Le Mazel! (Part 2A-first full day)

The first week at the farm was full of adventures, new characters, breathing deep the mountain air, being present in their stillness, and basking in the extroardinary light; it prepared me well for the end of the week, that brought some sadness, and a difficult decision.

Brigitte, my host, is full of energy. As I was struggling to switch over to thinking in French again, it was both good and challenging to have her as my main conversation partner. She speaks very fast, even by French standards, and is also often on the move at the same time. It forced me to concentrate(!), and move a little faster myself to keep up! I could tell the first full day that she was thinking about her son, and feeling his absence keenly. It seemed a good day to listen, too.

After a brief introduction to some of the chores and the kitchen/pantry, and the chestnuts in the freezer (oh, the chestnuts!), she took me to the garden and showed me how to cut off lettuces already big enough to eat (frisée, and oak leaf? - that would grow back!) that we would use in our meals. This was something I ended up doing often. Along the path to the garden, I saw a purple patch of grass, thick with spring violets (at the end of February, they were a welcome sight!). Brigitte told me they were edible. I tried one. Mmmm... like eating a bite of pure Spring. Fresh and alive, tangy-sweet. Violet. :-)

(Need I say... it was the first bite of many! There were big patches everywhere I walked often.)

We had lunch outside in the courtyard that day, after I got settled in a little and played with the dogs, and I could tell that she was thinking of her son. After lunch, we went to look for an internet connection. She got a call from her son, and long story short - she had another opportunity that evening to spend some time with him, and needed to go. It was strange to be on my own that night already, but there was a hiker who had come in and was staying there that night. It was nice to be trusted, and as Brigitte suggested, I invited her down for a sit by the fire. It was a great conversation - she lives in Nantes (in Brittany), where I was a student, and we had many things in common.

I went to bed that night thinking how good it was to be where I was, how happy I had made this trip happen... and how wonderful it is to have a friendly place to lay one's head on the journey.

Le Mazel! (Part 1)

I took my first TGV ('train à grand vitesse' - high speed train) trip of the journey on February 28th, and that took me to Nîmes. Home of ancient Roman ruins ('Les arènes' - the arena - among others) and the most fabulous gardens: 'Les jardins de la Fontaine,' built around the foundations of the old fountain, and encompassing the ruins of the temple of Diana. I went there from the train station, with my backpack and rolling suitcase, as I had some time before my bus to St Jean du Gard.

I saw men playing pétanque (a game sort of like bacci, but more subtle, using metal balls), and let myself be enchanted by the sunlight of the south, and the way it played off the water. A group of older people on benches, having an afternoon chat, started talking to me - warning me (over and over) that I should be careful walking around with my luggage like that. People were not to be trusted...! (I thanked them - many times! - for their concern, promising to be careful... and went on being enchanted... and, carefully, amused :)

Once I got on the A12 bus, destined for St Jean du Gard (costing an amazing 1 euro 50!), I relaxed and enjoyed the scenery of the little towns we passed through on our way (and the amazing skill of European bus drivers, to maneuver such huge buses down the narrow little pictoresque streets). The landscape was pretty flat most of the way, until we reached Anduze. This town, known as the 'Porte des Cévennes' (Door to the Cévennes) straddles the river called the Gardon (that later becomes the Gard), where there is a steep window cut through the mountains by the river, as it washes out onto the plain stretching all the way to Nîmes.

As we drove into Anduze, with its breathtaking scenery, the sun was setting, and I got my first peek at the mountains. My face was glued to the window, and I knew I was going to like being in this area. By the time I arrived in St Jean du Gard, it was dark. Etienne, the son of my farm host, Brigitte, was there to meet me at the bus stop. We took the winding drive up to the farm (called 'Le Mazel'), while conversing about many things. It was his last night there after 2 months - he was leaving the next day, returning to Russia (and a somewhat uncertain future).

Dinner was good, I got to chat a little more with Brigitte, meet the animals (2 dogs, 2 cats) and learn the routine for feeding them, and then slept in the room for the 'gîte' (sort of like a hostel/bed & breakfast, but on a smaller, more familiar scale) that night... it all felt good. I felt I had arrived in a good place. :-)

I got a good night's sleep, which was good(!) - I had a full week ahead of me...