A blast from the past (2)...old posting on emmagem.com

Odyssey 2006: Chapter 2

Aqua phobia, the Mediterranean Sea and canned octopus

After having passed 10 days in the hilly countryside of Périgord Vert, it is time to return to the plains. As we snaked our way through the country roads that meander through miles and miles of farmyard, I had the chance to observe (from the car window of course) reasons why the countryside on this part of the country is much coveted by tourists. The often idyllic and rustic landscape possesses post-card like charms that are most memorable; farmhouses that date back centuries without much modernization, imposing châteaux that command over hectares of adjoining farms and wild flowers that seemed almost as if they had been planted on the roadside. Although this region doesn’t have many lakes or water bodies in its landscape, there are enough streams and brooks that cut through farmyards; reminding me of idyllic paintings of the impressionists Pissarro and Sisley. A visit almost three weeks later to the Musée d’Orsay in Paris relived many impressive landscapes seen here. It wasn’t difficult to imagine where all this artists took their imagination from …

As luck would have it, our pleasant trip under an overcast sky soon turned out to be a nightmare when we crossed the mountainous region on the auto route. A sudden gust of tempest accompanied by hails surprised and really frightened me and I had seen reports on TV showing the danger that hailstorms can do to cars and even buildings in the region. The magnitude of this rainstorm was even more frightful than the one I’ve experienced back in Dordogne as the only thing I can see through the windows were streams of water mixed with ice pellets. As panic almost took over, we parked the car on the shoulder of the auto route with the emergency lights on. We were not the only one having the same worries as soon, there were also others who joined in the line. What was even more unnerving was the fact that delivery trucks called ‘poid lourds’ continued sloshing at high speed through the storm without much care for others’ safety, much less for their own. That certainly reminded me of the highways back home in Malaysia. As we sat anxiously waiting, Christophe decided that it would be better to move on despite the storm as parking on the road shoulder is akin to a sitting duck should a truck sways or skids. Anyway, the storm had relented too long for our own safety (I can hear gushing water flooding the drainage on the roadside). After a few moments, the rain tuned down a bit and off we went, into the misty and blurry horizon still pelted by the rainstorm… Some weary kilometers down the hills, the sky opened up and hope came back. Finally, the plains came into view and we were on the plains again. As it was still the height of summer, sunflower fields were still abundant with yellow shades while some patches were already showing fully developed heads. The sun still sets at around nine thirty to ten at night and days were extremely long in the height of summer. As we approached the plains at nearly six-thirty, the sun was still glaring at an angle directly into my eyes like the midday sun. It had been a warm welcome back to the region of midi-pyrénées!

Blooming sunflower fields in the midi region.

I was more than happy that we reached home safe and sound in Blagnac. Blagnac is a satellite town situated in Toulouse’s periphery and the Airbus Industries has its central assembly facility there. As my sister lives a stone throw away from the Air Bus Industries (accessible even by strolling over there, no joke!). I managed to visit the hangar of the new A380 and the Concorde for eighteen euros just a few days before leaving for Dordogne. As the construction site is still a highly classified industrial secret, we were not allowed to approach it and we only got to view it from within the gigantic twelve-hectare hangar from inside its viewing site on the fourth floor (yes, an enclosed twelve-hectare site!), with a guide of course. It is true that the A380 is incredibly huge but it was difficult to make sense of its enormous height and size until it was seen next to a smaller regular commercial plane. The six that I saw on production were busy being painted and fitted with the logo of the Singapore Airlines. We were later escorted back to the coach for the hangar site of Air France’s HQ. Behind the gigantic structures that house many other planes on construction, there stood in the corner, a real Concorde! It was a surprisingly slim and small plane but the guide told us that it is as long as any commercial A340 except that its perching form and delta wings don’t give much impression of its real size.This time, we were allowed to enter the plane in tens and I found out that the passenger seats were all in leather with not too much leg-room and there were kilometers of wiring everywhere. It was an awesome and disappointing sight at the same time! The Concorde had lived an illustrious chapter in the aviation history and being inside it even for a visit gave me a wonderful feeling of having shared its history. It was just so sad to know that its history had to end with a dreadful disaster on the Parisian suburbs a few years back. Later on, we were driven back to its visit center and I bought some very expensive post cards and pins for my collection. Well, this flashback on the Airbus visit occupied my thoughts for a while …

Despite the storm experience on route, Toulouse was still besieged by the heat wave and as I did not have much to prepare for the trip to Spain, I had decided to visit Toulouse city center again. The summer sales had three more weeks to go and most items on sale were pretty much at their second lowest offer price. After a day of scouring the city in heat and dust (the were constructions being carried out to make tramways for the city), I managed to visit quite a number of shops but had not bought anything serious; well, there was this incredible Fendi bag that my wife would die for at 200 euros and the pair of Gucci leather shoes that I’ve always wanted at 250 euros but budget was tight and I had to bear in mind about the trip to Spain…This summer, colors matched up to the heat wave with bright and lively shades of fuchsia, pink and orange dominating the window displays everywhere. I visited the Vuitton boutique in Toulouse and even the high end label played with shocking pink patent leather totes and bright orange leather purses and handbags. Elsewhere, the fashion scene at the onset of this summer with high street brands like Celio, Jules, and Burton seemed to suggest that guys should wear pink and have a messenger or tote bag in all shapes imaginable. In fact, it is interesting to know that most Frenchmen carry a small messenger or half A4 sized briefcase that is often made in leather. Because these were judged a bit ‘papi’, high street brands came out with modern versions in canvas and polyester, often sold cheaply to the younger demography group. I found them extremely indispensable when strolling or shopping to carry wallet, coin pouch, a bottle of water, a cell phone, an MP3 player and even a camera. Otherwise, everyone seemed to spot beige, white or brown linen outfits to cool down from the days of scorching blue skies (and YES, the guys here do wear pink shirts and RED shoes). That kind of works here for everyone because of the seasons changing factor but I am not so sure how people perceive men who walk around in those colors back home…Hmm, well, a momentary observation of the fashion scene in summer brought me back to reality and I finally decided only to buy a pin with the city’s logo and some postcards after the damage that I had done to my budget because I couldn’t resist a pair of Italian summer moccasin on sale.

The church square at the end of Rue Croix Baragnan that houses Toulouse’s luxury shopping district.

The next day, the Morel family arrived from the North, from a small town called Lencloitre in Châtellerault. It is actually only 20 minutes drive from where I live in Poitiers but to reach Toulouse, it requires a solid 5 hours’ drive on the auto route. After the evening meal, we decided to play some serious pétanque between the families on the square outside the house. As it was warm and slightly windy outside, we had decided to enjoy the game until well over 11 pm. The next day, shopping was done for the long trip down south, including for the meals over the weekend as we were not sure of the conditions down south. The entire day was dedicated to preparations – food, luggage, picnic for the road, medication, etc, etc, the list was well prepared days ahead by the ladies to avoid having to miss out something on route. I suppose that’s what most parents are preoccupied with when the family needs to move far together. The 4 room villa that we are supposed to be staying in in Spain was finally found on the owner’s website and it came with a pool and air-conditioning. The air conditioning was really a plus in this season! However, it was peak season in summer and the rent for a full week was almost 1800 euros. Being my first time to Spain, I couldn’t draw an exact mental picture of the place and I’ve decided to let the journey unfold as we move along. Nothing is more exciting than surprises (I suppose).

Our destination would be L’Ametlla de Mar, a laid back fishing port on the Mediterranean coastline called Costa Darauda in the region of Catalyuna in Spain, about 150 kilometers south of Barcelona…

The first leg of the journey took us through the plains of the midi-pyrénées with endless acres of sunflower, corn and wheat. We passed some interesting sites like Carcasonne, a fortified medieval city that is much visited in France. As we pushed on, the mountainous region of the extreme east of the Pyrénées Massif came into view. The landscape was quite barren everywhere and on top of many hills, large wind turbines were seen in rows, used to harness the effect of the strong mistral that passes through the valley of Rhone towards the hot Mediterranean coastline. As we passed the city of Perpignan, we could already see the sea in the eastern horizon with rocky mountainous chains on the left, barren or otherwise dotted with shrubs and olive grooves that looked as if they were in dire need for water. We took a rest and had a drink before continuing our trip. As it was the height of a summer weekend, the traffic flow was heavy and the bison futé signaled red that day.

The auto route passing the provincial town of Perpignan. In the horizon are wind turbines used to harness electricity.

After some slowdown towards the exit point to Perpignan and Andorra, the traffic regained its flow and we finally made it to the checkpoint at the border without much fuss except for the last three kilometers towards the border check. On passing to the other side of the frontier, the auto route widened from two lanes to three and even four lanes at times. Traffic was smooth but the Spanish auto route had a terrible toll collection system that demands payment every 30 or so kilometers. I found it extremely inefficient because it causes backlog of traffic when the holiday makers turned up in numbers on the road. To top it up, the rest areas provide neither shades nor toilets. It was just a bypass on the side under the scorching sun and dusty wind. I am not sure why it is so (unlike the rest areas in France that greatly resemble those found in Malaysia) but I suspect it was meant to deter possible bush fire caused by careless smokers and picnickers. This is an arid region that’s very prone to bush fires in summer every year. Well, another two and a half hour down the auto route under the searing blue Mediterranean sky and we finally arrived in the little port of L’Ametlla de Mar. Surprisingly, the villa wasn’t even in the village town, it was about 3 kilometers away in a strangely positioned residential area that has construction on full throttle everywhere. The weather was extremely dry, hot and even dusty at times. For a moment, I imagined that we might have chosen the wrong destination for the holidays, lost somewhere in the sparse desert-like vegetation in the middle of a dusty nowhere. Surprises were to unfold later on…

The owner of the villa was a French lady who lives in Spain with her husband and she runs a company that deals with renting and selling of properties in this region. The residential area turned out to be an area called ‘Les Tres Cales’ because its three lagoons are surrounded by rocky cliffs. First evening, after unloading our stuffs into the house, everyone dipped into the pool. The idea of dipping in the pool was so enticing after the long and tiresome journey that I finally decided to wade in the shallow part even though I can’t swim because of my fear of deep water. Later, we went to survey the area in the Picasso. Just about 2 kilometers away, after having mistakenly took the rocky and steep cliffs near the sea front villas as THE beach;we were sorely disappointed by the no-show wonder of nature. As we searched in vain, a Catalan lady that spoke French gave us the direction and we finally found the lagoons after snaking through some one-way tunnels and rocky terrain. The sand was soft, clean, white and impeccable. The azure blue sea was crystal clear and calm. C’est nickel!

It was strange that we actually did not spend much time at the beaches despite their allure partly because the heat was unbearable and it was difficult to get the children ready in time before the sun starts to sear again at 9 am. However, we did manage to spend some wonderful time, enough to profit of the morning breeze and calm water to be able to swim in the sea. I even managed to walk into waist-deep water. Fishes can be seen with the naked eyes swimming around the crystal blue water but they weren’t as colorful as those found back home. On the rocky banks, one can find lots of mussels and a few odd oysters fed by the tides and lots of dwarf palms, cactus like succulents and dry bushes on the rocky cliffs. One day, while strolling about the cliffs, I saw a man collecting the mussels, holding on precariously to the rocky banks and filling up his bucket, evidently oblivious to the tourists that observed his activities.

Azure water of the Mediterranean lagoons in Les Tres Cales

In between the beaches, pool and barbecue, we managed to wander off to nearby towns. One of it was called Miami Platja meaning Miami Beach and it struck me that those famous Spanish name cities in the States had its origin here in the old continent. As its name revealed, it was a tourist orientated town with all its activities focused on its kilometer-long sandy beaches and rows and rows of apartment blocks for rent. There are lots of constructions as usual and it can get quite dusty when a gust of wind sweeps the landscape. We drop by the Intermarché nearby for some provision and I bought lots of canned pulpo, mejillones and calamares that are often served as aperitif. The olives were exquisitely delicious and the sausages were cheap and surprisingly good. There was so much choice for the sangria and I had never had so many types of aperitifs served with olives, sangria and oil drenched prepared octopus during my entire stay in Europe! The pulpo, or octopus are found in the wet markets and supermarkets and they are sold quite cheaply in the fisherman’s district. I have also seen very huge ones in the auction hall at the dock.

On Thursday, the children had decided to follow the Morel family to a theme park in Tarragona called Parc Aventura (managed by Universal Studios) and we took the opportunity to visit the capital of the Catalan Region, Barcelona. As we arrived in the late morning, traffic was extremely heavy and we had decided to park the car at the sea front and visit the city on metro. We missed the exit on the map and found ourselves in the parking of the marina on the Olympic Marina built for the Olympics in 1998. That misadventure suited us fine as the parking was underground, thus eliminating having to park the car under scorching heat for the whole day. The Olympic Complex is still in very good condition and it is very modern; the fact that the city can have shopping, sports, marina, long stretches of incredible beaches, restaurants (I mean serious concentration of it) and residential on the same site is something to emulate in our country. Everywhere looked clean and well maintained and there is a park outside the complex with interesting sculptures.

The marina at the Olympic Complex in Barcelona

A huge modern sculpture outside the olympic complex

We took the metro to the city center and went on foot from there on.As we only had a day, we had not planned anything in advance and we just followed our senses to guide us around. The first stop after a confusing maze of alleys and brick walls was at the Catalyuna Market and we had a very appetizing Catalan mid-day meal there. On strolling outside the boulevard towards the Central Bank of Catalan, a strong gust of wind swept the boulevard and had my panama rolling on the pavement. I must have made a silly impression of myself when I tried to run after it in vain. Luckily, a smiling Catalan managed to stop it on its rolling tracks and returned it to me. Next, we visited the old fortified city within the city center. It was the old fortified city of Barcelona and at the exit on the other end, we stumbled across a souvenir shop that sells pins at a very reasonable price. The owner was a Bangladeshi guy and he spoke English and knows Malaysia too. As there was quite a commotion outsidethe shop with the arrival of ambulance, police officers and the press, I thought that there was a footage being made about the city but the owner coolly told us that there had been a double murder on the apartment just upstairs!

An alley inside the walled city of the old Barcelona.

Next, we took the metro to visit the famous Sagradia Familia and to tell the truth, I was actually disappointed with the construction that seemed to overwhelm the structure. No doubt, its size and allure in architectural details is unparalleled but the noise, dust and tourists teamed up with the heat was just unbearable. We had decided not to make the bee-line to visit the building but instead bought some souvenirs and went hunting around the area on foot. We then spent some time on the park and later walked towards the bullfighting ring. The walk was quite pleasant and the boulevards were wide and had good space for strollers. It was also a pleasant district as one can seemany beautifully designed Catalan or Spanish apartment buildings that line the boulevards. From far, the towers of the Sagradia Familia were still in view.

A Catalonian friend from Barcelona once sighed that any situation that can be qualified as unfinished or forever on hold would be referred as the Sagradia Familia in Catalunya. Likewise, this ingenuous piece of architecture by Gaudi will still oblige a few more decade of the Catalan capitale's patience before its completion.

A metro exit outside the bull fighting ring with the towers of the Sagradia Familia in view.

As the day drew closer to evening, we took the metro back to the marina and we decided to try some tapas on the terrace of a restaurant that specializes in those finger food. It came as a plateau of mixed deep fried squids, octopus, silver fishes and vegetables. We were also served a mix of olives, pickles and omelet. After the meal, we went for a stroll along the marina and enjoyed the sunset and sea breeze. It was time to move on as there was a storm brewing in the horizon where we would be heading.

The Olympics Marina during sunset.

The next day, we visited Cambrils, also another port at the Costa Darauda but it was a lot larger than L’Ametlla de Mar. There was a very long marina cum beach front and hordes of summer tourists. Its beach-front road was dotted with rows of shops selling all kinds of souvenirs like pasar malam, only a bit more in order as they are shops with goods displayed on the pavements. As like any other European cities, air-conditioning is a foreign word and the shops were choking without fresh air in the summer heat wave…

The final evening, we had decided to try the restaurants in L’Ametlla de Mar and we booked a long terrace table overlooking the harbor. The menu was paella as everyone wanted to try the Spanish specialty. The dish arrived in a big paella pan that looked like a flat bottomed wok and we were quite amused by the antics of the server. It was savory and the seafood was fresh. Dinner was washed down with chilled rose wine and finished with ice-cream. Later that evening, we strolled along the sea front before going home for a good night sleep in anticipation of a long journey back to France tomorrow as traffic was reported to be heavy…

A horse-drawn carriage at the port of L’Ametlla de Mar

Cultural notes:

• Périgord Vert is a department in South west of France in the region of Dordogne that’s famous for its rural countryside and cuisine.

• Musée is the French word for museum

• Poid lourd in French means heavy weight, a.k.a heavy vehicles like lorries and trucks.

• Papi means grandfather in French

• Carcasonne is a fortified medieval city in the midi region

• Bison futé refers to the traffic flow on the auto routes of France.

• C’est nickel! Is a familiar French phrase that means something’s irreproachable or perfect. If one looks at the usage of metal as comparison, that would be sterling in English.

• Intermarché is a brand of supermarkets found in Europe.

• Pulpo is octopus in Spanish.

• Mejillones is mussels in Spanish

• Calamares is squids in Spanish.

• The Sagradia Familia is a church designed by the late Gaudi and is the symbol of Barcelona. A Catalan girl once told me a joke that in Barcelona, an affair that’s difficult to complete or always on hold is called la Sagradia Familia.

• Tapas are small finger food sold in specialty bistro like restaurants all over Spain (and in other places too). They usually sell deep fried food, small sandwiches, entrées of pickled olives, seafood like anchovies, octopus and mussels and others.

Chinese watercolour...

When I was a child, the firsts images that enraptured me was the cover of a photo album that my sister made from a calendar page. It was the painting of a marvelous Chinese-styled garden of Eden, in swatches of fantastic colours of Chinese ink-brush: regal poenies in all state of blooming glory and in all colours, perfect roses, orchids and insects all thrown into a real botanical fantasy. It actually spurred my interest in plants but I never got to be a botanist as I would have liked to...instead, I became a teacher by chance. But this story is about fulfilling a childhood desire to know and to see the unbelievable; and my chance came more than 3 decades after the first encounter with the fantastics...

The following pictures were taken in La Rochelle, France. The garden belongs to an old lady who keeps an impeccable garden and my usual strolling habit took me to the front yard of this house one fine morning in the early spring of 2004. Luckily, the owner was around and permission granted, the rest was history. I don't do Chinese brush paintings anymore but these photos more than compensate for my love for the peonies. My father used to tell me folktales of an imaginary China where these regal flowers were once a symbol of the royal household and anyone found cultivating these forbidden flowers would court with treason; and shall merit beheading for punishment...(talk about reinforcing ideas into an already impressionable mind)

The first bloom of the season...

The splendour of the enormous bloom of peonia suffroticosa.

Blast from the past (1)...a posting from emmagem.com

Odyssey 2006: Chapter One

Heat wave, fireworks and the French countryside.

This year, the heat returned to France and summer was unbearably heavy, warm and surprisingly short because the second semester in the universities had been pushed forward by massive protests provoked by the introduction of a new labor law called CPE. Well, actually, summer begins as usual on the 21st of June like nature always wanted it to be, heralded in France by la fête de la musique BUT fell ‘short’ because exams were carried forward and so the holidays too. ²Where I am studying, the grève started in February just before the end of winter break and ended two months later…there were no winners, just new amendments and a political roller-coaster ride for an already very unpopular prime minister that came from a privileged class background. The general sentiment is that his privileged background distances him from the populist crowd. There were incredible rounds of marching protesting the government’s decision in most cities but violence were really isolated cases caught and amplified by the media. Nothing sells like violence and decadence! I am actually amazed by the exemplary patience shown by police units escorting the protest marches that seemed endless and trying at times, especially in a time where salaries earned don’t match up to the ever spiraling cost of living here in Europe and the social classes continue to divide wider and wider.

A scene of a grève in Poitiers, 2006. The protesters were said to total more than 10 000 participants from various unions, including those from the public services.

Meanwhile, the political scene has been more animated than never as the presidential election draws closer in 2007, fired by heated debates on the interior minister’s proposal on selective immigration to tackle social problems among the sans papiers. Topped up with neighboring Germany’s Chancellor Merkel’s sweeping election victory, it has inspired a huge surge in Madame Segolène Royal’s appeal as a possible female candidate to emulate Germany’s success for a first Madame la Présidente. She is the current president of the Conseil Général of the Region of Poitou-Charente and surprises of surprises, the ³compagnon of the General Secretary of the main Opposition, the Socialist Party. It is collectively known as La Gauche (the Left) with other different opposition parties. If she desires to ride on the wave of her popularity, it would means sacrificing her companion’s long awaited chance to pose his candidature in a time where the governing Right is at the ebb of its popularity and the country is going on its knees with slumbering economies; deficits; education, social and immigration issues; and a soaring health bill that has a hole as deep as the Marianas Trench. Her posing as a legit presidential candidate will also confirm the role of women in this society. If the Socialists play their game well, it would be the pivoting moment to snatch back the government from the Right. Their capacity to govern, however, would remain to be tested for the French people for the next five years should they ever win the presidential election. One thing is sure, the heat heralds not only the changing of seasons but it also unravels a new political scene in France.


Well, neither the economy nor the social issues are going to improve in an instant, with or without the magic formula but summer was already here, and it was time to make some plans after a prolonged and uncertain semester affected by the political impasse. With exams worries tucked far away for the coming university year in mid September, it is time to explore the country a bit more. Every year, I am lucky to be invited to join my sister’s family to spend the summer holidays at the family’s holiday home in Dordogne. It is located in a tiny town dominated by a castle in a region called Périgueux vert, in a town called Jumilhac-Le-Grand. Getting there requires driving because the nearest train station is about 20 kilometers away in a tiny town that produces some of the best porcelain in France. It is called St. Yriex-la-Perché. No indications will tell you that the biggest luxury French Limoges porcelain like Havilland comes from factories here unless you know people who are from this region. Enough said. Since we are in the region of Dordogne, it is also worthy to know that this region has become the culinary powerhouse that inspired so many French Michelin-starred restaurants and cooking. The French, from my observations, had learned to use everything that nature has endowed upon for the kitchen, just like Chinese cooking and hence, the variety of flavor and aromas produced is astounding. In the rich vegetable gardens in the country sides of Dordogne, it is not surprising to discover that tradition has spawned the world famous French cuisine. Forget about the déjà démodé nouvelle cuisine. It is now time to savor la cuisine actuelle, a no-frills cuisine based on revived tradition.


Back to the little far-flung little town of less than a thousand inhabitants in the greenest part of France, it was total calm and bliss even though the heat wave was raging through Europe, soaring to 40 degrees in certain places but where we were, it was more agreeable because of the greeneries. In the fields, hay stacks were being rolled waiting to be transported to barns for winter stock. The hay stacks really impressed me as they reminded me of the impressionist paintings of Monet. They seemed to be frozen in time and the heat from the sun really made a lasting image on the drying fields in gold. Back at the house, lunches and dinners were taken under cherry tree shades and most meals were eaten cold, a custom that in my opinion would be difficult to adapt to for Asians who are accustomed to freshly cooked hot dishes. Meals usually begin with an entrée of rock melon served with dried sausages and some chilled rose wine. We had plenty of bergerac rose wine from a nearby area in the same region. It was a light and agreeable wine that’s marvelous for the heat. Sometimes, the entrée was ripe tomatoes with olive oil and clippings of chives or taboulé, a cold salad of Lebanese origin comprising of couscous, shrimp sticks, tomatoes, onions, mints, lemon juice and olive oil. These are ingredients of the season and I must agree that the simplest exploitation of the freshest ingredients make the best meals. No joke… OK, maybe the ambiance helped a bit.


Because of the heat, no heavy meaty meals were served but alternations were made between country pâté served with simple pasta and poached french beans called haricot in French, accompanied throughout the meal with baguette or pain. At times, rabbit cooked in oven with mustard and cream, cold boudin or cold chicken are served in place of the pâté. The French eat their salad with a selection of cheese, wine and bread AFTER the main dish. It is a custom that I’ve acquired over the few years I am living here and I now have strange pangs of ‘lacking’ something when meals are not terminated with a salad to wash things down. It helps too for the digestion. Finally, there’s the dessert of sweet cakes, fruit conserves, yoghurt or fresh fruits of the season and finally coffee. It is true that lunch is the heaviest meal of the day and don’t be surprised when you’re in France because lunch break is 2 hours from 12:30 to 14:30. Sometimes, Sunday lunches can stretch up to four o’clock in the afternoon, in between changes of wines, dishes and convivial conversations! However, dinner is always light for health reason, as far as it goes with the people I live with.

Haystacks on a harvested wheat field in Jumilhac-Le-Grand.

As la fête nationale approaches, preparations went underway and this year, as with all the other years, a firework display would be held in front of the château’s ground. A vide grenier was organized for the same day from the morning till noon where vendors sold all sorts of used things, called ‘occasion’ in French. I bargained off a dozen of wonderful vintage pins for 50 cents each for my collection. Later in the morning, there was a march to the town square from the town hall by ex-soldiers from the two world wars to pay homage to the fallen and to the liberty of the nation. The mayor later gave a short speech to inaugurate the function. The evening kicked off with folk dancing accompanied by a live band in the square and finally, one of the most spectacular fireworks that lighted up the château like a fairy tale. That week, the château opened its door to tourists for the night visits to its galleries and dungeons. One part of its private living quarters remains restricted while the rest is opened to the public as the château is still privately owned by the family of the duke of Jumilhac. The maintenance is sponsored by the state because the building is a classed historical monument. At nightfall, real torches were lighted to illuminate the castle and the sight was mesmerizing. Guides to the castle’s night visits can converse in English due to the numerous English tourist that frequent that region and they were dressed in medieval costumes that lend an air to the visit.

Sunset over the château seen from the dining of Puy-Reissex

Evenings and mornings were spent strolling in the country side, where routes are clearly indicated to ease hikers and cyclists. Sometimes, games of pétanque were played in the town square (most French towns have a square called terrain de pétanque to play the game); it is a game of aiming tennis ball sized metal balls at a target marked on the sand with a small marble sized ball called bouchon from a fixed spot. This game originates from the midi region of France. Incidentally, pétanqué means that one is stuck to a spot, the origin of the rule of the game. The rules are simple and the game is played in teams. I was initiated to the game some time back but had yet to really enjoy it on occasion until now. The next time, I will learn a more athletic version of it called ‘boule lyonnaise’ that originates from the region of Lyon. Elsewhere, it is surprising to note that the neighbors are becoming more and more international even in the heartland of France – a phenomenon of immigrating British and Dutch to this region for its lush landscape, lower and ‘correct’ cost of living and affordable land. Don’t rush to your real estate agent just yet as affordable means that a country home with four rooms and an attached piece of vegetable garden and an orchard would easily exceed a cool million ringgit after you make the conversion; and that also depends on if you’ll get waterways or splendid view to go with it as an added value! I revisited the nearby town of St. Yriex-la-Perché but this year, I have decided not to buy anymore porcelain that was usually on sale during National Day. I have six cartons of it sitting in my room with no ideas on how to ship them back to Malaysia without paying a fortune for the shipping while keeping them from turning into a million pieces on arrival. There goes the short-lived happiness of new found treasures...

For a few days down the week, we had lunches on the lawn of Puy-Reisseix, a family house on the hill on the other side of the town with the other members of the family who came for their holidays. This house was originally a barn being a part of a farm but it was sold off cheaply to the family who later converted it into two houses with separate apartments. The most fantastic feature of the main house is its dining which has a direct and unobstructed view through its very large French doors of the castle on the other side of the hill slope, divided by a stream and a patch of forest that is attached to the property. Today, the property is worth many times its original value, thanks partly to its unique position and to the invading British and Dutch neighbors who lend a hand to the soaring value in the real estate market in recent years. As the French succession law taxes heavily on the inheritors of a property, many were obliged to sell to cash rich foreigners and being a tourist frequented area makes it even more trying for the locals to hold on to their heritage.

Plans were made during lunch and it was decided that we will visit a museum that display ancient methods of producing iron from ore. After the morning adventure on the route to the museum, we were treated to the actual production in progress and later, we took refuge in a camping park with a wonderful clean and cool underground water spring that was once used as a washing area. Lunch was picnic beside a stream and it was marvelous to be able to observe fishes of all sizes swimming about in a small stream without any fear for human. I even spotted a large rainbow trout that surged out suddenly from its hiding but it did not remain long outside in the open with the other smaller fishes. This certainly brought back many fond memories of my childhood days spent playing in streams in my hometown in Raub. Another day was fully charged and the scorching midday heat made everything seemed so slow. I was glad that my panama hat gave me satisfying shade as I took a siesta under the shade of a tree by the stream.

One evening, a heavy summer tempest struck the region and it was the heaviest rain that I’ve observed since I came to France. The cold rain brought hails that littered the road with ice pebbles and some were actually quite big as a marble of 50 cents coin. It was an unforgettable experience as my room was flooded because the rain gutter was blocked by the sudden gush of debris and water. The next day, the air was a lot fresher and cool and I had a good night sleep in the garage because I did not want to hassle my host who offered to lodge me in Puy-Reissex. It would have been nice, but I do not want to sleep alone in a big house, especially in a storm like that.

The last days were spent quietly and I visited the nearby hometown of Jean-Paul (my brother-in-law’s father) known as La Coquille. There, I bought a small collection of some of the most delicious artisan pâté and rillette made from fried duck wings, goose, and pork, including some perfumed with truffles, the most expensive fresh ingredient in France. Artisan pâté are the only type of pâté to try if you must try them in France as they have nothing in common with the commercially made types commonly found in supermarkets as they don’t do any justice to its reputation. Later that morning, I was totally tempted to buy a set of vintage chocolate service porcelain signed Theodore Havilland when I accompanied Jean-Paul to an antiquarian shop to buy an antique piece of porcelain of Thivers for his already enormous collection. Like I mentioned earlier, old things are well appreciated here in France and the price was too steep for a student on scholarship. The next day, we headed for a three hours drive back to Toulouse and the second part of my summer adventure…

Cultural notes:

• CPE is the acronym in French for ‘Contrat Première Embauche’ meaning a set of regulations for the trial period when one starts a new job in the market.

• La fête de la Musique is celebrated to herald the arrival of summer with festivals of songs, lyrical arts and carnivals on the first day of summer, the 21st of June.

• Grève is French for protestation, or union strike

• 3.Couples who decide not to register their union as a marriage for various reasons but still want the benefits and the legality of staying together sign a pact called Pacte civil de solidarité (PACS)
  

• Sans papier means without document in French, aka illegal immigrants.

• 2.Poitiers is a university town of about 28 000 students and 80 000 inhabitants in the region of Poitou-Charente and it is one of the oldest universities in Europe, founded in 1428. It has a long tradition of excellence in Philosophy, Liberal Arts and Sociology, boasting a list of famous philosophers on its alumni. Its new campuses excel in engineering in the fields of aero-spatial, informatics and chemistry. Check it out if you want to go and further your study in France at its official website: www.univ-poitiers.fr The University runs and independent foreign language department that deals exclusively with foreign students who only want to learn French as a second language.

• Havilland is a brand of very prestigious French Limoges bone china started by the Havilland brothers who came from the USA. It remains as THE brand of porcelain to offer to marriages and anniversaries and we often see it as heirlooms handed down from one generation to another. The vintage and antique lines are absolutely wonderful and they embody the true allure of the French finesse in the art of the table. Worth collecting if you can find them at reasonable prices in the flea market but be sure you know how to verify it first.

• Déjà démodé means already passed its fashionable shelf life.

• Pâté is spelled the same in English and is a culinary preparation of liver or other kinds of innards in gelatin to form a block and in most cases, canned or in glass jars. It is served chilled.

• Baguette is French for the long sandwich bread that is synonymous with the French culture. No Frenchmen can live without it and it is the only item that can be brought fresh on Sundays.

• Pain is simply bread and it exist bewildering types of bread according to its fabrication. Was a popular joke why Marie- Antoinette lost her head to the guillotine and is a must for the first timers to France (together with its cheese).

• Boudin noir is a bordeaux colored sausage made from blood and chestnut. The white variety, boudin blanc is made from innards and milk. Interesting but needs courage.

• National Day falls on the 14th of July to mark the forming of the Republic after the French Revolution in 1789. In France, it is known as La fête nationale or simply quatorze juillet.

• A château is a castle and should not be confused with the same term used by wineries to simply indicate the name of the house that produces the wine. However, a château can actually have some vineyard on its property that produces wines.

• Vide grenier is garage sales

• Truffles are known as truffe in French and they are actually a kind of fungus that grows on the roots of oak trees. At well over a thousand euros for a kilo of the premium quality truffles, it is only used sparingly to perfume dishes. If you use it on your dish, DON’T cook it or you’ll risk loosing its perfume! Just grate it over cooked pasta and enjoy the rich flavor. The épicerie fine (fine grocery store) sells them in vials, prepared and ready to use. If you chance by them on your visit, don’t hesitate to try. However, don’t confuse it with ‘truffes de chocolat’ – those are just simply chocolates shaped like grains of truffles.

• Rilette is a kind of meat floss pate(goose or pork) that is widely sold in supermarkets and also artisan's speciality shop. Nice with a fresh baguette.