Fin

It was with very mixed feelings that we left Entrecasteaux. Quite a lot of time during our last days was spent cleaning and packing up. But we also had to say goodbye to the people who had made such an impression on us during our short stay in the village. The day before we left we had our final coffee and said goodbye to Manu and Steph at the Etcetera Cafe in Salernes (see right) from where we had posted many of our blog entries. At the piano recital we had said goodbye to Bernard and Lucie (Adrian receiving his first double cheeked kiss from a Frenchman) and Fran had rung our Danish friends, Vivian and Lief, previously. Nataline, one of our elderly neighbours knocked on our door the morning we were leaving especially to say goodbye. She told us that two of the villagers had recently died and went off to write in the book of condolences set up on a table outside the Bar Central. We called in to farewell Madame Corti, our next door neighbour, before we got into the car with tears in our eyes. It was a sombre day when we left, overcast, with light rain falling and the bells were tolling sadly as many of the town folk were attending a funeral. We dropped off the keys with Jean-Paul and Helena. We saw Lucie coming out of a shop in the main street so we stopped to say a final goodbye to her. And so it was with an overwhelming feeling of melancholy and sadness that we drove through the town square for the last time, on past the traffic lights, and began our homeward journey.

The first leg involved a drive of about two hours towards Orange on the Rhone river. On the way we stopped at l'Isle sur la Sorgues for lunch and checked out this water- wheel. That night we stayed at a delightful B & B in the village of Courthezon, close to Orange. Our host's name was Albert who was there on his own as his wife was helping out with one of their daughters who has a young baby. Their youngest son (aged 24) is coming to Australia in March for a working holiday. He works in the wine industry so shouldn't have any trouble getting a job. We drove into Orange, planning to see the Roman theatre there, but decided to put it off because it was getting too late. That night we took the advice of our host and went to a local restaurant where we were the only diners. It was somewhat strange as the waitress was also the chef. But she was very nice and the food was yummy.

The next day we visited the amazing Roman theatre which still has concerts, opera and plays. The weather was sunny but there was a freezing wind. We had the entire theatre to ourselves so Adrian sang an excerpt from Carmen (or rather, from the Roller Door ad) and Fran sang Puccini's aria O Mio Babbino Caro (Oh my beloved Daddy), standing just near the impressive stage.

We continued northward to Lyon (200 km) where we said goodbye to our Peugeot at the airport, with a strong sense of relief at not having any driving misfortunes, before catching a bus to the city. Lyon has a lovely old town area with lots of narrow streets and interesting shops which we were able to explore on foot. We caught the funicular up to see a view of the city and to visit the impressive Basilique Notre Dame de Fourviere. This was built by the townsfolk who, in the middle of the 19th century, prayerfully promised to do so if they were delivered from the hands of some invaders. It is a strange blend of Roman and Arab architecture (see top right of photo).

On the TGV to Paris, a 2 1/4 hour journey, we passed through lots of interesting rural countryside, very different to the Var Departement in Provence where we had spent the last two months. It was raining when we arrived in Paris so we caught a taxi to our apartment - My Little Home in Paris. We were welcomed very warmly by the owners, Philippe and Sandy, who stayed for a drink to explain how everything worked and to provide advice on what to see, where to eat, etc. They were very generous hosts and provided a well stocked kitchen and bathroom, WiFi access, and lots of other accessories that you might need while staying there (the umbrellas were very much appreciated!). They also left a bottle of wine, flowers and chocolates. The apartment itself, though, was tiny, having a very compact kitchen, a bathroom, a study/dressing room, and a lounge/bedroom with the bed being a fold-down sofa.

That night we took Sandy and Philippe's advice on where to eat - Cafe Descartes - and ran into them dining with their friend, Steve. We sat at the table next to them and enjoyed their company and their enthusiasm for Paris. Of course their dog, Mulin, was with them as well, dogs being regulars at bars, cafes and restaurants in Paris, and usually well behaved, almost human!

We were so excited about being back in Paris, undeniably one of the most enchanting cities in the world. Our first day was spent walking and walking and walking! Of course our first port of call, as was often the case whichever town or village we visited, was the church. Notre Dame is no ordinary church, but a stunning example of medieval architecture with beautiful stained glass windows. Then along the Seine towards the Musee D’Orsay which was on the top of Fran’s to see list. However from conversations with Sandy the previous evening we were aware that museum employees were holding a major strike affecting access to most of the museums in Paris. But we hoped ... in vain. It was closed and remained closed for the duration of our stay in Paris. Oh well, it just means that we’ll have to come back one day.

The next day, as with our every day in Paris, we pounded the pavement and jumped on and off the metro which is a fabulous way to get around. First stop the Marais district, taking in the Place des Vosges and visiting the former home of French poet and author Victor Hugo. Then on to Cimitiere Pere Lachaise, a very large area with some ornate, grand and ostentatious tombs. It is the final resting place for many famous people, including Chopin (right), Oscar Wilde and Edit Piaf whose graves we visited, as well as many others such as rock star Jim Morrison, French composer Hector Berlioz, French authors Proust and Collette and philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre.

We enjoyed our time in Paris although the weather was pretty bad, mostly cold and often wet. On our final evening there (our last night in France) we loved seeing Paris lit up with Christmas lights and there were thousands of people out along the Champs-Elysees, in the Tuileries and outside the Louvre, all soaking in the atmosphere. We saw the Eiffel Tower all lit up and sparkling, which happens for several minutes each hour.

We left Paris for the airport on Sunday evening and started the looooonngg trek home. The first leg of the trip to Abu Dhabi was a mere 6 hours, which passed quite quickly. The landscape around Abu Dhabi airport is flat sand as far as the eye can see. The flight from Abu Dhabi to Sydney was made even more arduous by our close proximity to two babies, one of whom shrieked long, loud and often, fortunately punctuated by some time asleep.

It was a wonderful feeling to return to Australia after our adventure away. Anna and Sam met us at the airport and we enjoyed a delicious meal with them, before driving Bobbie the Barina back to Canberra on the following day.

It felt strange coming home after such a long time away, but a huge sense of relief to be safely back in our own home and with family and friends. We consider ourselves very fortunate to have experienced so much in our six months and to have met some lovely people and we enjoyed sharing our two cottages with our Australian visitors. It is true that after such an experience you look at places and things through different eyes and it reinforced for us that Australia is a great country. We are now looking forward to spending Christmas with all our children and their partners and our three beautiful grandchildren. It will be noisy but very special.

And as for Karen ... she is back in her box, in a drawer in the study. Our love/hate relationship continued throughout our travels but, overall, she was fantastic. No doubt she is keen to take us on more “scenic routes” on our next adventure, wherever that may be.

Karen and friends

Ode to Karen

To assist with our French navigation
We took "Karen", our GPS sensation.
Though she often confused us, she always amused us
With her French pronunciation.

When we drove in the car each day
We'd take her to show us the way
To a tourist spot, or whether or not
There was a freeway where we had to pay.

"Perform a U-turn when possible" she'd say
When we were lost and went the wrong way.
"Calculating back-on-track" was her favourite attack
To save us from further delay.

But sometimes her directions were wrong
And she'd tell us to take the long
Way 'round. And so we found
We had to give her the "gong".

Well, then she would stall and with all her gall
Pretend that she couldn't recall.
And if we should shout, she seemed to pout
And then say nothing at all.

But her faults were few and we loved her, it's true
For she said lots of funny things too.
If we gave her the sack we always came back
'Cause she knew every "ville", every "place", every "rue".

Now our adventure is over, shed a tear
'Cause she's back in her box - Oh dear!
She became our mate while sharing our fate
So she'll come with us again next year.

Time to say Goodbye

The time has come to say farewell to the little village of Entrecasteaux and to the people we have met during our stay. We had brought with us some small brooches in the shape of a kangaroo made from opal pieces and others gold-plated from the Australian Geographic shop. So we decided to give one to each of our elderly neighbours who sit in the sun each day just near our cottage. They appeared pretty pleased with these simple gifts and told us that we were very kind. We noticed when we greeted them the next day that the man (his name is Aldo) had his kangaroo brooch on his hat. They are lovely oldies and seem to enjoy passing the time of day with us. We talk about the weather or where we've been or plan to go.

Recently we have enjoyed two concerts. A recital at one of the community halls, given by a young woman from Entrecasteaux (une Entrecastelaine) who is studying singing at Nice. She was accompanied by a talented organist from Marseilles who, as part of the concert, played Ravel's Bolero - no mean feat for a single performer. The soprano performed an interesting repertoire - all French composers, with the exception of one dramatic piece by Kurt Weil - Je ne t'aime pas (I don't love you). We supported the local football team again last Sunday when they played in the village. An exciting game, but we lost again. En route home from the oval we met up with Jean-Paul, a Swiss man living in the village and friend of our landlord. He invited us in for an aperitif. We imbibed several glasses of rose whilst enjoying another interesting and cultural exchange with he and his wife Helena. Their very comfortable house is built in an old mill, the remnants of which (mill wheels, stone vats, etc.) are still there and provide an unique feature in a large room downstairs which houses a grand piano. They hold musical soirees regularly in their home and on Saturday evening we attended a piano recital.

Earlier this week we returned to the stunning natural landscape of the Gorges du Verdon and the pretty village of Moustiers Ste Marie with one of its churches almost suspended from a rocky cliff overlooking the village. The next day, on the recommendation of our elderly neighbours, we visited the Orthodox Monastere de St Michel du Var, a relatively new building (1980), in peaceful bushy surroundings, set back from the road between two villages . One of the young monks showed us around, but as well as the tour of the crypt and the church and a detailed explanation of the many modern religious frescoes, we received a lesson in theology. It was, at times, difficult to understand him although he spoke English. We were there for almost two hours. The tour was interrupted for 15 minutes during which there was a religious service. He told us that we were welcome to wait and afterwards continue the tour. As well as us there were only two others in the congregation. Six of the monastery residents, all clad in black, participated in the service which involved only singing and chanting - not one word was spoken by anyone for the whole time they were in the church. Afterwards our guide showed us the dining room with a long table set for 12 people. The walls of the room were lined with life size paintings of various French saints.

As planned, we headed to the first truffle market of the season in Aups. There was quite a bit of activity when we arrived. Not many stalls, but at each, a cluster of people, some serious buyers and others, like us, just curious onlookers. We saw two people being interviewed, while one seller holding a large truffle was being photographed. Obviously the start of the truffle season in France is much anticipated and generates a lot of media interest. One woman with three 100 euro notes in her hand was listening attentively to one of the stallholders describing a recipe, ready to hand them over for some of the precious fungi lying in the basket before her. The going price today ... 400 euros per kg! Certainly the euro notes were flying and people were buying up big. Fran thought they smelt wonderful, Adrian ... not so sure.

Afterwards en route home, we took a detour to La Site de St Barthelemy, the sign for which we had passed many times over the weeks. We followed the narrow road for several kilometres to its end where we found a flat grassy area with picnic tables beside a stream with wooden bridges across it as well as a crossing made from large stepping stones. The stream emerged from a narrow chasm of sheer rock faces containing many caves. The only sound as we walked along the path was the rustling of leaves falling from the trees. We had the place to ourselves and it was beautifully tranquil. Well it was beautifully tranquil, until ... we were walking up the stone steps to the small church which gives the site its name. Leading the way, Fran was startled to see un serpent (a snake) just centimetres from her feet, slithering along the next step. She almost fell down in her haste to escape. Fortunately Adrian was there to catch her. "I thought you told me they'd all be asleep at this time of the year!" she said accusingly. Obviously, this one was running behind schedule. Adrian was intrigued and stopped to look at it, while Fran was making a bee-line for the car, all thought of sacred devotion and prayers of thanksgiving in the church were gone in a flash. Fight or flight? Adrian thought it was a case of - Squawk and walk!!

Over the last few weeks Fran had joined a community singing group which met on Tuesday evenings in the hall - only one man with the rest being women of various ages. It was an interesting experience and another opportunity for her to mix with the locals and hear French spoken (at the usual rapid rate). They are planning to perform at a telethon on 5 December but she had to confess that she was leaving Entrecasteaux at the end of November.

On Saturday evening, before the piano recital, Fran said goodbye to the small church community of St Sauveur, who have welcomed her so warmly during our stay. Each week at the offertory she has sung a different hymn in English, unaccompanied, as requested by Pere Francois, the parish priest. Much to her surprise he thanked her in front of the congregation for her participation in the mass during her stay, remembering that we were leaving soon after.

Unfortunately the last few days have been somewhat marred by a medley of mundane matters, such as a washing machine that decided to give up the ghost (fortunately before the bowl filled with water) and a hot water system that packed it in - both on the same day. The latter was causing the electricity to cut out ,thrusting us into the dark and making preparing the meal difficult. We rang our landlord in the US who suggested taking out the fuses one by one to see which was the rogue. It was the hot water fuse, unfortunately - Ooh la la!! On his recommendation, we rang Fred the plombier (plumber), a really pleasant young man who, after descending to the cave (cellar) and checking the hot water system, pronounced the verdict "Il est mort" (it's dead) and unable to be replaced until Saturday (this was on Thursday evening). As he spoke no English Fran had to explain the problems in French - another great opportunity to learn new vocabulary. Our new hot water system was installed on Saturday evening, not morning - C'est normale in France! Hot showers again - merveilleux!

As for the washing machine, a phone call to the repairman revealed that it couldn't be fixed before we leave - "Pas possible, Madame...desole" (sorry). It's a pity that this happened just days before our departure. So we think it's time to head home.

We're leaving Entrecasteaux on Monday staying overnight in Orange, then Lyon, arriving in Paris on Wednesday and flying home late Sunday evening.

French popes, Roman ruins and Special noses

We finally made it to the beautiful city of Avignon with its magnificent Palais de Papes, residence of the popes during much of the 14th century and we danced on the famous bridge "Sur le Pont d'Avignon". We decided to stay overnight as Avignon is 160 km from our cottage and managed to get a good deal on a hotel in the centre of the town. One can only surmise how different the city would be in the height of summer and the tourist season. While we were there it was very quiet, albeit cold, but at least we had sun on the first day.

Then on to Arles, 38 km south towards the Camargue. The countryside became quite flat as we travelled there. Arles has two UNESCO heritage listed sites - a Roman amphitheatre and theatre. Both are still being used for events, although major restoration is underway at both, with a budget running into many millions of euros. It was almost surreal standing in the Roman amphitheatre built 100 years BC and imagining all that has taken place there over the last 2100 years. It is in remarkably good condition and is now used primarily for bullfights. Unlike Spanish bullfights, though, the bulls in Arles don't get killed. Apart from a cafe and croissant (banana for Fran) in the morning in Avignon and a chocolat chaud at a cafe in Arles in the afternoon, we hadn't eaten much until 3:30 when we ate our picnic stuff (bought at the supermarche in Avignon) with the car bonnet serving as our table, before heading home.

As time slips away, we continue to enjoy some of the small charming villages close by. Monday's drive to some little places yielded some novel rewards. We revisited the little village of Fox Amphoux, as the last time we were there, the heavens opened just as we arrived and we were forced to abandon our visit and take refuge in the car. This time, however, there was not a cloud in the sky and we lazily sauntered up and down narrow alleys and streets seemingly devoid of any life. As we tripped up the steps of a narrow little rue, we heard the faint strains of a classical guitar. We wondered if it was live music. It was. A young woman was sitting on the steps of a house in the full sunshine playing the guitar. We quietly stopped at some distance and stood listening to an impromptu concert. It was superb. When she stopped she saw us and we applauded and thanked her for the music. Then we were off again to another town, Montmeyan where we enjoyed a coffee in the sunshine, watching the antics of the local cats and dogs, and wondering why the locals were all inside at the bar. Throughout the village there were amazing streets, with stone arches and vaulted passageways. One was called the Passage de Templiers and you had to crouch down to get through its opening and it was very dark. No doubt it has been traversed by many throughout hundreds of years.

Our next stop was at Regusse where we could see some ancient looking windmills in the distance. As we arrived we noticed a group of high school students on an excursion. We walked past them exchanging the courteous and obligatory Bonjours and stepped inside the first mill which housed a small museum displaying some old farm implements and other historic artefacts. The local historian who had been talking to the group came inside and invited us to look at both mills. The second mill had sails attached and it had been totally restored, having been originally built in the 11th century and re-built during the 17th century. He was proud to show us how it worked and got the sails moving, inviting us upstairs to see the mechanism in full flight. Brilliant! As we were taking photos, the man scampered off, returning with a brochure in English as well as French and a little sack of ground flour bearing the name of the mill, Moulin de Regusse. He hastened to add that it was not for eating.

Our final stop was at Moissac Bellevue, another village on a hilltop with stunning views over the countryside, an old Templiers chapel and some classy looking properties with electric fences. We were not sure whether the fences were to keep out wild boars or tourists, like us.

On another excursion we drove to Grasse, the world centre of perfume in the hinterland behind Cannes. Unfortunately the camera was left behind so we have no photos. Grasse is an attractive and interesting city built on the side of a long ridge in the Department of Alpes-Maritime. There are several parfumeries in the city as well as some in the surrounding countryside. We went for a guided visit of one of the factories and learnt how perfume is made. The people who create the perfume are called "Noses" and a minimum of 8 years study is required to become one, 5 years of chemistry followed by three years of study at an Institute of Perfumes. In addition one must have "the gift". The tests for acceptance into the Institute at Grasse are very tough. One of them involves the identification of 90 different essences within one hour. The Institute takes on only 10-12 students each year with only 3 of those making the grade. There are only 200 noses in the world - 50 of them are in France and 30 of those based in Grasse. We were shown the room where the nose works. In it is a desk, called an organ, set up with three rows of essences in bottles in a semi-circle (like organ stops) around the chair. Each essence is always located in the same place and they are in a specific order. The more intense essences which form the base fragrance are on the bottom row, with the shorter-lasting highlight essences (or head notes as they are called) on the top row. The nose blends the various essences to form each unique fragrance. Our guide, Margarita, was Russian but she could conduct the tours in any of four languages. Two noses worked for the factory we went to - both women.

As well as car excursions we have gone on a few peaceful walks along back roads and paths near Entrecasteaux, some on marked trails called Grand Randonnees each with a number (eg GR 99). These meander all through France. On one we had no idea where it would lead us and we probably walked for about 7 km before we arrived at one of the roads leading back to the village. It took us past houses, farms, vineyards and olive groves, high above valleys and sometimes through forest on both sides where the only sound was our footfall. Fran is still concerned about bumping into a wild boar whereas Adrian is more worried about the boar hunters. Still, we avoid walking on the weekends when the latter are out in force. Walking is a pleasant alternative to driving as both of us can enjoy the scenery and enjoy the many different vistas that open up along the route.

We had a very enjoyable evening with Bernard and Lucie and shared photos of each other's family. They have a beautiful home (with in-ground pool) nestled in the hills surrounding Entrecasteaux, tastefully and artistically decorated with many original paintings as Lucie is an artist. We were warmly welcomed and exchanged stories about travel, culture and cuisine throughout the evening. Much of the conversation was in French, although both Lucie and Bernard can speak some English. A wonderful opportunity such as this, to meet and share a delicious meal with some local French people is more likely when staying in a small village and will remain another great memory for us to cherish from our time in France.

Time Hurries By

As we haven't mentioned much about Entrecasteaux, or our house, we thought we might do so now.
Entrecasteaux is a small village of about 900 inhabitants, originally built around a chateau in the 11th century. It was situated in a valley between 3 chateaux and hence it was the entrance (entre) to the castles (casteaux). It has a bar, two cafes, an epicerie (general grocery store), a boulangerie (bakery), a boucherie (butchery), a tabac (newsagent), a bricolage (hardware shop), a coiffeur (hairdresser), two shops selling pottery, paintings and other craft, two restaurants and a part-time Office de Tourisme. Most activity centres around the Bar Central where the locals gather for their morning coffee, their mid-day lunch, their apperitifs and some after-dinner drinking. These shops are mainly located around the town square which also has a fountain (built in 1787) and a war memorial. Our house is located on the edge of the square behind the war memorial, so we are close to the action. The Mairie is also on the square but it is being renovated and is currently a building site. Away from the square, there is a Church, a primary school, a post office, a wine cave, a co-operative olive mill and two community halls. There are also 2 tennis courts, a football pitch, a boules court and a cricket ground. Oh, and there is the chateau.

The chateau was originally built in the 11th century and, like all of the castles and cathedrals, has been added to and re-built over the centuries. Its major rebuilding took place in the 17th century over the top of the original 11th century structure. The old dungeon can still be seen. The chateau owes its current good condition to a Scottish patron who spent his fortune on restoring it during the 1970's. It is the largest chateau in the Var region and is privately owned and filled with an eclectic collection of furniture and many, many hunting trophies (stuffed animals, antlers, lion-skin rugs, elephant's foot umbrella stand, etc.). Its link with Australia through the French navigator and explorer, Admiral Antoine Bruny d'Entrecasteaux, was mentioned in a previous entry. The chateau contains quite a bit of Bruny memorabilia too - books describing his voyages, charts and photographs. The other feature of the town is its garden that was designed by Le Notre, the man who designed the gardens at the Palace of Versailles. It used to belong to the chateau but is now a public garden. It comprises sculptured hedges and lawns around a central fountain, with a grand statue of Admiral Antoine Bruny d'Entrecasteaux against a cliff face that runs beneath the chateau along one side of the garden.

The town has narrow streets with tall, narrow houses (usually 4 stories high). It also has interesting constructions such as a medieval stone bridge, the public wash-house, an aqueduct, remnants of the town's ramparts, the original town fountain and river ford and the original 11th century entrance to the castle. The town is situated on a ridge around a horse-shoe bend in the Bresque river, which is a pretty little stream with crystal clear water bubbling over rocky cascades alternating with quiet pools. It was once a fortified town enclosed within high walls as defence against bands of marauders who roamed through the region at many times through the centuries. The 17th century entrance to the town was across the medieval bridge below the imposing walls of the church and the chateau. You then had to navigate up a narrow street to the entrance, which was actually through a passage underneath the church, to a gate. Once inside the town there were more narrow streets going up to the hill to a small square in front of the church at the top.

Our house (pictured here with some locals in 1900) is like most of the others in the old part of town - built of stone, narrow and 4 stories high, The entrance is from the main town square directly into the kitchen, and then stairs going up to the bathroom and bedroom, then up to another bedroom, and up again to the salon at the top - 42 steps each way! There is also an attic space above the salon used for storage. The house has been renovated and is quite comfortable, although the kitchen was a bit more rustic than we had anticipated. The house doesn't get much sun, being shaded by other houses and a tall ridge that overlooks the town, and so is quite cold now. We have started to use the heaters on a regular basis.

On 31 October, the village celebrated Halloween, with all the kids dressing up as well as quite a few mothers (or teachers?). Then they paraded around the streets, chanting (to attract attention) and seeking sweets from anyone who opened their doors or looked promising. Fortunately we were prepared, and Fran joined many other locals in handing out a bag-full of lollies. French children seem very well behaved though and we didn't see any "tricks" being played. We captured parts of the occasion on video.

At 11 a.m. on 11 November (Armistice Day), the village held a short and simple service at the memorial in the square, followed by a procession to the cemetery (about 500 metres away) where another minute of silence was observed. Bouquets of flowers were laid at both sites. The Mayor officiated, wearing a tri-colour sash. The official party comprised a number of local government officials, some retired army, navy and air force officers in dress uniform, and others concerned with veteran affairs (similar to an Australian ceremony). It was very moving standing shoulder to shoulder with these people honouring the lives of fallen brothers, lovers, fathers, grandfathers, uncles or friends. The memorial also celebrates the liberation of the village on 18 August 1944. Following the service, everyone adjourned to the Salle de l'Age d'Or for wine and pizza. We went along with the crowd (about 100 people) and met the mayor, who recognised us as etrangers and welcomed us (not sure whether it was a welcome to the village or to the ceremony). But we didn't get to chat to him other than to say bonjour and that we were from Australia.
As we expected, there are certain advantages in staying in a small village. The people are friendly and welcoming, and forgiving of our limited French. We recognise people and are getting recognised in return. Not too many get past the Aussies without getting Bonjoured. This week we have been invited to dinner at the home of a local couple that Fran met at Mass - Bernard and Lucy. Like us they have adult children and grandchildren. We have several elderly neighbours who are delightful, but, not surprisingly, speak no English which provides another opportunity to practise our French.

Last week we were invited to the home of a Danish couple - Vivien and Lief - just outside Entrecasteaux. They have lived here for 6 years now, opting to retire from work and leave the cold climate of Denmark for sunny Provence. They are friends of our American landlords. Their large and sunny home is set in peaceful surroundings. Lief has planted olive trees and the neighbouring fields have vineyards. They have three separate apartments, all self catering and with lovely views, that they rent out on a weekly basis. We started our visit with coffee and cake and finished with a glass of rose.

We have two weeks left in the village of Entrecasteaux before heading north to Lyon and on to Paris.

Hounded

We have visited more beautiful villages in the Var, these ones to our east. First to Montaroux, north of Frejus on the coast, then on to Callian, both hilltop villages which face off at each other across the valley. It was at Callian as we arrived in the town square in the medieval part that we picked up our tour guide - a delightfully friendly and handsome collie-cross. He was more than happy to accompany us on our walk through the old part of town, leading us through little streets, patiently waiting when we stopped to take photos, even consulting us as to what else we would like to see. Fran was a little concerned that he might get cleaned up by a car as we descended to the main road through town, but as Adrian pointed out - "he lives here". It was down another picturesque side street that things got a bit ugly and our tour guide disgraced himself. A cat was peacefully sunning itself against a wall near an outdoor restaurant when along we come, complete with trusty tour guide. It didn't take long for him to spot the cat and after a brief and hissy tete a tete, the cat took off with dog in hot pursuit. At that stage we decided to try to lose the dog and did an about turn. Someone shouted out to us, C'est votre chien? (Is that your dog?) No, we replied and kept walking. Making us out to be liars, the dog, back from harassing the cat, enthusiastically bounded after us. Comment embarrassant! En route back to the car we stopped in at the church and closed the door behind us before our tour guide could follow, but he soon found us as we left and escorted us to our car where we parted company. However as we drove off we noticed that he was with a local Gendarme. We were unsure as to whether he was being arrested for harassing le chat, or whether he was being thanked for keeping an eye on the etrangers until they left town.

After Callian we headed to Seillans. We were particularly interested in this village as it was one where we had selected a delightful house with a pool (at a very reasonable price), only to be told by the owner that he was selling. It is, undoubtedly a village of wonderful character, as you can see from some of these photos, but the house was not in the village. It was about a 10 minute walk away in the hills and, although the weather is sunny, we would not have had much use from a pool. Unfortunately, we did not have the address so we could only surmise where the house might have been located. As we had the beautiful, but small, 12th century stone church to ourselves, Fran tested its acoustics with an impromptu rendition of Schubert's Ave Maria. The acoustics were superb.
We are now in the midst of the hunting season and both last Saturday and this Saturday we were awoken by an unremitting cacophony of hound. Hunters and dogs gather at the Bar Central, drink for a few hours (hopefully, coffee) and then take to the hills to shoot at anything that moves. This seems to be a popular weekend pastime for French males, with camouflage clothing, 4-wheel drives and guns being common accessories. But, from what we've read, the boars are still winning. Adrian tried a boar and red wine stew whilst we were in Corsica and thought it wasn't much different to a beef stew.

Fran is trying her hand at a few new recipes, rifling through some French cooking magazines in the cottage and learning more about the various cuts of meat whilst enhancing her French vocabulary. Lamb here is horrendously expensive - around 22 euro per kg (A$40) and we have really had only one good piece of steak in the whole time we've been here. Pork is good and reasonably cheap and the Toulouse sausages, while delicious, are a bit too salty. There is an amazing variety of mushrooms at the markets of all shapes, sizes and colours. Some, called cepes, are huge and quite expensive. Then there are girolles, pieds-de-mouton, roses des pres and trompettes-des-mort (trumpets of death). Fran was a bit dubious about the latter but they are at the market and included in recipes. In France, if you have any concerns about mushrooms gathered from fields or the forest floor whilst walking, you can take them to a pharmacie, where you can get advice on those you can safely eat and those that are guaranteed to kill you!

Truffle season is about to begin - it runs from November through to March. Apparently, it is really cloak and dagger stuff with neither sellers nor buyers keen to deal with outsiders. Perhaps they worry about the tax-man. Truffles are incredibly expensive and sell for 600 euros or more per kilo. After mid-November there is a truffle market each Thursday in Aups, a village about 17 km from here, so we plan to check it out before we come home. Hopefully, they won’t worry about a retired Aussie tax-man. In the past, pigs assisted the truffle hunters by sniffing out the truffles where they grow among the roots of oak trees. But apparently they like the taste of them too, and would snuffle the truffle before it could be collected. So now hounds are used. Truffles are often dug up at night - supposedly because that is when they are most aromatic. But it may have something to do with the fact that they are usually found under oak trees that belong to someone else.

And all that jazz

The concert put on by the Traditional Jazz Band was fantastic, with La Salle de l'Age d'Or full to overflowing. Adrian was a bit dubious when we arrived and saw just three instruments set up, one a portable piano with an elderly gentleman in collar and tie peering through the backstage door. Fortunately his fears were unfounded and we were treated to three hours of foot-tapping music by a sextet of talented musicians - keyboard, clarinet, trumpet, trombone, double bass and drums. Five of them were from Nice and one from Aix en Provence. They were certainly laid back and obviously enjoying themselves. Many tunes were recognisable - Swanee River, Jeepers Creepers, and When the Saints Go Marching In, at which stage many in the audience started singing along in English. Of course the band also had French words and used that tune to introduce each member of the band who played a solo to great applause. The atmosphere was happy and congenial. Music really is a universal language, which can be understood, shared and appreciated by all.

On Sunday there were several festivals to choose from - the Fete de Coings (Quinces) in Cotignac and the Fete de Chataignes (Chestnuts) in Camps La Source. They were about 25 km apart and not far from our place. So we decided to take in the carnival atmosphere at both. Quinces and chestnuts were on sale in all sorts of edible or drinkable fare as well as in craft. Music again featured at both. Chestnuts are a major industry in this part of France - there were roasted chestnuts by the bucketful, glace chestnuts, chestnut cake, jam, wine and liqueur, even chestnut soup. Of course these festivals provide opportunities for vendors of all sorts of culinary goodies to market their fare. Fran has, on previous occasions, been a sucker for a friendly French market vendor and should have learnt their tricks - Bonjour Madame as they proffer a taste. But no...slow learner! In this case it was candied fruits of all descriptions and Monsieur was only too pleased to go through the names of each and every colourful piece, after Fran had accepted a sliver of ginger. Of course she then "had to" buy some. Two pieces each of peach, apricot and orange. Total cost - 15.75 euros or A$30 ... ouch!!! Of course we should have, at that stage, said Non Merci (and just appear to be stupid - Adrian's words) or go ahead and pay the money (just be stupid - again Adrian's words). Fran has vowed that's the last time - first it was the lolly Pirates (their real name) in Nice, then the sugar coated peanut-selling man at Prayssac markets and now the candy man at Camps La Source. Should have stuck to the chestnuts! Fran also bought some quinces for stewing, wishing to rekindle some childhood memories and discovered that quinces are considered a cure for drunkenness!! Adrian suggested that she should get into the them - the cheek! As it turned out, she ended up with enough for herself and half the neighbourhood.

On returning home from this adventure in the afternoon and whilst waiting at the traffic lights into the village (the road in places is only wide enough for one car), we saw a sign advertising that the Entrecasteaux football team was playing that day at 3:00 pm on the village's playing fields and urged everyone to come and give support. So we did. After a scoreline of 1-1 for most of the game, Frejus (the opposing town) was awarded a goal when the player should have been ruled hors jeu (offside). The final score was 3-2 with Entrecasteaux losing - a disappointing result. However, there was a simple pleasure in being part of a community barracking for its football team whilst sitting in the late afternoon autumn sun on a Sunday in a small village in the south of France. The shouts from players and coaches were probably no different to games in Australia, with Fran learning a few new phrases. The ref had to speak sternly to the Frejus coach more than once, cautioning him for his unruly behaviour. Adrian thought that he was lucky not to be sent off the sideline.

We have visited some more authentic French villages, again not listed in guidebooks, although Bargemon now has some celebrity residents - David Beckham and Posh Spice who have bought a house there. We wandered around the narrow quaint streets and had fun speculating which property was theirs. We think that the grounds of this house (pictured left) were certainly grand enough, with a sweeping view over the valley and a large olive grove. In addition to a full tennis court and in-ground swimming pool, it had a garden pool with fountain and a well tended shady garden, all surrounded by a high wall, over which we were still able to peek. We don't think they were home as they didn't invite us in for

tea. Here is a fountain and square in Bargemon.

Last week we headed to Aix en Provence, about 80 km from Entrecasteaux, a beautiful city with a history dating back to the year 122 BC, when the Proconsul Sextius set up a military outpost near some springs. However the town really took off when Louis II of Anjou founded the university in 1409. It is still obviously a university town and apparently is home to 30,000 students. The central avenue - Cours Mirabeau - is bordered with old plane trees, and lined with grand 18th century buildings and some ornate and unusual fountains. We were particularly interested in No. 10 - the site of the former Hotel Isoard de Vauvenargues (1710). It was here in 1784 that the Marquis d"Entrecasteaux finally succeeded in murdering his wife, by slitting her throat so that he could marry his mistress. It was his 4th attempt! He had twice tried to poison her with no luck and another time placed cherry pips on the stairs which caused her to break a leg. (He was a relative of the celebrated explorer, Admiral Antoine Bruny d'Entrecasteaux, who was mentioned in a previous entry.) Of course there were amazing churches, Eglise St Sauveur with architecture dating from the 5th to the 17th centuries, and another founded by the Carmelite nuns before they were chased away by the French revolutionaries. Here is part of the University at Aix-en-Provence.

Daylight saving finished here last Saturday night, but it took us three days to find this out. There is a clock on the Mairie but its hands resolutely remain at 7:00 all day. The clock bells were still ringing at 8:00 in the morning and 7:00 at night (by our watches) so we really had no way of knowing. We had a clue, thinking back, when the football match scheduled for 3:00 didn't start until 4:00, but, then again, all the public events we've attended in France have had very elastic start times.

The autumn colours in this region are at their most beautiful among the vines, with many and varied hues of ochre, gold, burgundy, rust and brown. The vendange or harvest is over for another year. We are looking forward to the olive season due to start some time in late November. The olives here are delicious. Our village has a working mill which processes 80 tons each year, which we imagine is small by comparison to others. The change of season has also brought about the disappearance of tables and chairs from outside bars and cafes. In our town square, the chairs belonging to the Bar Central have been stowed away for winter and the space reclaimed for parking. Closer to our front door, the restaurant had its last service at lunch time last Sunday before shutting for the winter. The locals were quick to drag back its flower boxes to create another two parking spaces, although there is an on-going dispute between the restaurateur and a local resident as to how much space can be legitimately reclaimed. This provides some entertainment for us as one person drags the boxes to one side and the other drags them back again. The tree which provided such lovely cool shade when we first arrived is now losing its leaves, requiring us to sweep up a pile every day. We are hoping that the sun will shine through the branches when they all fall as our house gets quite cold at night and in the morning. The days, though, are warm with clear blue sky and a light breeze. The forecast, however, is for a degradation early this week.