Frommage

A week or two ago we had raclette for supper (melt cheese - pour over potatoes - eat - feel your stomach fill and arteries clog)

Delicious.

We drove up to a cremerie - a small farm where the man makes his own cheese / yogurt etc.  The kids play with the bunnies in the cages (and we don’t tell them why a farmer has so many bunnies) and we pick out some cheese.  Just tell the man: “raclette for X number of people” (even tell him how many adults and how many kids) and he sells you the right amount of cheese. This time we bought one chunck of traditional raclette cheese, and a blue cheese.  (you can see above that the boys each have an affinity for one type)

I often say that my goal in living here is to eat my body weight in dairy products on a weekly basis… I”m pretty sure I met my quota early that week.

Going for Eggs

One of the great things about living outside of the city - and especially living here - is proximity to nature.  Not only are we close to forests, mountains etc - but there is a small farmer just across the field.  Thus - when we have enough time for the children to spend to get a dozen eggs- it’s perfect.

It is the kind of farm that you read about in children’s books - but rarely see much anymore back in Canada. A couple who live in a farmhouse - and have: sheep, rabbits, dogs, hens, roosters, ducks, horses, peacocks etc. (yes peacocks - that you definitely  don’t see much of on Canadian farms)  No massive operation. No specialization into only one animal as it would be more efficient.  Just two people who live on a farm in the mountains - raise their animals (and also make their own liquor from various plants - but that’s another story)  Nothing is particularly penned up- mostly the animals are wandering around their farmyard.

These pictures are were taken a few weeks ago when the kids and I walked down to get some eggs.  After we spent probably 10 minutes wandering down to the farm - and 20 more getting a full tour by “the farmers wife” (that’s all I know her as) - it turns out there were only 6 eggs in the chicken coop.  She insisted we didn’t pay her as there were so few. So we put them in the carton we brought - and headed home.

Strange that a trip to go get eggs seemed like it accomplished so much even though we only came back home probably 45 minutes later with a half-dozen eggs.

Efficiency is highly over-rated.

Location, Location, Location.

So we have been trying to find a place to rent for about a month and a half now - with little success (OK - NO success).  

UPDATE: since I started writing this we have now indeed found a place - (we hope) will update with details etc when we have them.

One of the problems is that we look dangerous.  Well - not ‘dangerous’ per se - but risky. Whenever you go to a agency to find a place they will expect: last 3 pay slips, last years taxes, copy of your national ID card, copies of your last electric bill, your maternal grand-mothers grade 1 report card, and a vial of unicorn tears.  Since we lack a good number of those things - we were finally told by one agent “don’t bother coming back.”

Even after we got a French friend to graciously agree to be our garant (guarantor) we were still told: “OK - so you now meet some sort of minimum threshold -but if anyone else also applies, we’ll take them before you”

There also seems to be a strange void in the housing available around our village: there are plenty of small 1 & 2 bedroom apartments, and then a number of really large houses.  It doesn’t seem like there is so much in the middle - which is what we need.

Oh well - the seats in our Zafira fold flat, and it doesn’t get TOO cold here at night, so…

NOTE: ‘location’ is French for ‘rental’ 

well, that was weird

I was extra tired this afternoon (having left the house at 6:44) - so by the time I was leaving the business school - I was dragging a bit.  I also had an incredible pounding headache- which I had thought may be attributed to caffiene (I have pretty much stopped drinking coffee altogether {thank you Transcend Coffee for elevating my tastes to a level that I cannot find here} but had had a shot or two the previous two days).  I was debating whether or not to get a coffee - just to wake me up - and for my head, but decided against it. 

So I continue my solitary walk towards the tram stop.

Suddenly right in front of me a giant Monster Truck drives up over the curve and parks on the side walk.  As in a giant (OK giant for here - but like what people use for commuting in Alberta) American pick up - all jacked up -and custom painted lime green for ‘MONSTER ENERGY DRINK”  A guy and a girl jump out - and the techno-rock music spills out to the street.  He jumps up into the back - flips up a door - and reaches in to a giant ice-chest and starts handing out cans of the Caffiene-Turarin-Ginsigng-Panda-Blood-nicotine-whatever-else-laden stuff to whoever walks past.   This all happens directly between the entrance to the school and the tram stop. So basically without changing a step - I reach out and take his half-litre offering, and keep walking.

It was suddenly as if Robert Munsch was writing the story of my day. As if I was a bit actor in a screenplay written by Dr Seuss.  Like my day was a theactrical rendition of a Salvador Dali sketch.

then I went home. (and my headache went away)

huh.

Le Retour des Alpages avec la famille Cho

Our great friends the Cho’s are here for a visit.  Which is fairly interesting since they planned their trip before we planned on moving here.  Works out pretty nice.  Since we’re still at the Simoni’s house - it’s kind of like we’re standing in for them - as some kind of surrogate hosts.

On Saturday we drove to Annecy - an amazing town sitting right on a crystal clear apline lake about 50 km south of the Swiss border.   We had no particular reason to go this weekend - but did it ever work out.  I started to suspect there might be something going on when we drove in and there were dozens of tour buses parked along the road leading towards the lake.  It turns out it was Le Retour des Alpages - the festival that celebrates the annual return of animals (and their farmers) from the high-alpine pastures back down to the valley.  It is apparently a festival that is deeply steeped in the traditions of the area, so the streets were covered with artisans, traditionally made local dishes, music, and lot more.  Well, actually the streets were literally covered with straw etc. as the animals had been paraded through the town earlier in the morning.

We saw apple juice being made on the street with a giant wooden press, a potter making his wares, woodworkers, carvers, women spinning wool next to the pen where the sheep had just been shorn, alpenhorns, yodelers, donkeys walking down the streets and so much more.

The Cho’s treated us to a great lunch of local dishes: fondue, tartiflette (a baked dish of potatoes, cheese, cream & ham).  Delicious.

After wandering around the city centre for most of the day, we rode the mini-train along the lake (as in 20-30 cm from the edge of sidewalk that just drops to the lake) back to the cars and headed home.

So I figure I’m about due for French citizenship: I had crepes for breakfast, fondue for lunch at about 2:30, celebrated le retour des alpages, and had supper at 10:00. Seriously - what more do they want from me?

September 30, 2010

“This was a day that will go Down in infamy. On September thirtieth, two-thousand-and-ten, Jonah Watts wore a pair of pants for the first time since we left Edmonton in early August.“

It’s not that it’s been cold here, in fact we’re experiencing a loverly “Indian summer” right now (for what it’s worth - I’m pretty sure summer in India is nothing like this).  However, there have been a number of evenings below 10° - which of course means mornings of the same. One day it was 6° here (due to our elevation) - but he still wore shorts to school. A few weeks ago it was cold, cloudy and rainy on Sunday morning - yet he still wore shorts to church.

Do not get in between that kid and a routine.