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This is how to keep up in touch with me when I'm on my travels. Hope you like it - please give me feedback as to what you might like to see on it - or not!



Friday 27 May 2011

Kalashnikovs, drug rings and songs

I'm only here for one more concert with the community choir and that, true to its ideals, will be in Le Viguier, one of the deprived suburbs of Carcassonne.
Yesterday's paper describes the arrest of 12 people said to be part of a drug ring, and the seizing of a Kalashnikov, a first for the Carcassonne police apparently. And this was in Le Viguier.

One of the pieces we will be performing is a rap composed in one of the Chapeau Rouge workshops and sung/spoken (very rapidly) by a young man, with references to the deprived quarters of the town. Some of the lines go "From Viguier to Grazailles, from La Conte to Ozanam. There aren't only criminals, there are poets too.  Pass me a pen, I will beautify my town."  Sorry about the translation - it scans in French.

I'm still going to the choir in the next village, where I took some Dundee cake for the break this week. It's different from anything you see round here, where the cakes are all very light and not heavily fruited like that. Felt slightly embarassed though that I couldn't give the recipe as it was just a supermarket buy.

Other singing is going on in the English class where Tom has decided to get the class singing songs in English to work towards a performance at the end of term, which, unfortunately, we will miss. Tom has enlisted the help of an Irish singer/banjo-player and we're working our way through When I'm cleaning Windows, Molly Malone, My Way, Beyond the Sea (La mer) and Just a Gigolo.  There are (over-)ambitious plans to produce mussels and chips from the barrow when we they do Molly Malone at the end-of-term party. OMG!

Great cheese discovery

I just have to share this but I'm not sure how useful it's going to be in England.

While travelling down we were offered Chaource as one of the cheeses at dinner, and it's lovely. A soft cow's milk cheese with a slightly firmer, chalky centre (when young, I just read) and a lovely nutty flavour, from the Champagne/Ardennes region.

Just couldn't keep it to myself.

Tied in knots

Jon thinks I'm mad.  I've a new passion - knots.
Most motorway boutiques here have a stand of laminated leaflets on a variety of subjects, all bite-sized nuggets of information on topics such as Travelling in England,  French kings, Wine-making, Conjugation, etc etc. Well, last year I was admiring one of these on KNOTS. I really wanted to buy it but thought it was one of those soon-regretted impulses and besides I was on an ant-consumption kick, so I left it.

And thought about it off and on ever since.

This time we drove down so we had to stop at every motorway service area to look. No luck. Eventually I thought to look on-line and found the publishers web-site.  Whoopee. Went through the usual rigmarole to make my way finally to the checkout, enter my French card details , only to fail the "Verified by Visa" extra security question - my date of birth. Three strikes and they block your card so I tried twice and gave up. At the bank next day, Tuesday, it appeared that they had my DOB wrong in the system despite my having sent in a form and a copy of my passport at their insistence a month ago. Corrected it with another copy of my passport and was told to try again on Thursday. Duly did, failed again, third strike so card can no longer be used on-line.  Great. Bank again. Probably need to give Visa even longer to amend my details.  Try again on Monday, or order a new card. It almost certainly won't work on Monday so we'll have to see where we go from there.

Meanwhile, I have found a little book by the same author, not nearly so nice and well-presented, but I'm hooked. There are bits of knotted string all over the place and Jon looking slightly bemused, as if reading books on Kindle, playing arcade games on my phone and listening to French podcasts weren't enough he seems to say!

What seemed to amuse him was watching me have to close my eyes to complete a knot! Not that funny - I just needed to recall the diagram.

Anyway, if any of you understands what I'm talking about, I'd love to hear from you!  I seem to be on my own so far.

Friday 20 May 2011

For Adults only

Two amusing incidents to share with you.

The first was at English class which we attend every week when we're here to help Tom with his English conversation group. The topic was the English press coverage of the Royal wedding, as seen in the Guardian. Everyone had a piece to read and explain to the class. When it came to Claire, she told us that

"During his apprenticeship on Savile Row, the late Alexander McQueen sewed something bad into the lining of a suit jacket being made for Prince Charles." This something was so bad that Claire couldn't bring herself to say it aloud. Apparently the offending phrase was "I am a C***". Not many people know this, as Michael McCain would say.

The second story is about a certain little terracotta figure which we bought from the pottery market in Carcasonne last year. He was quite a well-endowed fellow taking a pee, but somehow lost an essential part of his anatomy. It not only fell out but is lost altogether. 

We are hoping that the pottery market will take place again this year but didn't know quite what we were going to ask the stall-holder if we found him. So we went round to see Roger and Evelyne to see if Roger, well-known for his love of puns and word-play, could help. We had a fairly hilarious time explaining as you might imagine but it seems that the commonly used word is "zizi" which is nice and easy to remember. The "correct" word is "verge" for those of you who are curious.

Problems, problems

Considering my husband's whole life revolves round cars, we've not done as well as might be expected lately on that front.  Our trusty old Opel Astra estate packed up towards the end of our last visit and had to be scrapped so we drove out here in a LH drive Opel van bought in England and under English plates. Jon asked when we bought it if the headlights were adjustable, so they would be acceptable in France and was told they were. He also noted that it had non-original wheels, but thought it would not matter. Wrong twice over!

So we submitted it for MOT to find it needs four new tyres, as they are not the "correct" size, and two new headlights, as well as a new transmission seal ? (a Soufflet Cardan) and new brake discs and pads. A potential bill of €1,000!  We've nearly got over the shock now, having sourced two headlights through a helpful scrap dealer - brand-new but a third of the price, and cheap parts for the rest.  It's being done right now but it's still going to cost us over €500.

On top of that, someone who shall remain nameless only brought out half of the log book, the bit you have to send up when you export a vehicle permanently, so we can't register it this time. One can only hope that she will be better organized next time!

And then there's the matter of the stair carpet.  Before we left we had agreed a price for fitting, and that we would order it from England to be ready when we got out here. Made the phone call, emailed the order, posted the cheque. Went to the carpet shop on arrival - no cheque received, carpet not ordered. We cancelled the cheque (€16), issued another and the carpet arrived in time for the agreed start date of Monday 16th. No word from the fitter, however, so I rang only to find that he was in New York on holiday and probably not coming back. Furthermore, the quote was only pending on the system, not accepted. We reckon he was going to do it "on the black" as he had undercut his original quote considerably.  Anyway, we had someone else from the firm round to see the job.  He was to give us two quotes by the end of the week but we've not heard from him yet. Meanwhile our cheque arrived yesterday - nearly 4 weeks in transit!  Thanks a lot Royal Mail/La Poste.



However, it has given me time to finish decorating around the stairwell and it looks great. (The carpet will be on the treads only)
(For those of you who haven't been here, what appears to be a door halfway up the wall is just a window)

Monday 16 May 2011

The citizens' choir

Before we left home I received a newsletter which mentioned the formation of a scratch choir to end up taking part in three concerts.  There had already been two rehearsals but there were still 3 to go, two being on the weekend we expected to arrive.  I asked by email if I could join and was sent a link to the music in advance.

It has proved great fun, musically not that good but very sociable as most members were coming together for the first time, so it was very open, no cliques. We only sang 6 songs but had to learn them by heart, which was particularly difficult for me of course, both from the point of view of serious memory challenge and 2 foreign languages - 3 if you count "rap". One song in English, 4 in French and one in Catalan.

We rehearsed all day Saturday, with a lunch break when several people brought home-made food to share, and Jon came with a pack-up for us. All very convivial. It was organized by the Chapeau Rouge, which runs various music workshops and holds regular concerts, all in a rambling building in the arty quarter just outside of the city walls.

Convivial citizens' choir at lunch

On Sunday we met from 1 till 6, and it was gradually dawning on me that all the songs were revolutionary. We sang about the bourgeois in Paris being well fed, but there being poor people with empty stomachs, and that those who sow misery reap anger. And if you heave from there and I heave from here then the whole thing is sure to come down - together we will win - let's dance. Another one sang of having bread as golden as...., and wine that sparkles like... and we'll have beds, and the sea next to the stars etc etc. when our golden age arrives. (The one song in English was the Banana Boat Song, by the way).  And my favourite - Tout bradé, oo ils ont tout bradé - All sold off, oh yes they've sold everything off. Anti-privatization or what?

Rehearsal

Another rehearsal on Friday 13th all afternoon, home for 20 minutes to change and eat and back for the concert, which was amazing. We were just a small part of it but the place was electric. The concert hall had no chairs and people danced and leapt around like mad things. The guys who had been rehearsing us were a very lively group who got the whole thing off the ground and by the time we came on, the audience were ready for anything. all joining in and waving fists in the air. We sang our hearts out and swayed and stamped to the rhythm so that the raised platform some of us were standing on started to bounce alarmingly and the sweat was running into my eyes!

Video of Tout Bradé from the first concert    And the Banana Boat Song

Now we don't meet again until the next concert which is in the open air in one of the poorer suburbs just before we come back home.  The main concert is part of the city festival in late June and I'm really sorry I shall miss that.

Sunday 15 May 2011

Getting here

Drove down this time as we had our replacement car to bring out, having scrapped the other one last year.

On the way we stopped at Loos-en-Goohel to see my grandfather's name inscribed on the war memorial. It was so strange to see that familiar name in a place I'd never seen before. He was killed when my father was 2 years old and I don't think his wife, my grandmother, will have seen his memorial plaque. I know him only by seeing that name written inside many of the books that I grew up with. The cemetery was beautifully planted and immaculate, and it struck me how many families' lives were changed so drastically like ours by those millions of deaths (about 16 million over all nations involved).



Attwood J C, my grandfather

Apart from that we also visited two car museums, the Schlumpf collection of over 500 vehicles near Strasbourg, and the Peugeot museum, which houses a mere 200 or so. After this we got our heads down and drove continously, arriving on Thursday night, May 5th.



We spent Friday tackling the most pressing matters such as car insurance and MOTs, banking and carpet ordering (all gone haywire as our cheque had not arrived so the carpet wasn't ordered and was now out of stock, and the fitter is due next Monday). All this so that I was clear to join rehearsals for the Chorale Citoyenne de Carcassonne all weekend.

Thursday 12 May 2011

Final chapter of Nepal trip

I didn't quite finish the account of my trip to Nepal - that is, I didn't include getting back home - so, for the sake of completeness here's what happened. From those of you who are familiar with the story I have had much sympathy, but I have to say it is largely undeserved for, though uncomfortable, the experience was very much part of the whole trip and I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
To start with, I met up with a very interesting lady at the airport in Kathmandu, a Brit now living in Sweden who had just done the Annapurna trail. Like me, she had the feeling of time running out, and infirmity steadily approaching and felt it was "now or never".  She said it was extremely challenging and she definitely needed to have left it no longer - she was 65, by the way, and with no particular health issues. From her account, I am sure I was right not to attempt it. She was going on to a two week tour of Rajisthan, S India. We chatted comfortably as our departure hour came and went and announcements in Nepalese caused minor eruptions of activity. Seeing our confusion, a lovely Nepalese gentleman took it upon himself to interpret and to seek information. He was a Gurkha named Sher, returning home to London after a family visit. We eventually left 2 hours late, after waiting for the Kathmandu pollution to lift away and fortunately our connecting flight from Delhi was waiting for us.
But this was Friday December 17th and, as we approached Europe on Saturday 18th, Heathrow closed due to the snow and we were diverted to Brussels. This turned out to be just like all the acounts you've ever heard reported, the prime problem being lack of information. There was only one restaurant/cafe open and no fast-track for drinks only so the queue was never-ending, and it was several hours before bottled water was brought in by the Red Cross. Each flight looked for news from their airline and some were better than others at this. There were no tannoy announcements and the best way to find out what was going on was to follow any moving group of people. Often this would lead only to another airline's information provider but occasionally it would be general information about camp beds or meal vouchers, and if you were lucky you'd find yourself listenening to information from your own airline.
We managed to miss out on the first batch of camp beds and were told by our airline that there were no hotel rooms to be had in Brussels, so lay down on the tiled floor.  Sher was immediately asleep but I wasn't that efficient, so at 1a.m. I decided I might as well join the cafe queue with my meal voucher.  It took me till 4.30 before I had my meal on my tray!
Next day there were rumours of Eurostar tickets and connecting flights, but the worst situated were those passengers who were non-European, who could therefore not leave the airport and had no option but to wait for a flight.
We were told that there were 117 Eurostar tickets for EU passport holders and rushed to baggage claim to collect our luggage and tickets but after a couple of hours and no luggage appearing, it seemed there were only 54 tickets and I missed out. However at least I was
accommodated in a hotel that night, unlike Sher who couldn't leave the airport.
Next day there was to be a flight at 6.30 am but we sat on the tarmac for 4 hours as there was no deicing fluid available. Frequent texts from Jon telling me that Heathrow was going to close again and Was I on my way yet? No, still waiting. Anyway, thankfully we did eventually take off, one of the last planes to land that day, Monday 19th.
Quite an adventure, but I don't think I'd like to repeat it.