Christmas Eve magic

After all the merriment in the "basement," we surfaced to another part of the chateau. There, the boys found presents that had been left to them. I was moved to be part of such a heart warming family time. 

The boys were subdued, but in awe of the generosity and appropriateness of each of their presents. I felt rather awkward as my gifts were quite humble. Nevertheless, the boys were extremely grateful and showed delight and pleasure in what I had given them.

The fire was sooooo entrancing. It had been stoked up to provide heat throughout the night.

 It was the early hours of the morning and a tempest was raging outside. I retreated to my huge double bed in the loft. I slept between pure linen sheets. I was incredibly cosy. I managed to effortlessly drift into a deep sleep with the rain pounding on the roof and a soft draught sweeping around the room.

Christmas Day.

The tempest has disappeared leaving a wet, wintry scene to wake up to. The rain continued to pelt down.

We all slept in till late. The next morning we drifted into the kitchen and ate a casual breakfast. The boys returned to examining their presents. I picked up my gift: a massive book of photographs of the french alps from the air. I was extremely delighted with this gift, as I have fallen deeply in love with the mountains. I always ask the name of each peak, whenever we travel through the alps and I find the rock formations and dramatic, steep slopes magical. There are always waterfalls, caves, unusual vegetation and little villages perched in the most precarious places. The landscape also has many abbeys that used to harbour reclusive monks. I have only visited one abbey so far. I would dearly like to visit some more.

Anyway, this massive book of photographs encapsulates the wonders of the alps in all seasons. The peaks are named. In particular, Mont Blanc grabs my fancy. It has increased by 2 metres as the peak is encrusted with ice and snow. Mont Blanc has become elusive so far. I have researched into how to get there. It doesn't appear to be simple. Also, Chamonix is the highest town. It is a very expensive tourist resort, so I will have to try hard to think outside the square.

So….. I was to be chauffeured back to Gap to spend Christmas lunch with another family.

Before I left, I took snaps of the beautiful people that were my hosts. I haven't included snaps of the boys.

Here are the beautiful matriarch and patriarch of the proceedings. I expressed my gratitude and honour at being included in their festivities to them.

Christmas Eve

The day before Christmas Day, I was whisked off into the local mountains to spend Christmas Eve with a large family group. It was truly, one of the most amazing experiences of my life. 

The horse shoe shaped table was set for 26 people. Four generations were represented.

In the foreground is a bizarre wooden contraption. When the candles are lit the hot air rises and turns the propellor at the top. Little figurines adorn the structure that has a resemblance to the tower of Pizza. It was a gift from Germany. Each year the families give a Christmas gift. The sentiments are to show that the second World War is passed. Grudges are not held tight.

The festivities were held in a basement. It was traditionally where the sheep, cows and horses were kept over winter. 

The fireplace roared and it created a very homely scene.

The table was prepared with before dinner nibbles.

   

There was a selection of bouches or chocolate logs for desert.

 There was a huge selection of fruit, dried fruit and nuts for desert. My pathetic contribution to this feast was 8 tiny fat meringue snowmen. They were somewhat dwarfed by the walnuts.

The tradition here, is to arrange little figurines into a scene where baby Jesus is born. The figurines are representative of the country folk in Southern France. Baby Jesus is a tiny speck in the right of the photo. The scene is called a crèche. Some homes, just have the crèche and no Christmas tree at all.

There was a lot of walnuts to be eaten. They were held in what was the area where hay was kept for the animals.

  

 Here is a close up of the table setting.

This is a yoke for the horse in days gone by.

This is the roof of the room where the meal was held. It literally was a cave. There was no glamour where I was concerned. I wore a very warm, cosy, large polar fleece jacket that I had borrowed. A huge contrast to the bright, floral summer dress that I traditionally wear on Christmas Day.

I was delighted to get a snapshot of myself and the matriarch. She was hard of hearing, but a powerhouse of personality. I was deeply honoured to be included in this traditional family gathering.

In between courses, I was shown another part of the chateau. It was an area where one of the families came for their holidays to spend time with her parents. The room had that cave-like cosiness feel.

Every tiny space in the kitchen was utilised to the max.

 The meal was many, many courses. There was so much happiness, loud talking and lots of laughter.

All the courses were traditional dishes from this area of France. We ate vegetables and fish. Christmas Eve is called, reveillon. You eat lightly before the main event the next day, Christmas Day.

I was treated so well. I was included in all conversations. When it came to dishing up, I was always given the first serving. Everything was explained to me in simple french. I was always encouraged to have seconds. They were very keen for me to eat heaps, try everything and have copious seconds. The deep, rich wine was superb. iIt was hand made by one of the couples that dined with us.

The cheese platter was groaning with fresh cheese. I politely tasted a small amount. I knew that the raw, untreated cheese could potentially play havoc with my stomach. The rest of the people ate huge amounts of a variety of cheeses from this platter. It was consumed with a huge green salad.

Then came the phone call from Père Noël to say that he was on his way to the Chateau to deliver the presents. The kids rushed upstairs to have a look out the window to see if they could see him out the window.  They sang songs together whilst waiting for him to arrive.

By the time we went back downstairs again, Père Noël had already been and gone. He left a whole lot of presents for the kids!

 Then chaos followed as a riot erupted as all the presents were opened simultaneously.

It was very, very late. 

Next was coffee, chocolates and liqueur. 

We all sat around the table, relaxed, tired, full and quite low key. Eventually, family groups started leaving.  What an incredible Christmas Eve! I will never forget it. Little did I know that the evening was not over yet.

Pre Christmas fun

There was some pretty interesting food on sale in the deli section of the supermarket.

If you look closely, you can see that the label says Fagots. Now there's an interesting word.

Snails for sale. Already killed and prepared. All the fuss taken out of preparation.

I bought a cute little blackboard. It was such fun playing around with chalk.

Pre Christmas stress------ less

The days leading up to Christmas day saw much hype and shopping madness. Much the same as back home.

This is not a good photo. In fact it is an exquisitely decorated chocolate log called a bouche.

The supermarket was groaning with tons and tons of beautiful food.

The supermarket aisles were packed. It was weird to be an observer. Not stressed with no one else to share this time with.

Inner city apartment experience

A friend had given me the keys to his family's apartment located in the middle of the town. The idea quite appealed to experience town from the perspective of the apartment. So I seized the opportunity.

I walked into town with my backpack. The small  3rd storey apartment was laden with family paraphernalia. Three small kids showed ingenious use of space. 

I was delighted to be greeted with a handmade card from the kids, all youngsters.

Sorry. The card is upside down. My technical know-how is not yet perfected. There's nothing that can beat raw innocent messages of kindness. 

I love the Christmas tree groaning with handmade decorations. The kids have fantastic creativity. They have been brought up with minimal technology.

It was cool discover my handmade Christmas cards had been put on display.

They had a relief map of Gap on display. I took a snap shot to show you how Gap is surrounded in mountains. There is a beautiful man made lake nearby.

I then turned my attention to a microwave dinner, that was quite uninteresting.

I then bundled up and scurried across the road to watch a fabulous movie called, "Belle et Sebastion." A gorgeous tale of a cute young boy who befriended the world's most adorable St Bernard-like dog. The story was set in the French Alps, in the snow. I was enraptured with the scenery and I coped quite well with the french dialogue.

After the movies, I nipped across the road back to the apartment to stay the night. I made a camp bed on the couch and settled in to watch another movie on my computer. It was Harrison Ford, "The Fugitive". Its english dialogue enabled my brain to take a rest.

At midnight the towns bells tolled with enchanting olde worlde charm. I was sufficiently tired to nestle down. The town had grown quiet from the Christmas hustle and bustle. But every half hour I was stirred by the jingle bells of Clydesdale horses clip clopping on the street below. A very cool Christmas enterprise. By three a.m. I closed the curtains to drift into a deep sleep, dreaming in french, of course.

Christmas shopping in Gap

Saturday morning markets are a highlight of my week. I catch the bus into town and walk through a cobblestoned alleyway as an entrance to the market.

Immediately my senses hit the jackpot.

A rainbow of colours: awnings, Christmas decorations, flowers and brightly coloured stalls. Little dogs in their best Christmas coats, styly woollen hats (felted/homemade/crafty), fantastic shop displays and masses and masses of people.

There's always someone talking loudly on the phone. I confess I quite often eaves drop when sitting at the bus stop, on the bus, in cafés, on the street, standing in queues, etc. I know that it is extremely rude. The truth is that I couldn't care a less about what they are saying. I actually use it to try and understand the french language. Conversational french is rapid, colloquial and abbreviated. So I often use my eaves dropping as authentic french lessons. It also has become a gauge of my own progress with the french language acquisition. I am slowly able to understand more and more of "street" french.

Here are some turkeys for sale. The next stall had turkeys for sale with the heads still attached. The faces were grotesque and gruesome. I was horrified. I was keen to take a photo to show you but I felt that it may offend the stall owner if I took a photo.

The market has a very strong aroma of rotisserie cooked chicken wafting through the air. The country herbs and delicious aromatic fragrance enhances the market experience exponentially.

I wander along, smiling at the stall owners, fascinated as purchases are made with prolonged conversations, marvelling at the variety of interesting things for sale. I love the way that most of the products are locally grown, or made.

However, above all, it is the chance meeting of friends that is the pinnacle of the market experience. The cry of delight at the surprise to see one another, the three cheeked kisses to each and everyone, the salutations, the conversation and then the ritual of the goodbye. It is such a wonderful social occasion. A bit like a community street party.

Being so close to Christmas, I was delighted to snap a photo of a band walking along playing Christmas songs.

I have really enjoyed scouring the shops for affordable and appropriate gifts for my new friends. As usual. I always find stuff that I would like to buy for myself!

As soon as I open my mouth, the shop owner tends to talk slower, mouth their words in an exaggerated way and show me the total price with a wide finger sweep at the illuminated till display. Always with a smile and sometimes with the odd english word thrown in for good measure. If I offer that I am from New Zealand, it is always responded with a knowing of the incredible beautiful countryside that we have. 

Yes. I confess, Christmas shopping in Gap is an immense pleasure.

Beautiful handwriting

 Every single french person has a very similar style of handwriting. It is always cursive; always at the same sloping angle; always written in blue black ink; and all the letters are uniformly formed. It is simply BEAUTIFUL. The students book work is always neat; no graffiti.

I took a photo of a very polite note left by the cleaner.

School canteen Christmas lunch

The staff Christmas lunch was pretty full on. There was a HUGE amount of food. It was all delicious. I talked far too much and everyone had finished eating and my tray was still full of food.

The red wine was flowing.

Lucky me that I didn't have to teach afterwards. But drinking alcohol at lunchtime is definitely not frowned upon in the workplace.

The students at the school continue to be friendly, kind and generous. I have 3 one hour long conversation classes a week. I have bonded with the students. A few have dropped out. That is a good thing because there were too many anyway. It was supposed to be 12 in the group. But two of the groups reached 16. Anyway, we have lots of fun playing games that encourages them to speak english in a very informal setting. It has taken quite a while, but they are very slowly gaining confidence and coming out of their shells. I genuinely LOVE the 3 conversation classes each week. It even teaches me a lot of french. Way cool!

I have had a sneak preview of what is on the menu for Christmas lunch with D. and G. Foie Gras, oysters, milk-fed chicken, snails (escargots), etc. I need to learn how to be polite, pace myself and it sounds like a most INCREDIBLE feast. I have been asked to bring a dish that is typical of New Zealand fare. Pavlova is the obvious choice. I'm not so sure that it will get eaten, as there seems to be enough food already on the menu.