Lying awake as my body tries to tell me it's mid-afternoon - but the clock says it's 2am - I began to think of the things I miss about being in the Var, and particularly Les Arcs.
Apero time in the square. |
1. The inverted seasons, where I can escape Victoria's winter and enjoy a second summer. Of course it has its downsides. This year it was the prolonged heatwave. Few houses have air conditioning, including ours, and as a result all the fans sold out across Var. You had to go all the way to Alpes-Maritimes to fine one. Luckily, we have three.
The wrought iron bell canopy above the clock tower. |
3. Being a familiar face at the boulangerie, where Madame says, 'Un florentin ?'* when I arrive, knowing that is my usual choice of bread. The bakery, just 60 metres from our front door, lures me every morning with its freshly-baked-bread aroma.
4. Greeting my neighbour with a kiss when she calls out to me across the hypermarket for a chat - in French - and pinching myself that this is actually happening.
5. Cigales. The constant drilling sound of the cicadas wherever you go in the town or country - and the French writing the sound down as 'Kss Kss Kss'.
'Colourful Parrot at Home' 2007 by Jim Dine Sculpture exhibition at Chateau Ste Roseline 2011 |
7. Evening perfumes as the heady flowers of the Belle de Nuit unfold themselves when the sun goes down, their scent taking over from the fig trees with a softer, after-dark perfume.
8. Summer music in the main town square three or four night a week, when bands set up at apero (aperitif) time and people open windows to cool their homes, then emerge to sit out under umbrellas, talk - and smoke - and enjoy the warm summer evenings. Bands playing manouche jazz, rock classics, the blues, French chansons, the tango argentin.
9. Dancing in the street - that follows apero and dinner - when the music entices you to get out of your chair and join the rest of the townsfolk on the tarmac dance floor. The town's main thoroughfare is blocked off - and traffic re-routed by the Police municipal - so that tables can be pushed out into the road and people have a room under the stars to dance along the Boulevard Gambetta.
10. Two-hour lunchtimes - when everything closes as the town's bell chimes 12 o'clock - and nothing moves again until 2pm, or sometimes 4pm, or even later. Then it's time to emerge from your siesta and find a table, ready for another long summer evening in the square.
* Un florentin is similar to a baguette, but thicker in the middle. I'm not sure if it is known throughout the rest of France or if it is our bakery's special.
Mountains of ripe figs! Oh I am wasting my life here in Ballarat. Figs in Coles are $1 each and unripe and rare. A huge tree near La Porchetta was chopped down last year where I could steal ripe figs if I remembered the season. My daughter sold their house where I had a supply of figs for months each year. I can't understand why people don't treasure them here.. I am glad you are back and I am looking forward to a cappuccino and a chat en francais. (can't do accents here). Gwendoline
ReplyDeleteSorry I couldn't bring some back!
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