A Weekend in Provence

Salut a tous!

I'm finally settling into something of a routine around here, now that I have a real schedule for teaching my classes. I've given a few lessons already, and I feel like I'm doing fairly well, considering the fact that I have essentially zero training in this (aside from one workshop and a few years of babysitting and daycamp experience). Unfortunately, the curse of the elementary school teacher has caught up to me: I'm already sick. Plus, given that the standard greeting procedure in this area is the three-time cheek kiss, I've probably already spread this thing to all of my roommate's friends and family. Or perhaps that's what infected me. It's not debilitating, and luckily I have Mondays and Wednesdays off every week to recuperate.

This weekend as some of you know I traveled about an hour south to visit Provence with my roommate Julien and our friend Wendy. They both come from a small town called Apt (haha), which is in the Luberon, I think. The events of the weekend came as a bit of a surprise to me, because I still can't always understand exactly what Julien is trying to communicate to me. From what I comprehended of his descriptions, the weekend would be spent celebrating his father's birthday, with an evening at a nice restaurant on Friday night and a family get-together on Saturday night. Also, something about mushrooms. When I left I wasn't even sure where I'd be staying, haha.

We arrived just in time to make it to dinner, and luckily the restaurant wasn't so fancy that I was underdressed. In fact, it was very small and the only other patrons were a couple who left relatively early into the festivities. I was greeted by some kind of champagne cocktail and all of Julien's immediate family: parents, nine-year-old little brother Pascal, older sister Emily and borther-in-law Jean Paul. They were extremely gracious and welcoming, and I soon felt relatively at ease. The meal was delicious, accompanied by good wine and family banter. The restaurant owners were clearly great friends of the family, so we had unusually attentive and personal service. I enjoyed myself very much, although I had little bit of trouble getting accustomed to the famed Provencal accent. Little did I know, the accents I heard that night were not even close to the REAL Luberon/Provencal accents. We eventually headed to Julien's parents' house, where I was to spend the night. As we approched the house (mansion), it soon become evident that it functions both as a family home and as a bed and breakfast with two guest rooms. Although it apparently costs 55 euro a night, they were kind enough to let me stay for free.

We got up indecently early the next day to go to the Apt market (apparently Apt is the largest town in the area, boasting a population of 2,000). Wendy and her mother joined Julien, Pascal and I to do some shopping for the party that night. The market took up the whole of the town center, and had both touristy areas and areas for the locals in the know. We enjoyed ourselves immensely, although I think Pascal got rather bored during one 45 minute cloth-buying session. Once we had everything we needed we headed back to the house to rest and have lunch. Lunch turned out to be a full-on Daube Provencal, with bacon, olives, beef, and carrots in a rich broth. Absolutely delightful. I'm even learning to eat olives. We spent most of the rest of the afternoon putting together an expensive drum set for Pascal. I even got to play it a little bit!

I helped Julien's mother (Lyne) get the food ready for the evening, although they had made the dinner into a sort of potluck so all we were really in charge of was the homemade french fries and some brownies. It was at this point that I learned that the main dish was going to be 'moules' (I'm almost positive that means mussels). I was a little wary, but I told Lyne that as far as I knew I hadn't tried them before, so I looked forward to tasting them. Eventually the guests began arriving and everything was going very well. I was mostly silent, until Wendy and her mother arrived, and the wine flowed freely, although I only had a little champagne. As the evening wore on and everyone (aunt Martine, uncle Pierre, another aunt and uncle Regis, Wendy, her mother Patty (?), Julien and his parents, and a friend name Mado) began to get a little drunk. It was hardly surprising, since no one had an empty glass for long. Eventually, as far as I could tell, the conversation devolved into yelling, insults, innuendo, and inside jokes. Although I did have a good time, I was very uncomfortable at certain points in the evening, since although our family can be loud and gregarious, even we rarely reach the level of crude language that I observed that night.

It's a little hard to describe exaclty what was said, though, because aside from Julien, Wendy, his parents, and her mother, the rest of the party all had incredibly thick accents. The pronunication of "-in" and "-ain" especially, since those tended to become what sounded like "-aing". Nevertheless, I had a very good time. I even ate an entire plate of mussels, and found them absolutely delightful, although I had to ignore a little voice in my head that, oddly enough, sounded a lot like Dad's. It was saying something about bivalves and their ecological role......

The next day, although the party had apparently lasted until 4 am (I went to bed early....at 1), Julien and his parents were all up before I was, at 9 am. We had breakfast, and then left for what I assumed would be leisurely stroll along a shaded path in search of some native edible mushrooms. As it turns out, mushroom collecting involves rather a lot of bending, poking at rocks that look like mushrooms but then turn out not to be mushrooms, and getting hit in the face with various spiny branches. Also, it takes four hours of continuous marching, and although it can get to be very warm, you cannot take off your long-sleeved jacket because there are spines on every plant that you encounter. I came back with many war wounds, but I think they give me character. Eventually I did manage to spot some mushrooms that they actually wanted. I found ceps and oronges. After our mushroom death hike, we returned to taste the spoils of victory. Paricularly, the orange spoils of victory. Victory tastes like mild, yet flavorful, mushroomy goodness. It is also nutty, and especially delicious when tossed with olive oil and salt and pepper and baked for about 15 minutes. All in all, from what Julien reported, we found about 30 ceps and around 50 oronges. Of those, 5 were my contribution. After that, Julien took me to run an errand for his work, which turned out to be a visit to the local winery. I even got to see the room with the big tanks; I also learned that wine smells much better after it has been made and bottled.

I must have acquitted myself admirably, because I was invited by Julien's parents to return whenever I wished, and they also apologized for Julien, since he hadn't adequately prepared me for the the Night of the Vulgar Relatives. I assured them of my immense gratitude and promised to return as often as I could. We arrived home on Sunday night with a new fridge, since apparently up until now Julien (and his previous roommates) have been getting by with a mini fridge that is smaller than the one I took to college. He had to turn around and leave almost immediately for an event that I still don't fully understand. From what I gathered, Julien's restaurant was participating in a soccer tournament with other restaurants who have the same Michelin guide rating (3 stars). Although he wasn't playing, Julien was going along as a supporter: his job was to dress up in a costume of a big pink pig wearing a chef's outfit. I'm really hoping there are pictures.

Unfortunately I didn't have a camera with me in Provence, but I do have some photos of the Valence area that Wendy took on our outing to the chapel that is located in the middle of the Paul Jabolet Aine vineyards, so I have attached those. The guy pouring water into cups is Julien. There is also one photo of me in Provence that Wendy took at the market. I did get a chance to draw the bed and breakfast/house, and I'm quite proud of it. Also, it may be interesting for some of you to know that the garden at Julien's parents' house smelled exactly like grandma's. It was wonderful to be outside in a foreign country in a strange place and to smell an aroma that is so comforting and familiar. The scenery is essentially one giant postcard picture waiting to be taken, so the next time I go I promise to get some pictures.

There will be a two-week school holiday after next week, so I may be going to Nice for a few days. Also, I think (although I'm not entirely sure) that I have been signed up to attend a night of Cameroonian food and music with Julien and his friends. We'll see what happens with that.