January 2013 in Bergerac

After a French class reunion, a family wedding, Christmas, a severe dose of a “flu-like virus” and several adventures, we eventually headed back to Bergerac, by Aer Lingus to Bordeaux. The flight was on time and landed early. The navettes to the station go every 45 minutes, and we expected to get the 5:30, but made the 4:45; very unusual. This meant we could make the 6pm train rather than 7 or even 8. We managed that as well, and arrived in Bergerac at 7:28. The rest should be easy, but France (and Bergerac) is different. This is where it gets difficult, within walking distance of home! There are no taxis. Therese's knees seize up during 2-hour flights, so walking is difficult. So we ring, first on my mobile. I get a message “active call barrings”. Then we try her mobile. We get a message “ active call barrings”! (We discover later that there is a dispute between Vodafone and SFR, so we should select Orange in the meantime. Who would know that?). The nearest call box refuses to take my nice new debit card, but accepts Visa. I phone the taxi; he says “no problem, sit tight, a few minutes”. We sit (stand) tight for 20 minutes, - no taxi. I call again (each call costs €2.50!), he says “have patience, sit tight”. After 10 more minutes, we decide to walk, knees or no knees. Those of you who have visited Bergerac will know that the footpaths are not one of the highlights, and are completely unsuitable for dragging suitcases. (I did offer to go and get the car, but this was turned down!). However, we made it in one (two!) piece(s). As we walked up Rue Catherine (famous for a certain patisserie), we found it blocked by two cherry-picker cranes supporting men who were (on January 29^th) taking down the Christmas lights! The world here moves at a slow(er) pace.

The first thing we noticed is that it is warmer here. Quelle surprise! Between us we have three missed calls from our neighbour, Christiane. But, she's been here anyhow, having deposited milk, butter, eggs, steak, potatoes, onions, sweet potatoes and cheese in the kitchen/fridge, as well as leaving the post on the table.

First thing next morning (Wednesday) it's off to the market to buy fruit. But, the market has almost disappeared! Even since November. I had forgotten how much it thins out in winter. And, very few customers as well, despite the mild morning. My cheese-woman Valerie is still there in the covered market, and she has recommendations for me, with offers to taste. I stick with the 18-month Comté.

Wednesday afternoon there is a pre-arranged French conversation in Annemie's house, my Dutch friend. She has arranged for their neighbours Alain and Michelle to join her and Robert and me for a 2-hour language session. They're trying to learn English, and we're trying to learn French. We haven't quite found the formula for getting the most out of the two hours, but we have another session in two weeks. I arrive home to find that Christiane has arrived to regale us with stories of her sick husband, the state of Mme Rumeau (our other neighbour), and the latest burglaries (and murders) in the area. Not to mention the need to beware of gypsies who will come and kill you while you sleep.

First thing on Thursday, it's off to the barber. Except on Saturday, he cuts by appointment only, so I took the precaution of phoning him before I left Dublin. For the first time ever, I understood a conversation between the barber (Jean Louis) and the previous client. It was about the over-supply of apartments in Bergerac. Apparently, there are 1900 empty, but some of them are run-down (“vetuste”) and not habitable. It's surprising, as rented accommodation here doesn't seem to be particularly cheap.

Next thing, having had my hair pruned, I headed off on a bike ride, my first since November. 40 km in an hour and a half. Great to get back on a bike. The farms and vineyards look pretty desolate just now, as does my garden. The only thing in bloom is a row of pansies, and they looked better two months ago than they do now. But, there are plenty of weeds in bloom, including ragwort with seed heads.

Then, in the afternoon (is this a very boring story?) I had my “normal” French class. Some of them seemed genuinely pleased to see me. At the conversation session, later on, they really pleased to see me, due to the fact that they need at least one English speaker for the class, and there is only one other regular, an English woman called Gillian. Gillian has been building a new house for ages and has had to miss classes to manage various crises. She has not found French tradesmen very reliable, a common theme among the “blow-ins” around here. They don't arrive when they say they will, they take longer than expected to do the work, shrug their shoulders a lot, and they charge more than initially estimated. A familiar story?? In fact, it's not my experience. We have had five “jobs” done here, by three different men/firms, and all of them started on time and finished on time. Maybe we were lucky.

It's now Saturday, and I've been to the market. It's also very small and deserted. I don't remember it being this small other winters, and this is my sixth. Spring will be along shortly!