* One more week in Collioure - Oct 07

Back from Tuscany, it’s good to be home. We have a week before we leave for the “new world” for the winter. We have had a marvelous extended summer (from mid-May to the end of October) in Europe and we’re beginning to list potential destinations for 2008 - Prague, Dubrovnik, Mikonos, Portugal - all easily accessible from our idyllic village of Collioure.

A surprise. When we meet with Madeleine to discuss having her open our apartment next spring, she tells us that Kristina and Tom, with Hanna, will be in Collioure the next day. It was Kristina from whom we first rented when we came to explore Collioure in 2005, and she was very helpful as we went about purchasing our own apartment. We exchange emails and arrange to meet for lunch on Sunday.

It is a spectacular fall day (Hanna plans to swim later), and our outdoor table at the Copacabana is perfect. Kristina and Tom both work for the US State Department in Moscow, and we share Russian experiences. Hanna goes to the international school and is an amazingly sophisticated (but still playful) young lady who is not yet nine years old. Tom has brought a bottle of Russian vodka which we manage to keep out of the waiter’s hands.

It will take us four days to get back to Key West.

• Day 1: train to Girona, pick up rental car, return to Collioure.

• Day 2: drive to Barcelona, stay overnight a hotel near the airport.

• Day 3: fly Barcelona-Madrid-Philadelphia-Fort Lauderdale, spend the night in a hotel near the airport.

• Day 4: breakfast with our friends Eileen and Ron, pickup rental car, drive to Key West.

* a day in Perpignan

      

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Collioure is a marvelous place, but shopping is not its strong suit. We decide to train to Perpignan for the day with a list of tasks. We take an early train, and the shops are not yet open, so we walk to the Palais des rois de Majorque, the palace of the kings of Majorca.

In the 13th century, Majorca ruled our part of France, and Perpignan was their center for this region. A palace was therefore built for their visits, taking 30 or so years, which is remarkably quick when you look at the size of the stones that were dragged up the hill. I take lots of photos and think maybe it could have been a site for a meeting between the representatives of Lorenzo de Medici and King Ferdinand of Aragon in the 1480s. “Could have been” is enough for my evolving historical novel.

Finding a hair salon is highest on our priority list, since Pat was not happy with the lack of attention paid to her color on her last visit in Collioure. We find a local Jean Louis David, which may be adequate, and then we stop looking, although we had a list from the yellow pages with us. Guess we’ll have to go back.

mobile phones 

French mobile telephones (nobody in Europe, except us, says cell phone) are next on our list. We go to the Orange store, this being the France Telecom outlet, and also SFR, which is the French representative for Vodaphone. At SFR, we learn that they offer phones and you can “top up” minutes on the internet, through the phone, or at any outlet.

But the minutes you but have a limited shelf life, use them or lose them, which is not what we want. Our objective is to have phones which we will use infrequently, and we want to buy a small quantity of minutes to last for several months.

Back at Orange, we select phones and make our purchase. Nokia phones, with instruction books in English as well as French.

The next day, setting up the phones, I learn that Orange “top up” minutes are also “use or lose.” It takes only a second to realize that the clerk in the Orange store is not at fault. She would assume that everyone knew how minutes were sold, so there was no need to spell it out. And we didn’t ask. My next reaction is to return the phones. But maybe that’s not going to solve anything either. The cost per two weeks, or per month, is not that great, and we can buy minutes for when we travel, since we have almost no use for mobile phones while we’re in Collioure.

After purchasing our phones, we head to Galeries Lafayette, but the only purchase we make is a small “Catalan” flag to complement the French and American flags we already have. Galeries in Paris is spectacular, in Montpellier it is outstanding, but here the architecture is sort of drab, and the merchandise is limited.

We have a nice lunch at an Italian restaurant, with a waitress whose mother came from Canada. We are impressed that the young girl moves quickly and is attentive, qualities which are not universal in France. We compliment her on her approach, and she says this is her first waitress job, and she’s still nervous. As if to prove her point, she spills a pitcher of water at the next table, drenching a man who, however, appears not to mind. You see, charm can overcome disaster.

We have other tasks to accomplish, but inexplicably, we just head back to the train station. We never look for another beauty salon or the picture frames we need.

trains & web schedules 

We are taking the 14:45 (2:45pm) train back to Collioure. I had purchased tickets for a later train but we’re ready to go earlier.

As the train is pulling in, Pat notices that the train board does not include Collioure. But I looked up this train on the web, on a search for ‘Perpignan to Collioure,’ and it had a departure time (14:45) and a Collioure arrival time (15:10), so up we go. 

As the train approaches Argeles-sur-mer, the stop before Collioure, and begins to slow down, I look for a conductor to confirm, just to be sure, that this train does actually stop in Collioure. But no conductor is nearby, and the train pulls out. It’s only 3 minutes from Argeles to Collioure, but in that interval, the conductor appears and informs us that the train does not stop again until it reaches Cerbere, the last stop in France, and not a place you want to linger.

We enter the tunnel before Collioure, there’s a brief flash of light, and we’re in the tunnel after Collioure.  We remember the Kingston Trio’s immortal song about the MTA in Boston, where you need(ed) an exit fee, and the poor man “would never return.” 

More to the point, I explain to the conductor that the web had stated a Collioure stop, and she, a lovely young lady with excellent English (“my boy friend is British”), writes a note on our ticket to her colleague in Cerbere that we should be allowed to return to Collioure without additional charge. In Cerbere, the colleague agrees and the return train is due to leave in 20 minutes.  

TIP:  The lesson is you cannot trust the web schedules completely. Always check in the station. 

This happened to me once before, when I was at the station trying to buy a ticket on a train which did not stop in Collioure. I thought that was my mistake, but now I think it probably wasn’t. I’m going to try to figure out if there is a way to read the web schedules that will reveal this kind of error.

* visitors from the “new world”

 Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Since we have company “from the new world” coming tomorrow, we go down to the village to make a reservation for dinner. I try my best to use only French, but don’t quite make it. Je voudrais faire un reservation pour quatre personnes pour se sois …..?

I don’t know the word for Wednesday. Pat points to the word in French (Mercredi ) and asks the waiter who is making the reservation, “How do you pronounce this word?”  He immediately answers … “Wed-nes-day.”

 Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Pat’s cousin Karen and her husband Joe are due on the 11:48 train from Cerbere, on their way from Barcelona. This is our first family visit, and only our second visitors from the “new world,” so we are quite excited. It being the 4th 0f July, Pat takes the American flag we purchased in Normandy (for this purpose) to the platform and stands ready to wave the colors.

But 11:48 comes and goes, and the only thing that arrives is the rain. We had left the cushions out on the terrace, and debate whether to run back upstairs (remember that our apartment is only 100 yards from the gare). We decide not to, and the drizzle subsides.

But still no train. The electronic announcement board now says 12:44 for the next train, skipping automatically to the next scheduled departure. We start a conversation with a couple from Australia who are on their way to Edinburgh for a wedding, and they worry if they’ll make their connection in Perpignan. Someone says they can make up time, and just then a passenger train speeds by without stopping. “Is that how they make up the time? Are our guests now on their way to Perpignan?

Pat goes into the station and reports back with the good news that the train from Cerbere is expected in 10 minutes. Lo and behold, in 10 minutes the train arrives, and Karen and Joe emerge onto the platform. They’re going to stay in our apartment while we are in Ireland, and have come a day early so we can visit before we leave.

The next several hours are a blizzard of family updates, a brief tour of our apartment (300 square feet doesn’t take long), a walk to the Madeloc Hotel so Joe and Karen can check in for the one night we will all be in Collioure. Their room is very nice, as is the hotel. We walk down the hill into the village for a first look around and lunch.

We’re thrilled that Joe and Karen seem to be as enamored with Collioure as we are.

Later, we have champagne on the terrace, and then dinner in the village, where our reservation for Wed-nes-day is in order. We have an excellent meal looking out over the beach and bay. After dinner we walk out toward the sea and the chapel on the rock, and are almost blown away by a sudden gust of wind.

We finish the day (for us) by introducing Collioure ice cream to our guests, and then head back up the hill. The next morning, we learn that Joe and Karen returned to the beach for another glass of wine, followed by a late night swim in the pool at their hotel.

trips from Collioure

a selection of trips, some within walking distance, others day trips by car or train, some overnight trips, and a 7 day hike along the coast from Collioure to Cadaques (in Spain).

within walking distance

·     walk to Port Vendres, the next town south of Collioure (25 mins) lunch there and take the local bus back.

·     walk the coast to Argeles, the next town north of Collioure … see an English movie in the cinema (details at Tourist Office) … return by train.

·     walk to ‘The Hermitage’ … details at Tourist Office.

Day trips by car or train

·     Train to Banyuls (past Port Vendres) and visit the winery … free tour and video show (English sub-titles) Free wine tasting after the tour … they will ship your order, unfortunately NOT to U.S.A.

·     Eus … among the beautiful villages of southern France … by car from Collioure, Michelin route finder says 57 minutes, 72 km

·     Castlenou … A walled town built in the 13th century by Louis IX … by car from Collioure, Michelin route finder says 41 minutes, 47 km 

·     Villefranche de Conflent  … by car … then take  a trip on  ’The Yellow Train’…… to Font Romeau ( we prefer to get off at Mont St Louis) … suggestion: explore Villefranche before the Yellow Train trip  (check timetable) … if you wait until after, the shops and churches in Villefranche may be closed.  

·     Carcassonne … by train or car. By car from Collioure, Michelin route finder says 1 hr 31 minutes, 150 km the site of the largest preserved medieval walled town in Europe. Quite a lot to see, but can be done in a day trip. There are hotels within the walled city if you want to stay overnight. 

·     Perpignan … by train or car, either way, less than 30 minutes. We go to Perpignan for shopping. There’s a Galeries Lafayette, several home stores, electronics, etc.

·     Ceret … an easy (30 minute) drive from Collioure … Museum of Modern Art … Picasso, Braque, Gris, Soutine, Chagall, Herbin, Matisse

·     Barcelona … in the summer, there’s a bus that leaves Collioure early in the morning and returns that same night. Inquire at the Tourist Office. HINT: DON’T DRIVE in Barcelona!  Restaurant recommendations: (1) Les Quatre Gats (4 Cats) (2) an outdoor restaurant in a large plaza off the Ramblas, next to a narrow alley with a pizza place (forgot the name and exact address, will get it the next time we’re in Barcelona) …  a good (concise)guide book: DK - Top 10 Barcelona

·     vineyard tour & dinner … offered during the summer. bus leaves in early evening, drives to vineyard for tour and dinner. several different vineyards. Inquire in Tourist Office.

Overnight trips by train or car

·     Paris … 5-6 hours by train (leave at 6:00am, be there for lunch)

·     Nice … Michelin route finder says 4:46 hrs, 517 km by car … easy to combine with car trip through Provence … more details after we go there in June 07

·     Barcelona … 2-3 hours by train … recommended hotel: Catalonia Albinoni …  … we haven’t stayed there, but checked it out last year and plan to stay there in 2007. HINT: DON’T DRIVE in Barcelona!

·     lastly, a 7 day hike for the truly adventurous … a walking tour from Collioure to Cadaques … From the Côte Vermeille to the Costa Brava … web site: http://www.inntravel.co.uk/walking/guides/collioure.htm 

about Collioure

Our magical fishing village of Collioure is located in the south of France, on the Mediterranean, about 25 miles north of the French-Spanish border. The nearest large city is Barcelona.Our apartment is described in detail at www.homeexchange.com, where we are listing #52059. Let us know if you’d like to swap homes.

Collioure is a delightful blend of narrow cobblestone streets, art galleries, restaurants ranging from gourmet to pizza, boutique shops, beaches, spectacular views, and friendly people.

During the summer season, there is frequent local entertainment showcasing the unique Catalan culture. A fresh air market comes to town year round, on Sunday and Wednesday mornings, bringing fresh produce, cheeses and spices. The local wines are outstanding and inexpensive (3-4 euros a bottle).

Additional information and photos can be found at the Collioure Tourist Office site (see blogroll) 

fireworks in the harbor

Valerie says it’s the best fireworks she’s ever seen.

But we’ve seen the fourth of July fireworks on the East River in New York, and the Festival fireworks in Edinburgh, Scotland, so we’re skeptical. It turns out we’re wrong and Valerie is right.

The pathway along the old castle is blocked, so we walk up and over the parking lot. We’re fortunate to find one of the few remaining spots on the Port D’Vall beach. We set up our beach chairs for the hour long wait.

Next to us, a young girl (8 or 9?) takes off all her clothes except her underpants and goes into the sea. Her long blonde hair and naked body look surreal in the dark. She emerges, her parents help her change to dry clothes under a towel.

At 10:00 pm sharp, music pours from speakers across the harbor, and the lights along the castle wall and the church go black. Fireworks shoot from five different locations across the harbor, continuously for 20 minutes, many in patterns we’ve never seen before, all coordinated with the music. It’s breathtaking.

When it’s over, we join the huge crowds working their way slowly into the town center. We stop for dessert crepes, then continue toward our apartment.

There are mobs of people standing in the street. As we get closer, we can see they’re patiently waiting for the train. Despite many extra trains, the last visitors don’t depart until the wee hours.

bullfights

There is a corrida in Collioure, next to the train station, just below our apartment.

As far as we can determine, it’s used only two nights each year. One night the bulls will be killed, one night not. This year, it’s bad luck for the bulls, and the less lethal night is rained out.

Let me say first that we will never go again. It is a disgusting, brutal, cruel, immoral, and pointless display of bravado. But we did go, just this once, and Mayor Moly was there collecting tickets. There was an almost-capacity crowd, perhaps 2,000.  

The band played and the opening procession, the paseillo, was impressive: matadors, picadors, and huge horses, whose function we later learn is to drag the dead bulls out of the ring.

The first bull enters the ring. Picadors, mounted on horses protected with thick padding, taunt the bull and drive a lance into his back. Next, three banderilleros each place a pair of sharp sticks into the attacking bull’s back, jumping aside at the last moment.

Now at last, when the bull is already worn down, it’s finally the matador’s turn. He flashes his red cape to entice the bull to charge, nimbly stepping aside, a little closer each time.

When the bull is practically comatose, from all the charging and the stabbings, the matador takes his sword and prepares for the kill. Slowly, he maneuvers until the bull is directly in front of him, standing still, snorting, dripping blood and sweat.

I’m rooting for the bull, but there’s no chance. The matador rises high and plunges his sword deep into the bull’s back.

At first, the bull doesn’t move. Then his knees begin to buckle. He is down, but still dangerous. The matador removes the bloody sword, and another man plunges a knife into the bull’s neck.

The bull falls dead to the ground. The man with the knife cuts off the bull’s ear.

Out comes a huge horse, dragging a harness. The dead bull is attached to the harness and dragged from the ring.

The matador is presented the ear. He struts around the ring to the applause of the crowd.

The same sordid sequence is repeated four more times. We’re actually ashamed to watch, but we stay anyway.

the festival of St. Vincent

Every August, the Festival of St. Vincent is Collioure’s biggest week of the year. There’s music, fireworks, and bullfights, and our little town is glutted with over 100,000 visitors.

The partying goes on until 5:30 in the morning, including those camped below us in the train station parking lot. However, the police are omnipresent, and we saw not a single instance of any disorder.

We did see Mayor Michel Moly, just about everywhere. He was introducing performances, directing street performers from one venue to another, and even collecting tickets at the bullfights. Early every morning, the streets were swept spotless, as they are every other morning in Collioure. I wrote a letter to the Mayor telling him how impressed I was with him and his administration.

Blessing the fleet

One of the major events, in fact the historical reason for the festival, is the blessing of the fishing fleet.

There’s a chapel overlooking the sea, and we watch four strong priests carry the relic of St. Vincent, held on their shoulders with long wooden rails, from the ancient church, along the beach, then up precarious rocky steps with no handrails. I guess if they slipped it wouldn’t be a good omen for the fleet.

Mass is conducted at the chapel, with about 50 people standing reverently for the service. Then the relic comes down the steps, an even more dangerous journey, it seems to me.

Many priests march in a dignified line along the beach at the edge of Collioure bay, then load the relic onto the signature lanteen-rigged fishing boat of Collioure, the hull painted bright blue with two horizontal stripes, one yellow and one red. Leaving their shoes behind, the priests, and the mayor, board the boat for a quick trip around the bay. They return, retrieve their shoes, and escort the relic back to the church.

Red neckerchiefs

We have coffee and croissants with Valerie and Lorcan, and begin to walk home.

There’s a group of young people outside our friend Lawrence’s Café Sola, already drinking at 10:00 am. They’re all wearing red neckerchiefs designed for the 2006 festival, and I want one.

“Where can I get one of those neckerchiefs,” I ask.

Lawrence overhears.

“I have them,” he says, and promptly produces two. A young man ties them around our necks.

“Can I pay you?” I ask Lawrence.

“No,” he says.

Then he smiles slyly. “But give me ten euros for a round of drinks for all these wonderful young people.”

shopping near Collioure

The neighboring village of Port Vendres, less than a mile south of Collioure, has a large well stocked supermarket, but is accessible only by car.In the other direction, accessible by car, bus or train, is the town of Argeles-sur-mer.

Our experience there includes Carrefour, a major department store on the outskirts of town, and the tiny English used book store in the town center.

Further to the north is Perpignan, on the outskirts of which is Auchan, an even larger department store, and Leroy Merlin, the Home Depot of France.

In the city of Perpignan is a wide variety of shopping. There’s a set of modern stores, including electronics, DVDs, and a home decorating boutique, in a marvelous old building 10 minutes walk from the train station.

Also in Perpignan is a Galeries Lafayette department store, not quite the equal of the flagship store in Paris, but that’s a very high bar. In Perpignan, Galeries serves Pat’s passion for gracious table and glassware.

Barcelona is two hours away by train or car. There’s an excellent department store, El Corte Ingles on Playa Cataluna, that we only discovered as we were leaving Europe last year. Of course, Barcelona is a shopping mecca, with many great stores, including one of the largest sporting goods stores in the world.

And then, of course, there’s Paris.

narrow streets and tiny shops

There are no large stores in Collioure, but the village is full of boutique shops selling art, ceramics, espadrilles, jewelry, and women’s clothing.

One of our favorites is Majolique, which has three small shops selling their own handmade ceramics: colorful bowls, jugs, and dishes in primary blues, yellows and greens. We have purchased an olive oil cruet, several small serving bowls, and dishes, some of which we have brought back to Key West. This is also our first stop for presents. Check out their web site at …

www.roussillon-pyrenees.com/artisanat/artisanat-collioure-majolique.html.

Espadrilles are the favored footwear in Collioure, reflecting the area’s Catalan history, and they’re available all over town. Pat swears by them.

Artists have flourished in Collioure since the early 20th century visits of Matisse, Derain and Picasso. Sidewalk artists abound, some of considerable quality, and there are numerous art shops.

at the topless beach

We walk the 5-6 minutes down the hill to the village and wander toward the beach, obvious Americans carrying two small beach chairs, an umbrella, and a tote bag with our books (always books). There are other umbrellas on the beach, but no other chairs.

We get ourselves settled, the umbrella providing 100% coverage against the midday sun. There are several small beaches in Collioure, some sand but mostly rocky. Our chairs are a necessity for us on the rocky beach we have chosen today.

While most women wear bathing suits, it is disconcerting to see the bare breasted, young and old, simply stroll by. One woman, topless on the beach, inexplicably pulls her suit top up to go in the water, then takes it off again as soon as she emerges.

A young girl joins her friend on a blanket a few feet from us, bares her top, and sits there chatting. She’s more than a little overweight.

Many people, men and women both, change their clothes on the beach. All their clothes. The technique is to wrap a towel from waist down, then pull the pants off and on under the towel. Everyone who does this is well practiced and discrete, and probably nobody but us pays any attention.

Perhaps this will soon become so routine for us as not to warrant mention.

Perhaps.

restaurants

There are many fine restaurants in Collioure, and gradually we will try them all.  

There’s outstanding pizza at the Pasta Pizza Arcade on rue Colbert. The outdoor cafes along the Quai de l’Amiraute, the main walking street along the canal, offer crepes, moules (mussels) with frites, and terrific salads.

There are also many outdoor restaurants beside the beach. We especially like a glass of wine at Copacabana or St. Vincent, right on the beach.

Excellent cheese sandwiches (does fromage en baguette sound better) are available all over town. Ice cream stands are found on almost every little street.

For more serious eating, we’ve enjoyed El Capillo at the intersection of rue Pasteur and rue St. Vincent.

When we watched the World Cup Soccer championship game at the Templiers Hotel, a place frequented by Matisse and many other painters a hundred years ago, Pat ate moules with frittes and I had calamar with a garlic sauce. Did we ever imagine we would eat such food? It was delicious.

A caution about eating in France. Americans are used to eating quickly, especially at lunch, but the French cannot be hurried when it comes to food. If you out to eat, expect to spend time and enjoy your experience.

the outdoor farmer’s market

Every Sunday and Wednesday morning, year round, the market comes to Collioure and Place du Marachel Leclerc is taken over with food trucks and tables. It’s always crowded, and the selections, especially the fresh vegetables, are the best.

It’s wonderful to eat fresh food, all grown or produced with a few miles of where we live.

Thirty varieties of olives – your choice. Pat tries several before she finds the ones she likes.

Most of the vendors don’t speak English, but sign language works just fine. The bread man is a cheery delight, smiling and flirting with his female customers, and his bread is fantastic.

There are fresh flowers, tablecloths and napkins, sandwiches, hats and straw shopping bags.

Also art, and one Wednesday we buy an inexpensive reproduction of a Collioure scene.

buying food

This is not as straightforward as you might think. The packages are, of course, all in French. Sometimes it’s clear what’s inside, but not always.

Asking for something in the store can be an adventure, but it’s fun. Pat describes apple sauce with hand motions that do the trick.

Mainly, we buy our food at the Shopi, a small supermarket in town. The cheese section is superb, and they have packaged fish and meats, canned vegetables, cereal, soda, and pretty much whatever we need. We shop daily, taking our shopping bags, if we remember, buying only as much as we can carry home.

There are also several smaller food shops in the village, including one called Casino, which is like a small 7-Eleven.

Pat doesn’t ride her bike to the village for our daily baguette (that image was how our dream began), but often, at the end of her morning run, she lines up with the men at the local boulangerie. In France, buying the baguettes is very much a male task. So this little blond lady in running shorts (something else that’s unusual in Collioure) creates quite a stir each morning she appears.

At the midpoint of our five minute walk from the village center to our apartment is the Domaine Galy wine shop on Avenue Aristide Maillol, featuring outstanding local wines at 3-4 euros ($4.00 to $5.00) per bottle.

We’re terribly spoiled by this.

We’ve read that a glass or two of wine every day, especially red wine, is good for you, so we test this theory regularly. We also discover the local rosé wine. Our part of France, the Languedoc Roussillon region, produces outstanding rosé, and we’ve learned to love it.

The only problem is that we can’t bring any wine back to Key West, where we have sticker shock in the fall buying wine at normal U.S. prices.

Once or twice during the summer when we have a car, we go to the larger supermarkets in Port Vendres or Argeles-sur-mer, and stock up on large purchases which are too heavy to carry. Things like soda and paper goods.

For a while, we buy bottled water, but eventually we conclude that the tap water, cooled in an empty wine bottle, is just as good, maybe better.

LEW

dining on the terrace

I like to cook.

Pat and I have a deal, in Collioure as in Key West. She sets the table (and her table settings are glorious) and cleans up. I cook. We each think we have the better of the deal.

Our kitchen is the most normal sized room in our tiny apartment, and it’s actually quite conducive to cooking. We eat most of our meals on the terrace, although we do have a small cafe table in the kitchen in case the weather is bad.

We bought a small electric grill, the French equivalent of a George Forman model, and set it out on the terrace for hamburgers, steak, and fish, and something that resembles a hot dog.

Each time we eat on the terrace, we’re captured and entranced by our view. Did Steven Spielberg create this just for us?

We hope it never gets routine.

LEW

shovelling snow with a toilet seat

We wake up one morning and the Pyrenees look like an Alpine slope. We’re told this is the first snowfall in 10 years. It keeps coming down, 2-3 inches of it, and gradually we realize we have a problem. The next morning we’re leaving by train for Paris. But to get to the train station, we have to go down 60 snow-covered steps with our heavy luggage. The internet weather forecast calls for an overnight freeze.

The steps will be solid ice.There are no snow shovels in Collioure. Searching the apartment, I find a substitute.

We had replaced our toilet seat, and had not yet discarded the old one. The lid will make a perfect shovel.

So out we go, me with the lid, Pat standing behind me in case I slip. One step at a time, backwards, I clear a path down the steps.

Our neighbor Brigitte, hearing the noise, comes out to investigate, and is convulsed with laughter. But the next morning, although everything not scraped clean is a sheet of ice, we have a clear path down the steps.

Disaster averted.

LEW

our mantra: it’s an adventure

 Many tasks will be more difficult than anticipated, especially in a language we don’t speak. Beyond language, French people often do things differently than Americans.

We try to remember it’s their country and we’re the guests. We’re the ones who should accommodate them, not the other way around.

Every single French person we deal with tries to be helpful, despite our frequent difficulty explaining what we want. In a pinch, we call on our English-speaking realtor Sam and our neighbor Brigitte.

It’s an adventure. Live the adventure. Enjoy the uncertainty.

Lest you think I’m really that patient, I should assure you that I’m often frustrated, sometimes really frustrated.

But we repeat our mantra … it’s an adventure.

Things will work out.

Often they actually do.

LEW

dishwasher & other stuff

In the summer of 2005, we had made the acquaintance of Henri, the proprietor of the only appliance store in Collioure. Henri speaks no English, but he spent a delightful half hour with us, communicating by pointing at catalogues and writing down prices.

We made the decision to use the Collioure store, rather than larger stores in nearby towns, even if the price was a little higher, which it was, so we could make local contacts for installation and subsequent service, if needed.

This has turned out to be a good decision.

January is a very good time, in a summer resort town, to buy and install appliances. Nobody has anything else to do. Henri’s colleague Yannick, who does speak English, arrives to take measurements and consider installation options.

Two days later, we have a functioning dishwasher, built into the existing kitchen cabinets, and a functioning clothes washer, free standing in the kitchen and doubling as additional counter space. Yannick provides operating instructions, and promises to return if we have any difficulties.

We opted against a clothes dryer, mainly on space considerations. Acting on Yannick’s advice, we purchased a clothes washer with high powered spin cycles to remove as much water as possible, and a drying rack for the terrace. If it’s sunny, the clothes dry pretty quickly. When it’s not sunny, that’s another story.

While the new appliances are being installed, Yannick notices that our hot water heater is leaking. A call to our friend Sam (the realtor) locates a plumber. Yes, he can come today, but he doesn’t speak English. Sam will come with him to translate.

That afternoon, we have a new hot water heater. The plumber also files down a sticky bathroom door.

Sam directs us to the only locksmith in Collioure, who also runs a shoe store, and we install additional locks and a bar for the sliding door to the terrace.

So far so good.

France Telecom and IKEA are entirely different stories (see problems).

LEW