Our Story #4: Aussies in France is a memoir of incidents and personal observations of our life in France, like the importance of the ‘right’ Saint, the power of a stick pin, styled by a French supermarket and “Madame, your chimney’s on fire”.
The Importance of the ‘right’ Saint
We read the local advertisement, checked the date, double checked the date and when the time came, dressed ourselves head to foot in the warmest clothes and headed out in the dark with snow steadily falling to find the little village that was putting on the school play we had seen advertised in a local Tabac.
We had dashed into the Tabac on our way home from the butchers to pick up last-minute fresh baguettes, stinky oozy cheese and obligatory wine.
The three children and I were on our own and had been looking forward to watching the school children perform their play, further immerse ourselves in village life and generally have a family night out. We were not going to let the snow stop us – NO we were going to have some family fun.
Snow was not going to stop us
Carefully driving on the narrow country lanes with snow piled high both sides, and barely able to see because of the reflecting light, we slowly made our way to the village on the flyer, or as we thought, the village on the flyer!
Alas, when we arrived at Saint-Gelven, it all seemed very quiet, no cars in the square, no town lights… where was everyone? Were we too late? No, we had left in plenty of time to negotiate the roads on this dismal evening.
So parking beside the local Tabac which was the only source of activity in the village, and filling half the tiny lane with our family sized vehicle in the process, I clomped through the snow to enter the smoke-filled bar which was full of older men peering over their glasses at me.
Once again my French failed me and I couldn’t make myself understood by the seasoned drinkers at the bar, however, the younger bartender understood enough. He told me I’d got the village name wrong and that Saint-Guen was further away. It was however on tonight, so I’d got that bit right.
A change of plans
After the excitement of looking forward to a family evening out and then driving with heightened senses on this dangerous night, to only find ourselves at the wrong location, it was too much. With a deflated sigh I mentioned to the kids that I had not read the flyer correctly, and misunderstood the name of the village, and that it would be too much for me to drive to the correct village some distance away.
Being ever so flexible and used to the goal posts changing, the kids were upbeat and agreed that if I played UNO and made hot chocolate back at home they would be okay with this. I honestly was more disappointed than they were I think at this stage.
So, back into the car, and another hair-raising drive back to our village, we ended the night with numerous raucous games of UNO and Snap and mugs of yummy, creamy hot chocolate. I vowed to be more vigilant in reading French names and double checking handwritten notes and hand-drawn maps to make sure we were heading to the right Saint’s village. It pays to get the Saint ‘right’!
Lesson learnt
Every little ‘de’, ‘du’, ‘Saint’ ‘Saint’ or ‘les’ makes a BIG difference in the name of a French village. Get it wrong and you end up goodness knows where!
Note to self – Read advertising flyers, maps and handwritten instructions very carefully. Saint-Appolinaire is not Saint Appolinard in any circumstances; Le Grez is nowhere near Grez… however Achiet-le-Grand is of course near Achiet-le-Petit, being separated only by 2.5 kms. Go figure that out!
The Power Of A Stick Pin
Never under estimate the power of a stick pin, you know, those little pretend gold sticks with a novelty logo or shape on the top. I will explain. We invited some good Australian friends who were travelling through France to spend time in our home, by way of a thank you for all the generosity they’d shown us by guesting us in their numerous holiday homes in Australia.
We enjoyed a few dinners together going over how the appliances worked and what activities they could enjoy in the village and further afield. Our friends were pretty keen to settle in and live like locals so while they had a very full schedule of travelling through France, when they hit our home they intended to slow down, soak up the sun and enjoy village life.
Kangaroo stick pins
“We’re going to take some kangaroo stick pins and hand them out” they said. I thought this was very sweet of them but wasn’t sure who would really be interested in the little golden lapel stick pins that they planned to hand out. “Ok, sounds good” we said, wondering how it would go handing them out.
Well, to this day five years later (at the time of publishing), the older men at the village Tabac never, and I mean never, fail to tell us every trip that they remember those lovely Australians that drank along side them glass for glass and played petangue well into the fading daylight every day, and gave them a kangaroo stick pin.
Kindness lasts a long time
Yep, they often even show us their battered woollen cap or farmers coat with their shiny stick pin firmly attached. This great idea of Terry’s shows how a little thought can mean so much and even foster good international relationships.
Australia is now firmly associated with Terry doing the kangaroo jump along the petangue field (to make sure they understood from whence he hailed from) and the shiny stick pin with that little iconic Aussie jumper on top!
Styled By A Supermarket
I am not a fan of retail chains and mass produced clothing where the style, or lack thereof, is dictated to you and if you succumb you will look like every other second person catching the train or walking the city streets.
So my wardrobe, and that of my family, is a mixture of smaller boutique finds, some good recycled clothing and core pieces of new designer clothing. With quality handbags, shoes and accessories that will last a long time and continue to be stylish that is usually how we dress.
So unless it is undies, socks or hosiery I will not usually purchase clothing from the same store that my carrots, lettuces and chicken legs are purchased, that is, no supermarket clothing for us.
When in France
However, when in France the quality of clothing found in their supermarkets, yes, beside the aisle of breakfast cereal, is generally much better and definitely more stylish than that in Australia. So every now and again, in between filling our trolley with staple food items, we come across “supermarket bargains”. After doing a check of the stitching, matching patterns and loose threads these bargains are added to our trolley.
The funniest thing is when I am complimented by anyone in Australia on these stylish items and girlfriends try to check out the clothing tag (you know how some friends do this); they seem almighty impressed with the “Made In Paris” or “Parisienne Styled” or fancy French name on the label. It is with a chuckle that I tell them that it is a quick supermarket bargain found in France. The surprise on their face also makes me chuckle.
Style is an attitude of life and not a brand label!
"Madame, your chimney's on fire"
Here's what you need to know when your fireplace is on fire with smoke billowing out the top of your chimney and the local farmers, who have already been at the bar for far too long, start shouting at you in French, banging on your front door and waving their arms about...
- Panic.
- Breathe.
- Follow the farmers outside to see huge flames escaping out of your chimney three floors above.
- Race inside and extinguish the fire in your fireplace.
- Put more clothes on because you were in your pyjamas - and now the whole village is piling into your lounge room.
- Check all rooms for smoke.
- Frantically find your French/English dictionary.
- Give up, find the only other English speaking person in the village (who happens to be at the back of the group now in your lounge room).
- Move furniture away from the fireplace in the lounge room.
- Move food and furniture from the wall in the kitchen - that is, the other side of the now very hot stone chimney.
- Clean up the mess.
- Worry over the next two days and nights as your fire continues to smoulder in your fireplace and chimney.
- Find a very good friend who speaks fluent French to organise a Chimney sweeper to do his job, and a certified 'chimney man' (no idea what this is in French) to replace the flu, do minor building works and send you an incredibly expensive bill in euros
Yep, that's about it. Story done. That's what happened to us and I hope it never happens to you. The previous home owners had not installed the chimney flu correctly, and over the years the ash had built up inside the chimney around the short flu. As a result a large pile of built up ash caught fire and smouldered for a couple of days within the stone chimney. Scary. But now with a new flu installed properly and regular chimney sweeps and cleans, we can laugh back on this and thank our lucky stars that we didn't have a much bigger problem. Now that's the whole story.
