BBQ en France

I went to a barbecue in France the other day. It was organised by the church for people who were old, like me. It started at noon, but I decided to be fashionably late and headed there for just after 1pm.

The location was a private house in the north of Paris. Since I live in the south, it was not difficult to be late. Here is a photo I took from the train during my journey on the "A" line, one I have not used before.

High Rise

 In Paris, most people live in flats. Big, usually rectangular, blocks of concrete. Here some Chinese people appear to have emulated the living conditions but with much more style! Notice also the clouds. This is barbecue day!

But to my arrival, I was over 1 hour late and I was the 4th guest there. All men, and drinking beer in the garden. No sign of a fire anywhere. I had brought a soft drink and I was not up on the world cup. "You're British?" was the comment, "but no beer and no footie?" They declared me a 'sub-standard Brit' and I was welcomed in (sub-standard Brit is probably an advantage in France).

Slowly over the next 2 hours, others arrived.

Helpers, more chiefs than Indians as usual

With the clouds in mind, our host decided to find his canopy, old and with one bit missing (not to mention the instructions) but no-one appeared to care. We got the thing up, and just in time before the rain. In time lots more people arrived so we had to decamp indoors where there was more room.

The barbecue is on the back corner of the photo, behind the swing. It was soon going and it produce loads of meat, as usual, but this is France, so there were loads of nibbles too. 2 ladies in the kitchen had been working hard and different sorts of food kept coming.

There was wine too. The gentleman on the left of the photo knew which were the best ones. And he placed some aromatic twigs on the barbecue to subtly add to the burnt taste.

This is church, so we had some inspirational time before the desert - then loads of sweet lovely stuff appeared. More wine and coffee or hot chocolate. And then the cheese! Which for France is unthinkable because it was after the desert. But our host had forgotten so we had the cheese English style.

Not forgetting that this is World Cup season, we vegetated round the TV for the Brazil match. Football is much better with a crowd of enthusiasts! Brazil won, just, on the very last penalty after extra time. So it was late when I set off for home in the rain.

So there it is, my first French barbecue. Rather like an English one (especially the weather) but with fancy bits.

Zumba

Here is the Zumba (spell-corrected from what I wrote, but close enough). Yes I went to a works football and BBQ but for the non-players there was the dance.

A young girl I met explained it was "à la mode" (all the rage) but it was news to me. You follow the actions of the man in front who moves actively to music. More fun than aerobics (she said) and it is supposed to burn off the carbs.

Certainly the instructor had no excess fat, and plenty of muscles in its place. I joined in at the back and it earned me a handshake at the end. He shook no one else's hand, so I must look older than I feel.

Never mind the quality, the photos are supposed to give you the idea.

Cordialement
Terry

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Some birds do 'av 'em

There are occasions when, on the way to work, that you see something that must have been there a while, but which you never noticed before.

I was alerted to something above my head by the spatter of bird droppings near my feet. To be cautious I avoided them in case more arrived as I walked by. But then I realised there was another walkway above me, so I looked up.

This pigeon had chicks but I don't think my photo shows that. She had craftily made use of a coil of flex to build the nest in. I must have passed the nest many times but never looked up to see it.

And I still would not have seen it if pigeons were cleaner.

Cordialement
Terry

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Update - the chicks are big and ugly!

Closer & Greener

I spotted what looked at first like a baker's delivery van but the back was open and boxes with lots of papers in them could be seen. I realised, partly also from the yellow colouring, that this was a post van.

The plain-cloths post lady took out a wad of "papers" and shut the back. She disappeared for a while.

The side of the van said "+proche +vert" which translates to the title of this blog. Sensibly La Poste have commissioned electric vehicles.

A little later I heard the back shutter run quickly up and down. I popped my head out and the driver was already in the doorless cab. Silently, the van shot back and then zoomed out onto the road. Very nippy, it is clearly designed to cut all the corners and reach it's top speed of 50kph (31mph) almost instantly. Only the red light in front of it caused it to temporarily delay its disappearance.

No wonder I have never heard the postman before.

Cordialement
Terry

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Travel In and Out of Style

On the way out, I had VIP treatment. And it was valid for the way back too.

I can recommend the VIP lounge at Malaga airport for space, peacefulness, and drinks. As breakfast goes it wasn't great, but then breakfast at the hotel was fine. I just needed the drinks and a comfortable seat.

Lots of VIP Seating, not many VIPs

I heeded the call to get on the plane and was one of the last to board. No problem, I was in row 1. The lady I was seated near (the seat between us is converted into a small table) I had seen in the lounge. She had placed a large cup under the coffee machine and pressed "coffee". After some time, the machine proudly deposited a small puddle of black liquid in the bottom of the cup. There are tiny cups for this selection, the 'coffee' probably looks better in them.

After watching my "cappuccino" she returned to chose the same. We laughed at her first choice, and so chatted briefly on the plane. Indian by birth, she was visiting her son and his family in Spain and was returning to San Francisco. In America, coffee means coffee.

I was by the window. The sun was shining. Here is a shot of Malaga and the port as a view you probably have not seen before.

Sunny Malaga.

I sat back with more drinks and waited for lunch. A polite stewardess asked me if I was ready to have breakfast. Why not? even if it was my third!

At Charles de Gaulle Airport there was a train strike. From being VIP on the plane I was now waiting on platforms for any train in my direction. What few were running all stopped in Paris so I got off and sought the normal platform for my onward journey. A lady who asked me for help had come from Adelaide. She was expecting a 2hr TGV ride only to find her train was cancelled. She had a ticket to Gare du Nord but needed to negotiate the Metro to Montparnasse. Her luggage was huge! and she must have been very tired by now. I began to feel more fortunate. We squashed into the very full train, glad to get a seat. VIP was now 'very impoverished progress'.

My next train finally arrived advertising that it went just 1 stop further on; but in the event this was untrue. With just 1 more change I was home, only 90 minutes later than I expected.

I can recommend the VIP airport treatment. The trains come under the category of 'experience'.

Bull ears

I am in the bar. There is a bullfight on TV. The large crowd appear to be loving it, as does the owner's son who chose the channel.

The bull, however, appears to tire of charging a red rag only to hit the air. There are lots of standoffs between the matador and the bull. They glare at each other.

This is the second fight to be televised, the bull from the first fight has expired. What interests me is that this hotel is associated with the bullring next door (which I have never seen used). There are some trophy bull heads on the wall. None of them have ears. (On the TV the matador has just been tossed, twice- he is ok, I am sure you are glad).

The matador from the first fight was shown walking from his triumph holding an ear. So that's where they go.

Cordialement
Terry

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Where the wind blows

As a postscript to my earlier blog, here is what appears to be the culprit. I had to walk to get this photo so I hope you appreciate it. Although it is 6pm, the day is still hot, and the last stage has no shade. I am prepared, I have my hat.

What I hope you can see is a factory in a valley. It is well away from civilisation and right in the middle of thousands of olive trees. There are 3 chimneys.

The road goes under the footbridge I am standing on and I passed this factory early morning. All 3 chimneys are still belching smoke. There is a strongish wind which fortunately is not in my direction. When it is, the town which shares the valley will get all the smoke.

Like it obviously did the other day.

Cordialement
Terry

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Sunday
Olive processing stops for nothing. Not even the day of rest in this Catholic country.

Here are some shots from my balcony this morning. They are about an hour apart, and the haze has dissipated a little, but it is 2pm before it has really gone.

The town early on

An hour later and the hill is visible

Bar escape

So it's Saturday and I am in a hotel. And Antonio said there were some nice towns in the area.

So I chose one on the map. Only an hours drive, but most places are that from where I work.

I arrived in good time. Too good. The shops appear to open at 10am and others shut at 1pm. You have to be quick to do all your shopping.

I only want a birthday card. After a long search in lots of shops, I find what appears to be a shopping avenue. It's near the bullring. However, no cards.

A few side streets later and I had all but given up when I saw some cards in a printing and internet shop. Most were unsuitable, mirroring my experience earlier in the week. But there was one I liked so I bought it.

"The post office" I asked. Down the street and left, I was informed. I knew it was important to find it because there is no post office in my local area.

After several "lefts", and encouraged by the parked post office van, I asked again at the pharmacy where the van was parked. Down and to the left she said. Finally I used my GPS. 350m later I was standing in a wide space looking at all the shops. Why could I not see it? And them I did, in red, not yellow like the van and post boxes, and very firmly shut.

I checked the hours on the door. Open 'till 3pm and since it was 1pm I was puzzled. Presumably the rest of the text said Monday to Friday only. There was no doubt it was shut.

I went back to the restaurant I passed earlier. They were open from 1pm. Well they are, but mot every dish is available straight away. "What can I have" I asked and I have settled for the pig's cheek. "Very good" he assured me. It's certainly different.

The tables inside are out of the heat (hence the title), and they do WiFi. The password? "One glass of beer please" but in Spanish of course.

Too late. I already ordered a glass of red.

Cordialement
Terry

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Spanish bad weather

Can you smell that smell in the air? My colleague asked as we returned from the meeting. I could, just. A sort of burnt sugar smell.

"I hate it" she said, "always at this time of year they create this smog".

So it was not cloud cover I could see, but fumes. It appears the olive processing is in full swing. As I drove out for lunch, I could see that the town below was hazy, even though the sky was now clearing. It is the subject of the photo but I am not sure if you can tell.

There are factories nearby which belch out smoke. My colleague was surprised it was allowed. The attitude of youth I suppose, but a good attitude. There are thousands of olive trees all over this country. Tractors can slow the traffic with trailers full of the things.

But that was some months ago. Now it appears the processing is in full swing.

Here in Spain where the weather is almost always good, they are forced to make their own bad weather!

Cordialement
Terry

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The Best Seat

Today I had the chance to find out what it's like to be in the best places. My flight this month were offering the best seats at a lower price than my usual one. I mentioned this on my booking request and they sensibly booked me a good seat.

So I used the lounge at the airport. Surprisingly busy I thought but the seats were spacious and comfortable. Free WiFi too, not to mention drinks and snacks. All too soon I had to go to the boarding gate.

In fact I was much too soon. All the other "best seat" people were last to board, well after me, presumably making the most of the snacks, drinks, and WiFi. No matter. I had a seat with space and no one next to me.

So what was different?
Well they called me sir a lot, and there was a curtain between us and "them". We had complementary drinks throughout the flight, alcoholic if you wanted it, except I didn't.

However, I was used to a choice of meals, here there was no choice. Still, since it was roast chicken and couscous, with a desert too, it was no problem. And there were metal knives and forks! Coffee too! The pampering went on and on. A soft cushion for a doze after eating, constant attention, and our own toilet.

After all that I was first off the plane too. Not that it sped the arrival of my bag. But all in all I was very much more relaxed than usual.

As we came into land I saw some trees on fire down below. I grabbed my camera and took several quick shots. If you look carefully you can see some smoke on the right. In short, I was not quick enough.

Probably due to the heavy lunch.

Cordialement
Terry

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