Friday, April 27, 2007
Vic Fezensac
We are looking after a house and a dog in a small village in the GERS region -- famous for ducks, geese, Fois Gras and Armagnac (a beautiful fierce brandy). The house is in the middle of the village and we are in the village square within two minutes after leaving the house and crossing a bridge over a small stream. The house belongs to a Canadian woman who has been living here and making a living as a chef for the last 20 years. Talking to her and reading some of her books I am beginning to understand the importance of food in the French way of life. They tend to eat regionally and seasonally and are very proud of their regional products and cuisine -- each region is famous for different products and dishes, so any understanding of the region, the people, the landscape and the earth is facilitated by becoming involved in the local food and drink -- an approach of which I highly approve !! So, here the food is cooked in duck and goose fat and washed down with local wine and brandy and has been for over 2,000 years
The French in the main appear to be fiercely opposed to the globalisation of food production and distribution and prefer to eat their own products -- the fact that the food is wonderful and seems to be reasonably healthy is a good start. It is not difficult to buy locally produced products, there are markets somewhere close most days and many of the farmers sell products at the door of their farm and the local shops sell local products. There are supermarkets at the edge of the larger towns -- like the American Wal Mart system but they seem to be reasonably small -- the emphasis is on local stuff and if you eat with a local they are very keen to explain the local cuisine and ensure that is what you eat and that you drink local wine.
The landscape is so altered from its natural state and it appears that throughout most of the country the way to get in touch with the land is through the food. I hope I don't roll home!
The French in the main appear to be fiercely opposed to the globalisation of food production and distribution and prefer to eat their own products -- the fact that the food is wonderful and seems to be reasonably healthy is a good start. It is not difficult to buy locally produced products, there are markets somewhere close most days and many of the farmers sell products at the door of their farm and the local shops sell local products. There are supermarkets at the edge of the larger towns -- like the American Wal Mart system but they seem to be reasonably small -- the emphasis is on local stuff and if you eat with a local they are very keen to explain the local cuisine and ensure that is what you eat and that you drink local wine.
The landscape is so altered from its natural state and it appears that throughout most of the country the way to get in touch with the land is through the food. I hope I don't roll home!
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Sue's first blog - Gers, Gascogne, in the village of Vic-Fezensac!
24/4/07 -- Bella's birthday -- all of four years old! Happy birthday Bella!
We have made our way to this place over a month, moving from Paris to Strasbourg to Massif Central (via Basel -- slight overshooting on fast moving highways!), staying overnight in a village, Rochefort sur?, in Compt or was it Jura ... an attractive walled village on cliffs overlooking a large swiftly flowing river, divided diagnally by a weir which created a magnificent effect of movement and energy. Here we walked in the evening, over the river to look at curious, wide eyed, playful charolais heifers, fresh out of sheds for the spring. Early morning we headed for the walk along the wide, swiftly flowing river under cliffs reflecting golden, morning sun. Mist curled upwards in cold morning air. Old dogs graced footpaths ready for a pat, or tugged energetically on leads of owners making their way to the local boulangerie for freshly baked bread for breakfast.
We struck up a friendship with a young German woman and her 3 year old daughter, Emile? who had happy memories of a year spent working in National Parks in S.A. Maybe we will take up her offer of a tour of Heidleberg, Germany as we pass through to the Netherlands and Sweden later on in the summer.
Cruising through the Jura to Massif Central, the change from well-to-do, neatly presented people and villages to wilder more unkempt ones, caught our imaginations. Gone were the fabulous looking charolais, in came poorer looking versions, less voluptuous pastures and tight mouthed people. At one spot, dying for a stretch and a walk, we found a small road which suggested fishing and wandering, only to find signs warning of something to do with rifle ranges and trespassing. The feeling of not being welcome grew and stayed with us.
Overnight at Maringues, a particularly old, village with a pervading sense of poverty. A particularly grumpy frenchman in a hotel that doesn't appear to charge except when it comes to dinners and breakfasts taught us that that was not our preferred mode. Safe but boring -- tired of tourists.
Our image of humanity did, however, regain a more positive hue as we discovered the hub of the village which was the first internet cafe that worked since we had arrived. We were given excellent coffee and hot chocolate, in lieu of any breakfast at the grumpy hotel. Three hours later, we emerged feeling much lighter after emailing through essentials re bussiness-as-usual in Australia. As we paid for the coffees, (internet free for first timers!) there was laughter regarding us being gullible fish they were catching in their net...
Driving on, we sighted the mountains -- snowcapped, beckoning beyond the damp, glugginess of lowlands and sluggish, mired rivers. We meandered past ancient ruins on hilltops, chateaus on hillsides and small villages in the valleys on streams, swollen with melting snow. Rounding a bend, a perfect soccer field beckoned Ashur and Ian while Sue went exploring down winding paths leading towards the roar of a river.
Revitalized with picnic lunch on organic produce, we happily chanced upon in Vic-le-Compt, we landed in Coudes from which Ashur and Sue could not dragged away in haste! The river was full and rapidly decending around hills through a tight gorge. The village, although overshadowed to some degree by a huge highway, remained peaceful, unpretentious with some beautiful aspects of cobbled square, small bridge linking rushing under-village streams with the large and spacious river. Some semi-detached appartments were lovingly restored in composite old/modern renovation for maximum light, grace and outlook. A small hotel with freshly painted skye-blue shutters attracted Ash. Inside, a warm effusive young woman excused the renovations as she showed us a beautiful blue room for half the price of the tired hoteliers of before.
Walking along the river in light rain, Sue was jubilant, happy to arrive in such a place. Men and women fished, gardens in earth to die for appeared, tended in various states of spring fever and a delicate fragrance drifted from blossoming cherry trees. Circling the steep hillside, we spiralled our way to the top where Montpeyroux in all it's beautifully renovated glory, overlooked Coudes below.
Heading up from St. Nectaire in The Volcans high in mountain pastures, we called into a special cheese making dairy where two middle-aged french farmers were whiling away their midday lunchbreak together. We wove our way following the cheesemaker to a cold, still, dark room at the back of the sheds -- Ian practising his French regarding cows for milk, meat and produce "biologuique". They urged us to visit the Valley de Chandfort. This place is another story.
Whizzing down to Toulouse was on the agenda as Julien and Charmie Ellis (nee Bondfield) were living there with their two children, Hugo and Olivier, 11 and 7 y.o. Ashur was dying to catch up to run and play -- he'd had enough of boring adult company for the last two weeks or so, where we were busy doing very boring paperwork arranging car, insurance, banking, etc.
We have made our way to this place over a month, moving from Paris to Strasbourg to Massif Central (via Basel -- slight overshooting on fast moving highways!), staying overnight in a village, Rochefort sur?, in Compt or was it Jura ... an attractive walled village on cliffs overlooking a large swiftly flowing river, divided diagnally by a weir which created a magnificent effect of movement and energy. Here we walked in the evening, over the river to look at curious, wide eyed, playful charolais heifers, fresh out of sheds for the spring. Early morning we headed for the walk along the wide, swiftly flowing river under cliffs reflecting golden, morning sun. Mist curled upwards in cold morning air. Old dogs graced footpaths ready for a pat, or tugged energetically on leads of owners making their way to the local boulangerie for freshly baked bread for breakfast.
We struck up a friendship with a young German woman and her 3 year old daughter, Emile? who had happy memories of a year spent working in National Parks in S.A. Maybe we will take up her offer of a tour of Heidleberg, Germany as we pass through to the Netherlands and Sweden later on in the summer.
Cruising through the Jura to Massif Central, the change from well-to-do, neatly presented people and villages to wilder more unkempt ones, caught our imaginations. Gone were the fabulous looking charolais, in came poorer looking versions, less voluptuous pastures and tight mouthed people. At one spot, dying for a stretch and a walk, we found a small road which suggested fishing and wandering, only to find signs warning of something to do with rifle ranges and trespassing. The feeling of not being welcome grew and stayed with us.
Overnight at Maringues, a particularly old, village with a pervading sense of poverty. A particularly grumpy frenchman in a hotel that doesn't appear to charge except when it comes to dinners and breakfasts taught us that that was not our preferred mode. Safe but boring -- tired of tourists.
Our image of humanity did, however, regain a more positive hue as we discovered the hub of the village which was the first internet cafe that worked since we had arrived. We were given excellent coffee and hot chocolate, in lieu of any breakfast at the grumpy hotel. Three hours later, we emerged feeling much lighter after emailing through essentials re bussiness-as-usual in Australia. As we paid for the coffees, (internet free for first timers!) there was laughter regarding us being gullible fish they were catching in their net...
Driving on, we sighted the mountains -- snowcapped, beckoning beyond the damp, glugginess of lowlands and sluggish, mired rivers. We meandered past ancient ruins on hilltops, chateaus on hillsides and small villages in the valleys on streams, swollen with melting snow. Rounding a bend, a perfect soccer field beckoned Ashur and Ian while Sue went exploring down winding paths leading towards the roar of a river.
Revitalized with picnic lunch on organic produce, we happily chanced upon in Vic-le-Compt, we landed in Coudes from which Ashur and Sue could not dragged away in haste! The river was full and rapidly decending around hills through a tight gorge. The village, although overshadowed to some degree by a huge highway, remained peaceful, unpretentious with some beautiful aspects of cobbled square, small bridge linking rushing under-village streams with the large and spacious river. Some semi-detached appartments were lovingly restored in composite old/modern renovation for maximum light, grace and outlook. A small hotel with freshly painted skye-blue shutters attracted Ash. Inside, a warm effusive young woman excused the renovations as she showed us a beautiful blue room for half the price of the tired hoteliers of before.
Walking along the river in light rain, Sue was jubilant, happy to arrive in such a place. Men and women fished, gardens in earth to die for appeared, tended in various states of spring fever and a delicate fragrance drifted from blossoming cherry trees. Circling the steep hillside, we spiralled our way to the top where Montpeyroux in all it's beautifully renovated glory, overlooked Coudes below.
Heading up from St. Nectaire in The Volcans high in mountain pastures, we called into a special cheese making dairy where two middle-aged french farmers were whiling away their midday lunchbreak together. We wove our way following the cheesemaker to a cold, still, dark room at the back of the sheds -- Ian practising his French regarding cows for milk, meat and produce "biologuique". They urged us to visit the Valley de Chandfort. This place is another story.
Whizzing down to Toulouse was on the agenda as Julien and Charmie Ellis (nee Bondfield) were living there with their two children, Hugo and Olivier, 11 and 7 y.o. Ashur was dying to catch up to run and play -- he'd had enough of boring adult company for the last two weeks or so, where we were busy doing very boring paperwork arranging car, insurance, banking, etc.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Well, here we are in the south west of France close to Toulouse, we have travelled here after spending 2 weeks in Alsace in the north east. Driving through France we have been struck by the density of population, the amount of clear fresh water, the speed and wildness of the driving and the lack of wildlife- all of which may go together in some way. The people have been very helpful and friendly and our French is progressing slowly, unfortunately access to the net is a bit difficult so messages and postings are few and far between.
The countryside is highly varied and we have passed densely farmed country in the lower areas and grazing country in the highlands - the livestock spend the winter in sheds and at the moment are just being let out so are dirty but full of energy the farming fields are tiny and at the moment there is lots of wheat, rape and bare cultivated earth waiting for spring planting I preume.
In Alsace we participated a little in farm life and planted Celeriac, harvested asparagus and I even slaughtered a few rabbits at lunch we woild have a huge, very alcoholic lunch with the family - beer before lunch, wine with lunch ans schnapps after - then off to work. Conversation at the table similar to any farm lunch table - prices going down, costs going up, the threat of globalisation etc - at least the access to water is generally not a problem in Alsace but the cost of land is incredible as is the yield of crop. Matthieu who is growing the asparagus sells them at his door and has orders for more than he can produce - the villagers see him harvesting and turn up looking for asparagus.
Some photos attached and more messages to come I hope
The countryside is highly varied and we have passed densely farmed country in the lower areas and grazing country in the highlands - the livestock spend the winter in sheds and at the moment are just being let out so are dirty but full of energy the farming fields are tiny and at the moment there is lots of wheat, rape and bare cultivated earth waiting for spring planting I preume.
In Alsace we participated a little in farm life and planted Celeriac, harvested asparagus and I even slaughtered a few rabbits at lunch we woild have a huge, very alcoholic lunch with the family - beer before lunch, wine with lunch ans schnapps after - then off to work. Conversation at the table similar to any farm lunch table - prices going down, costs going up, the threat of globalisation etc - at least the access to water is generally not a problem in Alsace but the cost of land is incredible as is the yield of crop. Matthieu who is growing the asparagus sells them at his door and has orders for more than he can produce - the villagers see him harvesting and turn up looking for asparagus.
Some photos attached and more messages to come I hope
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)