A real doozie this time (apologies)

Collias, Provence. 15 August

Our patient and long-suffering French tutor Violette, would be proud! Yesterday we managed to order most of our lunch AND find les toilettes in our pidgin Francaise. A few French smirks but I suspect they were smirks of admiration! We’re staggering along but finding there’s not much an enthusiastic merci or bonne journee can’t fix.

After a few wonderful days in Paris and Epernay, we have just settled into our little home in Provence for three weeks. We can’t believe how good it feels to unpack and not be on the run every day or so. And we can’t believe our luck with the place we found. It’s perched on the edge of a rugged gorge on the Gardon River – not far from the Pont du Gard. Not a man-made anything in sight and just a short-but-steep climb to the village. It’s soothing to be surrounded by nature again, we hadn’t realised how much we miss the greenery and open spaces of home. Once a Kiwi … I guess.

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The village Collias is tiny and perfect with a basic supermarket, bar, a couple of restaurants and Boulangerie (although due to our award-winning efforts in Paris there’s a baguette ban in place for the time being). The plan is to live like locals for a bit so we’ve been for a couple of hair-raising drives to the quintessential little village of Uzes for supplies. Roger’s taken to driving like a local, playing chicken on the narrowest roads imaginable. Clammy hands and white knuckles – and that’s just from the passenger seat!

Both times we’ve been thwarted by the French penchant for long closings in the middle of the day. After stopping in to drool at the charcuterie and fromagerie on the way to have coffee, we had a wander and returned to pick up the objects of our desire, only to find everything ‘fermé’ for three hours. Merde!

Being Uzes market day, we set off again this morning armed with our home-made chilly bin (fashioned from frozen water bottles). Turns out the rest of Provence was headed the same way so by the time we finally made it to town the market was over. Merde again! Being resourceful (and hungry) little Kiwis we managed to forage at another nearby village (more white knuckles) and the fridge is now an absolute picture.

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The Emerald Isle

Backtracking a couple of weeks, and after discovering my roots in Scotland we jumped across to Ireland for Roger’s turn. Touching down in Belfast we got straight into it and did a fascinating tour of ‘The Troubles’. Our guide Arthur Magee grew up in central Belfast through the worst of the times and was a terrific raconteur. He gave us the firsthand backstreet version, which was pretty hair raising and really helped us make sense of Ireland. As we drove the length of the country, we realised the Catholic/Proddy/English/Irish tensions are never very far from the surface.

We loved the time we spent with the Irish, so spirited and fun – quite a stark contrast with my reserved and dour Scottish peeps. It didn’t take long for Roger to be clocked as an Irishman. Something in those Leprechaun features, his kin were quick to claim him as one of theirs.

Galway was so pretty and fun. It was their big race week (think Melbourne Cup) so all the young ones were dolled up. The place was awash with handsome Irish boys looking like they’d stepped off the set of Peaky Blinders!

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Driving the Ring of Kerry was fun and we just added to the relics and ruins. We were ecstatic to see the coast again and the lakes were just breathtaking. They don’t call it the Emerald Isle for nothing.

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Cork was another highlight, such a vibrant, modern city with incredible food AND fantastic weather. While we were there we climbed up and kissed the Blarney Stone and yes, have noticed how much more eloquent we’ve both become these last two weeks.

From Cork we touched down in London for a whirlwind visit, back to our favourite crescent and another spotting of Daniel Craig. A couple of much-needed haircuts which thankfully, went better than expected. Happy times catching up with some of our Kiwi kids on this side of the world.

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Europe at last

Off the Paris and oh the heat…. and the rain. I managed to strand myself in -of all things – a children’s craft shop for 40 minutes. Within a tantalising 100 metres of the gorgeous ‘Merci’ department store I’d crossed town for. Once the rain eased, drenched and despondent, I headed for home and dry clothes instead.

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We managed a night at the incredibly raunchy Parisienne cabaret show, Crazy Horse which is quite famous and has been running since 1951. (From the state of the derrieres and more, clearly not the original cast!) Roger couldn’t believe his luck.

Our apartment high up on the hill of Montmartre was a real find. Shabby in that French way but big (yes big) with views to die for. Quite a different experience to our last visit, where we paid through the nose for a hotel room we couldn’t swing a mouse in. Oh how Air BnB has changed the world for the better.

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From Paris we made our way to Epernay and took a tour of the Castellaine champagne caves. Incredibly there’s a network of over 100km of caves under the city – all at 11C year round – and the French hid their art from the Nazis down there during the war. Naturally we exited through the gift shop, stocked up and made our way to the tiny village of Etoges, where we managed to find a room in a 15th Century castle complete with moat.

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Roger’s new friend

Collecting friends in medieval villages in Roger’s new pastime. We’d spent the night in hilltop Perouges (12th Century village, perfectly preserved and where The 3 Musketeers was filmed) and intrigued by the wood-fired oven churning out croissants and baguettes, Rog went on the offensive. Mistaking him for English, the baker was all … non non non. Persevering, Rog let him know he was a Kiwi and of course Didier Rapoud was undid. Turns out he’d lived in Wellington for three years in the 80s – terrible timing as the Rainbow Warrior had just been bombed and Kiwis were pretty cool on the French. The fact he’d also trained as a French navy diver made it hard to find friends!

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His family have lived in the same house and run the same business for 500 years – although the oven’s just 100 years old so still being run in.

Life is good for us. We still can’t quite believe we’re doing what we’re doing and most surprisingly not needing a plan. We feel incredibly lucky to be having these adventures. Home is on our mind of course, and really feel for you back there with the weather. Topped off with the All Black loss at the weekend, the country must be in mourning. We’re beyond excited to see the kids and some of our dearest in early September.

If you’ve read this far, well done. Promise the next update will be shorter, sweeter and sooner!

A bientot! xx

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