He said

I’m nervous but confident. Nat has left to explore France’s backcountry roads in our “new” old 1987 Peugeot. I’m nervous because she has just recently learned to drive manual shift. She’s getting better at it, but she still has the tendency to pull her foot off the clutch too early while slamming down on the accelerator pedal. The result is the squealing of tires and the flying of dust while our bodies lose the battle with g-forces and sink into their seats as the car peels away.

If that was it, I wouldn’t be so worried, but our little car has given us minor issues and some major surprises. We recently found out that the engine is not original to the car and is in fact smaller than what the car needs. We thought we got a good deal dropping 500 Euros for a putter with only 88,000 kilometers. But as the story unfolds, it would seem that the original engine burnt out long ago and “amateur” mechanics put together this one with spare parts. And I have no doubt our beater has a few more tales under the hood.

Yes, it’s been awhile since any update filtered its way from life to the keyboard to the small screen. First, let me get the administrative stuff out of the way. As you may have noticed, liquidletter.ca has been tweaked a wee bit. Here, you will find two new, hopefully witty and engaging “He said” and “She said” columns. The reason, you ask? Well, as some of you know, Nat and I often have varied outlooks on our daily experiences. These columns will serve as a way to share not only the similarities but also…ahem…those differences.

So, where to start? I’m sitting at a desk, which was hand-made by our landlord, Bruno. He is something of an everyman who has the ability to fix almost anything except the toilet, which constantly runs away on us. He is interested in the idea of a self-sustaining life. Never wanting to live in a city, he would rather churn his own butter than deal with rush hour traffic and a high-paying job. We communicate through his broken English, my very broken French, and the often yell of “Naaaaaat”!

On this desk rests a tall distinctive blue, red and white beer can with the brand name 1664. It was bought in Aubais, where we stayed for 3 nights when we first arrived in France, and where we discovered the best pizza joint in the region. Every Thursday night we bike to Aubais to pick up a pizza, usually half “Cévenole” and half “Savoyarde”, and the entire pizza is smothered with fresh crème. It sounds strange but it’s incredibly delicious. With a bottle of local wine you really can’t beat the combo.

Upright against the back of the desk are a couple of books. Let’s see…we have a French-English dictionary, bought in Sommières at the height of my frustration with being left out of conversations with Nat and whomever she happens to meet along the street. I now have private French lessons for one hour every Tuesday and Friday.

Beside that is the Rough Guide to France. It has been our bible, but most importantly our plan B when it comes to reading material. Whenever we are searching for something to flip through, it always seems to find its way into our hands. It is slowly becoming more and more earmarked with our destination wish list.

Squeezed between that and “Living and Working in France 2005” is “Freakonomics”. It was purchased in Montpellier, about 25 minutes away from here, providing Polly’s spedometer hits 140. Montpellier is a thriving university city where the average age is 25 years old. It’s also becoming one of the major stops on the kite boarding circuit. From the beach you can see multi-coloured kites flying back and forth as the boarders skim along the Mediterranean coast.

Resting at an angle, packaged in a red and white cover is “In praise of Slow”. It talks about how we are living in a world of speed and that we all need to slow down to enjoy a richer and fuller life. It fits nicely with the lifestyle in France. This country is on a 35-hour workweek schedule and people have a minimum of 5 weeks holiday every year. Shops open up at 9am, but never on Sundays and Mondays, and they close for two to three hours for lunch siesta, re-open at 3:30 and close for the day whenever the owner feels like it.

At my right on the desk is a glass of red wine bought at a wine specialty shop in Sommieres. As we have been there, well…more than once, the owner knows us and offered to give us a mini wine tasting experience. He sat us down and brought out six different local bottles. We spent a couple of hours listening to him enthusiastically going over the tastes, smells and history of the each wine. So…in my glass is a Cuvée Marcelle 2003 from the Domaine de Verchant winery near here.

“Here” is Aujargues, It’s a tiny town with about 600 local souls. Barely emitting a signal on the radar, it’s a sleepy place with narrow streets bordered by old stonewalls. We live in a converted main-level cellar with a small backyard. Our landlords live upstairs with their 3-year-old daughter, Gaia. Days around here start early. We wake up around 5am to their fucking rooster cooing every morning. It constantly pounds the questions, “Would we be happier in the city?” and “Where can I buy a shotgun?” into our groggy heads.

So, I think that’s it for what’s on my desk.

This is just the beginning. But I’m confident, because we are in this together…well, on condition that Nat doesn’t burn out the tires.

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 16th, 2006 at 4:56 pm and is filed under He Said. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site. Add to del.icio.us.