La Vie en Rose

No matter how beautiful a place I am in, the difference between joy and despair will be made by the people I’m with.    It was ever thus.

We were so fortunate to have friends already here and Bassie has always been generous with her friends, wanting them all to know each other.  Making social connections has dragged me out of my homesickness and into the “ doing stuff” that is at the heart of the expat community.

Being part of this community has also given me a very small insight into the difficulties of immigrants to our own country;   to look behind the stereotype of both immigrant and ex pat.   When you live in a country of strange language and customs it seems natural to cling to the familiar and many Brits still long for their baked beans and Marmite, their bacon and Corrie.   Almost all do make an effort to speak the language, but somehow that “strangeness” never goes away.  Many Brits to whom I have spoken say that they have really tried to form friendships with local people and in one case, despite living in France for 25 years, a very socially adept Francophile told me that he numbered only four native French amongst his friends.  Is it that old saw that  humour and poetry do not translate and therefore it is not possible to fully integrate into another culture?   Or do you need a “hook” , such a sport or  a shared interest to break down internal barriers?

Obviously, the words “family” and “familiar” have the same root.   I think that incomers to strange countries cleave to their own language speakers in order to form replacement families.

I don’t know, but we are trying really hard with our next door neighbours and we smile and wave at each other and will, I am sure, eventually make tentative conversation.  And I’m certainly going to find the French words for “will you stop your bloody dog from barking all day long”.

In the meantime I am revelling in meeting  the English speaking ladies of the Languedoc.   My first introduction was at a venue close to here: Chateau St. Pierre de Serjac (pictured above).  The event was billed as a tapas and jazz evening but, in fact, the music was provided by two Catalan gypsy guitarists, who were joined every so often by a young woman singer from the table next to ours.   Soon her companions were dancing and we, the observers, were transported to a northern Spanish gypsy campfire.!   As our table of ten Brits loudly showed our appreciation, I looked around at my companions, most of whom Gaz and I had made some conversation with, and anticipated, with some pleasure , the part they might play in our adventure.

In appreciation of our support, this dark haired young woman then stood at the end of our table and sang a highly emotional, hand on brow,   rendition of “La Vie en Rose”.  Life seen through rosé tinted wine  glasses seems fine!

Only two days later we joined some of those we had already met, and some fascinating others, at a Sunday roast lunch (2 courses, wine and coffee, 22 euros  a head).   The venue was Domaine L’Aise in St Pargoire, 20 minutes from here.   Once again, kind new friends, Richard and Jill, transported us there.   This beautiful, very old home, is high in the hills, with amazing views.    It is owned and run by Karen and  Mike, as a chambre d’hote (b and b) and their summer lives are very busy with guests.   In the winter they host these occasional lunches.  14 of us sat down to eat our traditional British fare.   The conversation flowed over an amazing variety of subjects.   There was much laughter and bonhomie.   As we retired to a long table in the warmth of a sunny January afternoon, to drink our coffee and pastis, it seemed that I had begun to find what I had been missing.

Since then I have become a member of “Ladies in Languedoc”.   This is a two thousand strong internet-based support group for English speaking women in France.     Help and information is offered on any subject under the sun, from schools for children, to finding a cobbler, and everything between.  A wide range of outings is also arranged.  All this  to help combat the possible loneliness of the stranger in a strange land.   It has proved to be a lifeline for for many of its members. Another group I have been invited into is  “Ladies in Pezanas” a much smaller, more social group); Books, Wine  and Chips  (an eight in number book group) and I start my Creative Writing classes in March.  We continue our conversation classes with another lovely group of  6 or 7.   Goodness, come the summer, I shall have no time to sunbathe.

Our trip to Marseille tomorrow looks in doubt.  Rail strike and farmers’ road blockades.    Plus ca change, plus c’est la même chose.

Just a footnote really, and despite promises not to mention, while out yesterday (second week in Feb), we counted 11 Santas still struggling over balconies with their still laden (though rather grubby) sacks and glimpsed in a house one fully lit and laden Christmas tree.   Just sayin’.