Bazancourt!

Well, kids, I've been shoveling shit and milking cows for the last three weeks with a wonderful family in Bazancourt. The village is very small--not a shop nor a cafe in sight. I'm up most mornings to milk the cows and see the sun come up, then again at 6pm to see the sun set. I've learned how to make fromage blanc, which is delicious, and laundry soap from ashes and water, which is less delicious, but pretty strong. Sundays we eat all day with friends of the family. Grampa (Dede) visits every few days and washes the dishes and folds the laundry!




One afternoon, I rode my bike to a nearby village where I'd seen this--Une Chapelle de la Vierge, with a set of white statures of women in the tree beside it. I've been reading "The Discovery of France" by Graham Robb, and he mentioned that a lot of these sites are old pagan sites that have been transformed into Christian (RC) sites. It's amazing to read that pagan rituals lived along side Christian ones until surprisingly recently. I prefer the ladies in the tree--far more natural--to the stone and iron chapel, but the chapels are usually quite pretty, with a small shrine inside, though the door is usually locked. Claire told me that they are less and less attended to--no surprise, really. Perhaps there will be a rejuvenation in interest in old sites and old practices such as these. I did my part and placed a few coins at the foot of the statues.

I was going to head back home, but decided instead to follow a sign pointing me off to a Commonwealth Graves Commission Cemetary from the Great War. It was a small square filled with non-European labourers--mostly Indian and Chinese. There were two apple trees to one side, and the ripe red apples spread about the grass was a pretty contrast to the plain white headstones.

One afternoon I looked out the kitchen window to see a solid line of Starlings perched on the wires. By the time I had returned with my camera, most of them had flown off, but I took a shot anyway; I love clouds and blue sky; I love wires and birds. It was a perfect picture, and reminds me of how quite the house could be in Bazancourt.

My French has improved vastly, I think, living with a French speaking family, and they've been quite patient with me as I've stumbled my way through it. I'm sad to be leaving, but the day is approaching--Tuesday I set off to cross France, literally. I'll be travelling from Paris to Perpignan and possibly to Laroque des Alberes all in one day. Fussing around in Perpignan trying to find a hotel at night (7) seems like more work than 15 extra minutes on the train and an 8km bike ride. But it's in the dark...

If you haven't got your letters in the mail, why not?