On Saturday we were invited out to the lovely countryside of the Beaujolais region (the 'nouveau' wine may be bad but the area is stunningly beautiful)for a Hog Roast - Ozzie/French style.
Our hosts were celebrating their marriage with barbecue to end all barbecues, well he is Australian. It was a very bilingual occasion and great fun. They have a house in the area which they inherited from her grandparents and is actually an old saw mill and the buildings that go with it. It was last used in the 60's and the wooden sheds have disappeared but a couple of the buildings remain. The local planning permission is that you can build on the footprints of existing buildings, so they are camping out in one, while restoring the other into what will be a stunning weekend place (incidentally about 3 times the size of their town flat.)
So back to the hog roast. A spit was made using an old washing machine engine and some Heath Robinson like additions and, of course, half an oil drum. Several trees were chopped down (OK - they had to go anyway) a pig, a sheep and 3 kegs of beer were ordered, their friends were invited and fingers and toes were crossed for good weather.
Us guests arrived clutching bowls of salad, bottles of wine and two sacks of bread, and proceeded to start on the alcohol. You will be pleased to know that it was mainly the men who hovered around the spit and debated how hot the fire was, adding more logs, basting the meat etc, while mainly women sat around the table and debated how men were the same the world over - give them a fire and leave them to it. The children were running around playing football, petanque or pirates and trying to skim stones across the river - awe inspired by the finely honed skills of my friend and her childhood spent by the sea in Ireland.
It was one of those great evenings when you catch up with old friends and meet new ones. I was also formally introduced to the boulanger who bakes the bread for the Creche I work in. It was one of those 'I know you but I don't know where from' moments but then the two sacks of baguettes were a big clue. Small world!
The weather held out, the food was eaten, the drinks were drunk, no children drowned and several hours later I went home, rather unsober and smelling of woodsmoke!
By the way, even though we were missing mint sauce and apple sauce, the pig and the sheep were done to perfection. Yum yum.
Monday 30 August 2010
Tuesday 24 August 2010
Swimming
I quite enjoy swimming, but don't seem to do as much of it as I would like. One of the joys of living in a (slightly) warmer climate is that it is more tempting to go swimming and Lyon is blessed with a plethora of pools (quite a few are olympic size ones as well) but they all seem to have different and weird opening times - especially in term times when there is school swimming and hour long staff lunch breaks to take into account.
Several of the pools close in the summer, I suppose it must be too hot to go swimming and several close in the winter - 'Ah, it's -5c outside, time for a refreshing dip.' Having been so dismissive, there is a method in the madness in that the ones that close in the summer are the indoor pools and instead the city opens up the outdoor pools. There is something lovely about swimming in the open air as it automatically makes you think that you are on holiday, even if you are only putting in a few laps on the way home from work. Unfortunately for someone as unmotivated as me, the open air pools are quite a trek from my house, where as my local indoor pool is within walking distance.
Also in France and most other countries in Europe, there is a lot more freshwater swimming than in the UK. This makes sense, the UK is an island and a hot summer's day means a queue in a traffic jam down to the coast. Imagine trying to do that in a country as large as France. Consequently we don't really do lake and river swimming the way the Europeans do it. There is a large lake outside of Lyon, that is packed every summer weekend with families having picnics and barbeques. We also have several rivers in the area and there are plenty of places within an hour or so's drive that are safe and clean for swimming. (But they don't have fish & chip shops, rock and kiss me quick hats either) The other weekend I was swimming in the Rhone - anyone fancy going for a swim in the Thames? Doesn't quite bring up the same image, does it.
Then there is something even better than outdoor municipal pools or lake/river swimming. It is the friends who have their own pool in the back garden. I was fortunate enough to be invited to afternoon at one of these on Saturday. It was heaven, a quiet pool, lounging around in the sun, drinks available, catching up on the gossip. What more could a girl want?
Oh, a pool of my own!!
Several of the pools close in the summer, I suppose it must be too hot to go swimming and several close in the winter - 'Ah, it's -5c outside, time for a refreshing dip.' Having been so dismissive, there is a method in the madness in that the ones that close in the summer are the indoor pools and instead the city opens up the outdoor pools. There is something lovely about swimming in the open air as it automatically makes you think that you are on holiday, even if you are only putting in a few laps on the way home from work. Unfortunately for someone as unmotivated as me, the open air pools are quite a trek from my house, where as my local indoor pool is within walking distance.
Also in France and most other countries in Europe, there is a lot more freshwater swimming than in the UK. This makes sense, the UK is an island and a hot summer's day means a queue in a traffic jam down to the coast. Imagine trying to do that in a country as large as France. Consequently we don't really do lake and river swimming the way the Europeans do it. There is a large lake outside of Lyon, that is packed every summer weekend with families having picnics and barbeques. We also have several rivers in the area and there are plenty of places within an hour or so's drive that are safe and clean for swimming. (But they don't have fish & chip shops, rock and kiss me quick hats either) The other weekend I was swimming in the Rhone - anyone fancy going for a swim in the Thames? Doesn't quite bring up the same image, does it.
Then there is something even better than outdoor municipal pools or lake/river swimming. It is the friends who have their own pool in the back garden. I was fortunate enough to be invited to afternoon at one of these on Saturday. It was heaven, a quiet pool, lounging around in the sun, drinks available, catching up on the gossip. What more could a girl want?
Oh, a pool of my own!!
Tuesday 17 August 2010
How hot is too hot?
When walking down the Grand Rue this afternoon, I overheard two women greeting each other and then straight away complain about the heat. If it hadn't have been for the fact that the conversation was in French, I would have thought myself back in my local High Street in South London.
However it does lead to the interesting debate about how hot is too hot. Yes, in the UK as soon as the thermometer hits over 20, everyone starts fanning themselves and complaining about how hot it is. Here in the (nearly) south of France, where the thermometer regularly hits the high 20s and above, you would expect more resilience amongst the population.
Today was a pleasant 27c - or so the flashing green sign outside the chemist informed me. Tomorrow will be the same - according the radio station playing in the background while I was in the shoe shop (It also pointed out that there is a traffic jam on the A7, along the Rhone, so you may want to avoid that area for the next couple of hours.) This sort of temperature is fine by me, though I do have to say that when walking up the hill, the shady side of the street is preferable to the sunny side. I find it a tad hot when it starts hitting the low 30s and when it hits the high 30s and above is when you will find me lying in a shaded room, with a damp cloth on my forehead and moaning like hell.
I feel I am acclimatizing well and as I said,the other day refused to go swimming as it was only 25c - I mean it was an outside pool!!!! Do you want me to freeze???
I still have a way to go though as several years ago, when working in Hong Kong, I realized I was sitting in the park, wearing a cardigan and it was 32c....
However it does lead to the interesting debate about how hot is too hot. Yes, in the UK as soon as the thermometer hits over 20, everyone starts fanning themselves and complaining about how hot it is. Here in the (nearly) south of France, where the thermometer regularly hits the high 20s and above, you would expect more resilience amongst the population.
Today was a pleasant 27c - or so the flashing green sign outside the chemist informed me. Tomorrow will be the same - according the radio station playing in the background while I was in the shoe shop (It also pointed out that there is a traffic jam on the A7, along the Rhone, so you may want to avoid that area for the next couple of hours.) This sort of temperature is fine by me, though I do have to say that when walking up the hill, the shady side of the street is preferable to the sunny side. I find it a tad hot when it starts hitting the low 30s and when it hits the high 30s and above is when you will find me lying in a shaded room, with a damp cloth on my forehead and moaning like hell.
I feel I am acclimatizing well and as I said,the other day refused to go swimming as it was only 25c - I mean it was an outside pool!!!! Do you want me to freeze???
I still have a way to go though as several years ago, when working in Hong Kong, I realized I was sitting in the park, wearing a cardigan and it was 32c....
Wednesday 11 August 2010
"C'est pas ouis, c'est oui."
For reasons that I haven't gone into and probably won't, I came out to France not speaking much more French than Bonjour. It seemed like a good idea at the time....
I have learnt quite a bit since then and am at that stage where I can understand a lot of what is going on around me but by the time I have formulated what I wanted to say to contribute to the conversation about giving up smoking, everyone has moved onto a different topic and is now discussing the merits of the cotes de rhone 06 over the bordeaux 08. It's wine, drink it!!!
The first French I learnt was market French, we have an amazing street market in Croix Rousse, it really is a gastronomical marvel. I know everyone will get defensive over their particular local markets but the sheer size and breadth of this one has to be seen to be believed. Through listening to other customers, I have learnt to ask for specific weights and measures of different items.
I then signed up for an intensive French course at a local language school and did 10 hours a week for two months. I took in a lot but as I was not using this on a daily basis it didn't become a habit to use. (At the time I was a nanny for an English family)
I then made the easy decision to stay in France and found a job in a bilingual creche. Easy peasy - I am a qualified childcarer and was being employed to speak English to the children. However it has been the place where I have learnt most French and I would like to give a big thanks to the French staff who have patiently listened while I got my tenses muddled up and done their best to understand my accent (which they are now quite complementary off)I still have a way to go, but these girls have given me the confidence to go out into the big wide world and use my beginners French. It is thanks to them that I was able to hold a long conversation in the chemists today about why a particular medicine wasn't working for me.
My other teachers have been the children, a lot of them come from bilingual households and, because we are in France their first language is French. Through them I have seen the way they learn a language more clearly and have been able to apply this to how I learn. Believe me it is so much easier than learning verb tables. I often use expressions were I don't know the literal translation but do know the context and spend hours looking up words in the dictionary and eventually realizing it is two words strung together or spelt differently than I imagined.
I am dyslexic and am now only realizing that it is possible to learn another language when I had struggled at school because teachers were more obsessed about spelling than working out whether I had understood the process or the concept being taught. I now know so much about words and their entomology and how they work together, it is truly an enriching experience, though I am still a long way off playing scrabble for 'fun'.
However, having said all that, it is still, quite hard to take a two and a half year old correcting you for saying 'Ouais' (Yeah) instead of 'Oui' (Yes).
I have learnt quite a bit since then and am at that stage where I can understand a lot of what is going on around me but by the time I have formulated what I wanted to say to contribute to the conversation about giving up smoking, everyone has moved onto a different topic and is now discussing the merits of the cotes de rhone 06 over the bordeaux 08. It's wine, drink it!!!
The first French I learnt was market French, we have an amazing street market in Croix Rousse, it really is a gastronomical marvel. I know everyone will get defensive over their particular local markets but the sheer size and breadth of this one has to be seen to be believed. Through listening to other customers, I have learnt to ask for specific weights and measures of different items.
I then signed up for an intensive French course at a local language school and did 10 hours a week for two months. I took in a lot but as I was not using this on a daily basis it didn't become a habit to use. (At the time I was a nanny for an English family)
I then made the easy decision to stay in France and found a job in a bilingual creche. Easy peasy - I am a qualified childcarer and was being employed to speak English to the children. However it has been the place where I have learnt most French and I would like to give a big thanks to the French staff who have patiently listened while I got my tenses muddled up and done their best to understand my accent (which they are now quite complementary off)I still have a way to go, but these girls have given me the confidence to go out into the big wide world and use my beginners French. It is thanks to them that I was able to hold a long conversation in the chemists today about why a particular medicine wasn't working for me.
My other teachers have been the children, a lot of them come from bilingual households and, because we are in France their first language is French. Through them I have seen the way they learn a language more clearly and have been able to apply this to how I learn. Believe me it is so much easier than learning verb tables. I often use expressions were I don't know the literal translation but do know the context and spend hours looking up words in the dictionary and eventually realizing it is two words strung together or spelt differently than I imagined.
I am dyslexic and am now only realizing that it is possible to learn another language when I had struggled at school because teachers were more obsessed about spelling than working out whether I had understood the process or the concept being taught. I now know so much about words and their entomology and how they work together, it is truly an enriching experience, though I am still a long way off playing scrabble for 'fun'.
However, having said all that, it is still, quite hard to take a two and a half year old correcting you for saying 'Ouais' (Yeah) instead of 'Oui' (Yes).
Sunday 8 August 2010
Summer musings
Time to play 'Spot the Tourist.' However, no points are awarded if they are carrying a Michelin guide vert.
Sunday 1 August 2010
What have the Romans ever done for us?
Been meaning to write about this for a couple of weeks now, so here goes.
Lyon was an important Roman city and, like in London, you trip over Roman remains all the time. For instance the square up the road was the junction of 5 important Roman roads and there is an amphitheatre round the corner. Interestingly enough the archeologists started looking for this amphitheatre over on the other side of the Croix Rousse hill. They had no luck, then some bright spark suggested digging in the Jardin des Plantes as that was where it was shown on the medieval maps. French archeologists 0 - medieval mapmakers 1.
There is an amazing complex of ruins up on Fourviere hill that has a Grand Theatre - the oldest in France and a smaller Odeum, built into the side of the hill, with amazing views down to the river and over the town. These have been partially restored and every summer a series of music concerts and performances are held there, Les Nuits de Fourviere. The content of these can be quite varied and this year I trooped up the hill on July 14th to see Mr I Pop and the Stooges. I had to hand over top of my bottle of water to the attendant before being allowed in. Do I look like someone who is going to hurl a bottle of water into a crowd????(I told someone who was going to a later concert about this and she cunningly took up a spare bottle top, hidden in the depths of her trouser pocket)
We then went to get a cushion (stone seats are very, very hard) and before we were allowed any, we were asked if we were going in the mosh pit or not?? Eventually we were reluctantly handed a cushion each. Fortunately my friend who turned up later brought us in some more!! Then we looked for two friends who had gone ahead - hindered by the fact the guy I was with has no mobile phone and I didn't have these guys numbers. Now, you would have thought that a tall Mauriatian guy would have been easy to spot in mainly white crowd but no. Then the thought dawned on us that perhaps they were in the mosh pit. Then our 3rd friend arrived (she with the extra cushions) and she had a mobile with one of their numbers on and yes, they were in the mosh pit. Us geriatrics decided to stay on the seats.
The concert was excellent fun (even though I was sightly disappointed that they didn't play their 3 best known numbers). Iggy was topless within a minute, there was crowd surfing aplenty and the French were seen to be toe tapping every now and then. For the last couple of songs Fourviere tradition took over and the cushions we had been sitting on were thrown onto the stage. 1000's of blue missiles being simultaneously launched into the air. It is a sight to be seen and shows that the French can have fun too. It happens at the end of every concert, no matter what type, jazz, classical, rock, even when I went and saw a film up there the cushions were thrown at the screen. Then suddenly at 10.25pm Iggy and the Stooges left the stage and that was that.
As we were leaving, the Bastille Day fireworks started, and it was suddenly clear why the Stooges had left the stage so promptly. The fireworks are set off on Fourviere hill and the noise boomed and echoed round the Grand Theatre. There was no way anyone could have played over the noise of these fireworks. Which leads back to one of the most interesting observations of the evening, how teeny tiny the speakers on the stage had been. I guess some of it must be improving technology, the rest was down to how good the acoustics are.
You have to hand it to the Romans, they knew how to build a good auditorium, just wish they had made the seats a bit softer!
(The sound quality is crap, but you'll see what I mean about the cushions http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSe8tgMc2AU)
Lyon was an important Roman city and, like in London, you trip over Roman remains all the time. For instance the square up the road was the junction of 5 important Roman roads and there is an amphitheatre round the corner. Interestingly enough the archeologists started looking for this amphitheatre over on the other side of the Croix Rousse hill. They had no luck, then some bright spark suggested digging in the Jardin des Plantes as that was where it was shown on the medieval maps. French archeologists 0 - medieval mapmakers 1.
There is an amazing complex of ruins up on Fourviere hill that has a Grand Theatre - the oldest in France and a smaller Odeum, built into the side of the hill, with amazing views down to the river and over the town. These have been partially restored and every summer a series of music concerts and performances are held there, Les Nuits de Fourviere. The content of these can be quite varied and this year I trooped up the hill on July 14th to see Mr I Pop and the Stooges. I had to hand over top of my bottle of water to the attendant before being allowed in. Do I look like someone who is going to hurl a bottle of water into a crowd????(I told someone who was going to a later concert about this and she cunningly took up a spare bottle top, hidden in the depths of her trouser pocket)
We then went to get a cushion (stone seats are very, very hard) and before we were allowed any, we were asked if we were going in the mosh pit or not?? Eventually we were reluctantly handed a cushion each. Fortunately my friend who turned up later brought us in some more!! Then we looked for two friends who had gone ahead - hindered by the fact the guy I was with has no mobile phone and I didn't have these guys numbers. Now, you would have thought that a tall Mauriatian guy would have been easy to spot in mainly white crowd but no. Then the thought dawned on us that perhaps they were in the mosh pit. Then our 3rd friend arrived (she with the extra cushions) and she had a mobile with one of their numbers on and yes, they were in the mosh pit. Us geriatrics decided to stay on the seats.
The concert was excellent fun (even though I was sightly disappointed that they didn't play their 3 best known numbers). Iggy was topless within a minute, there was crowd surfing aplenty and the French were seen to be toe tapping every now and then. For the last couple of songs Fourviere tradition took over and the cushions we had been sitting on were thrown onto the stage. 1000's of blue missiles being simultaneously launched into the air. It is a sight to be seen and shows that the French can have fun too. It happens at the end of every concert, no matter what type, jazz, classical, rock, even when I went and saw a film up there the cushions were thrown at the screen. Then suddenly at 10.25pm Iggy and the Stooges left the stage and that was that.
As we were leaving, the Bastille Day fireworks started, and it was suddenly clear why the Stooges had left the stage so promptly. The fireworks are set off on Fourviere hill and the noise boomed and echoed round the Grand Theatre. There was no way anyone could have played over the noise of these fireworks. Which leads back to one of the most interesting observations of the evening, how teeny tiny the speakers on the stage had been. I guess some of it must be improving technology, the rest was down to how good the acoustics are.
You have to hand it to the Romans, they knew how to build a good auditorium, just wish they had made the seats a bit softer!
(The sound quality is crap, but you'll see what I mean about the cushions http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSe8tgMc2AU)
So French
A gorgeous summer day, sunlight pouring into the lobby, French man collecting post from his letter box, he was wearing sunglasses which meant he had to put the lights on.
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