SUMMER DIVERSIONS

Retirement is great. One (finally!) is no longer accountable to anyone. Aside from normal tasks, there is no longer any great burden or responsibility. Since retiring at the end of 2018, I have relished my freedom. The move was consuming and stressful in terms of buying the house, selling off items that I either wouldn’t need or couldn’t place in my new home, arranging for the move including transporting and immigrating with my cat – my biggest stress since she was feral and easily alarmed; I just didn’t know how she was going to cope and how we were going to manage the flights. But we did it. 

It took about eight months for me to recover just in terms of the fatigue. There were days where I slept well into the afternoon. Eventually I put myself on a schedule which proved itself to be very helpful. So it’s usually bedtime by 11 PM with an alarm set for 8:30 AM which I sometimes honor and sometimes just turn over and ignore. Being retired, I can do what I want.

This part of France is known for its light. It is the reason that many artists were and are attracted to the region. Think Picasso, Van Gogh and Matisse. Typical of most men my age, I often don’t sleep through the night and will awake usually 5-6 hours after retiring. Then it is sometimes difficult to return to sleep. But at this time of the year, I enjoy seeing the sunrise. 

The sky goes from a dark blue to gray and then the rising sun turns the fields of wheat to gold soon casting a warm orange-red light as the sun once again presents itself. It is a joy to behold as I lay in my bed looking out the window. 

I’ve often wished I had my camera handy to catch these moments of magical color. This morning, awakening at 5:30, I decided to grab my phone and snap the sunrise. It was worth it. This is the view looking south to the Pyrenées with the rolling foothills in the foreground. The wheat is being harvested leaving behind beautiful fields of golden hay. It is an impressive time of year. 

The sunflowers are also in full bloom and will continue to entertain us until the end of August. 

But the big news at the moment is the heat. It has been incessant for over a week and there is no end in sight as the predictions remain for high temperatures for the next 10 days. 

It is summer after all but today’s news is that the record for the average high temperature in France may be broken on Monday.

June was a mix of hot and cool weather and the view to the mountains, if not cloud-covered, was hazy. But July has been different, with clearer views and the heat unrelenting. Today the temperature actually reached a high of 101 F/38 C. Two days ago it registered at 104 F/40 C.  This is rare here.

How do we manage? 

One of the first things I did upon moving was to install air conditioning. Given the war in Ukraine, we’ve been asked to cut back on our gas and electric utilization so for a few days, I tested the European approach to managing the heat.

Because some of the nights were cool (down to 60 F/16 C), I was able to open the windows late in the evening allowing the house to cool down. In the morning, I closed the windows, drapes and shutters to keep the heat out and the cool air in. Surprisingly, it worked well until the daytime temps got above 95 F/34 C. It was just too hot and too stuffy. When it did work, however, the internal temperature maintained at 77 F (25 C). My 600 year-old home’s thick walls insulate well. 

If I have been working outside and feeling the heat, a nice cool shower before retiring freshens me up and I sleep like a baby. Some people don’t dry after their shower, but wrap themselves up in their sheets to moisten and cool them. The sheets dry long after they have comfortably fallen asleep. I learned this from my French colleagues in Paris years ago. They called it “French air conditioning.”  

Similarly, I came across this yesterday – recommending freezing pillow cases to cool down during this heat wave.

June was otherwise a busy month. Patrick, a high-school classmate arrived early in the month to house-sit for my friends Gayle & Bernard as they crossed the pond to visit family in the US and Canada for nearly four weeks. Pat stayed with me one night as he transitioned to their house on their day of departure. We lined him up with a rental car from one of the local supermarchés, E LeClerc, for 5 euros/day plus 0.20 centimes per kilometer. It was a better deal than anything else we could find, so he grabbed it. 

Pat kept himself busy working off a long list we had created of things to see and do including some randonnées (hikes) organized by Acceuils des Villes Francaises (AVF), the organization through which I have my French classes. He met a lot of people and made some good friends who at one point suggested he should consider moving here. The jury is out but as I told him, it all depends upon how he feels once back in the US where he can be objective. How did it feel? Does he miss it here? Then, in this whole process of evaluation, come again and try it again. And again if necessary. These aren’t quick decisions nor should they be. Eventually the heart and the mind know. 

About a week later, Daniel, a former colleague from both Kalamazoo and New Jersey arrived from Botswana where he has lived for the past eight years working with the Peace Corps and later, with an NGO in communications. He likes it there. Given COVID, this was the first opportunity Daniel had to visit. It was great. 

Given my class schedule, Pat & Daniel hung out and did some touring together and I joined them when possible. They hit it off and our time together was easy and fun. I have to say, the times we spent together were among the best times I have had here. Pat and I did a lot of reminiscing of our days at Detroit Catholic Central between our classmates, teachers and the priests. We even brought out the yearbooks to review names and faces. We made for an amiable trio enjoying the sites, the cuisine and the wine. I hope the future will allow the three of us to convene again. 

One of our joint tours first took us to Montolieu (“The Village of Books”), with mostly used books in both English and French, Saissac with its 11^th century castle ruins high up in the Montagne Noire, and the Abbey of Saint-Papoul, one of the prettiest monasteries around. 

We got to Montolieu around lunchtime but first stopped at one of the largest bookstores. I have been reading about the French Resistance during World War II and came across a small book of only 79 pages written for British soldiers about to depart for France: Quand Vous Serez en France (When You Are in France) originally published in 1944. This version was a translation into French and published in 1974. But I thought it would be an interesting read (and good practice reading in French) so picked it up. Among its opening lines was this: 

“S’il vous arrive de croire que la première jolie francaise que vous sourit se propose de danser le french cancan ou de vous inviter dans son lit, vous risquez de vous attirer de gros ennuis et vous compromettrez les relations franco-britanniques.”

“If you happen to believe that the first pretty French girl you smile at is proposing to dance the French cancan or invite you to her bed, you risk getting yourself into big trouble and you will jeopardize Franco-British relations.”

It is a book sensitive to the illustrious history of this great nation, perceptions of its citizens given the debacle at Dunkerque in 1940, the deprivation and suffering they were enduring under the Nazi occupation, and how to successfully navigate as guest defenders. I have skimmed it and felt the pride of the French. I can’t wait to read it more carefully. 

My neighbor, Dennis, subsequently lent me a copy of a newly published book by Kate Vigurs, PhD, who, as it turns out, had been one of his students back in Harrogate, England. Entitled Mission France, it is a brilliant, comprehensive and well-researched book documenting the stories of 39 women commissioned by the British government as agents in support of the French Resistance. It is well worth the read.

I have just completed another book of this genre entitled War Dog by Damien Lewis. It is the story of a Czech airman trained under the French Foreign Legion who, shot down in “No man’s land” between the French and German lines, discovers a 4-week old German Shepherd, obviously abandoned. They bond and the dog becomes a remarkably intelligent ally in the battle against the Nazis, even accompanying the airmen on their battle missions. I enjoyed it. 

I’ve also somewhat serendipitously picked up a copy of Histoire de la Resistance: la Battaille du Silence (History of the Resistance: the Battle of Silence) published underground in 1944 and authored under the alias Vercors, which refers to a region in France south of Grenoble. The author was identified post-war as Jean Brulier whose goal was to inspire hope amongst the French in these dark times. Thousands of copies were printed underground, hand assembled and stitched together by women volunteers taking great risk – all of them – then distributed by hand nationwide for the French to read. 

After perusing the bookstore, we had a wonderful lunch at La Rencontre, an adjacent outdoor café, so good that I vowed to return which I did this week with Chantal. It was as good the second time around. I’ll be back for sure. 

From Montolieu, we headed to Saissac via beautiful winding roads high up the Montagne Noire overlooking the valley below and the Pyrenées in the distance. Pat & Daniel toured the 11th century ruins and museum while I caught up on yet one more book I’ve been reading about World War II, a novel: The Chateau of Illusions by Guy Hibbert. I have this book on Kindle so it’s easy to pull up when out and about and I clamor for something to occupy my time. It’s a light read but so far, so good.  

Next, we took the winding road near the top of the Montagne Noire towards the Abbey of Saint-Papoule. It is one of the larger monasteries and the church is still functional though there are no longer any monks. Rumor had it that it was actually for sale, but when I asked the staff person selling admission tickets the status of that, she denied it saying that the Abbey was the property of the village and it was definitively not for sale. Or was she trying to conceal their ambition?

On a beautiful Saturday, Pat, Dan & I went to the Truffe et Terroir open market in nearby Roullens. I had gone a few years ago and found it interesting with black truffles for sale, wine tasting etc. This year was more subdued, but we enjoyed a few wines and nibbles. Following, we came back to my home where I made a dinner including chicken picatta and cherry clafouti for dessert, as the black cherries are abundantly in season. Dinner at home with good wine, good food and good friends. Does life get any better?

In May, there had been a meeting of the commune’s organ association. We have a reputable pipe organ in our historic church that is currently under restoration. Philippe Lefebvre, one of three organistes titulaires of Notre Dame in Paris and who lives outside of the village, heads the association. It was the first meeting in several years given the pandemic. Fortunately my neighbor Martine alerted me to the meeting so we went together. Long story short, there was a request for people to join the advisory board (Conseil d’Administration). Several women knew I had been an organist and nominated me. I protested but when I discussed my primary reason for hesitating being my ability to effectively communicate one woman said “Et alors?” (“And so?”) with a big smile on her face. It was amusing and perhaps a subtle vote of confidence .  

After this meeting, one of the attendees, upon learning I was an organist, asked me if I would play for some of the church services. I told her that I was retired and enjoying my freedom so that I didn’t want any commitments. I finally relented and said maybe, once in a while. Mais pas souvent! (But not often!) It goes back to the responsibility thing. I worked long and hard enough so that now I jealously protect my time and my privacy. I enjoy reading, writing and teaching. That is plenty for the moment. 

I don’t yet consider myself completely fluent in French and hence my hesitation being on the Conseil d’Administration is my ability to be able to not only comprehend the fine detail, but effectively communicate my position should I be asked for an opinion. With a little trepidation, I went to my first meeting June 14 which was held in the Salle du Conseil of the mairie (town hall). 

The Vice President of the organization speaks good English so following the meeting, I took my notes and asked him to tell me if I accurately captured the meeting’s topics. It turns out I did. So my aural comprehension was good. I missed a few details, the result of multiple conversations taking place simultaneously. But I was encouraged. And it is good exposure as the French expect residents to somehow contribute to the well-being of the community.  

Later that week, I took Pat and Daniel on my favorite walk in the vineyards. They were not disappointed. However we nearly got caught in a massive storm….

The end of June brought to close my three French classes for this academic year. We’ll reconvene at the end of September. I’m pleased with the progress we have made in each but happy to have a break. It’s a lot of work preparing every week. 

I asked my friend Jim who is in the first class if he would mind hosting a garden party for all three classes to come together and celebrate the end of the year. He graciously agreed and we held it on Monday, June 28. I invited the AVF leadership to show them how many people we are and how we have supported their organization. Jim has an 18^th century home just north of my village overlooking both the Pyrenées and the Montagne Noire that he and his partner have beautifully renovated. It sits on about eight hectares (nearly 20 acres) and has gorgeous gardens. The weather wasn’t the best, but our potluck turned out to be a lot of fun anyway. 

The combined classes gave me a subscription to PARIS MATCH in appreciation for my efforts this past year. The first copy arrived yesterday. I’ll be up on all the trends and gossip in France before long! 

Patrick, Daniel and I kept busy but the day after the garden party we said goodbye to Daniel.

One of my most favorite vineyards is the first I came to know in 2013 on a visit here with friends: Chateau Saint-Jacques d’Albas. It is about 20 minutes northeast of Carcassonne and based in a renovated medieval priory. It boasts an 11th-century chapel with a Visigoth grave behind it. It’s a great place to visit and their wines are exceptional. Their top-of-the-line wines are called La Chapelle. While I’m usually a fan of red wines, I have discovered that some of the white wines here are incredible in their complexity (including the award-winning wines of the local domaine Domaine Le Fort).

I hadn’t been to Chateau Saint-Jacques d’Albas in a while given the pandemic, but it is very much worth seeing. So Pat and I drove out and tasted the current vintages. They did not disappoint. The La Chapelle white is a Viognier which is absolutely incredible. All I can think of when I taste these rich, full-bodied white wines is “liquid gold” and that they are. Fortunately for US residents, the wines of Chateau Saint-Jacques d’Albas are imported to the US. Sadly, those of Domaine Le Fort are not.

Patrick is a talented guitarist and plays and sings at Celtic pubs in Detroit and Windsor, Ontario. He brought his guitar with him and entertained us at the garden party and open-mic night at the Celt Pub in Carcassonne. A number of my friends came to cheer him on.

Fortunately Pat was up first so the night wasn’t too long for early the next day he and I were on our way to Mirepoix for the weekly market.

The market was the biggest I have seen it in my three and a half years here. I think we’re all celebrating the end of the COVID pandemic. Given that nearly 80% of the population (children and adults) are vaccinated in France, we’re seeing little uptick in terms of COVID infections and the precautions have all but been removed. So the crowds were big and the stalls extensive. 

Taking a break from the market, I showed Pat the Cathedral de Saint Maurice with its wide nave.

After a slow but very good lunch in the courtyard of a nice restaurant in Mirepoix, we had a rendezvous with a man referred to me who sells accordians. I have decided I’d like to learn the instrument and delve into the local world of folk music. We had a seminar on diatonic vs. chromatic instruments and buttons vs. keyboard. Given my keyboard background, I was assured that that would be my best bet. However, I’ve been told that once the buttons are learned, it is actually easier to play an all-button accordéon. The French brand Maugein Frères is most famous and authentic. I played several and settled on one that might work. But the jury is still out. 

Pat departed the next day for Paris to catch his flight back to the US. His train took him first to Narbonne where he was to connect with a high-speed train to Lyon. It’s a pretty easy trip provided the trains are on time. His Carcassonne connection was not so he was forced to overnight in Narbonne and rebook for the following morning. He was very fortunate to secure a seat on a train, not only because it was last minute, but because there was a nationwide rail strike. Fortunately there were a few trains still running. 

Speaking of trains, in the news this week was an update on fast trains linking London to the continent. This map shows intended expansion of service to Amsterdam, several locations in Germany, Bordeaux, Marseilles and the Haute-Savoie.

We have one daily TGV (Train Grand Vitesse) that makes its way from Lyon to Toulouse with stops in Valence, Nîmes, Montpelier, Narbonne and Carcassonne. What I’d love to see one day, however, is a direct TGV train from Toulouse to Paris. The tracks haven’t been built and that is the problem. There is to be expansion of fast-speed tracks from Bordeaux to Toulouse which would make a difference, but even that is being held up by a protest for some unknown reason by the mayor of Bordeaux. 

The ride from Paris to Bordeaux on a TGV is only two hours. But because the tracks cannot accommodate the TGV between Bordeaux and Toulouse, the trip between the two cities is another 2 hours. Then the local train to either Bram (my closest station) or Carcassonne is another hour. Were we to have a direct train from Toulouse to Paris, the trip could take, like Bordeaux, a maximum of two hours. One can always hope but it will likely be decades before that comes to be.

One more news story pertinent to France is the shortage of mustard. It has been impossible to buy mustard for about two months now. The blame is cast on crop failures in Canada and Ukraine: Canada due to weather and Ukraine due to the war. There was a story on this in today’s New York Times. So mustard is on my shopping list when I return to the US.

Last year at this time the Tour de France came through the village. (See here and here ). This year, they still come to Carcassonne, but will travel southwest to Limoux en route to Foix. They arrive Sunday, July 17, have the day off Monday, then depart Tuesday, July 19. Let’s hope they endure the heat as la canicule (heat wave) overtakes the country.

Yesterday France celebrated La Fête Nationale, known to Americans as Bastille Day (but never called that here). Because it occurred on a Thursday, it has made for a nice long weekend. We had fireworks in Montréal the evening prior and I was able to watch them from home. 

During the summer months, we have Les jeudis en Malpère (Thursdays in the Malpère) where each Thursday evening several vineyards open for wine-tasting, entertainment and food. The first year I was here I made the rounds and got to know quite a few of the local domaines. I quickly filled my cave and I’m still tapping into it. Given that I have been aggressively on a low-carb diet for nearly a year, wine and spirits haven’t been in the picture.  So I doubt I’ll get to any of the events this year, but you never know. 

Just this week I came across this article from CNN. Based on the photo, I fully expected it be about La Rochelle and the Charente-Maritime, but it wasn’t. It was about my department, the Aude. It has been said before that this part of France is a well-kept secret. Maybe, maybe not. But for me, it is preferable as I enjoy the quiet and absence of crowds and traffic. 

In just two more weeks I will be traveling across the pond to Florida for my mother’s 97^th birthday celebration. From there I’ll head to Atlanta to visit with my youngest sister and her family. Friends Randy & Jerry are flying down from Grand Rapids, MIchigan to join us. I am looking forward to the fun. The summer is full but my heart and home are here in France. I know I will be anxious to return.