An exceptional lunch break

There's something about a nine hour lunch which is very appealing. Not that I'd want to have one every day. You don't feel like doing much else afterwards. Other than - as we did yesterday - go back to somebody's house and then carry on for another couple of hours, which is why we didn't get in till one in the morning. We had a brilliant time.

Neighbours had asked us to go along for a Pentanque Club lunch in Avon les Roches. On the way we called into the house of some of their friends for an apéro. We'd met them before and they were coming as well, bringing some other friends of theirs from nearby. After a couple of glasses of fizzy we headed off to the salle de fête in the centre of the village.

Not sure how many people were there - may be three hundred - all seated at reserved tables, for a served lunch: Rillette de saumon en cassolette + Bouchée de la Mer+ Confit de cuisse de canard+ trilogie de fromages + Fondant chocolat (chaud) et crème à la menthe+ coffee+ wine.  Five courses, or six if you add in the apéro and nibbles, and seven if you add in the sorbet, which wasn't on the menu, and came with alcohol or without. By that stage, without was the sensible option. The whole thing was done so well. The tables had been so prettily decorated and the lunch itself was really good, with a choice of white and red wines - all included in  the €25 ticket if you bought in advance, or €30 for everyone else. The salle de fête has a large central room, with a decent sized kitchen, a stage and then various rooms off. It's a good space.

Around 6pm the band arrived at started setting up. Electric keyboard + male vocals, two females vocals, accordionist and a multi-instrumentalist, who brought along a trombone, saxophone and an electric violin. They started playing around 7.30pm and stopped around 10pm. In between the whole place had been on its feet dancing. It was great to see different generations all happy to be with each other and leaping about on the dance floor. No one was nervous about getting up and dancing on their own if they wanted to. Such a great atmosphere. Conviviality is at the heart of it all.

From there we went back to the friend's house where we'd all met up in the morning, opened some more fizzy and sat chatting away together for a couple of hours. Such a lovely way to finish. Also for us we realised how much we'd moved on with the language. It was all so easy and just flowed. 

 

The Arts Crowd 2

We'd known for a long time that the Loire was a favourite with Turner. Then as we explored the area better we discovered so many well known artists who spent their time in the Indre et Loire, such as Max Ernst and Alexander Calder.

In this weekend's Nouvelle République there was a half-page feature with the headline 'Champigny-sur-Veude n'a pas oublié Soutine'. Mike spotted it first and showed me the piece while we were having a cup of coffee together. The village, Champigny, we know quote well through various contacts who live over there. It's also close to Richlieu so is often tied up with annual music festival which we like to support. Not once though in five years has anyone mentioned the name of Chaïm Soutine and we haven't seen anything about him anywhere either. If you look him up on the internet you'll read that he was a Belarussian Jew, who was hugely influential in the Paris expressionist movement. There's also reference to him escaping from the capital to avoid capture by the Gestapo.

From August 1941 to August 1943 Chaïm Soutine found refuge in Champigny. Quite how this came about is not explained in the article, but he was hidden in the house of the village policeman. There are many people still within Champigny who as youngsters posed for Soutine and last weekend they came together to commemorate the artist and his work.

Clearly this was an important event and not just locally, but nationally and internationally. Three hundred people came, amongst whom were obviously locals, but also academics, French authors, historians and Maria Ozerova, who is the scientific and cultural attachée at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg. Her presence helps clarify the importance of the artist and his work. 

Gabriel Leclerc et Christiane Delaunay

A particularly emotional moment was the meeting of Christiane Delaunay and Gabriel Leclerc. At the time they posed together for one of Soutine's paintings, they were 12 and three years old respectively. They hadn't seen each other since the second world war. One person who wasn't there was Marcel Varvou, the son of the local policeman in whose house Soutine stayed. He had also posed for Soutine and had been given his palette as a gift of thanks. According to the N.R., disappeared from the village. 

In hindsight we definitely did miss out by not getting into The Orangerie during our Paris visit. Although how much we would have seen I'm not sure. But twenty-two of Soutine's painting are held there. The link is in French, but the curator speaks very clearly. We did however see some of his work at  the Musée d'Orsay, when we went to Paris last November. The Musée had a retrospective of his work on display at the time (October 2012 to January 2013). 

When we go back next year to Paris, we'll make sure we're at The Orangerie first thing and at the front of the queue.

Back home

After much discussion we decided to come back to Cravant. Apart from the obvious, we had a good time and seen and eaten some fab things. The deciding factor was that various British papers in my wallet which was stolen, cannot be replaced by UK authorities, which means that I've got to engage with the French system in all sorts of unexpected ways. Given what we have coming up over the next few weeks, we decided it was better to come home and get various things underway on Monday. So it was by by Paris for this year, as of this morning. A shame, but things need to get done. The last sting in the tail were our train tickets. We'd gone in to the station Austerlitz to find out if we could get them changed. (It was from this station that we would have returned this coming Monday.) Yes we could change them, with the option to travel on the same time train (as Monday) yesterday or today. It was our choice when. Fine. The tickets were changed. We're halfway from Paris to Tours when the ticket inspector comes and says we have to pay more money. What the person at the desk at Austerlitz failed to tell us is that there were surcharges for changing our ticket, which didn't appear when she printed our new tickets out. They had the same price on. We explained this to the ticket inspector, but he was adamant that he had to apply the law. At this point I suddenly discovered that I was as capable of being as fluidly feisty in French as I can be in English - those who know me well, know what this means! Not that it was going to or did have any effect. But it made me feel better and ensured that he had to thoroughly explain why.

Anyway we had a great visit to some great places in Paris. We have already said to each other that we want to go back next year. Paris remains one of our all time favourite cities and no way are we going to be put off going again, even again again. What will have changed next time is that we'll be better prepared for conditions and with our London savvy heads well and truly screwed on.

More Tales from Paris 5

Today's cultural menu included a visit to the Pompidou Centre, the Tuileries gardens, an attempt to get into the Musée de l'Orangerie, a walk round various arcades and a fascinating film in a shop window, which we came across purely by chance. 

Must admit my levels of enthusiasm have been hard pressed for the last few days, but particularly after today, having been targeted by yet another con merchant, making it the fourth time in four days in four different places. These are teams of determined people. We watched one lot this morning who were getting organised outside a metro station. The boss was a middle-aged woman surrounded by a dozen young girls who should have been in school. It's a huge and complex problem and is present in so many countries. Right now for us, it's become a really tiring exercise having to watch out the whole time.

As to the good stuff - the Pompidou Centre was somewhere we really wanted to visit as much to see the building as what was in it. Our Paris Pass got us into the modern art section. Some of it I just didn't connect with at all, while other pieces were fabulous. What interested us was the general push towards design as an art form, which opened up so many possibilities for display. It's a concept we are both very keen on.  Artists/Work that particularly impressed us included the Thomas Heatherwick Pavilion Brittanique which was on display in Shanghai in 2010. Obviously what we saw was the scale model! Very exciting piece of work. Hopefully the link gives a good idea. Glenn Ligon's Stranger 56, was just fascinating. A large canvas covered with rows of words, but worked in acrylic and cold dust, the surface was totally black and appeared as an enormous 3D stencil. The link is an introduction to his story. Rudolf Stingel had developed an interesting technique very rococo in style. Sean Scully painter and printmaker- one of his cut ground series: oil on linen. There was a wonderful scale model of the Media Center at Hilversum by Neutelings Riedijk Architects in Rotterdam. Photos by Claude Simon a celebrate French writer and Nobel Prize winner who was also passionate about photography. The final gem was an exhibition of quite extraordinary contemporary drawings from all over the world collected by Florence and Daniel Guerlain. They established a foundation in 1996 which now awards an annual prize for contemporary drawing.

After that we had a break for lunch at a nearby café before heading over to the Tuileries Garden and The Orangery. The gardens are just great to walk around, or to sit and just watch the world pass by. Lovely spot. The Orangery houses Impressionist and Post-Impressionist paintings. By the time we got here there was over an hour to wait and the numbers of people were impossible, so we gave it a miss. Just one of those things.

Galerie Véro Dodat

Paris has wonderful covered arcades or passages. The same magnificence and range of high end goods as in the Burlington Arcade, but fortunately (at least as far as I'm concerned) without the carpet. We visited a couple. The Galerie Vivienne et the Galerie Véro Dodat.  Mid nineteenth century there were around 140 of them. These days there are around 20 I think, that have survived and they are all around the second arondissement. As you'd expect they are packed with haute-couteur brands, little coffee bars and bistros.
They are quite delightful and have an atmosphere entirely of their own.


Heading back towards the Louvre to pick up the metro, we walked by the Ministry for Culture and Communication. They coordinated a tribute to Jean Cocteau to mark the fiftieth anniversary of his death. A superb film had been made and set up in their front window - images of his work, ideas and writings, and film of him at work. Local shops had linked up with the event, so for example in a fine linen boutique, special handkerchiefs embroidered with some of Cocteau's design were on sale. Simple but they looked stunning. 

Thought we'd get a take away of some kind this evening, so visited the local Greek deli. Really good selection and everything looked good. Tonight's menu included dolmades, stuffed aubergines and Taboulé. What required microwaving could be, as we have one in the studio. All quite delicious and was washed down with some rosé for me and red for Mike. Not a bad end to the day.

More Tales from Paris 4

The mystery of the missing tooth and the tattooed woman will be forever unsolved. Mike's dream was evidently a one-off. Never mind. Other things considerably more interesting happened today. We discovered the RER. It's a combined metro and overland service. 

We went to Austerlitz Station this morning, from where we'll be returning home. From there we wanted to get back to the Eiffel Tower to pick up a Bateau Parisien for a guided tour on the Seine, which was included in our Paris Pass. We've travelled around on the Seine previously by Bateau Bus which provides a regular pick-up/drop-off service. So we'd seen a fair bit of it already. But today's trip was a non-stop. To begin with we thought we'd have to travel back to the Eiffel Tower on the mètro, which would have involved us in several changes. But then Mike spotted a direct line by RER so we plumped for that. Even better we were also able to use our Paris Pass travel ticket. The RER train is a double-decker with upper and lower seating. Really straightforward and we arrived in time for the 11.15 tour, along with most of the Chinese, Korean and Japanese holiday fraternities. The boats are big, so even though there seemed to be a lot of people on board, there was plenty of space. Good fun, lovely day for a river trip, plenty to see along with interesting and often amusing commentary. The Seine was pretty busy as well, with industrial barges as well as tourist boats. We ended where we started at the Eiffel Tower and took off for our next destination, stopping for a bite on the way. 

Why are omelettes so good over here? We've tried a few leathery specimens in the UK, but the ones we had at lunch time were just delicious, accompanied a little fresh salad on the side, a glass of rosé and some bread. Just perfect.

A chunk of the afternoon was spent at the Musée du Quai Branly and I must admit not having a camera was so frustrating, because we found ourselves at one of the most exciting spaces we've been to in a long time. None of the guide books do it justice visually and the write-ups are quite mundane. In fact it is an extremely important centre, exhibiting indigenous works of art from Africa, the Americas, Asia and Oceania. The exhibits are of breathtaking quality and variety, and are presented in simply wonderful building. Even their website doesn't give an idea of how dramatic the place is, inside and out. Walking up to it you become aware of a huge transparent glass frontage, behind which is a superb garden, through which you walk to get to the entrance. The website link is to a series of videos which give you a glimpse of the building and some of the exhibits. It's worth having a sift through. Once you get into the building a gently spiralling walkway takes you up into the exhibition areas. But as you walk up a river of words flows down projected on to the walkway surface. It's quite fascinating, because the words change direction, merge, separate and undulate as a real river would. We were so impressed by the museum. By the time we came out we were rather brain weary. So much to see and to try and take in. Once outside we crossed over the main road to have a quick look at a major photographic exhibition that the museum has launched. Like the rest of the programming, the photographers come from all over the world. Photoquai began in 2007 one year after the opening of the museum itself. So far it has promoted over 200 photographers, whose imagery reveal details about people and place which cannot be seen unless you go to the countries such as South Africa, Iraq, Panama or Nepal. Terrific stuff.

From there we headed back to the nearby RER station and made our way over to the Rodin Museum. It's a gorgeous place.Lots of work being done to it. Think it was closed for a while. A few people about, so having stuck our head inside the main house, we thought better of it and kept outside in the garden, where the sculptures seemed more at home. It's a real haven in a very busy city. So glad we went.

More tales from Paris 3

It was our wedding anniversary today. Marked initially by Mike's very strange dream. I have since been wracking my brain to see if at any time I knew a woman with long dark and central parting and one front tooth missing. Apparently in his dream, Mike and I were sitting on a bench type seat in a restaurant with our backs to the wall. The woman walks in and says  'Hilary and Mike Shearing how are you?' We look blank and she continues, 'We met at...' Then there's a noise, so neither of us hear where this was. Next she introduces us to her Russian friends - a group of women of a certain age. One has a strappy type dress on, with tattoos all over her shoulders. At this point he woke up. So unless part two of the dream continues tonight, we'll never find out the end of the story.

Louvre: Photo from Garden of Eaden

Rather damp day today, so adjustment of plans. We bought a couple of Paris Passes which we'd ordered on line and picked up Monday afternoon when we arrived. They are available for 2, 4 or 6 days. We bought a four day which began today. They are extremely useful. As well as giving us free admission to all sorts of museums, you by-pass queues and the price includes a metro ticket. We went straight to the Louvre. We've walked around the outside a number of times but not visited any of the rooms and exhibitions as we've never had enough time. It is a huge place. This time we decided to go up to the first floor and visit the Middle Ages display. Wonderful. Just loved the way contemporary design had blended in with the historic parts of the building. A perfect mix which gives the Louvre a totally new life. So architecturally the inside is as interesting as the outside. Then there were the exhibits. A truly fabulous collection. The sheer skill of the craftsmen of that period is quite extraordinary. Being London based for so long, we've been spoilt by the range and quality of museums there. The Louvre was so impressive. Loved it. By the time we left which was around 12.30 the queues were staggering. People were waiting for an hour to get in.

Next stop the Musée des Arts Décoratifs. There were a number of exhibitions here that we wanted to see, including some gorgeous contemporary jewellery and a superb collection of Chanel dresses, accompanied by the video of the fashion show where they were first presented.

Pont des Arts: Veronique Phitoussi

 From there we walked across the Pont des Arts, which now has thousands of 'love locks' fixed to it. Quite a few cities have them apparently, but the only one we've seen is here in Paris. For anyone who doesn't know about it, couples write their names on a padlock, lock it on to the bridge and throw the key away, representing eternal love.  There is another bridge in Paris with locks, but we've not seen it as yet: the Pont de l'Archevêché.

What we were on our way to was the Magnum Photography Gallery. A small place with three small exhibitions: Bad Weather by British Photographer Martin Parr. We first came across his work in the Tramshed in Bristol. Home Town by French Photographer Antoine D'Agata and Japan - can't find a link to this one, but the link I have found ties him in with the Paris Fashion show. Magnum Photographers are regarded amongst the best in the world. A reputation which is carefully guarded by the admission process.

Teeming down with rain we headed back to the apartment, late afternoon, and found that someone had delivered a complimentary box from the Boutique des Saveurs, where we went on Monday evening for an apéro. It's just next door. We think that the Boutique and our apartment are linked together as we were encouraged to go when we first arrived. So we did. Anyway inside the box was a lovely jar of rillettes and a bottle of red wine - French. All looks pretty tasty. We were going to stay in tomorrow night and have something to eat in the apartment. With so many interesting food outlets nearby, it would be a pity not to try some of them. The arrival of the box will get us off to a good start. 

Paris: The Estée Lauder Pink Ribbon Photography Award

The Hôtel de Sully - Le Marais is currently host to a courageous photographic exhibition. The link contains images from the exhibition. We didn't know it was on, but came across it as we were wandering around the area this afternoon. The hôtel is elaborate in appearance, as per Louis Xlll style, with amazing decoration and fabulous proportions. The building is actually a private mansion or a hôtel particulier, built between 1625 and 1630. It had various owners, before being classified as a historic monument in 1862. The hôtel transferred from private to state ownership in 1944 and for the last forty six years has been the home of the Centre for Historic Monuments.

I suppose one of the reasons the hôtel served the exhibition so well is because of the contrast between the venue with its excessive swirls and curls, and the stark uncluttered reality that the individuals in the photos and their families are having to face.  This was an outdoor exhibition, with the photos enlarged to at least A1, and then carefully fixed to the walls. Poignant and humourous, the images reflected all those qualities that are uniquely human. They are to be published in Marie Claire, although I'm not sure when or if this has already happened.

The origin of the pink ribbon is contained in this link. It's in French, but essentially the idea was co-created by Evelyn Lauder in 1992. She was also a passionate photographer . She died of ovarian cancer in 2011.

Stories from Paris 2

Well Tuesday 15th was definitely an odd day. That's the best way to describe it.  Everything started off really well. Beautiful day. Lovely sunshine and quite mild. So off we went, beginning with a walk around, before getting on to the metro to head towards Le Marais. Somewhere on the metro, someone managed to steal my camera - my small point and shoot, which started me off on photography and my wallet, taking cash, bank cards, driving licence etc. It was so quick. Retraced our steps, even checked at the lost property, but knowing everything was zipped up, there was no way these things had disappeared by accident. So the police were notified, phonecalls made to my bank, which means that everything on the account is at least blocked. There'll be some things to sort out when we get back. I really loathe this sort of thing. Never stolen anything from anyone. However I'm not the first and sadly I won't be the last. And also sorry that I won't be able to post any photos.

Anyway after all the upheaval we tried to resurrect what was left of the day. Stopped off at a place for lunch, near to where we are staying. Terrific - L'Assiette à Carreaux. Not a big space but absolutely packed. Wonderful buzzy atmosphere with a really nice menu, either individual dishes off La Carte or there were a couple of options as Plat du Jour. After that we headed off to Le Marais an historically important district in the third and fourth arrondissements. 

Paris was largely remodelled and modernised in the 19th century by architect Georges-Eugène Haussmann. Le Marais escaped. As a result you gain a very clear idea of what Paris was like before Haussmann arrived on the scene. Le Marais is a joy with its narrow streets and squares and residencies from the medieval and the Renaissance periods. These days it represents Paris at its contemporary best. A lot of the up and coming, galleries, restaurants and boutiques are found there, making Le Marais one of the most fascinating districts in the capital.  It is home to a number of communities - arty types, gay and Jewish. Originally Le Marais was the aristocratic capital of Paris, but gradually they moved out and the area became actively commercial, attracting many Eastern Europeans from the Jewish community who helped build up Le Marais's reputation as a clothing centre. The synagogue was designed by Hector Guimard who also designed several Paris Metro stations.

Today we visited the Café Suedoise at the Swedish Institute, for afternoon tea. What a find! We tried two of their cakes - pear and walnut and courgette and ginger which was just out of this world. It was also surprisingly inexpensive.  Then we wandered into other parts of the institute to look at an exhibition called Sens Dessus Dessous (Upside Down), an exhibition of illustration by some of Sweden's best. Some of  Eva Lindström's work was on display. The link gives more information about her and the type of work she does. She has by all accounts been a reference point for younger illustrators, a number of whom were part of the same exhibition. One in particular intrigued. Emelie Östergren some of whose work had the heavy power associated with Paul Rega. Fascinating exhibition, which comes to an end very soon. We were lucky to find it.

So a good end to a strange start. Fingers crossed it stays that way.

Still stories to tell from Paris

Travel day to one of our favourite cities. We've found a studio apartment on the second floor (with lift) in the second arondissement. It's viewed as an up and coming district and really buzzes. Everything ran smoothly from the moment the village taxi picked us up at 8.45. Travel to Tours on time, TGV on time. Got to the apartment for 3pm.  Mike had booked a 4-day Paris pass on line, which we picked up before we went to our digs. Discovered the local collection point was just up the road from where we're staying. We'd texted the agent to say we'd arrived and they were at the studio to meet us. Ideal for two people. Compact, but kitted out well. 

The metro is 5 minutes away. As for what's around locally. Foodie place, so loads of restaurants - French, Lebanese, Japanese, Chinese, French/Indian combo, Thai, Italian, Greek and that's just up one street. Not that we're eating out all the time. Loads of provision shops and delis and bread shops - so we'll have some fun with that lot. We were just going back to the studio having got some basic provisions and thought we'd look in at the Salle des Saveurs, which is literally next door to the apartment block. All sorts of top quality food items - surprisingly not that expensive. Started chatting to the owner. Then having had a look round in the front part, we walked through to the back to find it was laid out as a tiny apèro bar, which serves plates of delicious patés et saucissons. So we stayed for a platter. We asked for a white wine and he came up with a couple of glasses of delicious Sauvignon. €10 per head. Not bad and so yummy.

Dropped the shopping back at the apartment then a bit later went out to have a look around. Definitely picked a good spot - Les Petits Carreaux - and definitely off to a good start. All we need now is for the weather just to lighten up a bit, but as long as it doesn't rain, we're fine.

 

A first and hopefully not the last!

Saturday 5 October is well and truly noted in the Shearing household. Our first vendange. It was set up by friends of ours in Bournand who have been helping a particular wine producer with the vendange every year for some time. We felt really honoured to be allowed in. Vendange teams are made up of very close friends and family and it's difficult to get into one. Up until now having asked locally a few times, we've not been able to do it. But yesterday that all changed. What we'd been told was that it would be hard work and a lot of fun. Sounded pretty good.

We got to Bournand for 8am. It's a hamlet about thirty minutes from us. Met up with our friends and then walked to the wine producer's house which was five minutes away down the lane. We were introduced to the family and then to all the other helpers. This was not a big commercial harvest as found in Cravant, but rather a vendange familiale. It's a known expression for something on a smaller scale. Four generations have owned and run the family business. Grandfather died last year. Grandma is still around and amazingly sprightly for an over ninety year old. The head of the family is her son Gérard and wife Janette, their son Pascal and daughter in law Mireille. Absolutely lovely people. We were given such a warm welcome.

So to work. We jumped on some trailers and were towed along by tractor to the vines. By now it was 8.30am. All hand picking. There is a technique to it. Working in pairs on either side of the vines, you have to ferret around in the foliage. Vines are very leafy and compact. Some grapes grow upwards, other manage to grow round the wire supports, others hang naturally. The vines were relatively low, so you're permanently bent down, clipping away. You are given a bucket to put the grapes in and secateurs, also gloves to stop your hands getting stained. Eventually you get into a rhythm and can pick up some speed. 

We'd just got started when a hot air balloon floated by. Everyone stopped and looked, including the cows in the nearby field. It was flying quite low and for a moment we thought it was going to land. Probably came down to have a look at what we and the other gangs working nearby were doing. We were surrounded by vines, sunflowers - which were waiting to be harvested and maize. But these crops are going to be done in two weeks time. The weather forecast for the coming week was very good, so promised some additional drying-out time. Recent rainfall meant everything was just too damp.


We worked for about three hours and then around 11am we stopped for a break.Supplies had been brought out on the tractors, so a choice of rosé and/or coffee, with biscuits. The boys had both. I had a sip of Mike's wine, which was lovely - off dry - but stuck to the coffee - from huge flasks. Just hit the spot. Didn't have too much as we were quite a way from anywhere and there wasn't an obvious place to go for a wee. So buckets down and gloves off for about ten minutes.

Gérard with his 'hotte'

The weather was a perfect mix of slightly overcast followed by a bit of sun. Everyone was wearing layers. By mid morning, my anorak was off along with layer number one. Did about another hour and a half. We'd made very good time and got the first parcelle of grapes completed quickly. Sometimes there was total silence, but every now and again, there'd be a burst of conversation, laughter and the occasional song. Having got everything finished for the morning, we packed up - people, grapes and equipment - and headed back to the house for lunch. I'd been trying to take photos and did get some, but it wasn't easy with sticky, grape stained rubber gloves on. However, the process of the morning was simple and went very well. Most of us were picking. Two men were carrying the hotte, which is a metal panier with straps worn on the back ( photo above). They'd walk up and down the rows and as we filled up our buckets we would empty them into the hotte as it went by. 

Pascal and the fouloir

When the hottes were full the men went back to the trailer with the grape crusher/fouloir and emptied the grapes, which wasn't easy to do - climbing up a ladder, getting your balance right, then angling yourself over the fouloir so that the grapes, with a bit of help could fall in. There was another newbie along with Mike and I. Our fellow newbie (in the photo) and I, had to meet the challenge of carrying a hotte and emptying it. Mireille was busy taking photos, so somewhere there is one of me doing the same thing. Both of us girls were of similar diminutive stature, so just getting up the ladder and on to the trailer was slightly tricky. This was the first, we discovered, of several traditional challenges for new members of the crew. Everyone else there had done the same thing. Our friends had been sworn to secrecy, so we had no idea what was coming.

Lunch in the garage

Lunch was back at Gérard and Janette's house in the garage. We had two ladies called Pierette and one of them had prepared boudin (sausage) for lunch. When we first came here, there was no way I wanted to eat it. I'm never been keen on the British equivalent either - black pudding. But then one time we were out for Sunday lunch and a little glass was served as an amuse-bouche containing warm boudin and apple purée. Quite delicious and I've been quite happy to eat it since. Pierette had a tried and tested recipe. Her boudins were fantastic. The process however is lengthy - five hours alone for the cooking which has to be done at a specific temperature. There was also cheese, rillettes, paté and desserts - all home made and just wonderful, wine if you wanted it, coffee, water.  We had more work to get done in the afternoon, so I kept away from the wine and had a light lunch. No way was I going to fall totally comatosed into the vines on my first vendange. Bottom right hand corner of the photo is the French equivalent of Jim Trott from the Vicar of Dibley. Yvon was as funny but without the stutter.

Lunch over, it was back on to the trailer and off to another parcelle of vines. This time Pierette (Yvon's wife)  and Mireille looked after the fouloir, while the rest of us worked our way up and down the vines. It's very easy to understand why so many vignerons have back problems and have to wear a back support. The constant lifting and bending - it's relentless day after day. Doing it for one day, no problem.

We got everything done very quickly so we were asked to help harvest some betterave or beetroot. At least that's what they were called. But in fact they were mangelwurzels.  The technique is to kick them out and then chuck them into the trailer that is being towed up each row very slowly by tractor. Kicking them out is the easy bit but throwing them into the trailer is something else. They can be big and heavy.

Pascal had helped with the harvest since he was a boy, so was able to get into a regular rhythm, pull the betterave out of the ground very quickly and lob them into the trailer two at a time, in more or less a continuous action. Both he and Mireille drive tractors, so if one was driving the other was helping with the harvest, and vice versa. We had such a satisfying day. By the end of the afternoon we were mildly stiff, but we felt we'd been really useful and had a great time meeting and working with the others. 

Not sure what time we finished - but about 6pm. Then we all made our way back to Gérard and Janette's place to get everything tidied up, meaning unhitching the trailer, off-loading the equipment, the vegetables and the grapes, cleaning off all the secateurs, and washing up the buckets. Grandma came out to see everyone then we all wandered up to the back of the yard towards a big barn where all the grapes had been put into five large circular containers about 1.10m high. Mireille was filling washing up bowls with water  and brought them over the the barn along with a bag of towels. Then she said that to bring everything to a close for the day, there was just one more thing that the newbies on the team had to do. Another tradition! Each of us had to climb into each of the containers, one at a time and tread the grapes, or rather wade in the grapes because apart from the fifth one, all the others were full to about 2 inches from the rim (0.50). 

Basically we had to get our trousers off in order to do it. Hilarious. Thank goodness I had a decent pair of M&S knickers on. Mike was fine being so tall, but us girls having completed the task, walked away with pink pants. Got most of the grape coloured water off ourselves by having a mini shower with the water that Mireille had so kindly provided. Very weird sensation and a bit cold, but afterwards, strangely refreshing,  Fortunately we'd bought some clean underwear just in case the weather was horrible and we got drenched. Then after the ritual we went back to our friend's house, had a shower and got changed. It was one of those things where just have to go with the flow.  Once you were in a container unless you were tall it was really difficult to get out. Trying to get your leg over -  I knew how daft it must look and we just couldn't stop laughing. Mireille has got some photos, which hopefully she'll be emailing  and which hopefully I'll be brave enough to post. 

After getting cleaned up we had an apéro together, and then ended up back in the garage for a wonderful dinner. Such a fun evening, delicious good with loads of singing. A mixture of French harvest songs and French chansons to begin with. But then Mike and I did some stuff. He'd brought his ukulele and we did about six songs together, some in English and others in French - mostly Beatles music which is very popular over here. Later there were questions for the newbies to answer and prizes - another tradition. It all went so well, that we got invited back for the second harvest in two weeks time. We'd love to have gone, but in fact we're in Paris so can't. Anyway a great experience and fingers crossed we'll get invited again next year.

Extreme Orient 6 - Saving the best till last

We've seen some cracking films over the last few days. We've met some interesting fellow film buffs, shared food together, a few glasses of wine, coffee and cakes, in between sessions - just to keep us going - and in total have spent just over 22 hours watching films.  We missed four in all. Those we saw proved a terrific experience. An extra film had been slotted in yesterday, Monday - the final day, starting at 4pm. We couldn't get to it. Too much on. Don't know the name or what it was about. Some hardy types did get to see it,  and what little they had to say about it mentioned sex and money. Who knows if we missed something special or not. What we do know is that the last film, was for us the best contemporary film at the festival, and one of the best films we've seen in the last few years. 

Shokuzai/Penance was developed from a book, similarly titled. Directed by Kiyoshi Kurosawa it was originally made as a TV series in Japan but in that format attracted very average audience ratings. In film format the project blossomed, and what we saw yesterday was a mysterious, captivating and immensely complex work, handled with extraordinary skill and pitch perfect tuning. It was four and a half hours in all, with an interval and totally riveting. The quality of Shokuzai for a moment led us to think the director was related to Akira Kurosawa (Seven Samurai)  but no. There just happens to be two directors with the same surname.

The film contains six stories which are presented in two parts. The first shows the main event from which everything else develops. It concerns the murder of a young girl, Emili, newly arrived at primary school. She makes good friends with four other girls in her class. They play together at school and outside of school. They visit each others houses. One day while playing around on open land, they accidentally kick their ball in the same direction as a man is walking - away from them - although the audience knows he has been sitting watching the girls for a little while. At first only his legs are seen as he picks up the ball. Then his back, as he meets with the girls and tells them he's doing some work nearby in the school and would like one of them to help him. The man picks Emili. They go into the school gymnasium. The friends hang around. They worry because Emili hasn't returned. The friends go into the gym and find Emili dead on the floor. After extensive interviews by the police, the girls remain in such shock they cannot remember the man's face or anything about him. The remaining four girls visit Emili's mother Asako at home, with flowers. They are invited in. Asako tells them she cannot forgive them for failing to watch out for Emili or to tell what they know. She says the girls must do penance for her daughter's death and will do so until they remember. The film then continues with the individual stories of the girls,  as young women. By the time we see them as young women, fifteen years have passed since the murder. The remainder of the first half contains the stories of three of the girls. The second half has the story from the last girl, but also that of the mother Asako, who herself has been doing penance for the death of her daughter. She has by now a son, who at this point is the same age as Emili was when she was murdered.

All the girls have been mentally affected by their experience at school. Their lives or personalities have become almost dysfunctional. The first is terrified to go out and marries a control freak, who ultimately she kills. The second is a school teacher, so hard on herself, so strict with the pupils, and seemingly without personality or humour, that no one understands her. She nearly kills a man, who has entered the school with a knife and terrorises her class while they are having a swimming lesson. She attends Kendo classes. One day she hallucinates and sees the man she's almost killed standing in front of her, who she attacks, whereas it is really another student of the class. The third girl has major psychological problems and lives at home with her parents. She has an older brother. She and the audience see him behaving strangely towards a young girl. His step-daughter is also clearly afraid of him. One day the girl is asked to visit her brother by her mother. She gets there to find her brother in an inappropriate situation with his step-daughter and strangles him to protect the child.

By this time Asako realises that she has put a hex on all the girls. She has managed to keep track of them over the years, and has remained in touch in a menacing way, reminding them of their duty to fulfill the penance they owe her. However Asako writes to the fourth girl, saying she wants to pardon her. It's all gone too far. The attitude and behaviour of the girl in the final story is very different from the rest. This is a young woman, scheming and uncompromising, controlling and selfish in her treatment of men. She has affairs with married men and is obsessed with police officers. To the extent that she sleeps with her own sister's husband, a police officer, becomes pregnant and ultimately kills him by  pushing him downstairs, when he refuses to leave his wife.  One day the girl hears a voice in an interview and recognises that of Emili's murderer.  She phones Asako, who decides to visit the man at a school he is has set-up in another province.  There is a struggle. Asako escapes. But the man now knows where to find her.

Asako's story is the final one and the final piece of the circle. At university Asako was in love with a man. But he was in love with Asako's best friend, who commits suicide. She leaves a suicide note. Asako finds her and the note while the friend is still alive, but doesn't do anything to help save her. Asako keeps the note hidden for years.  She is offered marriage and an engagement ring by this same man, but ultimately agrees to an arranged marriage with another, the heir of a family dynasty. She keeps the engagement ring with the letter. 

Moving forward, one day while playing in the family house, Emili finds a sealed letter - the suicide note - and a very pretty ring - the engagement ring. In a dare, all the young girls take prized objects from their homes to a ruined house they've discovered, and hide everything in an old safe in an upstairs room. Emili takes the letter and the ring. The man (who will ultimately kill Emili) visits the ruined house shortly after as a prospective buyer. He finds the ring and the suicide note, which he didn't know existed, and confirms with the agent that the wife of the owner of the property is Asako.  He then kills Emili in revenge for the death of the woman he really loved. In Asako's story, they meet at the man's request in this same house. They both have secrets to tell. The man explains how he found the letter and ring, and admits to the murder of Emili. Asako explains that Emili was in fact his own child from their one night together and that he'd murdered his own daughter. The man commits suicide in front of Asako by throwing himself under a train on a nearby railway track. Asako must now spend the rest of her life paying penance for the lives she has helped to destroy.  

There were times in this film where I almost couldn't breathe. Masterful and compelling.