Hâte à l'hiver....

It's been interesting to note reactions when it is revealed we are going to live in France, moving to the the Northern Hemisphere.

One of the non positive responses goes something like 'oh my god, think of those winters!'. 

As I was fondling a soft black leather Samvara bag (on left -should I buy it? really expensive..), lusting after a pair of black suede boots seen on line and coveting a mongolian lamb gilet, I suddenly realised I LOVE THE WINTER!  In fact, being a true goth at heart, I'd pick a floor length coat over a sun dress any day and the idea of being able to wear leather gloves again makes my heart sing.

Is this strange?  I have many friends who will be horrified by my words and would gladly spend their entire lives in a never-ending summer.  But that's not me.  I can appreciate the ease offered by dressing in little more than singlet, shorts and thongs year round, but overall I do find it rather boring.  I loathe the ever present humidity that saps energy and turns hair to mush and am truly looking forward to good hair days x 365 once we hit humidity free French shores! 

There is nothing nicer than a glass of red beside a crackling log fire and my favourite foods are all cold weather rib-stickers - shepherd's pie, casseroles, stews, French onion soup, lasagne, lamb shanks, Sunday roasts. 

I'm naturally attracted to velvet curtains, leather sofas, persian rugs and chandeliers, none of which 'gel' particularly
well with 38 degree days, 87% humidity and loose sand from the beach. 

Suffice to say I'm stoked at the thought of donning my Russian hat again and stalking out into the crisp morning for a hot chocolate. 

But what of Folie Monsieur who doesn't own a sweater, never mind a coat? Who daydreams about body surfing and year round poolside barbies? What of Roly, Pepper and Oscar who have never seen snow? How will they react? All will be revealed soon enough, I guess, and it's no fluke that we selected the South of France and not Brittany or Scotland! And the good thing about a proper winter (apart from the fabulous clothes!) is that it makes a flower filled spring followed by a long, hot summer all the easier to appreciate. That said, you might want to ask me again how I feel about winter this time next year...

r...

Je ne regrette rien....?

In less than one month's time we shall be living in Montpellier.  Rue Henri René, a few paces from Place de la Comedie.  Un bijou pied à terre until we find our permanent home.  Formidable, right??  Hmmm....

I had no idea it would feel so - strange - unsettling, and sometimes just plain crazy to take such a step. I mean, it all felt idéal when we were there last year, didn't it?  We loved it, had a great time, could picture ourselves there in a heartbeat.  However, but, BUT - now that our house has been sold, our goods have been shipped, our pets innoculated and booked one way (!) Cathay Pacific to CDG, it all seems, well, very scary, very final.

Are we in for a rude awakening when we start living in France for real? Were we looking at French life through 'holiday eyes' to quote Folie Monsieur's dad? Will the nitty gritty of the daily grind quickly relieve us of our rose (or tricolore) tinted glasses? Or will being 'closer to the core' to quote Roxette's Per Gessler make up for any disappointments or difficulties?

Funny thing is, when you know you are leaving behind a place (or a person) it enables a different perspective.  A kinder, more indulgent one where shortcomings or inadequacies are overlooked. The familiar is your friend. Thus, suffocating heat punctuated by torrential downpours seems capricious now, rather than extreme.  Coles vs. Woolworths seems straightforward rather than severely restricted.  The year round ease of living in little more than singlet, shorts and thongs takes on a transcendental appeal, as opposed to a yearning for the more seasonal, sophisticated things in life.  What can this mean? Should we stay put and never have started this heady flirtation with all things South of France? Is it just the equivalent of pre-wedding jitters?

I think not. I hope not.  The older we get the tricker it is to embalk upon adventure, so it's only natural major upheaval should give us the jitters.  However, two things sustain us.  Deathbed regrets are rarely composed of 'if only I'd done more overtime, stayed with that loser and never tried anything new'.  And, thanks to the insurpressable buoyance of the Australian psyche, should we abandon our French life and return to the antipodean shores we know, we surely would be greeted with little more than 'she'll be right, mate - coldie?', and resume our normal duties like we'd never left.  A testimony to the strength of this country, the dynamism of its appeal and its confidence in its future. 

One Small step for Folie Madame et Monsieur and one Giant step for Roly, Pepper and Oscar.  On y va!

  



 

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......