Saturday, Lalinde and St. Emilion, June 27

So Sharon, Art and I went in to Lalinde this morning to the (very small) Saturday market. Didn't do much damage, bought some potatoes and parsley and walnut oil (from the farmer who made in, in a juice jar) and some walnuts (same lady). Some of that wonderful pate de canard en croute from my favorite charcuterie (butcher, etc.), also rillettes d'oie (goose rillettes, which is what you get when you cook the rest of the bits of meat from the goose (or duck or pork, in which case it would be rillettes de canard or just rillettes in the case of porc, unless it is only porc and then they call it rillettes de porc) in some kind of fat for a LONG time until it sort of melts and makes wonderful stuff to put on a big chunk of a baguette along with some mustard or something and call it a sandwich. Smooth pate is almost as good as really good rillettes. The pate en croute (in a crust, or basically wrapped and baked in pastry) has duck, pistachios, chips of truffles and Lord only knows what else with a cylinder of foie gras down the middle. Consomme or meat jelly of some sort filling up the cracks. It is SO good. A slice of this stuff maybe with some Dijon mustard if you like it, a couple of cornichons (tiny tiny pickles), a glass of wine, a piece of fruit, and a torn off chunk of French bread makes a wonderful lunch. I doubt that many Frenchmen eat it this way, but it's one of those meals that makes you feel sorry for anybody who's never tried it.

Sharon and Art Jistel are here. They live in Austin, Texas. Sharon is two days younger than I am, grew up in Goliad County, and we went to high school together. She's the only person in my h.s. class that I still keep track of. She looks a lot better than I do forty-odd years later. How in the world did I get to be this old?!? We had a lot of fun today, though. Took the key to their rental car back to Bergerac, visited the (minimal) Saturday market in Lalinde and bought some "provisions", some discussed above. Also some bread and some of those wonderful almond craquants (almost burnt almond cookies, basically, mostly sugar and butter, I'm certain) sold at this bakery on the square in Lalinde. They are basically to die for, and will stick in your teeth.

After we dealt with their car (Art has this phobia about driving over here--I told him it is mostly just like driving a car...), and a lunch "al fresco" on our terrace--bread, cheese, olives, a bit of wine--the three of us took off to St. Emilion, which is a trek, but a nice one. I'm not sure they had ever heard of it. When I told them, however, that (a) it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and (b) that you can do serious wine tasting FOR FREE, they perked up.

St. Emilion was a lot of fun, although we didn't stay all that long. I managed to find a parking place up on top of the hill/mountain, which meant I didn't have to do a lot of climbing to get to the main streets up at the top. I did, however, have to go down that steep road of VERY SMOOTH, SLICK rocks to get to the big amphitheatre like area that is partly old church (I think), partly open area with restaurants and shops, and is surrounded by astonishing views of the center of St. Emilion. I managed to slip and (almost) fall going down, despite my cane, but did no harm. We had a ball at Ets. Martin I think it was tasting wines and buying a few that are serious St. Emilion vintages (the ones I bought were "cheap" by their standards...). Sharon and Art bought a case and are having it shipped home to Texas. It was fun.

Came back to Couze and got in late...it may have been almost 8:00 p.m. Had a bottle of Bergerac Rose, the local summer drink over here, while we made dinner. Confit de canard (duck legs and gizzards--hey, Art likes them, gizzards, that is, and so do I, and I had two cans, so I did the only honorable thing and opened one of them), which is duck legs seasoned and cooked very slowly for a very long time in duck fat. These were canned but OMG they were good. Pommes de terre sarladaises, e.g., very good new potatoes sliced thin but not too thin, sauteed in duck fat, salted, sprinkled with finely chopped garlic (from NEW garlic) and flat leaf parsley, chopped. With it we had a salad, one of my concoctions--arugula, walnuts, Roquefort, dressed with wine vinegar and walnut oil. Would have been better with Balsamic instead of wine vinegar, but the walnuts and walnut oil were from the old Gascon lady at the market who raises the walnuts and makes the oil. And a bottle of red wine. Nobody wanted cheese or dessert after.

Tomorrow I THINK we're off to Issigeac to the market in the morning and Beynac the English castle from the Hundred Years' War up the Dordogne, in the afternoon...

Bon appetit!

last post, yesterday (Friday, June 26, maybe)

So my last post, with a photo of the market, neither got saved, with its photo, or posted. Rats. It also had a description of a lunch we had of fish from the Lalinde market, something called "limande", which looked rather like sole, although I knew it wasn't (sole is called "sole" even in France), but also looked REALLY fresh, so I bought some of it. Cooked it in butter, and put (as well as salt and pepper) green peppercorns on it. We ate it with buttered new potatoes and a salad and bread, along with some more of that red Bergerac wine in the water bottle, and then had cheese (OMG is the cheese over here not just GOOD but also cheap, compared with the prices you pay in the US). Not a bad way to go.

On the other hand, we haven't had any luck getting a plumber who knows what he's doing over here to repair the damage done when we had the cave (cellar) finished and a half bath put in down there, not to mention the other plumbing problems upstairs in the house from the same person putting in Phil's tub, moving the sink, etc. The cave is sort of full of water. Well, not FULL of water, but there's a leak in the plumbing in the half bath down there. I've been trying to get a plumber over here (and yes, yes, if I had been able to decipher Jeannette Dumas's letter from some months ago, I would have realized there was a BIG problem, and perhaps done something to resolve it--she and the guy reading the water meter turned the water off to address the problem--but I didn't, AND what with Sarah's wedding and all that I didn't manage to get around to phoning her until I think it was the day before we were leaving to come over here...)...anyway we've been trying to get a plumber over here since we arrived almost two weeks ago, with no success. And we DON'T want to call the guy to put in the stuff improperly and caused the problem. I/we just want it FIXED and FIXED PROPERLY. So I finally asked Jeannette if she knew anybody as the guy who is supposed to be great and who had originally put in the heating system wasn't returning our calls. She managed to get this kid named Sebastien over here late this afternoon, except it was too late to go to Bergerac and get the parts he needs.

The only problem with this is that my friends Art and Sharon Jistel (I went to high school with Sharon) were coming tonight to stay for several days, until the day we leave for Germany). So they are down there in the cave, with a toilet and COLD WATER only in the sink, and a constant drip from the tank there, bit drip. I hope nobody slips and falls, because the floor is tile.

I tried to calm Phil down by pointing out that it's extraordinary for a house in France to have two toilets, let alone three. It didn't work.

Sebastien is supposed to come back on Monday and fix several of the problems, including the leak downstairs, and then return later to put in a line for hot water for the sink downstairs, as well as a couple of other non-urgent repairs. ALSO, Jeannette has known this kid since he was about 3, and his parents live in the house just above ours, so I suspect he will actually do what he said he'll do. A whole new concept. On top of which, he told me who to contact to repair the washing machine and fix the cooker so the oven will work. Another new concept.

wednesday 24 june

Sarah wants me to post photos, so I'll try...P's comment when I brought out that "water" bottle was "not your typical bottle of water..."it's actually Bergerac Rouge and I filled it up from a barrel, I guess, at least from a hose that looks a lot like a gasoline hose and nozzle, except it's plastic. A place down the road that (I think) is associated with a vineyard around here, except they also sell stuff like Montbazillac (a sweet, white dessert wine from an area south of Bergerac about 10 miles from Couze, not unlike Sauterne, but a lot cheaper) and the usual "produits regionnaux", e.g., confit, foie gras, etc.

The problem is that this comment above is for the photo down on the bottom, and the photo here is Jeannette Dumas house, at least the back of it, with her garden, or the part that isn't up on top of the wall to the left.

Part of my problem is that this business of having actual more or less competent internet access at my house is a totally new concept, especially since I seem to be stuck with WinTel (bloody Bill Gates, to you, David Tall) equipment...so there. At home in Kentucky, our internet, when it works at all, is SLOW, what with being out in the boonies and depending on satellite service. So there. Again.

I hate Bergerac. It's ugly, dirty, I suspect most of it except for Vielle Bergerac is post-WWII. Spent all afternoon over there making reservations for our trip next week to Switzerland (Basel) for P to do something or other with a guy there (can't remember his name), and then to Marburg to visit Evelyn Korn, a mathematician/economist/biologist who visited us last winter, and who is just great to be around, and on to Tubingen to visit for a couple of days at Nico Michael's (not sure how you spell it, it's Flemish), and then back. Had a dreadful time at the SNCF station in Bergerac. The lady who was helping me couldn't speak ANY English, and she didn't slow down in French even when I asked her to, AND she couldn't access the Swiss and German timetables and reservation system on her computer. So we only managed two of the reservations we need. I bought Eurail passes, but you still have to have reservations on all these fast trains. Then I went to the FranceTelecom place and bought one of these mobile phones you can use without contracting for two years' service. The woman who helped me there couldn't speak any English, either, but she at least had a good attitude. I'm exhausted.

This is the photo that was upposed to be up on top.

Lillie

Occitan

I still don't know how to pronounce "Occitan". I THINK the guy on the airplane from Cincinnati to San Francisco (a Ph.D. in Linguistics, teaches linguistics at the Sorbonne part-time, and actually makes a living teaching French to English speakers in Paris (probably mostly Americans, but hey, I'M an American) , who grew up near Toulouse, told me it's pronounced "oksitan" (this is not the proper way to explain it, nor the phonetic way to write it, but I took a course in that, and hated it), but when I used this pronunciation the other day here, while talking to a couple of Brits, was told it was pronounced "okkitan" (again NOT the proper way to write this). so I basically don't have a clue.

HOWEVER, what he did tell me, that I am certain is correct, is that the names of all these places, like Bergerac, Issigeac, Beynac, Soirac, etc., that end in "ac", are ALL Occitan names, not French.

So there...

lillie...

correction

what I meant was that the sink in the cave doesn't work, as the water has been turned off, but the toilet in the cave works. Everything else (except the cooker's oven) seems to more or less work. Personally, I can live a long time without an oven, unless I get a yen to cook bread or an upside down cake or something--and why in the world would someone want to do this in France?!? So I am not stressed a lot about not having an oven (and hey, there's a microwave, or "micro-onde" as they call them here), and now I have actually figured out how to turn the burners on without using a match. What you have to do is to turn the knob, and then press the top button on the front over to the right, and it will make the electronic ignition work. It's kinda like a sophisticated version of my mother's aunt's stove, the aunt I spent so much time with when I was a kid. She had to use a match, as hers didn't have a pilot OR electronic ignition.

I managed to plant a bunch of begonias (bought them at the Issigeac market on Sunday) in the planters today, so the place looks better outside. Also, P has cleared all the "Tree of Heaven" nasty invasive trees up on the ledge above the house, both above ours and above Mme. Dumas's house. Also all the other weeds and rubbish that have grown up there since last year. There's this ledge or berm or dirt thing between the stone wall at the back of our terrace and the other stone wall (the one in really bad shape). I'm not sure which one of them was the exterior stone wall to the castle; maybe both of them were. It looks a lot better, though, and Jeannette loves it when he does this. The tacky little balcony now has a hanging planter off it. I say it's tacky because it's just big enough to go out onto and look at the sunset, and not big enough to take a chair or anything else out onto. I have no idea why anyone would bother to make a balcony, and not make it at least big enough to sit on. There is a great view.

Can't remember whether the castle that used to be above us was destroyed in the revolution (1789-ish) or during the Hundred Years' War. Seems like it's the Hundred Years' War. People think that our house was probably the gate-house for the castle. The Hundred Years' War was certainly fought up this river valley, and responsible for a lot of the change around here. One of the Englishmen we know who lives here thinks that the remains of what appeared to be a boarded up stone door down in the cave (hey, we covered it up with drywall and things...) was many hundreds of years ago the door to a tunnel to the old castle.

And a big problem, for me, at least, is that there's evidently nothing we can do to alter the bottom steps to the alley leading up to the cottage. THey are VERY OLD and VERY STEEP, and are evidently original to the old castle. We put in some steps up the alley that make it rather easier to climb, but the bottom 3 or 4 are a big problem for some of us...so far, I haven't fallen or slipped, but I don't carry stuff up the alley. So there...

Everything is so very different over here, and land is generally at such a premium, although this isn't a particularly crowded part of France. There is evidently a war going on between Mme. Dumas (next door), and the couple who live across the road in an old Boulangerie (bakery). They have bought that building, and own the garden halfway up our alley (she calls it her "pelouse"...don't ask...), and evidently seem to think that, as a consequence, the entire piece of road separating the two pieces of property belongs to them. They have a garage in their house, but they never park a car in it, and they have two cars. They park both of them on the road, which means that we can't park our car at the bottom of the walk/alley, as there is only space for two cars on the road. The last time I checked, the road was a public conveyance, AND the alley up the mountain/hill is the responsibility of not only us, but also of all the property owners whose property borders the land, e.g., the people in the old boulangerie and the guy who owns the house on the other side. Neither of these parties offered to pay their 1/3 of the cost of improving the alley/walk up the mountain (hey, we did it...a couple of us were afraid that yours truly might fall going up there...). The other guy is okay. But the couple that owns the old boulangerie (Fernand and Mme. Roy) are not okay; they remind us of the couple who lived directly behind us on Nicholasville Road many, many years ago. We lived on Nicholasville Road, and they lived on Lackawanna...I won't elaborate, but she was a ***** and he sort of sat or stood there wringing his hands. This couple is the same sort. Mme. Dumas hates them, and would, I think, very much like for us to take them on. We aren't going to. Life is far too short to fight with people like them...

Lillie

Tuesday, 23rd June

So my friend from high school and her husband (there is a VERY short list of people I keep up with from high school, and she's about the only occupant) are arriving on Friday for three or four days. I need to get the cave cleaned up and figure out what to do about water for the sink down there (there's a half bath, you see, but the water to the sink is turned off, since, as I've mentioned before, the plumbing wasn't properly installed and it LEAKS big time). The toilet works, though, and it's not all that bad, except for the cobwebs and the floor needs cleaning, and the bed needs making. The "cave" is what an American would call a "cellar", but we had it finished last year, and it's now a bedroom and half bath, tiled floor, heater, lights, the whole works. Problem is that the house is sort of built into the side of the mountain, so you can't get upstairs from the cave without going outside, around and up some stone steps, and into the main floor of the house, which is actually basically two rooms and a bathroom with a shower. The other bedroom used to be the attic, and has another (sort of) bathroom in it, with a tub (that's Phil's...I use the shower, as I can't get into and out of tubs, plus I don't much like them). Except that right now the sink has no water. The toilet works, though, which is, I guess, a compensation.

My aunt has suggested that I get a housekeeper to help me with the cleaning (here they call it a "femme de menage") and it's actually a really good idea as it's really hard on my nonexistent joints (back knees, hands, shoulders...) to do housework. I plan to have a chat with Mme. Dumas about it; she's the lady next door who I've mentioned is very territorial about our cottage. She doesn't actually clean it when we're gone, but she airs it out, and she re-organized my kitchen, cupboards and a bunch of other stuff, after we left last year. She would be seriously insulted if I did anything without discussing it with her first. What she speaks is Occitan, too; she understands everything I say, and I understand about 30-40% of what she says.

Yesterday I bought a bunch of canned confit de canard, and we had a couple of the duck legs, with 'pommes de terre Sarladaise' and a green salad last night. What you do is cook sliced potatoes (hey, new ones...) in duck fat from the confit de canard, and put chopped fresh garlic and parsley on them, along with the salt and pepper (and this time of year, the fresh garlic is just that, not at all like the stuff you get in a supermarket in the US), and then brown the duck legs in the fat. Drink with a local red, and it's hard to get food that is much better. So there.

Today I cooked a couple of veal scallops I bought yesterday, dipped them in flour, cooked a couple of kinds of mushrooms with shallots in butter, cooked the veal in butter and olive oil, made a sauce from the flour, veal broth and white wine, and cooked it all for awhle. It was not in the same league as the veal scallopini I buy when I can find it in the US. The veal was tough, which I didn't expect, although it was thick. Flavor was good. We ate it with bread, the local Pecharmant from the keg, and had cooked fruit (hey it was going bad, so I cooked it in butter with cognac and chestnut liqueur), and CHEESE. Lord, the cheese is good...

So when I told P today that I was having a bad day, he said and I quote: "How can you tell? you've slept through at least half of it..." I will try to go to bed earlier tonight so perhaps I can get up earlier. It's hard to convince myself to go to bed when I finally am feeling pretty good, and getting out of bed in the morning is really dreadful. It feels like I'm bolted to the bed, and everything will hurt if I move it. And then it seems to take FOREVER to get going. But I will try. It's sort of necessary if I ever want to get to a market.

A couple of people have suggested that I post photos. I will do so after (a) I take some and (b) I figure out how to post them...

I have to do something tomorrow about reservations for our train trip to Switzerland and Germany--Basel, Marburg and Tubingen. Phil will be doing science. I will not. I think I may be done with being a serious person, e.g., a professional. Am having a bit of a problem getting my head around this idea, but I suspect I will eventually manage.

A plus tard, lillie

housekeeping

Having responded to Therese's comment, hey, Phil is doing a great job washing up after meals (but not, however, putting away...). and I'm happy to feed anybody who wants to help out!. People who know me reasonably well know that you won't go hungry, either...and over here, it's (a) difficult to eat badly and (b) REALLY difficult to eat badly if you actually go to the effort to COOK. PLUS now my cooker works...

this and that

I love feedback.

Ended up spending a great deal of the day doing errands in Bergerac. There's a lot to be said for not letting anybody like a husband tell you where to go to get x, y or z. I FINALLY found the plastic stuff for his string trimmer (went to the place where we bought the bloody thing...), had a ball in LeClerc in Bergerac. They are expanding and re-organizing the joint, which means you can't find anything where it used to be. It's not unlike the Kroger Marketplace they have just opened in Lexington, except there's an evidently unlimited supply of wonderful cheese, at less than half what we would pay for it in the US, wonderful very fresh fish (a bit dear...), great meat, including horse and veal (try finding that on a regular basis in Lexington, I mean the veal; the horse, never), great fresh veg and fruit, things like really good aioli in jars, and "produits regionnaux", e.g., foie gras, fresh and canned, cassoulet, confits de canard, which is duck legs seasoned and cooked for a long time in duck or goose fat, and then canned. It's not cheap, either, but it's a lot better than the stuff I make back in Kentucky, and omg is it good.

Christiane Caillet, one of our friends in Versailles (actually the mother of our friend Isabelle) once said she felt sorry for anyone who didn't live in France; she was looking at a tray of desserts at the time. IMHO she could have been looking at a tray of any food over here.

I also went to this place on the road to Couze (the one that runs by the Dordogne) associated with a Pecharmant vineyard around here (an AOC Bergerac) on my way home. They have wine that you can buy directly from a keg, at basically a pittance (1 euro 95/litre for the good stuff, 1 euro 20/litre for the plonk) and pour it into a container you bring yourself from a gizmo that looks a great deal like a nozzle for gasoline, except it's plastic (and a LOT cheaper than gasoline). Managed to get away with only 1.5 litres of red Bergerac, but also a couple of cans of confit de canard (duck legs cooked in fat again), Montbazillac from 2005 (sweet dessert wine, wonderful with foie gras, called the "poor man's Sauterne", but IMHO the "poor" isn't exactly appropriate). Phil had a ton of stuff to haul up the hill/mountain when I got back.

Aside from that shopping trip, I've finished two novels, started on a third book that is not a novel, but I'm irritated at it already. I'm feeling a bit hopeless because I really do hate housework, and I also really hate living in a dirty house; I seem to have a high tolerance for clutter, but not for a dirty house. This means I need to get my act together and do some more serious cleaning. I am losing the battle of the cobwebs, but I guess I'm not surprised, even though I've actually been working fairly hard at it. Am having trouble with the washing machine; I know these European machines that are front loaded and slow are supposed to be easier on your clothes, but I think they are a PIA. And this one seems to be a bit ill. And I think it's the timer. or whatever they call it. It runs more or less just fine (provided you don't overload it...) until you hit the rinse cycle. And then you seem to have to turn it off (!), make the button pop out, the whole works, and then turn it back on to the rinse cycle, and then repeat, and turn it on to the spin cycle. CRAP. I do NOT want to have a problem with this machine. Problems with the timer or whatever you call it tend to be terminal, e.g., it's smarter to replace the whole machine than to fix them...

On the other hand, I have NO IDEA whether the dryer works or not. The weather is almost perfect. Dry, warm in the daytime, cool in the evening. It worked last year.

The microwave works; the electricity is on; the cooker top works, as does the electric kettle. I may actually manage to clean the china cabinet with its year of mildew and mold buildup, as well as the floor (tile, not smooth, bit of a pain). The plumber still hasn't been around again to deal with the plumbing problems we have, but I am trying not to get excited about it. The cave needs cleaning (where the second bedroom is, "cave" = "cellar", except it's basically finished wiuth a floor, ceiling, walls, doors, potty, sink, beds, etc...) cobwebs, a year's worth of dust, things like that. M. Vontabel (I think that's his name, he's a plumber from French speaking Switzerland) who put in the heating system, came over and assessed the plumbing system. Evidently it needs work, but what has been done to date is to cut off the H2O to the sink in the cave, which means that there is no longer a lot of water on the floor. I have to clean these two rooms out this week. THe toilet still works down there.

M. Vontobel will come back when he can and fix all the plumbing, as I understand it. This is the French system; it happens "sometime"....

In the meantime, I do love it over here. Attitudes towards life are just different. And it's good.

Bon appetit! A bientot!

Lillie

another post today (Sunday)

I'm not absolutely certain about this, but what I think I DIDN'T post earlier today was a discussion of my hopeless attempt to purchase (a) potting soil so I can plant the begonias I bought in the planters, (b) a file to sharpen Phil's clipper thing for branches, and (c) some wine at the place down the road where you use a gasoline-line pump thing to fill up your water bottle with the local plonk for next to nothing... The next time he tries to bully me into going searching for such stuff in France on a Sunday afternoon, I WILL REBEL. NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING, is open on a Sunday afternoon in rural France, or in the cities, for that matter. I think it has NOTHING to do with religion; it's just the way they have always done things. Sunday dinner is a 7 hour affair that begins about 1:00 p.m., and involves all the family and extended family, and NOTHING is going to interfere.

Plus I got lost in Bergerac. I did finally find where I was trying to go to, but it did no good; everything was closed. I wasted an hour and a half of my life trying to buy potting soil in Bergerac...and I have no idea where I was when I got lost; I was just suddenly not in Bergerac, was out in the country, turned around and went back to the center of town, and eventually found the road I wanted to be on. It was a seriously wasted afternoon...but we had a "salad" of beets (you buy them cooked over here, not sure why, but hey...), celery, thinly sliced red onions (not many), thinly sliced fresh fennel, served with this WONDERFUL aioli you can get in a jar. Along with a (black) wine from Cahors, tuna steaks from the market with herbes de Provence on them, cooked rather quickly in EVOO and butter, (no salt or pepper, put that on when you eat it...), bread. Not bad for about 10 minutes' work. I can't believe how good the aioli is. I have made the stuff from scratch, and I'm not sure it's as good as this stuff I bought in the supermarket...

Tomorrow Phil has his French lesson from Nathalie somebody. I don't go; for awhile we both went, but he kept deferring to me, and while I could certainly benefit from French lessons, I must suggest that he needs them more, and gets little benefit when he gets me to answer all her questions. Plus, at this stage in my life, I don't much care; I seem to be able to function over here okay with the French I already know.

Oh, I also bought 10 of the things called "canelles", which are funny looking pastries that are sort of unique to this area (esp. Bordeaux). They are sort of a cross between a muffin and a sweet yeasty pastry, cooked in a special pan that has been used for decades and is so coated with butter and sugar that there's this crusty exterior...I have a recipe in a book from Bordeaux, but have never tried to make them...

And THEN there were the roulades, the "wheels" of duck breast (these were shrink wrapped and in a market stall) complete with the fat and skin of the duck, tied around a cylindrical piece of foie gras. I didn't buy them, but I suspect I will the next time I see them. Sort of the ultimate decadence, n'est-ce pas? I was salivating over them and some English woman asked me what they were. I told her, suggested that one might as well slit open the veins and just plaster the plaque or whatever they call it to the insides...They were expensive, too, but jeez.....that's gotta be wonderful, cooked in duck fat (not much, but what else?), served with sauteed potatoes, green salad, red wine....

Maybe I'll go back to Issigeac next Sunday; I haven't yet seen these things anywhere else...

Happy Father's Day, not that I have a father to tell it to...

Lillie

other villages

Since I basically missed the market in Lalinde last Thursday and I need some flowers to put in these planters I've got to tart the place up, I went to the Sunday market in Issigeac. It's clearly a lazy little town up on a hill (that seems to be the case: either a town is on a river or at the top of a hill, sometimes both) and it is seriously medieval. Half-timbered buildings. The streets are a maze. The Germans clearly dodged it in 1944. Actually it warrants a return trip to look around, not just to shop. I bought food and things, a couple of gifts, a new coin purse (the one I've been using for several years, also purchased at a market in France, no longer stays closed, which is a real problem over here where you have to carry around so many coins). Came back when I ran out of cash; I couldn't find an ATM anywhere in the place. The vendors there aren't the same ones that come to Lalinde. A lot of people--farmers, craftsmen, people hawking soaps, fishmongers, vintners--seem to just make the rounds of markets. I haven't inquired, but I doubt they have actual shops, although some of them do, like the couple at the market in Lalinde who sell artisanal country breads they make in Montpazier. She has business cards, and I started talking to her about it once.

I am losing the battle of the cobwebs.

We didn't go to the fete de musique last night. Phil was working on his online journal, and I was tired and so didn't put up a fuss.

Saturday, 20 June

So there's a Fete de Musique going on in Lalinde tonight, it's sort of a French night market with a bunch of bands, I think. AND there's one going on in Couze. We're not going to either one, as Phil has finally tackled the mountain of back work on (I think) the online ecology journal. Martin phoned to tell me that some French lady had answered when he phoned on the free line; I suggested that just maybe he got a number wrong...his mower isn't working right, and it's probably yet another belt problem, and how exactly am I supposed to deal with it on a Saturday afternoon from over here?

A French night market is a phenomenon totally different from an Asian night market, the only two I've ever experienced. I am not certain, but I suspect it may be unique to this part of France, too. It's not a "market" in the sense that you go to shop. It's a market in the sense that you go to eat and drink and in some cases, dance. There are all these stalls set up around the edge of the old market place in a village, and they have tables and chairs set up in rows. You bring cutlery, plates, etc., or you don't, and you stake out a spot, and buy food and wine, and eat, drink and be merry. Moules frites (steamed mussels with French fries), oysters (and the lovely guy you buy them from opens them for you!), bottles of wine, Phil gets some foie gras, you buy a loaf of bread, stuff like that. It's a summer phenomenon, and I don't have a clue where all they have these night markets, but I'm certain they didn't have them in Avignon or Villeneuve-les-Avignon. Or that place we stayed that time in the Ardeche.

I forgot about tomorrow being Sunday, and don't exactly have meals in the works. But then I figured out that Sunday morning is market day at Issigeac (yet another village not too far from here...) so we won't starve. AND I may be able to get some plants to put in those planters.

Phil did a string trimming job on the "garden", "jardin", which is about the size of the terrace. Jeannette next door had not only tidied up the beds and cut stuff back, but also had re-organized the storage system in my kitchen. She chewed me out because I had left last year with the glasses stored top side up, and a few things like that. She's a piece of work in some ways, but she's very territorial about the cottage, not to mention opinionated. I think she's a hoot. Evidently they are going to put a sewer system through up here. Good news. What we (and everyone else up here) have is a crazy self-contained septic system that I do not understand AT ALL.

Something has gone crazy with this Blogger gizmo. I do not understand it.

I am trying to figure out how to post pictures.

Another thing though, that I am occasionally reminded of; you do not realize how tired you are until you slow down. Sarah's wedding really, really wiped me out. My shoulder hurts, my hip hurts (the rheumatologist thinks it's bursitis), and it's hell getting up and down the steps to this place, but boy is it nice not having a ton of stuff to do...

On a happier note, we had black wine of Cahors with lunch, along with chicken salad (rotisserie chicken from the other day, celery, mayonnaise out of a jar that makes Hellman's taste like Miracle Whip...) and leftover potatoes cooked with butter, an onion and lardons (a relative of bacon). Life is good. It beats the alternative...

State of house, continued

It's Friday, I think.

June 19. Tomorrow or the next day is the longest day of the year. It's 10:10 p.m., and it's not yet dark, at least not completely. The sunset across the river (which mean, across the Dordogne River valley) is lovely and red.

A miracle occurred today. Last year we got the "cave" aka cellar, mostly finished, putting in a bedroom and a half bath. This involved a certain amount of disruption, and the guy doing the work is, shall we say, not in the same league as George DeJarnette, the contractor we use in Kentucky. The cooker/range upstairs in the kitchen runs on electricity and propane tanks (very common everywhere in the world except the USA), and the propane tanks were in the cave/cellar. We moved them up to the kitchen, and after hooking them up, never could get the cooker to work last year. This wasn't a huge disadvantage since (a) it's very difficult to eat badly in France, whether you are eating out all the time, cooking all the time, or buying food already prepared all the time, and (b) it was very few days after we did this that we returned to the USA, and it was no longer an issue. The biggest problem here is that I get ancy if I have to go many days without cooking, which is a personal problem, not a serious one for anyone but me.

So we returned to France four days ago, and the cooker still didn't work, notwithstanding the fact that the two propane tanks are both full. There's been a problem with the water (leaks in the newly renovated parts of the 'cave'), and a plumber came to turn the water back on the day we were to return. Rumor is that he's going to return to fix the problem. I don't care what the problem is; I don't care what caused it; I just WANT IT FIXED. SO THERE.

Another issue (hey, these are minor, compared with the issues we faced last year!) was the large, heavy, lovely mirror on the wall in the living room/lounge that had sort of fallen down. Fortunately it didn't break, nor did it do much damage to the table beneath it, where it fell. Today, Friday, Ken, our English friend who lives here and knows everyone, if very nice, has a wonderful wife--we adore them both--came over and not only brought the right kind of wire to re-hang the mirroe (I had at great expense bought a serious amount of the wrong stuff), but hung it with Phil's help AND fixed my cooker (by himself--let's hear it for engineers!).

So I went out and bought coquilles St. Jacques (scallops with egg sacs attached...), pommes de terre (new potatoes), and of course more cheese and wine, and cooked dinner for a change.

More later, maybe even tonight...

Lillie

Status of house in Couze, Perigord, Dordogne, France

So we've been here almost a week. Got here Monday afternoon (15th, I think) after three flights, Lexington, KY to Atlanta, ATL to Paris CDG, and CDG to Bordeaux. Brutal. Phil says I slept a couple of hours on the flight from ATL to CDG, but I'm not sure I actually did, although I tried. He didn't, even though I gave him a Benadryl pill; next time I'll give him two. He has RLS (if you don't watch the telly, it's restless leg syndrome, and while it's a bit of a bother when he's at home, it's a real problem when he's trying to sleep on an airplane), and I've tried to get him to get some meds for it to take when he travels, but without success.

The good news is that we arrived in Bordeaux essentially on time, unlike last year, when there were several disasters (don't ask, but they involved losing a wallet in Paris CDG, discovering that we had to go through security at CDG YET AGAIN after having bought a bottle of Duty Free Scotch in ATL (NEVER AGAIN), and having to figure out how to check it, on top of which the flight from ATL was late so we of course missed the flight to Bordeaux, couldn't phone the guy in Bordeaux who was bringing us the leased car, and really pissed him off...it was NOT a good experience!)...

Soooo, although I got overheated (getting old is the pits), and not much is AC over here, we did get to Bordeaux essentially on time, our luggage was indeed on the plane, the car lease guy was there, and there were no problems getting to Couze, which is not quite a two hour drive from the Bordeaux airport. It's near Lalinde, past Bergerac, overlooking the Dordogne River.

Despite a few problems (the water had been turned off because of a leak, but it's been turned back on, pending another serious visit from a plumber), annoyances because it has been vacant for a year, the range/cooker didn't work AT ALL, it was all in pretty good shape...

We arrived, I checked a few things out, went to the supermarket and bought some things like bread, cheese, ice, (don't ask--it's for me and my iced tea) , jam, butter, to tide us over until the next day. Also a coffee grinder (we brought beans over for Phil, and the house already had an electric kettle and press pot, but Phil can't find any already-ground coffee over here he likes for breakfast--I gave up and am bringing it over, so there!).

Went to bed (fortunately I had left with the bed changed, etc., and covered with an old linen sheet and plastic cover, so we could just fall in!). The next day (I guess that was last Tuesday), I basically refused to get out of bed until about 1:00 p.m., which these French people over here have the nerve to call 13:00 hours....jeez...

Later, Lillie