Why Uzès?

This question, or some variation of it has been asked of me many times here the past three months. People want to know how I ended up choosing this place in all of France. Why here? Why their town? My answer? Par hasard. By chance, luck, fate. In fact, before I had seen the listing for the apartment, I had never heard of Uzès and didn't even pronounce it correctly until about a month or two after I booked it. I was calling it "Ooze"! Of course, now I know that the final 's' is pronounced as it is for many words here in the south of France.

And now with two days left, I still can't believe how fortunate we have been to have chosen Uzès. Gus' first impression when he arrived..."it's like you're living in a fairytale, or a really big movie set." It's true, sometimes I do feel like I've been living in a fairytale. When I walk the cobblestone streets, through vaulted archways, past the castle walls, or shop at the outdoor market, I can almost picture the 15th century citizens walking alongside me. (trivia tidbit: some of the scenes for Cyrano de Bergerac were filmed here in 1990)

After three months of being an Uzètienne, this town holds a special place in my heart and I can't imagine not coming back. I have always felt myself torn between two places, Canada and Greece. Now a third will pull on me too-Uzès.

I will miss my charmed life, but most of all I will miss the people I have met and the friends I have made for they are what have made this an unforgettable experience. They welcomed us into their lives and their homes as if we were old friends. We drank wine, sang songs, burned Guy Fawkes, drank more wine, trimmed a Christmas tree, drank more wine, discussed, ate, listened to Rammstein, drank more wine, and simply enjoyed each others' company. Our weekends especially, would have been long and lonely without them. Rachel, Patrice, Garance...merci pour tout. Vous êtes des amis pour la vie.

So now if someone asks me, "Why Uzès?" I can tell them because it's a beautiful medieval town with lots to see and do, it has an amazing outdoor market every Saturday, but most importantly, because we have good friends there to see.

On Saturday, we say goodbye to our fairytale town. Paris awaits and then we're homeward bound for Christmas.

Au revoir Uzès...for now.

Dente delicato infirmus resistentia

WARNING: Sufferers of dente delicato infirmus resistentia, (DDIR) otherwise known as 'a sweet tooth lacking willpower' should avoid prolonged exposure to Uzès. The following items, listed alphabetically, are just some of the culprits found here, able to cause extreme euphoria in said sufferers: biscuits, calissons, candied fruit, caramels, chocolates, cookies, creme brulee, creme glacee, crepes, gummy bears, jelly candy, licorice, lollipops, marshmallows, meringues, macarons, mousse au chocolat, nougat, pain au chocolat, sacristains, tarte tatin, and so on.

We have discovered these dastardly treats lurking in the following places:

La Cure Gourmande, 3 Place aux Herbes, is a biscuiterie confiserie chocolaterie that blatently targets and attracts sufferers of DDIR by returning them "beyond the quality taste to the emotional attachment of the traditional old fashioned product. Created in 1989 'La Cure Gourmande' now has various products in its name, hand made biscuits, Berlandises (fruit jam filled sweets), choupettes (old fashioned South of France lollipop), chocolates, toffees, calissons." Products are presented and sold in quaint little metal boxes and tins harking back to bygone times to further entice its customers. From their website: www.la-cure-gourmande.com

La Patisserie Deschamps Philippe, 6 Boulevard Alliés. This small, seemingly inconspicuous patisserie lures DDIR sufferers in with their mouth-watering display of colourful gateaux in the window and giant slabs of chocolate. Once inside, the DDIR sufferer is overwhelmed and confused by the assault on his/her senses. Unable to think clearly, s/he will torment him/herself with the possibilities. Will it be crème brûlée (they sweeten the deal further by letting you keep the ceramic dish it was baked in), a raspberry macaron (it melts in your mouth), or a dozen handmade chocolates? It is strongly advised that all DDIR sufferers enter this store with a DDIR immune friend who will be able to pry you away, if your inability to think clearly causes you to ask for one of everything in the store.

Haribo Museum, Pont des Charettes, Uzès. The mecca of candy. It is here where they implant DDIR into new generations of sufferers and fortify it in seasoned ones. This is confirmed by a visit to the museum/factory, where long queues of mostly young children wait eagerly to get inside. Once through the doors, they are given bags of FREE candy, along with tokens to be used in the candy vending machines, for more FREE candy. A tour through the museum then explains how Haribo came to be Europe's largest candy manufacturer and shows how their sweets are made. There are interactive games, large colourful gummy bears, endless displays of jellies, licorice, marshmallows, and even clothing made of candy. Then, to make sure DDIR has firmly been established, visitors end up in a giant boutique filled with all Haribo has to offer...in bulk sizes! If by this point, children have not sworn their undying loyalty and love for Haribo candy, one last pitch is made...they are given 50 % off tickets for the amusement games outside. Hopped up on sugar, new DDIR converts can take a spin around the go-cart track, jump on the trampolines, or practice flips on the bungee/trampoline. With this, Haribo is assured they will leave screaming, "Haribo...je t'aime!" Back at home, where they come down from their sugar high, they can open the FREE packs of candy bulging in their pockets, log on to Haribo.com and continue to feed their addiction.

Having grown up with a mother who has struggled with DDIR for years and whose favourite line is "the diet starts tomorrow" I know first hand the effects of this troublesome addiction. While in Uzès, said mother had to be monitored carefully, with gentle reminders from Yanni, "Grandma, what did we say?" or "Grandma, you already had dessert today."

So, you have been warned. DDIR sufferers: travel to Uzès at your own risk. Now, I need to go pick up three more crème brûlée. What? My mother needs a few more dishes to complete her set!

Viva Valencia!

Valencia is probably most well known for its oranges, and during the three hour drive there from Barcelona we certainly did see a lot of them. But did you also know that Valencia is also home to the largest aquarium in Europe?

The Romans founded Valencia in 138 BC along the banks of the Turia River that flowed (and often flooded) through the city until 1957 when flooding had such a huge economic consequence that they decided to reroute the river. They carved out a new riverbed for the Turia on the outskirts of town, and used its waters to irrigate the fertile plains for agriculture.

Now, all along the banks of the former riverbed you find many of Valencia's museums. Some of them had been former convents that had been damaged in the floods and were later refurbished into museums. They include the La Beneficencia Arts Centre, the Sala Parpallo and the Valencian Institute of Modern Art, none of which we had time to visit, unfortunately.

Also on the banks of the old riverbed is the Saint Pius V Fine Arts Museum, whose sparkling blue dome can't be missed, and next to it, the Real Gardens, which are the oldest, largest, most popular gardens in Valencia. In the late 14th century, King John I created a zoo here with lions, bears, and other exotic animals. Now it is most often used in summer for open air concerts and plays.

In the 80's though was when the largest transformation took place. The former riverbed was landscaped and developed into a swath of greenspace, kilometres long, with bike trails, walking trails, parks, and gardens that runs through the entire city. This is where you also find the Palacio de la Musica auditorium, Gulliver Park, the Urban Wood, and the Monforte Gardens. We would have needed weeks to explore and truly enjoy all it has to offer!

We did manage to spend an entire day however in what I believe is the crowning glory of the transformed riverbed, 'The City of Arts and Sciences'. When you first arrive at this stunning complex, you feel like you've entered another world, somewhere in the distant future. The sleek, futuristic buildings were designed by the architect, Santiago Calatrava and include the Prince Philip Museum of the Sciences, whose exhibits reminded me of the Science Centre back home, the Reina Sofia Art Museum, which looks like a giant helmet, the Hemispheric, designed to look like a giant eyeball (it houses a planetarium, an IMAX theatre and a Laserium), and the Oceanografic, the largest aquarium in Europe. We spent most of our time here, marvelling at all of the fabulous marine life, walking through tunnels with sharks and stingrays gliding all around and schools of fish passing by from all sides. You feel like you're walking through the middle of the ocean. It was phenomenal!

We also spent a day wandering through the oldest part of the city and the Plaza del Ayuntamiento, and I could go on and on about the architecture there, the Cathedral, the Basilica of our Lady of the Forsaken, or about Valencia's most popular stretch of beaches, the Playa Malva Rossa, but I won't. You'll just have to visit this beautiful Mediterranean city and see for yourself! Viva Valencia!

2 months here, 1 more to go.

I've been here about 2 months now, and I have to say, I am in love with Uzès. When I first arrived, I didn't know what to think of it. Now, I feel like I've lived here for years. I would definitely love to come back some day. I've made so many amazing friends that I will never forget! This experience overall is an unforgettable one.

School is somewhat challenging, with the subjects being a little more advanced than the ones in Canada. My favourite subjects have to be Spanish and History/Geography, but I love Euro English and French class too. French has been very interesting this term. We have been studying Molière's play, L'Avare (The Miser). I am enjoying this class more than I enjoy it in Canada!

Our trip to Spain was short but sweet. Barcelona and Valencia are beautiful cities, and I would like to go back there too, someday.

Overall, my experience has exceeded my expectations! We have 4 more weeks in Uzès, and I'm going to try to enjoy it to the fullest.

Tomée

A letter to Barcelona

"Barcelona - it was the first time that we met
Barcelona - how can I forget
The moment that you stepped into the room you took my breath away
Barcelona - la musica vibros
Barcelona - y ella nos unio
And if God willing we will meet again someday" Freddie Mercury & Mike Moran

Dear Barcelona,

Why did I ever think that spending one entire day with you would be enough? From the moment we entered your labyrinth of one way streets, I knew we were doomed. For two hours we searched for our hotel, round and round your phallic Tour Abracsas.

You would not reveal your glorious complex self to us in such a short time! You would only tease us with a glimpse of what we could have known, what we should have experienced together.

We tried to pay homage to your native son, Antonio Gaudi. We really did! Please let me explain...the only reason we didn't get off the bus to see Casa Batllo and Casa Mila was so that we could spend our precious minutes touring his still unfinished masterpiece, La Sagrada Familia and stroll through his most amazing Park Guell. But our plans were foiled! The two hour lineup that wrapped around Gaudi's love left us standing in the cold, admiring its brilliant intricacies from the outside. Not to worry, we thought, we still had Park Guell to enjoy. But that too, was not to be. We missed the stop for Park Guell and could not return. Instead we strolled along Avenida Tibidabo, the street of the fictional Aldaya mansion in Shadow of the Wind and then through the gardens of the Royal Palace. We walked along Las Ramblas and explored your historic centre, the Barrio Gotico. We laughed at the snow white geese bathing in the lush inner courtyard of the 13th century Cathedral and reveled in your beauty with a 360 degree view from its roof.

But it was not enough. Not enough time for museums or Montjuic, el Pueblo Espanol or the waterfront. They will have to be for another time.

Oh Barcelona, forgive me for thinking it could be done...for thinking I could penetrate into your modernista soul in such a short time!

Until we meet again...

Pique-nique, musique, vin et amis

"It'll be fun," I said, "a picnic at a winery with live music, and you'll get to meet my new friends." That's what I told my mom and sister we would be doing on their first Sunday in Uzès. I had no idea what kind of music it would be, where the winery was, what we would be eating or how many people would be there. In fact, I had no idea what to expect. We had arranged to meet Patrice, Rachel, and Garance in town and follow them to the winery in a tiny village called Donnat, about a half hour away. Sunday afternoon came...along with the cold pouring rain. As we huddled in the car waiting for our friends to arrive we couldn't help but wonder what we were getting ourselves into.

When they showed up, Patrice jumped out of the car and handed us a CD to listen to on the way. The musicians at the winery (friends of theirs) would be playing these songs as a tribute to the famous French singer, Nougaro. I had never heard of him before but after listening to the first few songs I wished I had. (stay tuned for more about him)

Because of the rain, the winemakers had move the picnic into their garage/wine storage room. Five or six rows of tables had been lined up and the four musicians had set up their instruments in front of the giant wine vats. There were probably about 60-70 of us crammed into the space, backs touching backs, elbows bumping elbows. Wine glasses were filled, everyone pulled out the food they had brought and shared around the table. A sheet of Nougaro lyrics were passed out and the music started.

It was magnifique! The musicians were extremely talented. They each played 2 or 3 different intruments and all four sang. In fact, I almost liked their versions of the songs better than the originals we had listened to in the car. Once the wine started flowing and the body heat warmed us up, everybody in the room began to sing along, except us of course. We were the Nougaro newbies so we just followed the lyrics, mouthed the words, and enjoyed the atmosphere. And though a light rain continued outside for most of the afternoon, I couldn't keep the smile off my face. We were cozy and warm, enjoying a French afternoon.

"La pluie fait des claquettes

sur le trottoir à minuit

Parfois je m'y arrête

Je l'admire, j'applaudi

Je suis son chapeau claque

Son queue de pie vertical

Son sourire de nacre

Sa pointure de cristal

La pluie..." Nougaro

Claude Nougaro-"L'éternal troubadour"

e

With Nougaro songs bopping in my brain after the picnic, I knew I had to find out more about this quintessential French singer. If you think of French music, what comes to mind? Probably the sound of Nougaro, even if you didn't know his name. He is to the French what I would consider Kazantzidis is to Greeks. His lyrics are poetry, and his voice is unique with its pronounced Toulousian accent. He was born in Toulouse in 1929 to an opera singer father and a piano teacher mother and although he never learned how to read music or play an instrument, he was an avid listener of not only classical, but homegrown pop and American swing. He even wrote a song called 'Armstrong', a tribute to Louis Armstrong, and did his own version of 'Nobody Knows' (Nobody knows the trouble I've seen...). He was infatuated with American jazz music and collaborated with many jazz greats in the late 50's and early 60's. The political events of May 1968 inspired him to write the song 'Paris Mai', a plea for life, which was banned from the airwaves. Throughout the 70's his popularity declined. In the 80's, after his French record company wouldn't renew his contract, he went to New York City for inspiration. There he released a comeback album called Nougayork, which skyrocketed him back into the spotlight and won him a best album and best artist award.

Claude Nougaro died on March 4, 2004 at the age of 74, and the whole country wept.

A visit to his official website, www.nougaro.com, though confirms that the music and poetry of Nougaro lives on and our afternoon at the winery proved that he is still very much loved and listened to by many.

"L'éternal troubadour laisse une ville orpheline et un pays sous le choc. Homme plein de verve, d'humour et de coeur, impregné de jazz, de rock et de world music, sa poésie et son art sont une éternelle explosion des mots et d'amour."

"The eternal troubadour leaves a city orphaned and a country in shock. A man full of wit, humour and heart, imbued with jazz, java, rock and world music, his poetry and his art are an eternal explosion of words and love."(from www.nougaro.com)

Internet...to have or not to have?

Once upon a time people traveled without internet; without the virtual umbilical cord through which information could be sent and received from home on a daily (hourly) basis. They traveled for months without any contact with their loved ones back home, other than the occasional handwritten letter sent through the post, whose information was months old by the time it reached its intended audience.

Last week, we were without internet for seven whole days. The first three (in a Valencia apartment) we were prepared for and accepted. Its only three days, we figured, we'll survive. During the 8 hour drive back to Uzès, many of the conversations revolved around what everyone was going to do when they got back...check Facebook, Skype Dad/Papa/friends, check the zoo (Yanni's virtual zoo game) and make sure the animals were all alive, do some blog entries, check emails, etc, etc) To our horror, when we arrived and raced up the stairs to plug in the computer, we discovered that the internet was down and unlike the last time it happened, it could not be reset. There were no blinking lights. There was no power whatsoever. There had been a power outage and possible surge during the storm that was raging outside and the internet box was possibly fried. That potentially meant 6 weeks of waiting for a new box, without internet. We contemplated paying the hotel across the street for use of their wireless password...up to 100 Euro if necessary. Thankfully we didn't need to resort to that. It ended up that only the plug was fried by the surge, not the box and we were back up and running four days later.

I often wondered during this past week without internet, does being so connected enhance or detract from the traveler's experience? I remember spending summers in Greece with absolutely no contact with my friends back home. Sure I missed them, but after the first week or so I kind of forgot about them and immersed myself in my new surroundings. It was so simple. Now, with internet (and especially Facebook), there is a feeling of constant pressure to stay connected, to stay in the loop...and not just for my 13 year old, who, like all 13 year olds is obsessed with her friends' social life. I feel it too.

Don't get me wrong...it's not all bad. Having internet does allow us to phone family and friends through gmail and see their faces through Skype (for free) and that's way better than a stale letter! Plus it acts as our dictionary, encyclopedia, medical guide, translator, mapfinder, entertainment source (we have watched countless episodes of The Nanny, Corner Gas, Brady Bunch, AFV, etc during our long evenings at home), and research tool, so I won't even try to suggest that we go back to life without it. I just wonder and worry...would we have immersed ourselves even more in the local culture if this was a pre-internet time or would we have just been more lonely and miserable?

Now, I have so much to fill you in on while we were away....

The Job of an olive

Seeing the giant olive tree at the Pont du Gard earlier this week reminded me of the thousands of olive trees that surround Prosilia (and the hot summer weather that I'm missing right now). It also reminded me of something I wrote a couple of years ago, so I thought I would share.

THE JOB OF AN OLIVE

The job of an olive is to be green while still on the tree.

The job of an olive is to hang on its branch through the long, hot summer, slowly and quietly growing without much water at all.

The job of an olive is to be picked from the ground when the days shorten and the Boreas blows.

The job of an olive is to be pressed into liquid gold, more precious than the finest of metals.

The job of an olive is to light up rooms, its oil filling a kandili before an icon, feeding an everlasting light for souls to find their way home.

The job of an olive is to be bitter when fresh to remind us that life too can sometimes be bitter, especially when plucked from the tree too soon.

The job of an olive is to flow its thick juices, golden, green, or muddy coloured, just like the seasons of life.

The job of an olive is to be tasted, its flavour fruity, tart, or rich.

The job of an olive is to not let us forget that life, though rough and dry at times, can be long and bear golden fruit.

The job of an olive is to remind me where I came from every time I pour its golden nectar over a salad.

Gas shortage? Rioting? Really?

"Gas shortage? Rioting? Really?" I said.

"Don't you watch the news!" my mom answered. The fuzziness of her Skyped image couldn't mask her surprise at my apparent ignorance or her worried look.

France (according to international news) is going ballistic. Demonstrations and rioting (mostly in the bigger cities)…gas shortages…blockades…cancellation of flights, trains, buses, etc. yet we continue on here, oblivious to it all. Today we walked to the tennis courts for Yanni's lesson (we don't have a car, so gas isn't an issue), sat on a bench to watch him play and basked in the warmth of the October sun. And yes, there was a strike yesterday. Tomee had the day off because of it (Yanni didn't...his teacher was one of the four who showed up for work) and we went shopping. The strikers paraded through town with banners and chanted slogans, but it wasn't menacing at all. No overturned cars on fire, no smashing of windows, just an interesting diversion.

I will admit to being a tiny bit worried about the flight thing though, as my mom and Liz are expected to arrive here on Friday. Their international flight into Paris won't be a problem, but we're not sure about the domestic Paris-Montpellier flight or if there'll be a gassed up rental car waiting to bring them to our 'oblivious' little corner of France.

Of course it is the start of the Toussaint holidays and even striking workers and rioting students don’t want to give up their time off!!

Pont du Gard

What a difference a week makes! Last weekend we took the bus to Avignon in t-shirts and tank tops it was so warm and yesterday we had to wear our winter coats for our early morning trip to the Pont du Gard. The thermometer outside my window was registering 6C just before we left to catch the 8:40 bus. It was the same route as last week but thankfully not the same driver...this guy had showered, and we got off on the third stop, about 15 minutes away. We then had to walk another 10-15 minutes to reach the actual site. The sun was just coming up over the mountain on the right bank of the Gard river opposite the side we were walking on and we were the only ones there when we reached it. What a beautiful sight!

Standing on this amazing aqueduct, it was hard to fathom how the Romans managed to build it without the use of mortar. Each slab of rock weighs approximately 6 tons and they were cut to fit precisely against each other using just friction. It's 49 m high and 274 m long, making it the highest Roman aqueduct bridge. It was built in the 1st century AD as part of the Nimes aqueduct system which carried 200,000,000 litres of water a day from the Eure source (at Uzès) to the households of Nimes. It was used as an aqueduct until around the 9th century and then fell into disrepair. During the 13th century, the seigneurs (and later the bishops) of Uzès were granted the right to levy a toll on anyone using the bridge and in return, they would maintain and repair it. Then in the 1700's a new road bridge was built, attached to the lower level of arches. That's the one we were able to walk across.

The Pont du Gard has survived three serious floods(1958,1998,2002), one of which submerged the entire lower tier (1958). It continues to be one of France's most visited tourist attractions.

We hung around on the bridge, then walked down to the riverbank to toss some rocks. I tried to imagine what this must have been like two thousand years ago. Was the scenery the same? Was the river higher? Did it look just like this to travelers of that time? I was snapped back to the present by the sound of foreign voices and the sight of groups of people crossing the bridge, coming towards us. Tourists, not Romans, just like us, here to be taken back in time...even just for a moment.

I found this quote by Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who visited the Pont du Gard in 1738 and captures the feeling of seeing this bridge for the first time so well.

"I had been told to go and see the Pont du Gard; I did not fail to do so. It was the first work of the Romans that I had seen. I expected to see a monument worthy of the hands which had constructed it. This time the object surpassed my expectation, for the only time in my life. Only the Romans could have produced such an effect. The sight of this simple and noble work struck me all the more since it is in the middle of a wilderness where silence and solitude render the object more striking and the admiration more lively; for this so-called bridge was only an aqueduct. One asks oneself what force has transported these enormous stones so far from any quarry, and what brought together the arms of so many thousands of men in a place where none of them live. I wandered about the three storeys of this superb edifice although my respect for it almost kept me from daring to trample it underfoot. The echo of my footsteps under these immense vaults made me imagine that I heard the strong voices of those who had built them. I felt myself lost like an insect in that immensity. While making myself small, I felt an indefinable something that raised up my soul, and I said to myself with a sigh, "Why was I not born a Roman"

As we crossed back over the bridge, we noticed some interesting engravings on some of the stones. It seems that stone masons in the 18th century were required to visit the site to view the quality of the bridge's masonry and many of them decided to engrave their names and the date on it while they were there. 18th century graffiti!

Another interesting thing to see is the giant olive tree on the left bank. Its trunk is 5 metres in circumference and it was originally planted in 908 in Spain and grew there until it was moved to the Pont du Gard site in 1985. I was disappointed that it hadn't really been standing near the bridge for its whole lifetime but I was also amazed that they were able to move a tree that big and that old without killing it.

As the place began to fill with other curious tourists, we went to check out the gift shop and the cafe. There is also a museum and a film to watch about the Pont but we decided to save that for our next visit with Grandma and Auntie El. We had coffee and a snack at the cafe then walked back to the bus stop and waited for our ride home. What a lovely way to spend a cold, sunny, Sunday morning!

Talents d'Uzès

When walking the streets of Uzès it is hard not to notice that it is a city rich in history and a centre of artistic expression. In fact, it has been officially labelled a "City of Art and History". Art galleries abound and you can often find a painter working on her painting on the side street in front of her gallery, or a potter spinning his clay in the middle of Place aux Herbes.

Last night I accompanied my friends, Rachel and Patrice to an exhibition called Talents d'Uzès, held in the hall of the old bishop's palace. It showcased the work of eighteen local craftsmen/women, including a jeweler, a luthier, a hatmaker, painters, sculptors, potters, furniture makers and metalworkers, and the work of eight students from the local Lycée des Métiers d'Art Georges Guynemer.

We have walked past this Lycée a number of times as it is on the main road that circles the town and have seen the artsy looking students hanging about outside, but I never realized what kind of Lycée it was. It is for those interested in learning the arts, and I don't mean drama, dance, and music. They teach students how to work with stone, metal, wood, furniture making and upholstery, etc. What a great option for students to have. The ones who were featured at this exhibition had won a contest with the pieces they had created and I was blown away with their talent. I wish I had taken pictures of all of their objets d'art!

The exhibition was packed with Uzètiens, including the mayor. We mingled and enjoyed a lovely glass of rosé, a so-so glass of red, and some fougasse, which is a kind of foccacia bread with tapenade tucked in the middle.

My favourite pieces were the metal escalier (see picture below) created by Franck Guérineau, the beautiful instrument created by the luthier Laurent Blanchard, the stone fountain created by sculptor Catherine Baudry, and especially the Cube ring (don't have a picture of it, but check out his link) created by Bénédikt Aichelé. ( I want it badly!)

We finished off the evening with a good bottle of red and some snacks back at my place. All in all a lovely evening!

I'm including some links below of some of the artists and of the Lycée. Check them out!

www.lebijou.fr (jeweler)

www.cabinet-maker.com

www.lesbellespierres.overblog.com

www.blanchard-luthier.fr

www.lyc-guynemer-uzes.ac-montpellier.fr

PAC à l'eau, s'il vous plait!

Il se dit en Provence que: "les gens qui n'ont jamais gouté Pac Citron ne sont pas de vrais Provencaux."

This is what it says on Distillerie A. Blachère's website. They have been the sole producers of this Italian syrup since the 60's. "PAC à l'eau" is what you ask for if you want to try this lemony drink. We were introduced to it just over a week ago at our friends' home and it is now our beverage of choice! Tomée and I prefer to drink ours with San Pellegrino (tastes like lemonada) whereas Yanni likes his mixed with plain old water (tastes more like lemonade).

Distillerie A. Blachère is the oldest distilllery in Provence. It began producing liqueurs in Avignon in 1835. Some of their earliest liqueurs, made from plants, herbs and wines of the region made them famous and were sometimes used for medicinal purposes. They included, "L'Elixer du Mont Ventoux, La Comptadine, and L'Origan du Comptat". In 1882, their drink "Rhum Zoulla" was used to rub the bodies of cholera sufferers. As thanks to the distillery, a famous regional composer, Germain Beraud dedicated a waltz to this life-saving drink and the city of Avignon also honoured them.

In 1960 they started producing PAC Citron, an italian syrup made of sugar and lemon. It became a hit all over Provence. It's name was created by the owner at the time, Louis Guiot, who took the first initial of each of his three children, Pierre, Annick, Christian, and Colette and put them together.

In 1993, the new owners moved the distillery to the village of Chateauneuf-du-Pape where they continue to produce PAC and a number of other syrups and liqueurs.

We love PAC Citron and are definitely going to have to 'pack' some PAC for home!

Does this make us "vrais Provencaux"?

If you're interested in finding out more about PAC, visit their website: www.distillerie-a-blachere.com/ . They also have really beautiful images of their old drink posters and advertisments.

First visit to Avignon

On Saturday, after doing our usual market shopping in the morning, we decided to take the bus into Avignon for the afternoon. It was a beautiful day (28C) and there was a bus leaving at 1:00. Avignon is around 40 km from Uzès, but the bus ride is an hour long as it stops in a number of the villages along the way to pick up and drop off people. It gave us a chance to see some of the surrounding countryside. We reached the bus station which is just outside the outer walls of the city around 2 and entered the inner city through one of its many arches (first picture).

Avignon is a beautiful walled city. In the 14th century, it was the capital of Christendom as the popes lived here. The Palais des Papes (which we didn't tour this time) was the headquarters for a group of cardinals who came very close to taking authority away from the popes in Rome. It was considered the Vatican of the north for a time, during which these popes (or 'antipopes') held extravagant court. Arts and culture flourished. The struggle between the popes of Avignon and the popes of Rome was over who would control the wealth and power of the Church. The reign of these "antipopes" ended in 1417 and the papal court here was disbanded.

After entering the city walls, we walked up the main road, rue Jean Jaurès-rue de la Republique which is a wide boulevard lined with stores and packed with people. It's the main shopping strip...almost like Bloor or Yonge or Queen West, but different. Tomee was in heaven! She wanted to go into every store of course, and Yanni did not, so we compromised and went into a few just to browse. H&M did manage to get ahold of some of my money.

We then visited the Pont d'Avignon whose real name is the Pont St. Bénézet because according to legend, it was inspired by a vision that a shepherd named Bénézet had while tending his flocks. It was built between 1177 and 1185. Only four of its original 22 arches remained after 1669 when half of it fell into the river, so it now looks like a bridge to nowhere. You get a beautiful view of the Palais des Papes from there, as well as of the Rhône river.

On our walk back down rue de la Republique we sat at one of the many restaurants and cafes in front of the beautiful Hotel de Ville and the Theatre and had a bite to eat. We actually managed to find a restaurant that had something we each wanted. Yanni had his Nutella crèpe (what else?), I had my café crème and dessert and Tomée had a huge bowl of spaghetti bolognese (that girl can eat!). All of a sudden, we heard live music being played, similar to Greek, women ululating and people clapping and singing. It was a wedding party and their entourage escorting a bride and groom into the Hotel de Ville to get married! So cool!

We took the 5:30 bus back to Uzès and were back home before 7. All in all, a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

Pros to taking the bus: it's cheap...only 1.50 Euros/per person, each way and the bus stop is around the corner from our house.

Cons: all the roundabouts along the way and having a bus driver that didn't realize that deodorant has been invented. Yanni and I almost puked from the smell and we had the same driver both ways!

Les Ecoles

With our third week of school coming to an end I thought this would be a good time to give some of our first impressions of the schools so far.

First off, when we registered at both schools, we were handed a list of all of the supplies we would need to get and let me tell you, parents buy EVERYTHING here, except the textbooks. I have spent 200-300 Euros just on school supplies alone. The upside to this however, is that I have noticed both of them taking great pride in organizing their stuff into the proper cahier, sheets of paper in crisp plastic covers, neatly organized in their binder. Teachers insist that students use pen (yes, Yanni too) and that everything is written in cursive, titles are underlined with a ruler, etc. Tomee had to borrow some notes from a boy in class to study for a history test and we were both blown away by the neatness of his writing done in fountain pen. And he's not an anomaly. She said that all the kids in her class have beautiful writing. Makes me wonder...what importance do we place on handwriting back home? Is it important? It certainly is impressive. How does it impact their learning?

Tomee's school. She goes to a college (grades 6-9 in Canada). It's the only one in town with approximately 700 students, many of whom take the bus in from the surrounding villages. It's more like a high school than what we consider a middle school. Classes start at 7:55 and end at 4:30 with a lunch break in the afternoon (12-1:30). Wednesdays are half-days. They are on rotary, there are no lockers...so she has to carry all of her stuff with her, and it's quite a large school, so just figuring out where to go was stressful during the first week or two. Most of the subjects rely heavily on textbook readings, doing exercises, and having tests, except for Euro English, which is Tomee's favourite class. She also gets to take Spanish and now walks around the house reciting whatever new phrases she's learned...Me llama Tomee...soy una chica. I love it...following in her mama's footsteps!

There is an Athletic Centre across the road that they use for Phys Ed. (Tomee hates gym) She has it twice a week--a two-hour class, during which they have been doing rock-climbing, and an hour class during which they run for the whole hour to build endurance! Yesterday though instead of doing gym, they had a two hour session on road safety and how to operate small motorbikes. She got to practice driving a vespa through a course!

Yanni's school. His is the largest elementary school (Kind. to gr. 5) in town with approximately 600 kids. The only other school in town is a smaller private Catholic school. Yanni's day starts at 8:20 and ends at 4:30 with a lunch break from 11:30-1:20 and two recesses. He has the same teacher all day on Mon, Thurs, Fri, a different teacher (the meaner one) on Tuesdays, and no school on Wednesdays. On Wednesday afternoons he takes tennis at the tennis club. The hardest thing for Yanni to get used to was that the days felt really long because they spend the entire time in class seated at their desks. There's no lessons on the carpet or group work. It's all teacher-led, with the students at their desks. He came home complaining that his legs hurt the first few days because he couldn't stretch them out during class. They also rely mostly on teaching from textbooks or handouts with questions to answer. Exercises on photocopied sheets have to be cut out and glued into the appropriate cahier and answered in the cahier. He has a dictee to learn each week along with a list of spelling words. This week he also had to memorize the poem, l'Albatros, by Beaudelaire, so there is a fair amount of homework but it is manageable.

Unlike Tomee, gym is Yanni's favourite class and it is the highlight of his week. He even wrote out the instructions for Dodgeball and gave it to the teacher so that the class could play it during one of their gym times. Of course, he's also happy that soccer is the chosen game of recess. The only problem though, he says, is that "they all think they're Rinaldo and spend more time fighting over the ball, and being hotshots than actually playing." The other big schoolyard pastime is trading cards. All of the kids walk around with these blue and

white binders full of cards that you can only get at Carrefour. They're cards of the different DreamWorks movie characters. He was out of the loop until last Saturday evening, when a new friend gave him her doubles (merci Garance) and got him started! Another friend at school gave him an extra used binder he had, plus some more cards and Yanni is now in trading business!

Overall, I'm quite impressed by how quickly both of them have adapted, academically and socially. I'm also impressed with the quality of education they have both had back home. Their level of French (thanks RH and Cosburn) has allowed them to almost effortlessly fit right in to learning here.

Start them young.

This morning, while enjoying a cafe creme and a pain au chocolat at La Nougatine (a quaint Salon de The), I got a kick out of this article in the local paper, "The students of the kindergarten have their own little grape harvest." Seems that the class trip was to a local vineyard where the students took their buckets and scissors and cut their grapes from the vines. They were then introduced to the art of wine-making and got to press the grapes they had picked! Leave it to the French to instill an appreciation of wine into their children from a young age. I think we need to add it to our curriculum back home. Who's up for a field trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake?

Vive l'auto francaise!

Having been married to a car fanatic for the past 17 (almost 18) years, I cannot help but take note of the cars around me. Back home, every car ride includes a commentary of the cars we pass. "What do you think of that one?" being the question I am most often asked. I have always favoured the European models, while Dad and son have a soft spot for the American muscle cars.

Tomee just likes everything sleek and expensive-looking.

So, walking the streets of Uzes, I've noticed some unusually shaped cars I've never seen before and decided to do an informal survey to give my car fanatic the four-wheeled lay of the land . What my survey discovered was that the French mostly drive French cars. Out of the 20 cars we counted on one side street, there were 8 Peugeot, 7 Renault, 1 Citroen, 1 Seat, 1 Fiat, I Volkswagen, and 1 Audi. Sixteen out of twenty French cars, and the rest, other European brands. There are very, very few Opels (Europe's GM), a few Fords, and the odd Honda or two. Peugeot and Renault definitely rule the road! Sorry to report...no muscle cars here. Vive l'auto francaise! :)

Ornithophobes beware!

Every evening between 7 and 8 o'clock, the sky over Uzes fills with the sight and sound of thousands of black birds who descend on the town and then disappear again until the next night. If you happen to be walking the streets at that time, you can't help but hear them in the trees all around. It's like you're surrounded by the sound of cheering crowds at a rock concert. It wasn't the birds we first noticed though. It was the multiple cracks of what sounded like gunfire that caught our attention about a week ago. We heard the shots and then froze, waiting for the sound of police cars or ambulances that didn't arrive. "Don't worry," I told the kids, "I'm sure there's a logical explanation for it...it can't really be gunfire." The next night we heard the shots again, around roughly the same time and then noticed the black swarm pass by our window and made the connection. "Ohh, the shots are to scare the birds away."

I realize that they (and the poop they leave behind) can be a nuisance to the townspeople, but last night, while sitting in the hallway outside of Tomee's violin lesson, looking out the window, they appeared as a troupe of tiny sky dancers. I couldn't hear them. I could only watch as they swooped and glided through the air, as if they were moving to the sounds of the Brandenburg Concerto resonating from Tomee's violin. It was a moment of pure beauty.

Now I wait for them to make their short appearance every evening so I can watch them do their dance before they're given their cue to leave.

La Cathedrale Saint Theodorit et La Tour Fenestrelle

Uzes was a Bishopric from the 5th century until the French Revolution, making it a very rich town until the end of the 18th century. The Cathedrale Saint Theodorit was completed in 1090, destroyed during the War against the Albigensians, rebuilt, and destroyed again during the Religion Wars. The present Cathedral dates from 1652. There are many interesting paintings on the walls and ceilings, however, most of its furnishings disappeared during the French Revolution. When we walked in, Yanni was quick to point out that the inside contained many Roman arches. It also has one of the finest organs in the region dating back to the 17th century.

La Tour Fenestrelle is the Romanesque Cathedral Bell-tower that dates back to the 12th century. It was not open to the public.

The Cathedral overlooks the Eure valley. There is a pathway that begins just in front of it that leads into the valley, over the river, and past the remnants of a Roman Aqueduct built in the 1st century. (We haven't attempted that walk yet, but we will, if I can convince my kids to venture that far.) It was built to supply water to the town of Nimes and is part of the aqueduct system that includes the Pont du Gard, further down river.

Oh the horror!

We almost had a day without internet. Imagine the horror on Tomee's face when she realized she wouldn't be able to talk to her friends on Facebook or through gmail all day, or Yanni's when he realized he couldn't access his apps store on his Ipod Touch. (And here, I must admit that even I was perturbed at the thought of not being able to use my cute little white Apple friend to its fullest potential.) Here we are, in the middle of a gorgeous medieval town in the south of France with a beautiful, sunny Sunday to fill and we've entered crisis mode because the WiFi is down. After our initial 25 attempts to fix it by doing the same thing over and over again with the same result--no internet--we finally decided to call for tech support...not some 1-800 number to some guy in India. "Text Daddy quick!" was the order I gave. After twenty minutes of guided instruction and the plugging and unplugging of cords, we finally saw his face appear on screen. (I love Skype) We were saved! Uzes may have a Duke, but thankfully I have my own knight in shining armour just a phone call away!

The first crepe of France

Mmm...the first crepe of France. The first place we tried one at also happened to be the best Nutella crepe so far. I'm really happy right now since I found a toy store right near my school that has LEGO and Gormiti! Yay! As for school, French is a bit harder but I'll survive. My favourite part of the day, obviously, is recess. We always play soccer...same teams every recess. My favourite class, obviously, is sports. Next week I'm going to teach the class how to play DODGEBALL!! Second favourite class, will probably be English but I haven't had it yet. Math is pretty good too but a pinch harder. That's all from me. Yanni

Le Jardin Medieval

We visited the "jardin" on the jour de la patrimoine (free admission).

From the Tourist office's brochure, "Nestling between the two Towers, the Medieval Garden has been designed to represent plantations as they could well have been laid out in the Middle Ages. The Bishop's Tower (12th century) and the King's Tower (early 13th century) are part of an ensemble which served as a residence for the Lords of Uzes. Over the ensuing centuries, the various heirs sold part of the ensemble to the Bishopric (1280) and another to the King of France Charles VIII (1493). Used later as prisons, they were repurchased by the town of Uzes in 1941. The Medieval garden is set within the enclosure formed by the ramparts and is used for shows and exhibitions."

A large number of the plants here were used in the Middle Ages for food, medicine, dyes for clothing as well as ornamental uses. The garden's main objective is conservation of rare plants native to the region.

Our first "Greve"

Yesterday, we experienced our first "greve". Not sure what it is? I first saw the word on a sign posted at Yanni's school advising parents that on the 23rd they would need to make sure their child's teacher was at school before sending them. Then, Tomee came home and informed us that she had no school on Thursday "a cause du greve". Thursday arrived, Tomee stayed home, Yanni had school (he wasn't happy about that). It was a national strike day and many teachers, transportation workers, etc were on strike. For what, I'm not quite sure but it was amusing to watch from our window as they marched past, chanting and waving their flags. I wonder how many more we'll experience before our time is up?

Too many books, not enough time!

My favourite part about our apartment, besides its proximity to everything and its quintessential provencale furnishings, are the books! There are stacks and shelves filled with books in every room of the house. English books, French books, travel books, classic literature, too many for me to be able to read in a 3 month span (unless of course I spend every waking minute on my comfy chaise lounge reading). After perusing all the shelves, I decided to start with Carlos Ruiz Zafon's, The Shadow of the Wind seeing as it takes place in Barcelona and we will be visiting that city at the end of October and because it comes highly recommended (Lex). It is a beautifully written mystery about an obscure forgotten book discovered by Daniel, a ten year old boy. His discovery sends him on a quest to find out about the mysterious author and his bizarre circumstances. This quest consumes his whole life and puts him in grave danger. I'm not usually a fan of mysteries but this one has totally sucked me in! I'm afraid of the end. What to read next...My Name is Red...Snow...The Great Gatsby...Atonement...Fasting, Feasting...Dubliners...Sir Vidia's Shadow, Sepulchre, Revolutionary Road, etc, etc?? For a teacher-librarian, this place is a dream come true!