, a 12-month visa that is granted to family members of a French citizen (that would be moi.) The requirements to get the visa renewed are two-fold: show a basic understanding of French and attend a couple of classes of instruction civique. After an initial evaluation at the Immigration Office in Toulouse, he was prescribed 100 hours of French.

An imposing, massive stone façade

We drove to Cahors for the civics classes, a full day in November, another one in December. He was afforded a personal English translator: he happened to be the only English speaker… He also received meal vouchers and had lunch with his interpreter while I explored la vieille ville (yes, you can expect future posts on Cahors.) Luckily, the language classes were scheduled in Gourdon. The program called for a semi-immersion where Rick spent 7 hours every Wednesday in a classroom. It turned out to take place in an exceptional setting: la Maison du Roy i.e. the King’s House.

This is the King’s House. Consider yourself warned…

During the French monarchy, la Maison du Roy used to be the city jail. The archives do not list any notable prisoner and we’re left to assume that jail only housed drunkards and chicken thieves.

Peekaboo!

Built inside the fortified city, la Maison du Roy shares its southern wall with the old ramparts that were a defensive barrier against potential invaders: these stone walls are about 6 feet wide! Interestingly enough, the now-defunct courthouse shared that wall –and a door, for the sake of convenience– with the old jail. In spite of their restoration, the window openings on the northern side hint at what a massive structure it really is.

Window with a view

The view from the second story windows showcases the Saint-Pierre church (14th century) up the hill. In the (very) old days, it would have afforded a nice view on the medieval castle that was destroyed by the English at the end of the 100-year war.

View without a window

Flanked by the Maison des Jeunes et de la Culture and by the city library, la Maison du Roy now houses a few rooms available for rent (meetings, conferences, etc.) And perhaps an old jail for students who don’t pass their French language test…

The jail keeper, perhaps? Watchful kitty across the square.

Vocabulary
Le long séjour: long stay
Moi: me
L’instruction civique (f): civics class
La vieille ville: old town
Le rampart: fortified wall

A COUNTRY CHRISTMAS

Things tend to be simpler in rural France. Take Christmas, for instance. I certainly didn’t expect the Christmas illuminations in our area to rival those in Paris but I was a tiny bit underwhelmed at first.

Christmas tree in Payrignac

Payrignac, our village of 700 souls, took the safe route: a good size tree in front of the Saint Agapit church; another one near the war memorial; three deer cutouts (particle board?) strung with lights by the lake; an illuminated Joyeuses Fêtes sign hung on the front of the primary school; an étoile filante of light bulbs decorating the side of the City Hall. Yep, I think that was about it.

Christmas decor in Gourdon. Fail…

Gourdon itself is 4 km away; the third largest city of the département, it boasts (!) a population of 4,500. Apparently, the extensive renovation of the tour de ville made a serious dent in the city budget this year. When we first discovered the huge Christmas Balls hanging by the City Hall, the Post Office and the Tribunal, we figured they had been purchased when Macron was a toddler. Granted they looked a little better at night but, really, whoever thought this was a good idea?

Music kiosk in Gourdon at dusk

On the other hand, the music kiosk and the garden around it received a more appealing treatment. My guess is that the same lights can easily be used again for Bastille Day; let’s just kill two (holiday) birds with one stone.

Un Certain Regard, my favorite boutique for home decor

Good thing the little boutiques on the above-mentioned tour de ville did their part to dress up the streets in a classy way.

En Vie de Femme, a clever name for women jewelry and accessories

Floral shop and the new “upgraded” sidewalks

And, yes, the renovations made the sidewalks larger, more level and less treacherous, especially when strolling at night. Which, incidentally, occurs shortly after 5 pm these days.

Fishnet trees at the supermarket. No tree lots in sight around here.

I just don’t think the French are as “fussy” as Americans when it comes to Christmas decorations. Very few people hang lights outside their homes: I’m sure energy costs are a factor. Most folks set up a tree in their house but nobody seems to have issues with purchasing a conifer completely wrapped in netting. My mother-in-law, who always insists on perfect symmetry, would tomber dans les pommes at the mere thought of buying a tree sight unseen. Oh, and an enterprising person could perhaps start a business selling tree skirts. Just saying…

Papillotes! So many choices…

Let’s face it: for the French, Christmas is all about the food. It starts around November 20 when the supermarkets overflow with friandises. Mind you, candies are just as much for adults as for children: marrons glacés, calissons d’Aix, papillotes, candied fruits, nougat, stuffed prunes, etc. compete with an incredibly large selection of chocolates. The boxes were piled above eye level and I felt I was navigating through a maze of delicious sweets.

Hens, capons, and turkeys. Tiny turkeys. Tasty turkeys… These holiday birds average 6-8 pounds.

By mid-December, the pastry aisles were filled with traditional Yule logs and the frozen section with bûches glacées. Smoked salmon, huîtres, scallops, lobster, escargots, and foie gras are perennial favorites for a first course, or second, or third. The plat de résistance always generates lively debates: in the old days, goose used to be very popular in the area but the current bird of choice seems to be capon.

Ho, Ho, Ho! Santa checks out our medieval streets.

Of course, Santa made a few appearances. I first spotted him in the rue du Majou. The trip from the Pôle Nord was so long, he needed to layover and replenish his toy supply in Germany.

An athletic Santa. The Mediterranean diet is really paying off!

I saw him again rope climbing into a window in the old part of town and had to marvel at how fit he looked. We now have the unequivocal proof that duck fat and red wine are good for your health.

All aboard!

Santa and one of his elves also offered rides around town in a classic horse-drawn wagon. I guess the reindeers needed a break.

Rick photobombs the Marché de Noël in Sarlat

I have a love-and-hate relationship with Sarlat: while thoroughly impressed by its architecture, I feel the old town has become too commercial. Nevertheless, we decided to visit the Marché de Noël, the second-largest in Nouvelle-Aquitaine (I imagine Bordeaux takes the top honor.) I made a point of going on a Tuesday afternoon, before school break, hoping it would not be too crowded. It turned out to be a good plan as we were able to cruise through the 70 chalets in record time.

Guernica in Sarlat. Dali’s The Persistence of Memory and works by Miró, Goya, and Velázquez were hung on the sycamores. Well, reproductions..

This year’s theme was Spain: I suppose Christmas is not thematic enough. Some products were made locally (donkey milk soaps, mohair shawls, wooden toys) and a few came from the country-that-shall-not-be-named.

Medieval beer. Some things get better given longer (with apologies to Abbot Ale…)

Vin chaud. It warms you up on a cold afternoon.

Actually, the whole thing seemed to be a good excuse for people to hang out, eat, and enjoy an adult beverage. In addition to empañadas, tapas, chorizo, Serrano ham or churros, one could also order oysters, frog legs, escargots, porcini soup, foie gras burgers, crêpes, waffles, roasted chestnuts, and more delicious foods, to be washed down with wine, medieval beer, or vin chaud. Just a notch above what the food court offers at your local mall.

Christmas decor at Mom’s retirement home

Last weekend, we headed out to Grenade-sur-Garonne to spend Christmas with my sister and her family. We picked up Mom at the retirement home where she is currently staying and I was quite impressed with the way they had decorated the facility, inside and out. She found a present in her room when we drove her back: a lovely collier de perles. I have no idea what Santa brought to the male residents.

I’m using this photo of Moulin de Planiol (a B&B a few miles away) for my Bonne Année cards this year

I hope your Christmas was as delicious as mine. I have to say that it was very, very nice to have unrestricted access to the variety of wonderful food that France produces at this time of the year. As we are leaving 2018 behind, I want to wish you a Happy New Year and thank you for all your encouragement as I transition to living in my native country again. There are many new adventures I want to share with you and I appreciate your following my musings. Let’s toast the new year: I wish 2019 is filled with perfect moments for all of us!

Vocabulary
Joyeuses Fêtes: Happy Holidays
L’étoile filante (f): shooting star
Le tour de ville: lit. city tour; in this case, it refers to the boulevard that encircles the medieval town, where the moat used to be.
Le Tribunal: courthouse
Tomber dans les pommes: to faint; lit. to fall into the apples
La friandise: sweet, candy
Le marron glacé: candied chestnut
Le calisson: a specialty from Aix-en-Provence that combines ground almond and candied melon, shaped like a diamond.
La papillote: a specialty from Lyon where a chocolate bouchée is double-wrapped; the first paper wrappper is printed with a quote, the outside wrapper is made of foil with frilly ends.
La bûche glacée: a frozen Yule log, mostly made of ice cream, lighter than the traditional bûche pâtissière.
L’huître (f): oyster
Le plat de résistance: main course (the dish that will allow you to resist until the next meal)
Le Pôle Nord: North Pole
Le vin chaud: warm mulled wine
Le collier de perles: pearl necklace

DEMOLITION

Farmhouse renovation, episode 1

The biggest challenge when tackling a house renovation is choosing what to keep and what to give up, let go, abandon. Finding a way to retain the feeling of the original structure and tweak it to fit the new owners’ lifestyle. On ne fait pas d’omelette sans casser d’oeufs. So, we broke a few eggs…

The house in February, prior to renovation

Our renovation project started many years ago, at least in Rick’s mind. He already had several sketches ready when we approached my aunt’s friend Richard last year. Richard used to be an architect in Great Britain. He and his wife bought and restored an old farmhouse twenty-five years ago; they now live in France year around, 15 miles away from us. Richard got his French architect credentials as well and is fully bilingual: as our maître d’oeuvre, he is the perfect liaison between our tradespeople who don’t speak much English and Rick who is far from fluent in French.

Northeast corner of the main room. French doors will be set into that large opening.

Because my grandparents’ house sits in an area designated as a site protégé, the building permit had to be approved not just by the mairie but also by the Bâtiments de France: they focus on architectural elements to make sure the future construction respects and blends in with the specific heritage of the area. Pitch of the roof, tile design, metal used for gutters, paint color on the shutters, etc. are some of the elements reviewed before the project is approved. I had heard many horror stories about the process but everything went very smoothly for us.

See through! In addition to opening the back side to instal French doors, we also enlarged the old cellar door on the front side. It will lead to the new kitchen.

Our building permit was issued late 2017 and we had hoped the chantier would start in March so we could move in early Fall. Alas, a wet Spring delayed all masonry work in our area and work had not been started when we arrived early July. The updated schedule listed that the demolition work would commence the last week of July; the masons would then take four weeks off in August, as is customary in France; and resume early September.

Thierry frames a new window upstairs

The first order of business was to create new openings in the old structure. Traditionally, stone farmhouses didn’t have many windows in order to stay warm in winter and cool in summer. There never was central heating in this house and my grandparents chiefly relied on the cantou to heat the main room downstairs. I have vivid memories of carrying a hot brick wrapped in wool to the small bedroom upstairs and placing it between the sheets fifteen minutes going to bed. As much as I enjoyed spending Christmas breaks here, I confess it was hard to get out of bed in the morning: the bedroom was so cold, I would literally see my breath. I could (somewhat) laugh it off when I was eighteen but I’m pretty sure my amusement would be short-lived if I had to do it again.

The masons’ ladder substitutes for the demolished wooden staircase

Since all the wood floors were rotten and had to be removed anyway, we made plans to install “some kind” of heating system (more about this in a future post) and we were anxious to add a few windows in order to bring more light into the rooms. Large chunks of stone were removed and gaping holes appeared on three sides. Once the floor trusses, old parquet, and original escalier were removed, the house looked like a war zone, a shell of its previous self. I emailed pictures to a couple of friends who had visited in prior years and they both asked how hard it was for me to see my beloved house in such a sorry state. Honestly, I did all my grieving last February when we completely cleared out the house. Sure, there was some sadness when the doors were ripped out and the jackhammers brought in but, overall, I could at least maintain a “neutral” state of mind. I knew from the get-go that we would only be able to salvage the walls and the roof trusses.

Thierry removes the old plaster

It’s not easy to get excited about demolition; and yet, breaking stuff sometimes leads to beautiful surprises. I was filled with joy when the masons removed the interior plaster and revealed the stone underneath. We knew the murs de pierre were quite thick but they were completely covered when the house was last renovated in 1940: I had never seen the exposed stone before. And my, are they glorious!

Stone wall revealed!

The downstairs bedroom was added in 1967 and never communicated with the great room, as I like to call the one room that served as kitchen, dining and living room when my grandparents were alive; a door opening was created between the fireplace and the old stone sink.

Michel framing the opening between the main room and the downstairs bedroom

Downstairs bedroom: another war zone

We also pretty much demolished grandpa’s shed as it will become an ensuite bathroom.

This used to be the shed; it will be a bathroom. The cistern is to the left.

A door opening was carved into the old cistern: we will use that space as a wine cellar and pantry. The top of the cistern will serve as an elevated terrace, a few steps down from my future office.

Peeking into the cistern

Work in progress… View from the West

Of course, I would need a kitchen… and this could only happen through an extension to the original house. The bobcat had to work extra hard to dig deep enough for the foundations: in that area, the hard rock layer is not far from the surface.

After removing the stone wall on the road side, the masons dug out in front of the old cellar to create the footprint for my future kitchen.

Naturally, we encountered a few setbacks. For instance, we found out that the ceiling of the downstairs bedroom was a foot lower than the ceiling of the main house. The height on some windows needed to be fine-tuned. Adjustments had to be made when walls did not intersect at 90 degrees… I have to say that our masons have been extremely accommodating. Instead of complaining when things don’t go according to plan, they have come to us with different options to work around obstacles. These guys are true craftsmen with years of experience dealing with the idiosyncrasies of old homes, and their owners. They get a kick out of Rick who communicates with them with a little bit of French and a lot of gestures. He spends an inordinate amount of time observing their work, not because of lack of trust but out of genuine curiosity: they just don’t build houses the same way as in the US.

Demolition complete!

Read more about This Old House before the remodel
Read Episode 2 of the renovation

Vocabulary

On ne fait pas d’omelettes sans casser d’oeufs: one doesn’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs
Le maître d’oeuvre: general contractor
Le site protégé: protected site
La mairie: city hall
Les Bâtiments de France: a government agency that –among other responsibilities_ monitors the harmonious insertion of new construction and renovations into areas protected for their architectural or cultural heritage
Le chantier: construction site
Le cantou: walk-in fireplace
Le parquet: wood floor
L’escalier (m): staircase
Le mur de pierre: stone wall

CENT ANS

My grandfather never told me about La Grande Guerre. I was merely eight-years-old when he died and my memories of him gravitate toward the joyous moments shared with a doting grandpa: plucking cagouilles from the bushes behind his house in Royan, watching him prepare his collapsible wired nets before heading to the creek to catch crayfish, or uncovering the Easter eggs that he hid among the vegetables of his meticulously kept potager.

When the Ordre de Mobilisation Générale was posted at the mairie on August 1st, 1914 he was a little bit too young to be sent to the front. With 800,000 French soldiers in active duty, three million reservists, and the expectation of a short war, it seemed doubtful that he would ever be involved. Optimism waned quickly: by the end of 1918 eight million Frenchmen had served in the war, around 40% of the male population. So, Pépé René became a poilu. He walked and crawled in muddy trenches. He dodged bullets and obus at the battle of Verdun. He was among the lucky ones: he came back from the war with “only” some exposure to toxic gases and a life-long addiction to cigarettes, a soldier’s comfort liberally distributed in the trenches. Like all veterans, he kept tokens of the war inside himself: in his case, lung cancer.

The monuments aux morts of Payrignac includes memorials for WWI, WWII, and the Algeria War.

As France gets ready to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Armistice, TV viewers are overwhelmed by a slew of documentaries serving archives, old photos, and silent black-and-white reels. A newscast shows a group of pre-teens in Indre-et-Loire brushing and scraping their village memorial to expose the names of those who died for la patrie. Another group of youths at the necropolis of la Doua near Villeurbanne sets up a candle at the foot of each cross in the military cemetery (6500 of them!) In Champagne and Pas-de Calais, men clad in uniformes d’époque roam the trenches, the shelters, the observatories like their ancestors did; some are even spending several nights there this week.

The lake, right behind the monument aux morts.

Far from Paris where some sixty heads of states will join President Macron, my small village is also getting ready for Sunday’s commemoration. There will be a special mass (dominical services are no longer held in our church except on Palm Sunday and Assumption) and a wreath will be placed at the monument aux morts. Because we are in France, the ceremony will be followed by a vin d’honneur, a pre-lunch aperitif served to all citizens.

The WWII memorial

After dropping Rick off to French class this morning, I stopped by the village and parked in front of the school. I could hear the voices of ebullient, care-free toddlers playing in the courtyard. Fifty meters away, everything was peaceful and the lake gleamed like a mirror. Birds occasionally flew out of the golden catalpas nearby. Our grey WWII concrete memorial is nestled into this serene shrine of greenery. The names of the fallen are listed alphabetically, engraved on two slabs of marble. Thirty-eight names. One of the soldiers, first name Justin, shares my maiden name: a distant cousin, no doubt. Four others bear the same last name. I picture an anguished woman whose family was annihilated, her husband and sons reduced to red letters carved in marble. Red like their blood.

She, too, was promised that war would be “la der des ders…”


The official website for the Centenary: http://centenaire.org/fr

Vocabulary
La Grande Guerre: the mighty war; refers to WWI
La cagouille: snail; colloquial French from the Charente region
Le potager: vegetable garden
La mairie: city hall
Le poilu: a hairy man; refers to WWI soldiers in the trenches who could not wash or shave; prior to that, men who were “poilus” were thought to be especially strong and brave.
L’obus (m): mortar shell
La patrie: homeland
L’uniforme d’époque (m): period uniform
Le monument aux morts: war memorial
Le vin d’honneur: celebratory event where wine or other libations are offered
La der des ders: abbreviation for “la dernière des dernières”, the last of the last, WWI. It was so horrible, it seemed inconceivable that it wouldn’t be the last war, ever.