The people of L'Ermitage were a key element in our stay in France. They became people whom were as much a part of our days as were our children.
But, I would like to touch on life in France. Did I mention that it was breathtakingly beautiful there? Hehe, just have to see who is paying attention. February led into March and the flowers started to bloom, the weather was incredible and if there is one thing that I will never forget it would have to be this.
We lived right at the top of a hill if you recall. There were rolling fields across the road and down the road, right at the intersection of another. To the naked eye, they were just fields but as spring bloomed, so did these fields. That song by 'Sting', "Fields of Gold" always reminds me of these fields. Safflouer fields surrounded us and yellow blossomed everywhere. I always and still to this day wondered how in the world the farmers harvested, for lack of a more appropriate word, these fields? And why in America rolling hills are not used as farmland? Each and every morning on our morning walks to the bolongerie (bakery) I never tired of the view. It was such a refreshing thing to wake to each day.
And walking every morning to retrieve our breakfast was also a new thing. I mean in America, how many people must go to the bakery everyday to pick up a baguette or our favorite, which neither Pat nor myself can remember the name of but it was a fatter version of the baguette. And our girls would get their suchette (sucker) me my chocolate bar and Pat his bottle of wine. I didn't drink wine then but as Pat would tell it, a $3.00 bottle of wine from the little bakery was like buying a $20 bottle of wine in a liquor store it was that good.
Other things that were odd for me to grasp. The first time I got to go to a good size town to buy some groceries, Sens, I walked into the store and was overwhelmed. They not only had food in this store but EVERYTHING else too. This was long before the days of SuperTarget or SuperWalMarts. And, people could bring their dogs into the stores as well. Of course aside from all of this, shopping in a foreign shop was a whole other deal.
Upon walking down aisle after aisle and not recognizing a single thing and no American written on anything, geez, I wanted to cry because by the time we had ventured to the store I was craving something other than bread and jelly. We didn't go with anyone French so we were on our own.
I was seeking out things such as steak, hamburger, fruit, vegetables, spaghetti noodles, Mountain Dew and other familiar things. After much frustration, we managed to come up with some Dannon yogurt, a package of ham, some tea, some kind of big oreo type cookie that was out of this world btw, some bread which was sweet and yummy, some juice stuff, tomatoes, milk in a box that did not require refrigeration and never expired, and some coke. There were a few other things included but these would become the main items in which we purchased throughout our stay.
France does not carry anything other than coke products, their milk was whole milk which I hate and they only had brown sugar cubes for the tea. Their spaghetti sauce was, well, like tomato sauce with no added spices. In fact, we had to buy two different sauces, mix them together, add sugar and salt and pepper just to get it to taste somewhat normal.
Ketchup was like a delicacy. We were never able to find a single bottle anywhere in France except at a restaraunt and they were not too liberal with that. (I will put up a post written by Pat about an experience him and the band members had at a restaraunt.) Not that we needed ketchup for much of anything. We did find some frozen french fries however, since our house only had a stove top and no oven we had french fries in a pan. Not the best either, they were actually pretty disgusting.
Dijon, man, there was dijon mustard everywhere. That was like their solution to every cooking woe. Dijon. I never really did acquire a taste for that. They handed that out with every selection on a menu.
Well, then I was shown the bakery. Oh, the pastries there. They all looked so delectable. Pat had introduced me to one called 'pan eau chocolat'. It was somewhat similar to a croisant with chocolate in the middle. We of course picked those up every chance we got which wasn't often. There was one day that I went to a flea market with Natelle and Patrova. Wow, I was really impressed with this. There was food everywhere and it was cheap. Natelle took me to this little bakery in what I remember to be something like an alley and he purchased something for me. A small strawberry torte. At least I think that's what it was called. Never did get too good at the whole french names of things. Anyway, it was a little pie as big as my hand, filled with custard and topped with freshly cut strawberries. Oh, man, was that thing good. I don't even remember the taste all that much but remember that it was so smooth and gentle on the tongue. It almost didn't have a taste. I know I am not doing that thing any justice with my taste description but it was damn good! Anyway....
We were always on a time schedule when we went to Sens because we had to borrow a vehicle from our friends. So browsing around for me was short-lived but I savored everything that I would get to see there. It was all so intriguing for myself. I am easily awed of such things and very curious and all I wanted to do was quit doing what NEEDED to be done and act like a little kid in a candy store, but I never did get to do that. : (
I of course had a handful of money but no idea which centime or franc to use upon paying that first day. Thank God Pat was next to me. The cashier only smiled while I blushed and fumbled to figure it all out but eventually I became an old pro. It was quite an experience to be had. And I truly looked forward to my next visit when I would be a little more familiar with the store.
I was aching to go and walk the streets of this little city. The buildings were just incredible and I so badly wanted to be a tourist and take in the sites. But to my dismay, we had to get back to our little country house and our kids. We had one other stop to make before we were on our way back home.
The gas station. It was situated right near the exit of the store. While we were filling the tank I had asked Pat how much those numbers represented at the pump. To my surprise, a gallon of gas was more than $5.00 per gallon in American money. EXPENSIVE! I was shocked to learn this and figured out why there were only mini cars and trucks in France.
Then again, this was not the only thing that us Americans take for granted...ahh, that will just have to wait for my next post.
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