Alliance Française

Moving to France to live isn't the real deal if you're only going to speak pidgin French and hang out with ex-pats only, right?

Right.  That's not me. Us.  We are going to Get Right Into It. Speak French, and all that.  Oui.  I had a fair bit of fun brushing up on the old French earlier this year, but now it's for real, and it feels a bit different. A bit heavier. A bit more serious. 

I mean, we think it's cute when foreign tongues talk about 'sheeps' or refers to a dining table as 'she', but the French?  Non. Pas drôle. The French language, she is beautiful, and deserves our respect.

Righty-ho!  Off to enrole in Alliance Française are we!

Oh, boy.  I'm almost changing my mind about moving to France.....

Okay, I've arrived half way through the course (can't work out if it's Intermediate 2 or Beginners 2 and I'm too ashamed to even acknowledge the latter) and everyone has a five week head start on me, but still. The first bit went well and I managed to show off and prattle on and make people laugh - with me, I'm sure.  Bon.  Then we got to grammar and the homework everyone else had prepared in advance and I got to do on the spot. 

Things started to crumble.  Something about the Infinitif followed by 'de' or 'à' and - horreur -  LE SUBJONCTIF.  Je déteste LE SUBJONCTIF.  I mean WHY?? Why does there have to be this additional torture? Isn't it bad enough that we not only have to learn that a stamp is masculine and a letter is feminine but if we want to suggest to someone they put a stamp on a letter it requires a whole new declension?  WHY? 

I made the mistake of asking our teacher, the elegent and restrained Madame C. WHY?? It's daft, I said.  We've got enough on our plates trying to remember 'this', 'that', 'those' and 'these' have to correspond not only with the plurality of the object but also with the gender, and the applications aren't interchangeable as they are in ever-so-lovely and terribly versatile English, La Langue du Monde Civilisé, à mon avis.

"Hi don no why", she said, "hits a rrrule, a rrrrule, Puwla, 'an you mus lerrrn hit hif huw are gon to liv hin France".  "Yeah, but..", I started. "HITS A RRRRULE, YOU 'AF TO LERRRN HIT", she finished.

Okaaay. I 'af to lerrrrn hit.  Bugger. It's not easy being on the planet half ('alf) a century and then try to re-learn how to do more than order a meal and ask for directions - or ask out boys - in another language.   But you know what, that is all part of the programme and why we embalk upon the rich adventure of life and the challenges thrown us.   Isn't it?

Et La Vie Ne Sera Jamais Plus Le Même...

'We notify seller that all conditions have been met and in this regard your contract is now unconditional' .....and life shall never be the same again.

Salut!  It's been a while. An eventful while.  Life has moved quietly on these past months, and the enveloping Frenchness of life in the Languedoc became a memory, rather than a hope, as everyday life encroached.

Financial markets have been fraught, housing markets depressed.  Buyer confidence low, petrol prices high.  Unrest, disturbance, turbulence, unsurety and sometimes just tedium has prevailed.  There have been some high spots..

Cadel Evans won La Tour..

    ....and Samantha Stosur won the US Open. 

Go Aussies! 

The weather has been perfect, the jacarandas in splendid bloom, the beaches beautiful again after the ravages of last summer's cyclones. It's been a terrific year for the NZ sauvignon blancs.

I've seen a lot of Sarah, been re-united with Tenille, drunk magnums of champagne and danced around the living room wearing assorted hats. 

But there was always something just not quite right, a nostalgia, a feeling.

Where was the new chapter, the life change, la vie en rose?  Was it not meant to be?  For a while, it seemed so. We left it in the lap of the gods, and suddenly - there it was!  In a matter of 4 days we went from On the Market to Unconditional and we had our answer. Yes, you are on your way! Yes, it is going to happen! Say goodbye to Australia and bonjour to France!

We will arrive Spring 2012, Montpellier it is.  A momentous occurrence.  "Be careful, you may get what you think you want........"  Watch this space.

Que Faire? To move or not to move...

Well, dear readers, I have to admit my heart has been a little heavy for almost a month now, and I know exactly why.
You see, I don't know quite what to do.

Upon my return to the Gold Coast, I have found that the 'Glitter Strip' (why this place is so called is totally beyond me, perhaps I should be nice and suggest it's because the ocean glitters in the sunshine, although we all know that is so not why...) has lost its sparkle in terms of property values.

This means that our house will sell for less than it would have done six months or a year ago, which is not good news for someone wishing to sell up, run away to another country and buy a house there. For another country, read France, in case you weren't sure... 

On the flip side, the aussie dollar is at pretty much an all time high and thrashing most other currencies, meaning the situation may balance out. 

So, do we pursue the dream and press on regardless, or play it safe and hang out on the GC Glitter Strip and wait for the next upturn? 

In other words, comparing like with like, do we swap this....

for this.....

or this.....

or this.....

or even this.....???

What do you think we should do? Any landslide opinons shall carry the day, and the final decision shall be binding. For better or for worse!!

In Transit - Seoul and Smiling!

One of my biggest gripes is the time it takes to travel from Australia to mostly anywhere else in the whole world.  Too long, that's how long it takes.
However, this time, my return trip to the land Down Under simply flew by, despite my dreading the whole thing with a fear akin to my Fear Of Drowning.


I had a stop over of 36 hours in Seoul, you see, and I thought this was going to be just awful, especially travelling by myself and especially with no hotel booked for said stop over etc. etc.

I managed the first leg of the Paris - Seoul journey quite well, simply by sobbing uncontrollably with grief at my departure, until I fell asleep exhausted (much to the delight of my fellow passengers and the entire air crew).  Tip - sob uncontrollably on flights, and - mysteriously - the occupied seat next to you becomes vacant, thus enhancing your air space....

Once in Seoul airport, I consulted the Information desk to secure a hotel for my 36 hour sojourn, and was swiftly booked into the Garden E'Zen Hotel Downtown, and dispatched thence in an International taxi (swish).

I baulked at the sight of said hotel, but was too exhausted to put up much resistance.

Nestled in an enclave of similar hotels, all named along similar lines, this hotel required no ID, a cash up front payment, no paperwork, gave out no keys, dispensed popcorn and condoms from a vending machine in the tiny reception and featured rooms with NO WARDROBE, a king size bed, gigantic spa bath, a Korean all-singing all-dancing bum washing toilet, free in-room internet, a 60 inch TV offering free porn, and, finally, abundant free toiletries. Well! How thoughtful! I was thrilled. I love popcorn, and who can turn their nose up at free toiletries?

Crashing out immediately (long haul flights and sobbing are pretty tiring) I slept for seven straight hours, and then, after availing myself of the spa bath and the toiletries, I ventured out into the Big City. 

It was lovely! I had as nice a time as a single female traveller with not a word of Korean to her vocabulary, nor a map or working mobile, could possibly have!  People were very polite, I was unique in my Western-ness, there were lots of fashionistas about, the streets were busy and bustling and I enjoyed my prowl around a district I was now realising was rather popular with young people, seemingly all in couples, without luggage, checking into motels direct from work - after a nice dinner, of course.

I followed some of these couples into the Pho Bay restaurant and, after pointing enthusiastically at a photo of a colourful bowl of noodles, was fullsomely fed for about seven bucks. 

 Next, a coffee!  I stumbled across the Coffee Bean Tree and, boy, was I happy! Coffee so good I returned the next day and photographed their offering. A perfect, delicious, finely tuned, crema-led latte that underlined in spades what I had been missing for the last four months. Heaven.

Back at the hotel, not that tired, I decided to check my e mails on the free internet. Percolating through the lift shaft into my room, the gasps, grunts, sighs, moans, plus a shrill virtuoso performance from one female I could only surmise was auditioning for "Gerbils on Helium Do Dallas", soon put paid to my ethernet aspirations, and I headed for more sleep in my ultra-comfort Korean bed.
 
Next day, fortified by marvellous coffee/bagel combo from Paris Baguette, a repeat visit to Coffee Bean Tree,  a visit to Hyundai department store, a vigorous window shop at Seoul airport's high-end duty free, and - and - being chatted up by a Korean business man with no English other than the words 'you', 'very bootful' and 'love motel', I bade farwell to Seoul. I'd thoroughly enjoyed myself. Felt invigorated and relaxed all at the same time.  Ingenue yet worldly. Look forward to returning. No, really! After all, I have the knowlege, the insider low-down, on the Seoul high-life-hotel-hot-spot + top coffee = who could ask for anything more??

Madame Folie regrets.....

It's been a little quiet on the Folie Madame front, and with good reason. Unless something really dramatic takes place within the next day or two, my time here is has run out - for now.

Unable to change my ticket to remain until August or beyond, I've been advised I'll have to buy an entirely new ticket altogether and, frankly, I'd rather do that when our permanent return to France takes place, all things coming together as planned, later this year.

 Thus, as my thoughts start straying towards the Antipodes and my imminent return there, I've been dwelling on the comparisons, differences, pros and cons of both countries. What am I going to miss most about France and what am Iooking forward to greeting again in Australia? Here are a few of my thoughts, with more to follow later - accompanied almost exclusively by my photos from France, due to the fact that, well, I've been here, mostly.....

Food - the food is better here, almost without exception, as befits a nation obsessed with fine food and quite unaware of the delights of a processed meat pie. French cheese is divine beyond the realm of dreaming, however, I do miss a bit of mature cheddar AND - it's a big AND - proper parmesan with Italian food. For some inexplicable reason, the French don't 'do' parmesan and put emmental/gruyere on their pasta. What on eartth?? Is this a strange Southern foible? Why no shaved parmigiana on Aubergine Parmigiana?? Can anyone French help me with this? I am also, needless to say, looking forward to a cup of coffee worthy of the name and a Red Thai Chicken Curry. 

Markets – every town in France, big or tiny, has a weekly market, and they are wonderful!  Genuine home grown products, local food and drink, hand made goods - most of the markets I attended were mercifully light on Made in China tat, featuring instead stuff from France itself, Italy, Spain, India, Africa. My favourite buy – a hand embroidered, lined, white linen dress, made in Italy for 39 euros =
miraculous!

Picpoul de Pinet – my wine of choice, perfectly delicious and quite inescapable as the vineyards stretch as far as the eye can see. Yes, I will enjoy again a NZ Marlborough sauvignon blanc, but there is nothing quite like walking into town through the vineyards that produced the pichet of wine accompanying lunch. I shall really miss that. 

Dogs - liberté, égalité, fraternité applies to dogs, too, in France.  As a dog lover it is just a delight to know that, upon our return, Roly and Pepper will come out for lunch or dinner with us (and sit in the restaurant), have a stroll around the shopping centre (yes, inside), go to the beach (any beach), travel on any bus, train or plane (yes, in the cabin), grab a burger at McDonald's, be untroubled by constant leash wearing or council registration - and penalites for insubordination! - and generally be accorded the concessions and priviledges appropriate to Man's Best Friend.  Australia won't ever adopt this policy. Ever.

Coming soon, People and Places, favourite memories......

Pour les Filles - Hommes Français / For the Girls - French Men

No doubt, there is something quite distinctively unique about French Men. 

Having spent the last few months making my own quietly personal records of these distinguishing characteristics, I feel it is time to share my photographic observations with my female readers, who (probably) will find these images more interesting than their male counterparts. 

I have no judgement to pass, just one brief comment.  

They don't make them like this in Australia.

P.S. I shall be permanently re-locating to France later this year...........

P.P.S. To redress the balance, Folie Monsieur proposes a French Women post in the near future. Watch this space.

Toutes les Dernières Nouvelles - all the latest news

In response to an avalanche of complaints about arty pontification - okay, one complaint truth be told, and you know who you are, Jessica! - and requests for more detail of a 'personal' nature (Jessica again), here is the latest low down on life in the Languedoc.

Kirsty Jean came to visit. A delightful house guest who came close to threatening Sarah's Eat Your Body Weight in Brie world heavy weight title, but fell short on a technicality (she prefers goat's cheese). Our break-neck jaunt around the beauty spots of the Herault took in Séte, Pézenas, Montpellier and, of course, Marseillan, with Pézenas the clear winner for K-J, who had to be restrained from putting down an immediate deposit on an atelier and setting up an on-the-spot textile/ceramics workshop.  Several kilos of impulse purchases having been advance shipped back to Oz, K-J left us for Geneva and the next leg of her Demi Monde tour. Still sadly missed - hurry back Kirsty! 

Next to arrive was the irreplaceable Holly accompanied by Lola, the world's sweetest dog, who impressed my parents beyond belief as she spent six days in our company and DID NOT BARK ONCE. After exhaustive house hunting around the region, we recovered with a memorable session at the feet-eating Fish Spa of Pézenas.  Holly staggered back to Paris loaded up with many purple varietals of daisies from the garden, an art deco mirror and a floor length black fur coat from the fabulous Sunday brocante at Marseillan Plage, plus a greatly enhanced capacity for imbibing vast quantities of Picpoul de Pinet, our local - and very delicious - white wine. Due back in the latter weeks of May to replenish her daisy and Picpoul stocks, we just can't wait to see her again!

The Big Day of the Arrival of Folie Monsieur almost didn't happen as, not only did he have visa problems in Brisbane, once in France he then missed his train South from Paris! He did make it in the end, thanks to friendly French staff at the Gare de Lyon, and we were happily reunited after three months.  At the house, the swimming pool and the guitar (from the brocante!) were warmly received, the vagaries of the French language have been welcomed and the Sarah/Kirsty cheese challenge greeted with serious gusto.  Our trip to Morocco served to emphasise the ease with which exotic and far flung places can be reached from a European base, and, of course, the joy of encountering amazing cultures and expanding travel experiences - something we are both looking forward to embracing in the future!  It took Folie M. a few days to adjust to the pace and surroundings of his potential new home, but the two hour lunch ritual and the long, long sunlit, wine drenched evenings have quickly found a place in his heart.  We continue to explore our surroundings, checking out as many villages, towns, ports and beaches as we can to make sure our final choice is the right choice. 

Our latest house guests, played by The Lovely Katy and Folie M.’s Dad Lee, coincidentally staying at the same time, provided us with endless fun in the sun, cold wine and warm conversation, hilarious bicyle rides though the vineyards and a specially requested visit to Marseillan's  celebrated Chocolatée, made famous by this very blog -or at least I like to think so!  It's all starting to feel very much like home....

المغرب بالنسبة لي - L'impression Marocain

Dust and donkeys. 
Mint tea and the sound of the muezzin. 
Mopeds and market stalls. 
 Stray cats and street traders. 
The smell of woodsmoke, cumin and cigarettes.  Snake charmers and slipper sellers. Fragrant young girls, arms linked, weaving their way through fetid alleyways.
 
Tagine and couscous on every menu. 
Ornate fretwork and fabulous mosaics. 
Carpets, kilims, ottomans and kaftan in colours as rich as the spices lining the stalls in the souk. 
Medieval streetscapes, so convoluted maps can not record their detail. 
Mud huts as dwellings - windowless - yet with satellite dishes clustered on the roof. 
Djellaba, loose fitting and cool, in fine, soft cotton, worn by everyone, perfect for the environment. 

The thick heat of the market place soothed away by the reviving shelter of the Riad. 
A suffocating coach ride then the sea air of Essaouira, taking in the serenity of a seaside city and the sense of calm order in the celebrated Medina - a far cry from the madness of Marrakech.
Sweet, sticky pastries made with pistachio and almond, sesame and caramel, eaten with strong, black coffee.
Smoking a hookah after dinner, reclining on large silk cushions, watching the world go by through ornate wrought iron screens.

Sampling Moroccan wine, unavailable in the fine restaurants on the djemaa el fna, found only by following a local guide through the contorted cobbled streets.

Morocco is perhaps the closest thing to a time machine I'll ever find, a sensory roller-coaster ride through the middle ages to the twenty-first century and back again.  A photo opportunity lurks behind every door and inside every shop, on every bus ride and down any street, the saturated colours and sinuous shapes producing evocative results.  The sounds and smells are trickier to capture, but impossible to forget.  Best of all, for me, is knowing this kingdom of contrasts is a ferry trip or quick flight away and all my memories can be refreshed in a mere hour or two. We'll be back....