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.