Of Cabbages and Kings

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—”

Lewis Carroll

Sometimes it feels as though we are living inside a nonsense poem by Lewis Carroll. In a day, we do so many disparate (and perhaps even desperate!) things, and have such a variety of experiences that it is hard to assimilate everything. We deal, literally and metaphorically, with the nuts and bolts of everyday life in a foreign country. Just to complicate things, we are living not just a dichotomy but a three-way experience, a trichotomy, of British, American and French culture. But every day, we have those beautiful, transient moments that make it all worthwhile. We go from the sublime to the ridiculous, or vice versa, from cabbages to kings.

From the ridiculous - seeking cabbages

Let’s start with cabbages. It happens to be one of the vegetables that the French don’t do well. There are white cabbages for choucroute, red cabbages for Alsacien and German specialities, but sometimes I just long for an honest-to-goodness, plain old green-leaf cabbage. Our local supermarket doesn’t carry them, so we comb the markets and pounce whenever we come across one. Cabbage and potatoes - it’s my version of soul food at any time of year. Of course, there are compensations. The first strawberries of the season appear, a traditional variety known as gariguettes, grown here in the region. They are tiny bursts of intense flavor, a reminder of what strawberries should taste like. Cherries too, called bigarreau, paler and yellower that we are used to, but deliciously sweet.

The nuts and bolts – well, that’s easy. Almost every other day we make a trip to the DIY store. We know by heart the layout of every DIY store in the area. I can find my way blindfold to the different rayons: outillage, plomberie, quincaillerie, salle de bains, murs et plafonds….. The store workers all recognize us now after all our questions. I like to think they don’t hide when they see us coming. Mastering the vocabulary is a different story. Here are just a few examples.

Cheville = ankle, but it is also a wall anchor (UK – Rawlplug). I discovered this after a long-drawn-out conversation which included a lot of mime. The Castorama (think Home Depot) worker was extremely patient and helpful. But what color do you need? It turns out that the color is crucial, because the sizes are color-coded.

Patins = skates, but also apparently the little felt dampers you stick on chair legs so that they don’t make a noise when they scrape on the floor.

Chemin = a path, but it is also a long decorative narrow cloth which runs the length of the table.

Escargot = that chewy little gastropod that the French find so tasty when served with butter and garlic, but also the plastic dispenser for a roll of adhesive tape. Look at the shape and you will soon see why.

And what’s the difference between a nut (un écrou), a bolt (une vis), a nail (un clou) or a tack (une pointe) anyway? That’s still a mystery to me in any language.

So coming to kings… I bought some diamonds last week. Two lots in fact. But before you start imagining Tiffany’s, or a rivière de diamants as in the famous Maupassant story, I’d better put you straight. I’m not really a diamond sort of person. My hands are, and have always been, working hands. Short, stubby fingers, wrinkly Granny skin, nails that never stay shapely and varnished. And as for that diamond necklace, it doesn’t go too well with my work clothes, currently a lightweight painter’s coverall, one size fits all, or not in my case, since the one size is XX, so mine is cut off and fixed with clothes pegs so that it doesn’t drag in the paint. The diamonds in question are industrial, on a drill bit, a special cutter for the bathroom tiles. I actually bought three in one day. That, and watching the Queen’s Jubilee on the television, as are near to royalty as I will get!

As with any household, the cleaning seems endless, made more difficult by the orange building dust still lurking in every corner. I can relate to another verse in the same poem by Lewis Carroll:

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

Aside from cabbages and kings, some days are what can only be described as bizarre. Camels and llamas, for example. Not more examples of ambiguous vocabulary, there are literally camels and llamas. The circus is parked near the commercial centre, so each time we pop over to Leroy Merlin or Castorama we pass the camels and llamas grazing peacefully on the grass next to the roundabout.

To the sublime - Mont Ste Victoire

But there are the compensations. We drive home on a small section of the A8, the Autoroute du Soleil, which extends from Barcelona to Nice and on to Ventimiglia in Italy. The car is packed with bits of wood, lighting, mirrors for the bathrooms, barstools for the breakfast bar, wiring and plumbing supplies. As we round the last bend before the exit, Mont Ste Victoire rises magically before us, a breathtaking vision, golden in the evening sun, sharply profiled against the darkening blue of the sky. It takes but an instant to understand Cezanne’s fascination for this mountain which he painted over 60 times, whose character constantly evolves with the changing light and the weather. Another uplifting moment.

We lug the packages from the car, then settle on the balcony for a quiet drink of the local pale rosé. Our neighbors wave as they go by, and wish us bon appétit. And life feels less like a nonsense poem, more like living in a wonderland.

© 2012 Valerie and Trevor White

Bits and Pieces...

As Val mentioned in her recent "business" blog, we hadn’t written for a while after getting back from the States because we had been rushed off our feet buying a car, getting car insurance (l’assurance auto) and car title (la carte grise), then closing on the apartment, and getting house and contents insurance, electricity, gas, telephone, TV, and internet organized.  

Meanwhile, we had been working hard on designing modifications to the apartment before we moved in. In typical French fashion, even though it is a 3 bed apartment, there is only one, separate, WC (which has no hand basin), and one bathroom (i.e. a bath and washbasin, no toilet).  So we have been brainstorming (une remue-meninges) ways to get a second bathroom with a second WC. Additionally, we want to open up the kitchen where currently there is not much light. This will make it more open plan, add a breakfast bar, and provide easier access to the dining room for carrying dishes back and forth.

Kells Round Tower

We have found a local Irish builder who is doing the basic work for us (cutting through 4 inches of concrete for wastepipes!). Coincidentally, he went to school in Kells, a little market town some way north of Dublin where I worked for a couple of years. The town, also called Ceannanas Mór, is most famous for its Books of Kells, a beautifully illuminated manuscript book in Latin, containing the four Gospels of the New Testament. It was created by Celtic monks around 800 AD. Kells also has a round tower dating from the 10th century. One story goes that when the Viking raiders arrived the locals would run up a ladder to a high door in the tower and then pull the ladder up behind them. They would have provisions in the tower and simply wait out the rape and pillage going on below! If you want to know more about Kells see this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kells,_County_Meath .

Kitchen walls propped up

Coming back to the work on the apartment (revenons à nos moutons), we intend to completely strip out what remains of the existing kitchen cupboards and fittings, and redo them to our taste (à notre gout).  To plan all this we have been drawing and redrawing possible layouts, then going the rounds of furniture stores such as Conforama and Ikea, and building stores such as Leroy-Merlin and Castorama (similar to Home Depot in the USA or Homebase in the UK), viewing, reviewing and finally selecting what we think will work.

Of course we collide with a lot of specialist vocabulary along the way… most of which I am sure will be transient and be shortly forgotten! Here’s a simple example of wishing to buy a drill. Does monsieur want une perceuse sans fil, un perforateur burineur ou une perceuse à percussion ? Ou peut-être une visseuse à chocs, ou un marteau-piqueur (livré, bien sûr, avec un burin plat) ? And does monsieur want a drill bit with that (un foret and not une forêt, or does monsieur want une mèche) ?

AAGP Play reading group

To complement or counter all this hard work, we continue to enjoy social activities here – helped by weather that continues to be beautiful, with each morning a joy as we open the shutters and see a bright blue sky shining over the tops of adjacent buildings and trees.

Gorges du Caramy

About a dozen of us participate in the AAGP (Anglo-American Group of Provence) monthly English play-reading group, and this time we read Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas. It was sublime. Afterwards, we played a portion of the renowned 1960s BBC audio recording of Richard Burton reading it – a humbling experience.

We also enjoyed an AAGP ramble and picnic, with about 20 adults, 5 children and as many dogs. This time it was a walk along the Gorges du Caramy, about 45 minutes’ drive east of Aix en Provence.

© 2012 Trevor and Valerie White

Back to business...

It’s a long time since we wrote a blog and gave you our news. What got in the way was just life: dealing with the realities of buying a car and an apartment in a foreign country (and foreign language), arranging insurance and services, and moving in. If moving house has been shown to be one of the most stressful activities we ever undertake, doing the same under another legal system adds a whole new stress level. Add to that some family issues, and you will see why we haven’t had much time to write recently.

So now it’s time to get back to business, if you’ll pardon the expression. Because the business in question is the loo, the john, the porcelain, the little girls’ room, whatever euphemism you choose, or in other words, the toilet.  The French have a reputation for having some of the worst toilets, or even none at all in public places. Some seasoned travelers may remember those holes in the ground with footrests which used to pass for toilets in cafes, or those mid-height screens on Paris streets which barely shielded the (male only) users of the pissoirs. Thankfully, the latter are a thing of the past, and the former are only occasionally found in highway rest-stops.

Out with the old...

Most cafes nowadays have modern, clean facilities with toilet paper, soap and either paper towels or hand-dryers. One slight difference which may come as a shock to Anglo-Saxons – often these facilities are shared by the two sexes. As you might imagine, we have been spending quite a lot of time in DIY stores recently. And unlike when we lived in France 20 years ago, most of these large stores now have toilets for customers. IKEA, the well-known Swedish furniture company, has clean toilets and baby-changing nurseries on each floor, tastefully decorated in gray and yellow. My big criticism: no hook or shelf to take a bag.  Castorama is another popular DIY store, with a wealth of plumbing and building supplies. They have finally realized that many of their customers are women!

But the king of toilets is a DIY store called Leroy Merlin, quite appropriate when you think that Leroy is a variant of le roi, meaning king. The toilets in our local branch are new, always clean, with liquid soap and high-powered electric hand dryers. Green in color-scheme to promote the company logo, they are also green in other ways, featuring low-use flush toilets, the latest designs, and automatic lighting which goes off if no-one is in the room.

The latest design in toilets is the W.C. suspendu which is attached to the wall and allows for easy cleaning underneath. The tank is also wall-mounted, and hidden behind a false wall. All that shows is a flat panel to control the flush: push the small button for a short flush, the larger one if more water is needed. The Europeans are very environmentally conscious.

How do I know all this? Part of the work we have recently undertaken in the new apartment involved renovating an old bathroom and constructing a new one in a tiny space that used to be a laundry room. So we did a lot of research on toilets. We looked at shapes, sizes, mounting, water use, height …… and finally ordered two W.C. suspendus. And waited ……The builder was getting anxious, having never installed this kind before. He wanted to see them before putting in the plumbing, and the wait was making him nervous! So when our ordered loos did not arrive on time, we went online, found them at another store, and drove to pick them up. The drive home with two toilet kits in the back of our little Renault Clio was quite fun.



And in with the new...

And then the work began in earnest! The walls here are so thick (18 cm or 7 inches) that the builder was able to drill out a space and bury the tank totally in the wall. The floor was dug up and the sewer pipes were laid, with the angle just right to ensure correct drainage. And then for the cuvette or base, the business end of the toilet as it were. What height would Madame like it? Madame was very particular: after all, she is going to spend the rest of her life using this particular device (not continually, you understand, but we’re planning for it to last a long time …)

So we went around measuring toilets. I sat on them in stores, I looked at friends’ toilets, we got out the tape measure and measured the perfect height from the ground. So now I feel like Goldilocks, as my (modern, environmentally friendly, clean-lined, wall-mounted) toilet is not too high, and not too low, but just right. It doesn’t take much really to make a girl happy. Now if you’ll excuse me, nature calls …….

© 2012 Trevor and Valerie White

Joyeuses Fêtes !



Christmas lights on the cours Mirabeau

Here in Europe we don't have Thanskgiving to protect us from heading full-tilt into commercial Christmas. By early October we had already received a thick magazine from Carrefour, a large supermarket chain, displaying gift ideas for children. Television ads start showing winter scenes and children's toys... while outside it is still bright, sunny and warm, and we're lunching on the balcony in short sleeves.

Chalet on the cours Mirabeau

Early November the street lights and Christmas decorations are being mounted in downtown Aix. Wooden chalets are being installed the length of the main drag - the cours Mirabeau. All is completed for the 19th November light-up, which I have to say, is a dazzling display both along the cours, and throughout the narrow shopping lanes behind.

The chalets offer mulled wine, candy floss (barbe à papa) and toffee apples as well as traditional, local gifts such as lavender and scented Marseille soap. There are hand-painted silk scarves, leather bags and purses, gifts for all ages and tastes, and even a chalet where budding prestidigitateurs can buy tricks and magic accessories.

Despite efforts by the large stores, the official French Christmas period kicks off on December 4, the feast of Sainte Barbe. Tradition has it that wheat planted on this day will germinate and grow well. You can buy little packets of seed in many boulangeries: the sprouted wheat is used to decorate both the Christmas table and the traditional crèche.

Santons nativity scene

But a crèche in Provence is no ordinary nativity scene. While you will recognize the standard figures of the holy family surrounded by animals, there are many more figures not seen elsewhere. For Provence is the home of the santons, small hand-painted ceramic figures representing traditional trades. So baby Jesus is visited by shepherds and the three kings, but also by the lavender grower, the fish seller and the local baker. A beautiful nativity scene representing the holy family in a Provençal village setting has pride of place along the cours Mirabeau.

Since this is France, no celebration is complete without lots of good things to eat and drink. La Place Jeanne d’Arc, near the famous fountain of La Rotonde, becomes a gourmet delight. First, a food tasting mounted by two of the villes jumelées or sister cities of Aix. Tents appear, and soon Aixois are lining up to enjoy varieties of wörst from Tübingen in Germany and pastas from Perugia in Italy. These are soon followed by La Foire Aux Olives, mounted by local olive growers. You dip your bread and taste a huge variety of oils, stock up on jars of preserved olives and olive products such as tapenade, a delicious anchovy and olive spread. These all make wonderful Christmas gifts.  

Treize Desserts

If by any chance you are still not prepared for Christmas, it’s no problem for the Aixois. Provence is home to the famous treize desserts, or thirteen desserts of Christmas. The olive fair is now supplemented by local farmers, producers and artisans of all types representing the thirteen desserts. So what are the famous treize desserts? Ask ten people from Provence and you will get ten different answers, but here is a generally-accepted list: figs, almonds, raisins and hazelnuts or walnuts, thought to represent four orders of mendicant friars; black and white nougat; la pompe à huile, a large, flat cake flavored with orange blossom; mandarins; crystallized quince; dates; melon or watermelon; grapes; and in Aix, les calissons, a confection of almond paste lightly flavored with liquorice, produced here in the town. Fans of Marcel Pagnol will recognize the list from the Christmas scene of Le Chateau de ma Mère. Other stalls are packed with jars of jelly, baskets of fruit, boxes of hand-made chocolates, all beautifully wrapped and ready to offer as gifts. Who needs socks and ties when there is quince jam, local wine, olive bread, trays of preserved fruits?

All these products and the local artisans that produce them are highly valued. Tradition plays a strong role here, with a table rich in quality and variety to be shared with friends and family gathering together over the holidays. We will be doing likewise!

So whether you’re planning oysters and foie gras, ham and sweet potatoes, or maybe roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, we wish you all a very happy and safe holiday.

Trevor and Valerie

© 2011 text and images Trevor and Valerie White

Buying a Place in France

Buying a place in France can be a very frustrating experience… there is no master listing service (MLS) where you can go and do a first search by internet of properties for sale. Real estate agents jealously guard their few properties for sale, and often demand exclusivité of the seller so only they can sell the property.

Given the lack of an MLS, and the traditional mistrust of all administration here in France, it is not surprising that around 30% of sales are private, leaving about 60% through an agency, and 10% through local attorneys (notaires as distinct from avocats). By the way it seems the collective noun is une etude de notaires, but un cabinet d’avocats.

The best approximation to an MLS we found was to go to property magazines’ web sites. Again, there is not one definitive magazine but several competitors, each jealously guarding the agencies that advertise with them.

Seeking out For Sale signs on properties is not much use either - public signs are very rare and usually only if properties are already unoccupied.

The next challenge is that actual property addresses are also jealously guarded. This means that web searches and window shopping have very limited usefulness. We would see properties advertised as “within 15 minutes of the town centre” – not specifying whether this was on foot or by car – a huge difference! Sometimes we would at least see advertisements indicating a generic area – quartier lycée Cézanne for example, this being about as precise as agents would dare to get. And of course walking that area we would find a mixture of delightful and dubious properties. In reality you have to go to each agency to get more details - but still you're not given the actual address. You agree on a visit date and time and meet the agent, either at the agency or at some commonly agreed location, and from there you are escorted to the property. At the end of the visit you must sign a form, un bon de visite, that is used to prove that they were the first to show you this property and if you buy from another agent, or buy privately, the original showing agent still gets their full commission.

Real estate agent hyperbole applies just as much in France as in other countries. Some of the expressions made us laugh out loud. The condition of a property could be described, roughly in order of the work needed, as très bon état, bon état, à refraichir, à renover. Other fun expressions include à refaire à votre gout...

Photos - where provided at all - are very limited. Often just one photo is available, typically a lounge/diner view. The photos are amazingly poor, with no effort made to tidy up beforehand. Everything is very cluttered - we see photos of rooms with clothes sprawling over chairs, dirty dishes on worktops. To be fair, since there is so little storage space, I guess they don’t have anywhere to hide stuff, but still, it would take but a moment to put clothes away and wash dishes!

So, in reality, it is necessary to do a first search by internet, to get a flavor of what is available at what price, then go walkabout to get a feel for the areas. Finally, go from one agency to another and spend time with them as they capture needs and desires (and budget – Aix is apparently the most expensive place after Paris), then have them explain how few properties they really have available. Because, despite their listings and web site showing lots of properties, many are in fact already under contract, outright sold, have a tenant with long term rights, or have some specific problem like being next to the highway. If we’re lucky, we get to visit two properties per agency that generally meet our criteria.

By the way, agents usually advertise properties with the price marked FAI – frais d’agence inclus. They then claim to the buyer that they don’t have any agency fees to pay - but of course in reality the price has already been inflated by the agency fees before putting it on the market, so the buyer is in a sense paying the fees!

Because of the lack of actual addresses, we also had to get to know key areas and adjacent villages. These are often named by a specific development outside of town such as Les Milles or La Duranne. Even getting to know how to pronounce local names can be a challenge… Luynes, Puyricard, Pertuis, Trets… is the final consonant pronounced?

Initially we walk and walk all over town, and soon learn that street maps can be very deceptive. What seems on the map to be an interesting area just a few minutes’ walk away turns out to be a major climb uphill from the town centre – not something you want to tackle after an evening of lovely food and wine in one of the open-air restaurants in the town centre.

Properties are usually advertised as F3 or T3 etc. F (fonction) and T (type) are essentially synonymous, while the number after refers to the total of livable rooms, excluding the bathroom, toilet, kitchen, utility room (should it be so luxurious as to have one at all). For example a T2 would have one lounge/diner and one bedroom, while a T4 might have a separate lounge and dining room, and 2 bedrooms.

When it comes to defining the size of the property however, the French count the “raw” floor area of every room, and every cupboard, even if built-in. Fortunately, there is now a law, le loi Carrez, which requires the ceiling to be of a minimum useful height (1.80 metres or about 70 inches), so no counting all of that loft conversion with its sloping ceiling.

Once agreed verbally, it takes just a few days for the notaire to draw up the sale document, le compromis de vente, and get the buyers and sellers together to sign (like the exchange of contracts in England). This is a real commitment on both sides with a penalty clause of 10% typically should either withdraw, and requires the buyer to put down a 5% deposit.  However, you may put in an escape clause (clause suspensive) if for example you need to get a loan and it might get refused. By the way, attorney fees (frais de notaire) and government taxes amount to a further 7% of the purchase price, so you need to be sure this is the property for you!

Closing takes place about 3 months later, mostly due to the fact that the local town hall has the right to purchase the property and is required to respond within 60 days.

Parc de la Torse (next door to where we are buying)

Unlike the UK and the USA, here in France sellers typically take all they can dismantle… including light fittings (leaving just bare wires), kitchen cabinets and built-in appliances – unless specifically agreed beforehand. Some friends here recently found their sellers had even removed all the electric panel radiators from the walls!

Despite all the above, we have found an apartment within comfortable walking distance of Aix centre, next to a lovely park, and not far from the highway to the south – the coast, and the countryside. Work will be needed, in agents’ jargon à refraichir, and the kitchen à refaire. But we are not in a hurry, and look forward to going to Ikea and being inspired!

© 2011 Text and Images Trevor and Valerie White

Food shopping - First Impressions

We don't have a car right now, so local shopping is really important to us, and of course more fun!

Fortunately there is a Casino supermarket in the neighborhood, just 5 minutes away. It’s relatively small but a joy to visit, and simply wander the aisles in slow pleasure, absorbing the sights and smells.

It's Sunday morning - and we’re astounded to see long lines at the checkout and no carts (chariots) to hand because the store is packed. The locals are out in force - many buying the week's shopping, but others clearly shopping for fresh food for their big Sunday get together.

We wait for a cart and remember we must have a 1 euro piece handy to be able to disengage it from the lines of carts usually chained together outside the store. Our euro is only borrowed – it is appreciatively returned once we restore the cart to its rightful resting place with the others.

On entering, the delicious smell of baking bread immediately strikes us. In fact bread is continuously baked throughout the day here and so is often delightfully hot to the touch. The French have improved their bread habits since we were here over 20 years ago – now, in addition to the traditional white flour baguette and pain, there is a wide selection of whole grain breads and rolls (petits pains). We have fallen in love with the baguette aux céréales. Prices are generally very comparable with the USA, and local tax is already included of course, so what you see is what you pay. A healthy baguette aux céréales is 0,95€ (about $1.33 including tax), a regular baguette 0,63€ (no longer government price controlled but closely monitored by consumer associations).

By the way, for those who haven’t encountered numbers here, the decimal point in France is replaced by a decimal comma, conversely the thousands separator is a comma, not a period. It’s quite a challenge writing a check because the value in words is written first, then the payee’s name (the opposite of English or American checks), followed by the numerical value with periods and commas reversed!

After the bread comes the fresh fruit and vegetable area with a few products we don’t recognize but look interesting for another day. We quickly learn that you must place produce in a plastic bag, put it on nearby scales, search through a list to find what you have chosen, then press its icon to get it weighed, priced and a label printed that you place on the bag.

Next we arrive at the patisserie with those amazingly beautiful gateaux and desserts that are veritable works of art – hand-made, transient and pleasurable of course. We are spoilt – nous sommes gâtés!

The patisserie counter forms a square with the delicatessen on the opposite side. By way of contrast, here are displayed all the savory delights – a cornucopia of cheeses, pâtés, often encased in golden pastry (en croûte), sausages, including several boudin (made with blood), and andouillette (made with intestines). Oh, and some large bowls of snails (escargots), suitably stuffed with garlic ready for the oven.

This brings us to the meat counter where, even in this small store, we come across traditional French items such as rabbit (lapin) beautifully dressed, lambs feet (pieds d’agneau ), lambs tongue (langue d’agneau), veal brains (cervelle de veau), horse steak (steak à cheval), and a local specialty - Marseille pieds et paquets (offal of tripe and feet) - un mets composé d'abats de mouton (tripes et pieds). More pictures available for those interested!

Being so close to the Mediterranean, the fish counter offers a wide variety of fresh fish and shellfish that monsieur le poissonnier will prepare on request. Trying to understand the French names though can be quite a challenge since many of the Mediterranean varieties are simply not seen elsewhere and so are not readily translatable. Even for the French, there is a pictorial wall chart!

Near the end of this delightful excursion we arrive at the wine section where Val is spoilt for choice by two floor-to-ceiling shelves of dry rosé wine, starting at around 2€ a bottle.  No white Zinfandel here...

Another small advance in technology by the way - prices on shelves are displayed using small LCDs, indicating price and unit price (per kilo or per litre for example), making comparison shopping much easier, and of course allowing the store to change prices easily without any need to reprint shelf labels.

Now to pay… there are 4 self-checkouts but they take European cards only - those with a chip on board, so we have to go through the regular checkouts with our old-fashioned 1950s technology magnetic-stripe credit cards. But this is in fact a pleasure as we get to talk to local people in the queue, and we are starting to get known by the regular cashiers who have to get a signature when we pay with our funny foreign credit card.

We only buy as much as we can comfortably carry back to the apartment, even if it is only a few minutes away. If we spend 50€ or more they will deliver - but then we’d be tied to staying at home when they call by, and besides we don’t have a lot of storage in our small apartment.

Most importantly though, we simply enjoy going back every couple of days and buying our fresh bread, cheese and wine… and meeting people along the way.

© 2011 text and images Trevor and Valerie White

Rainy Day Friends

Why did we decide to settle in Aix-en-Provence?

One huge reason is the climate, and Provence, with its summers drenched in sunlight and its piercingly blue sky has been enthralling visitors and artists for centuries. Winters are mild, and the current November temperatures hover around 20C (68F). Rainfall is low, averaging about 587 mm (about 23 inches) per year. While we love England, memories of spending countless weekends watching the rain streaming down the window panes and gurgling down the gutters convinced us that we would prefer to spend our golden years somewhere, well, more golden!

But nature is not always predictable, and the past week has seen torrential rains and flooding in many areas of southern France, including our department of les Bouches-du-Rhône. Nothing daunted, we go as usual to our Saturday morning conversation group in a local cafe. The rain is still pouring down as we emerge, so we accept with pleasure an invitation by friends to join them for a pre-lunch drink.

Dodging the rain as far as possible, we duck into the front area of a local cafe on the famous Cours Mirabeau. In summer these are the pavement cafes where locals and tourists alike settle in for a session of people-watching and setting the world to rights over a glass of wine or a cup of coffee. In winter, a canvas surround and heaters ensure a cozy atmosphere. So drinks merge into lunch, then coffee, as we watch the rain fall and the world go by outside, with a waiter sallying forth occasionally, armed with a broom, to tip the water from the roof. We talk and eat, eat and talk as we while away the wettest day so far. But what a wonderful way to spend a wet Saturday!

The evening brings us down to earth with a bang, literally! It is late, the metal shutters are all securely closed against the intemperate weather, and we are doing a final clear-up before bed. I switch on the kitchen light, there’s a loud popping noise, and we find ourselves in pitch darkness, with not even a tiny ray of light from outside making its way through the tightly-closed shutters.

By the glow of a cellphone, we find a flashlight, and locate the junction box above the front door. Balanced on a chair and holding the flashlight, Trevor resets the offending circuit-breaker. Nothing happens. We look around, locate a second box in the kitchen, this time at floor level, and reset everything. Still total darkness. By now it is 11 at night and we are not sure who to call. So I listen tentatively at my neighbor's door across the landing of the apartment building. Hearing the television, I cross my fingers that he is still awake, and ring his doorbell. He appears immediately, reaches out to shake hands, asks us how we are, and goes through all those courtesies for which the French are deservedly famous. He behaves as if he is genuinely pleased to see us, with never a reproach for disturbing his peaceful Saturday evening. We describe our problem, and he explains to us that there is yet another circuit-breaker, this time in the meter closet in the common stairwell. For this, we need a special key from EDF, Électricité de France.  So that's the purpose of the key hanging on a hook just inside the front door! We open the closet, identify our meter, push the magic button and voila! We have light.

A neighbor who extends a helping hand in a tight fix, new friends with whom we can spend four hours on a wet afternoon and still have more to talk about. It may still be pouring, but we are counting our blessings. Rainy day friends really are the best type to have. And we still have the promise of the return of those glorious, clear blue skies of Provence!

© 2011 Text and Images Trevor and Valerie White