Barcelona - capital of Catalunya

(Gaudi's Casa Mila)

(A simple city home)

Today we got up far too early and took the train from Flaca into the beautiful city of Barcelona. We passed vivid green fields and small towns as we sped into the city on a very smooth and comfortable modern train. We arrived at 9:00 am just as the city was waking up. Barcelona is capital of Catalunya, an area that comprises 6% of Spain's land mass, 16% of the people and 26% of the wealth. For a long time it was actually an independent country so the people not only have their own distinct language and flag, but also a fiercely proud heritage. This is definitely a wealthy part of Spain and I don't think that I have ever seen a more beautiful or more interesting city architecturally. There are literally hundreds of striking buildings, all with intricate iron work and unusual roof lines. (I took 180 pictures so it was hard to just pick a couple!) It is also where Modernisme was born, at the beginning of the 20th century, and the city is a mosaic of some very fanciful architecture by Antonio Gaudi and followers. (Notice the 'melting icecream' roof line on the Gaudi house.) There are several beautiful parks, a lovely harbour front on the Mediterranean and great pedestrian streets offering some wonderful people watching. It was really like no place that I have ever seen. Even the lamp posts were varied and so interesting. We spent all day walking the city until we could go no further, only stopping for an wonderful lunch in a Barcelona landmark. My meal of paella, followed by rabbit (yes, I did know what I was ordering) with a Spanish version of a creme caramel was just delicious. We were surprised to see just how many tourists were visiting, too many for us to get into some of the museums that we wished, and once again we appreciated living here in the "off season". I couldn't imagine being here in the summer. We had a great day, we are all tired but very glad for the opportunity to spend a day in a fabulous city, even though I did not see a single linen store. Ah well, what can you expect in Spain!

Ola from the Costa Brava

Well we are on move again! Carol and Bruce arrived on Thursday and yesterday we left for a week in the North East corner of Spain, a couple of hours north of Barcelona, known as the Costa Brava. We came down from France on the autoroute until we reached Perpignan and from there we swung over to the coast to the picturesque town of Colloire, about 20 kms from the Spanish border. It is a true fishing village and from the main street by the harbour we could look up into the hills and see four large fortifications which clearly indicates the region's turbulent history. We followed a wonderful winding road along the hill top until we crossed the Spanish border. We were amused to see that as soon as we were over the border the road was much rougher, narrower and the sturdy concrete guard rails had been replaced with rickety tin railings. The French bureaucracy may drive me crazy but at least they know how to maintain things properly.

We are roughing it in a three bedroom condo on a craggy hill overlooking the turquoise Mediterranean. I just had to tear myself off the terrace where I was enjoying the warm sunshine with a cup of coffee to tell you about this place. We did a coin flip for the master suite which is on the top floor with its own bathroom and private terrace - just lovely. The region we are in is called Catalonya and here they don't even speak Spanish but Catalan so although Gord has rudimentary Spanish (enough to order two beers and the bill and to request that he not be molested!!) we don't have a hope of being understood. We will spend a week exploring the place at a true Spanish pace as it is almost noon and we have just finished breakfast. Here lunch is served at 2:00 pm and dinner does not start till 10:00 pm! We do not have internet access so I am typing this in the village square, about 5 kms from the condo, and I will try to keep you updated on our Spanish progress as I can.

Spring has sprung!

FINALLY spring has come to Provence. We left here in winter and arrived back to spring and we are sooooo very ready to see it. White and yellow wildflowers line the sides of the road and yesterday John Marc walked past our house in a tank top! (Still a little too early for that in my estimation but never mind!) We had breakfast outside on the terrace for the first time in months and we have even had to change the duvet because it is too warm at night. I can't tell you how happy we are to be coming out of the deep freeze. My neighbour Stephan, delighted to tell me that he had heard that Canada had had the "best" winter in over twenty years and that Provence had had the "most bad". To which I smiled and said that while it was true, it had not been enough to get rid of us that easily! Not only are all the extremely enticing gift shops and restaurants all opening up, but all the cafes, not just the hardiest, are now getting out their tables and chairs so that the patrons can enjoy sitting outside in the sun. The warmth is intoxicating!

Even better than the warmer weather though is the warmth that we feel in our little village. It was so lovely to have MJ knock on our door the morning after we arrived back to welcome us "home". We stop to say "bonjour" to half a dozen people on our way to pick up our morning bread at the boulangerie and even the neighbours' dogs are pleased to see us return. (I think that the plethora of dogs has actually worked magic on Gord because today he stopped to watch a puppy sitting outside of a cafe and commented on how cute he was. Gord, saying something positive about a dog - now that's blogworthy!)

At the market today the warmer weather is also producing some wonderful results. The stalls are multiplying as well as the crowds and there were tables of the most appetizing looking strawberries and lots of fresh asparagus, both green and white. The fleeces, hats and gloves are gone and are being replaced with espadrilles and sun hats. Fortunately there are still lots and lots of lovely linens to look at so Gord still gives me agonizing looks and wonders what on earth we need another tablecloth for. The weather may have changed but my enjoyment of all things French has not!

Just call me "Lili"

(Our little cuisine)

Oh, I am feeling very 'French' today! This morning I popped down to the boulangerie to get a fresh baguette for breakfast, hung out the laundry to dry in the sun and the wind, made boeuf bourguignon and an apple tart for the company arriving tonight, (I wish I could show you a photo of the tart - I couldn't believe how well it turned out - but I am waiting to be reunited with my camera after I accidently left it in Canada) planted geraniums in the stone trough by the door, planted fresh herbs in the terracotta pots on the kitchen window ledge, cleaned the house to the sultry sounds of Edith Piaf, arranged tulips and wild rosemary together, (the rosemary is lovely, covered with little blue flowers and only the lack of options gave me the idea of putting them together) and now I am off to make toasted brie and olive tapenade for lunch with watercress soup. Now if only I could say more than "Bonjour" to the villagers passing me on the street!

PS Lili is the name that my neighbour calls me because she said Lydele was too difficult - the name that is, not the person!

Back "home" again.

From the time we left Penny's front door until the moment we walked into our little French home, it was just over 26 hours: that's 1.5 hours driving, 13 hours of flying on three different planes, and 11.5 hours of sitting around airports waiting to get on a flight, to get back on again after we got seats and then got kicked off for a couple of latecomers, waiting for luggage to arrive and then waiting for yet another French strike to blow over (the air traffic controllers again)! We were very happy to get back to Marseille and see our Peugeot waiting for us and to be back in our village again. The weather for our arrival was glorious, 20 degrees and sunny, and we have noticed a big difference in the late arrival of spring. The almond blossoms, a lovely white blossom that smells like honey, are almost over and hundreds of pretty pink cherry blossoms are taking their place. The birds are singing, the air is sweeter and the grass is greener - or am I just hopelessly in love with this place and happy to be back? We had shuttered up the house when we left and not only were we struck with how much warmer it is outside than in but also how very smoky the house smells now that we have had a few days away breathing non-smoky air. However we opened all the windows and shutters and it will not take long to warm the place up and air it out and before long those very cold, cold days will be only a chilly memory.

Tomorrow we are planning a hike and a picnic lunch and then we must start to get ready for our next company who arrive on Thursday, and then Sunday, but first sleep...........

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

As I write this I see that the temperature is 18 degrees in our valley and sunny. It has been a lovely warm week and I think the winter is finally behind us. All the blossoms will be out by now.... the only problem is that we are not here to see it. A week ago, a tooth that had been niggling for a while suddenly decided to get my full attention and I realized that it could be put off no longer, but what to do? Claire and Natalie where coming to see us from Canada in a few days, and I had read that no matter what, do NOT go to visit a French dentist. That would have made for one miserable blog. MJ had offered the services of a friend who would "yank the thing out" for 60 euros but I felt that I just could not take her up on her offer. Sadly Claire and Natalie stood by two nights but could not get a flight standby, so on Friday morning we got up at 4:30 am to see that they had missed the second attempt and would not be trying again as it was only getting busier due to spring break, we threw a few things together and left the house at 5:30 am to catch a flight home. (By this time I had become well acquainted with tylenol 3's.) We made it to Toronto and had a short time with Allison and Jordan before returning to Vancouver on Saturday night. I had not told Steve of our plans so it was great fun to walk into a restaurant and disturb his dinner! Likewise Mum and Dad were equally surprised to have two extra guests for lunch when we turned up at their house. (I was thankful not to give them both heart attacks, but the enormous welcome was great fun, and very reassuring (!!) and they were happy not to have been in on our turbulent decision process.) Gord left again Monday morning to spend the week with his Mom in Calgary. My dentist, who has never had a patient come so far to see him, took care of me early Monday morning and by the pain he inflicted, left me in no doubt that the procedure was very necessary, and now I am spending a few days up at Whistler with my family to recuperate.

I was not sure if I was going to write of the news of our sudden return visit but I have discovered that it is impossible to 'slip in under the radar'. In the past few days I have run into people that I have not seen in years and have unexpectedly met acquaintances from every walk of life so if you think you saw me at that stop light in a rental car, yes you were probably right. I thought that Vancouver was a big enough city to disappear in but it certainly is not. It is not that we did not want to visit with everyone, just that we felt that part of the reason for this unexpected return was to spend much needed time with family, so please forgive us if we did not call. We will be back in Vancouver in the middle of May for a couple of weeks and we will try to get together then with as many friends as possible.

We will fly back on the weekend to get ready for the next guests, Bruce and Carol, who arrive a few days later. While we are missing our little maison, it is good to spend some time with family and we are once again extremely grateful for Gord's airline privileges that made this possible. (We are also missing each other, as we sit in different provinces, as we have hardly left each other's side for months!) It feels as if the time away has gone far too fast but we still have almost two months left to enjoy spring time in Provence and we intend to do just that.... to explore new places, walk through the villages, hike in the hills, sip cafe au lait in our favourite cafes, visit the restaurants that are now opening up all over after their winter hibernation, try really hard to get through a sample of every item in our favourite boulangerie, check out new cheeses (we will NEVER make it through all those choices) sip a glass of wine or two and just sit back and enjoy the wonderful pace of Provence. Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!

The day the circus came to town

The circus is very big in France and so far we have seen ads for at least four different circuses in the area. First they put up posters all around the town in the week leading up to the circus and then they drive slowly through the village with a tacky van blaring a message from a loudspeaker set up on top. This picture is from one of the wealthier circuses for this van was complete with a plastic elephant, clown and tiger. Today, the circus arrived in our little village. The posters went up three days ago and the van is wandering the street right now annoying the peace and quiet of this little place. My suspicion is, as this is a very little village, this particular circus will only be a "B" level circus or maybe a "C" not the first rate ones that the larger town attract but I have to go as it is a truly French cultural experience and after all, that is what this time is all about. (Besides, there is so little happening in our corner of the world it would be a shame to miss the ONE event of the season.)

(Later.....)

Well, I went and it was unbelievably awful! The only saving grace was that Gord decided to go home instead and I was very, very grateful that he was not there. I knew I was in for trouble when I walked in and saw that my seat was one of 18 white plastic garden chairs. It was a sell out crowd as 16 of the chairs were occupied and there were about 15 people in a series of benches that might have held 30 at a pinch. I naturally had a front row seat and the wall of the ring in front of me was about 14" high which made me highly suspicious of the "savage" animals that were about to be presented to us. These included a miniature pony, a sad looking llama, two small dogs and a goat. (Where was the albino lion that was advertised? Oh, that one along with a couple of mangy looking camels was in another town.) There were a couple of contortionists, (about 8 years old) who spent far more time bowing to the audience than actually performing, a couple of twin jugglers, these two were actually 30ish but only one of them could juggle, and a clown who doubled up as the animal trainer. The absolute highlight for me was when the power went out and the sound system finally shut up and all the lights went off. Sadly it came on again very quickly but tripping the system did something to the machine that was blowing smelly warm air into the tent and all of a sudden it started gushing noxious fumes. At this point the ticket seller and the ticket taker (most likely the wives of the jugglers) started opening the sides of the tent and flapping wildly to let in some very cool but slightly fresher air. The enterprising circus family were not content with their wildly inflated ticket prices but at an intermission the two ladies wheeled in a trolley with very exciting looking toys. They then proceeded to sell envelopes, 3 euros each or 2 for 5, which held the prize for the lucky purchaser. They sold at least 20 of these to poor unsuspecting children who each walked up to the trolley eyeing the games and the giant stuffed gorilla and each walked away with a little something out of a bucket at the back of the pile of loot that probably could have been bought for 25 cents. They obviously did not make enough here as the two contortionists came around with a hat for all our loose change to support their "training". I have no idea why the circus is so popular or how several different companies can possibly stay in business. Even though this circus was definitely a "F" level show I have no desire to put myself through that again. And as for it being a cultural experience, well, it was like listening to country music instead of Bach!!

Dear Chris, This is no silver teaspoon!

This blog is dedicated to my dear brother Chris who believes that I was born with not just the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth but the whole tea set. After having a glorious hike in the sunshine on Saturday, and having lunch on the terrace two days last week, we got snow yesterday in Goult and here are some pictures of what it looked like this morning!

I ran into MJ on my way to pick up bread this morning and she had no doubt as to why there is snow in the village this morning, a totally unprecedented event, it is because of those Canadians who have no snow in their own country so they had to come here to have snow (multiple expletives deleted!!) Apparently she, on behalf of the village, believes it is all our fault. I thought that you would be impressed with that as I did not realize that I had power over the weather or I certainly would not have made this choice. The lovely almond blossoms that are finally out up by the mill are now all covered in snow and the pink blossom just off the terrace is likewise wearing a white veil. The good news is that is is melting as quickly as it came, (by the time Claire and Natalie arrive on Thursday we should be back on the terrace in the sun), that the village snow plow arrived even on our little street up by the castle before 8:00 this morning, and that we have a perfect excuse to stay inside, playing scrabble, reading, and drinking hot chocolate by the fire!

La Petite Ecole

Hidden all over this part of Provence are little restaurant gems that are difficult to notice unless you hear about them specifically. Several weeks ago we were told about La Petite Ecole, a little restaurant run, naturally, in an old one room schoolhouse in a village not far from ours. We have been trying to go for dinner ever since we heard about it and last night we succeeded. Reservations are essential as the room only holds 20 people when full and it was full last night. When you are given a reservation for dinner it is for the whole evening as in France they expect you to take a long time over a meal and a restaurant would not think of booking a table twice in one evening. We arrived at 7:30 just as it opened and so had a good chance to take in our surroundings before the other diners arrived. The room was small but with high ceilings and high set windows (so that the children would not be able to be distracted by the outside). We sat at wooden tables with brown paper covers and all around us where old school maps and diagrams. The menu, very extensive for this small a restaurant, was written on the chalkboard. As usual, there were two set menu prices for entree, plat and dessert and we could chose between four options of each. The owners, Dennis and Sophie, took turns waiting on us though I think Sophie did all the cooking. If the adage that you can never trust a skinny cook is true then we could have complete faith in Sophie. They are a couple probably in their early fifties and it looks as though they thoroughly enjoy their lifestyle. They were friendly though expectedly very busy and the food was wonderful. I was not sure of what I ordered for a first course but it was a warm chicken liver salad and it was delicious and Gord was excited for his herring first course. (We buy great smoked herring here that Gord would be happy to have served every day!) The main course was a filet mignon of pork which could have been more exciting but it was made up for by the dessert of creme brulee for Gord and a chocolate lava cake and homemade ice cream for me. Mmmmm, wonderful! Even though Gord hated school and does not like to ever be reminded of those days we will certainly be back, for this school experience was unlike any we have ever known.

The French Boulangerie

(Alastair giving some tips to the boulanger)

Every village has to have its own boulangerie, (or else I don't think the french would even consider it a village) where we can go to buy a variety of breads and pastries such as croissants etc. Our village has a little boulangerie, run by Christine, a very sweet girl who Gord has had fun trying to communicate with, but it is not our favourite bakery. It sells fine bread, it is wonderfully handy as it is just a five minute walk down the hill and in fact I am grateful that it is not better as it would be too tempting, but it is definitely not the best. In the interests of research, we decided to try to find the best bakery in our area. Now to qualify for this title, the bakery not only had to produce a large variety of delicious breads (a prerequisite from me), be relatively inexpensive (a prerequisite from Gord) and produce the best sacristain available anywhere (a prerequisite from both of us). A sacristain is a long twisty flaky pastry that is coated in meringue and almonds. The research has been long and difficult as we have had to taste samples of this amazing pastry from at least 20 boulangeries but we have now narrowed it down to two. Both bakeries make bread using a wood fired oven, are about 10 minutes from home and produce delicious sacristain (though very different from each other) as well as wonderful bread, we just can't decide between the two and have decided to live with this dilemma as we will buy from each of them depending on our destination and mood for the day! (One helpful hint in finding a good bakery is that there is often a line out the door, especially for one of these bakeries, and you can't get near the place on a Sunday morning. It seems as though we locals know a good thing when we find it!) The other day after a long hike we went by both places and bought one sacristain from each and brought them home to test them and have just decided to award a tie to them both. Sally and Alastair, who are staying with us right now, have been very helpful in this research. Alastair is particularly happy to go into any bakery and is always loathe to leave unless we are well and duly laden with 'test samples'. The other day Sally and I popped into one only to discover that not only had Alastair followed us in there but had gone straight around the counter to check out the ovens and to talk to the baker himself on the process. The boulanger was on his third batch of baguettes by then (about 11:00 am) and would have one more batch to go, making about 900 baguettes a day. His wife runs the retail part of the shop and we agreed with him when he said that wife is very pretty, and, as he said, with a pretty wife and a good baguette what more does one need?

The (yet unfinished) war between the French and the English

We have come to know a delightful couple and over the past couple of weeks we have shared three meals together, two at their home and one at ours. She is Canadian and he is English and although they are a little older than us they have only been together 8 years. She was a corporate lawyer in Toronto until her husband died and she moved to Provence 20 years ago and set up a B & B. He is a businessman who has lived all over the world, primarily London, Switzerland and Barbados, who took a "gap" year six years ago and has not gone back to work. They are delightful, great fun and extremely kind and generous. Through them we have been introduced to the English community that now live in Provence year round, and it has been very interesting! We always knew that the English were not highly regarded in this part of Provence and we have been careful to ascertain that we are "Candienne" when we are looked at with inquiry and asked "Anglais?" To which the French then smile and say "Aaahhh, Canadienne!" But we are beginning to learn why. There is a large element of the English community that choose to have as little to do with the French as possible, after all, we have heard said "they are not a very nice lot!" We met a couple who have had a place here for over 40 years, have lived here full time for over 6 years and yet the wife speaks no French at all, nor, according to them, does she ever need to learn because she only ever speaks to fellow ex-pats. It really makes me wonder why they are here in the first place. I understand part of the reason is that for a while it was a lot cheaper to live in France than England but with the slide in the Pound versus the Euro that is not the case at all and a lot of the English in this area are getting very worried. There is also the weather issue which, apart from this "saison extraordinaire" is generally so much warmer and drier than Britain. There is a 'golden triangle' here in the Luberon Valley that is about 10 km on each side beyond which they seldom venture. Our friends live about 20 kms outside the golden triangle in an area that is considered positively wild! Let me emphasize that our friends could not be less like the norm. They have a great relationship with their French neighbours, according to other English a very risky proposition indeed, they treat their tradesmen with great respect and even serve them coffee and pastries, something unheard of here, (our friend "G" says they start work at 8:00 and by 9:30 his wife has served them a 3 course meal which might be why they never have trouble getting work done around the place!) and they both speak fluent French. At a dinner party the other night the conversation was alternately hilarious ("G" had all of us laughing so hard) fascinating and shocking at some of the views expressed by others around the table, altogether very enlightening, and....... we think the French may have a little justification in their views!