Du Vin Chaud

One thing that Europeans do very well is Christmas Markets. Montpellier was no exception, however not on the level of those found in and around Berlin or some of the other locations I visited. This post is long overdue (as I speak, it's 20 degrees celsius/70 degrees fahrenheit, and the first of March), but that's what you get when you're off doing other things.

Our Christmas market was based in La  Place de la Comédie. Being the South of France, it still wasn't that cold here in Montpellier, so they simulated coldness by using white and blue coloured lighting (they needed to wait until early February for the two-week spell of Siberian temperatures!).

For several weeks, the thing to do around here was to meet up with friends, drink mulled wine (vin chaud) and wander around the market . . . snacking on all of the wonderful food options and running into other people in and about the temporary log cabins set up in the square.

Thanksgiving in London and Speed-Tourism

Well, as it's the best holiday ever invented (in its current evolutionary phase--I entirely agree with anyone who wants to talk about indigenous rights), I wanted to spend Thanksgiving amongst friends. Tell me if you can think of anything bad about feeling thankful, cooking, eating, drinking, friends, family, singing, games, more eating, and napping. Impossible. So with that in mind, I decided to hop the ditch and spend my thanksgiving (yes, I know this blog is hopelessly out of date) with Sarah Galbraith and contingent. Unfortunately the trip was incredibly short, so I decided to make it simple and not try to catch up with all of the other lovely people in London--that will have to wait until May/June when I return next.

On arrival, I couldn't help but sing The Wombles on the train.

And then we were off for my first London pub--and some snooker playing amongst the hippest of hipsters. Wow, there were some great woolen jerseys in that dive.

The next 24 hours were full of Thanksgiving goodness. Markets for fresh ingredients, cooking, organizing the apartment to fit more people than it should . . .

The meal itself was amazing. Turkey, two types of stuffing (one with haggis), mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, apple/blueberry sauce, numerous roast vegetables, various salads, pies and cakes galore. The English contingent pulled out all of the stops. 

The night continued on into singing and music and laughter, until I fell asleep somewhat mid-sentence. Standard.

The next day was absolutely beautiful and sunny, and we went riding our bikes all over, ending up at Derek and Laura's place for pancakes and blueberries. It was awesome to meet Achilles Renoir--what a cool wee man. We also went for a wander in Hampstead Heath, catching up on the last few years of events, and kicking leaves. Unfortunately, I left my camera at home, so you'll have to take me at my word. It was a picture-perfect endorsement for moving to London--hmmm.

My last full day in London was spent attempting to fit in a variety of tourist-centered attractions in a haphazardly browsing fashion. I started out with my atlas and compass in hand, and headed for the South bank of the Thames. I tracked down a Banksy . . . covered in plexiglass it gives food for thought--is this how street art should be treated? On the one hand, it's worth a ton of money intact, and as is can be protected from further tagging and artworks. On the other, the nature of street art is ephemeral and often politically or socially motivated and pertinent to a moment in time, rather than preservation through the ages. Thoughts?

I also saw a series of these characters . . . which I thought were incredibly emotive, encircling a worksite. Looked like they were possibly commissioned.

I then trolled the bridges . . . Tower, London, Southwark, Millenium (which looks fabulously like a spine), Blackfriars, and Waterloo.

I spent several hours at the Tate Modern. As usual, dreaming of all the artworks and projects I could do.

In wandering about London, I was intrigued and excited by the juxtaposition and layering of different epochs and styles of architecture and art. What an interesting city.

With the light fading, I suddenly realised that my version of hitting the tourist spots didn't really fulfill the norm, and that I'd at least like to catch a glimpse of some of the more famous landmarks, so I speed-walked my way about, getting in the new Globe Theatre, Big Ben, The Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace and its famous guards, Trafalgar Square, a double-decker, a red telephone box, and a heartbeat's worth of the British Museum (which only fueled fire to my desire to return). . . all in just a few hours of severe ADHD.

And then I returned to the real-world, the London I was there to see . . . spending another lovely evening with Sarah and Brendan.

In the morning, we frequented the local tea shop--I promise I'll always remember to let you have the front section of the paper first, Brendan. I cede it to you for all eternity.  Look at that look he's giving me--it's just daring me to try for it. Also, the perspective in this shot is a *little* off, but yes, he is an extremely tall, lovable Scotsman, and Sarah is quite the compact model.

Thank you all for a lovely time. And you entirely succeeded in making me think very very seriously about London as a next sedentary location for this wandering minstrel.

Oh the decisions to be made . . .

More rugby than I've ever watched in my life.

So, as a football/soccer kid, I grew up with an irrational dislike for rugby. That, and the fact that our entire country goes entirely insane over All Blacks matches and regional games alike meant that I never really paid much attention to the game.

Being here in France, in one of the big rugby cities, during the Coupe du Monde . . . I had to represent New Zealand, and represent I did.

For the pool games, I watched with my flatmate Luc, or with friends. There were even New Zealand pancakes to be had.

One particular match I watched out of the back of a car before a frisbee tournament. . .

For the final, there was more on the line. I invited a group of friends to come to a local Irish bar with me to watch the game, and return afterwards for food, games, and festivities.

There were half a dozen or so of us watching the game at the bar, and then 20 or so for the celebrations (9:30am being a little early for most on the weekend).

Luc and I went all face painted up . . . 

The bar had about 4 New Zealand supporters and 300 French. It was a little hard to be heard.

For awhile there the French were pretty excited and thinking they were going to be victorious (while I bit my fingernails).

They even sent around a rooster at celebratory moments. Calls of Allez Les Bleus resounded around the bar.

In then end, the whole thing was pretty civil. The French clapped both teams at the end of the game, and I got sprayed with champagne by Georg and Laura. My voice did not return to normal for three days, and I was briefly worried that I'd permanently damaged it.

While I'm not going to be a rugby follower, I feel more able to appreciate it. Since these games I've even gone to the local stadium and watched Montpellier play live. Who knew.

Go the All Blacks!

Bee Farm Wedding

Well. First of all, I was a bit of an idiot when planning this trip. In order to economize and pay less for train tickets I cut everything a little fine.

Getting up at 6:00am in Montpellier, I biked to the train station, ready for my train at 7:30. I took the train from Montpellier to Toulouse, waited an hour for my train from Toulouse to Pamiers, and finally arrived in Pamiers at 11:50am. I then had 3 hours to bike 24 kilometers, set up my tent, shower, put on my makeup, bike 9 more kilometers, and arrive at the wedding (which started at 3pm). I arrived at the farm at 2:58pm... shaking (and sweating) from the effort. Took off my yellow reflector vest, and I was already to go.

The day of the wedding was beautiful, and as a group, the wedding party processed up the street in Tréziers to the Mairie, surrounding Dany and Stéphanie, and their family.

There were about 100 of us in attendance, and we all tried to cram into the smallest mayor's office ever . . . which meant that I ended up watching and taking pictures of the people around me rather than the actual marriage, because I couldn't see a thing. However, there was a lot of love in the audience for the family. . . and it was lovely to see.

What a beautiful family!

From there, we mingled around in the street for awhile, then headed back to the farm. It was lovely to catch up with Alan and meet Mélanie, his girlfriend. . . . and of course chat with Louna, Manon, and Dany and Stéphanie when I could steal time with them. The wedding goers were from all walks of life, and the colours to see were beautiful.

On arrival at the farm, was a spectacle to behold. There was a beautiful fabric feature in the air . . .

Activity stands were set up around the property. You could go to the kid's corner were they had a storyteller. . .

There were others napping in their own adult's corner . . .

You could play petanque . . .

Or the game Mölkky . . . I love this game! I was too busy playing when it was going on to take pictures, but these are the pieces for the game . . .

Another area was set up for the French game, Palet. . .

And other things I didn't take pictures of. . . there was an icecream stand set up with organic pear and peach ice cream, inside there was an instructor teaching all of the traditional French dances from this region, and there was even a circus area set up with juggling balls, frisbees, and other fun things to play with. This was my kind of wedding for sure--definitely a family that appreciates games!


As the evening got later, we had amazing organic snacks and a meal.

There were performances for the happy couple, a singing group that performed songs, some original (with words especially for the bride and groom).

There was a talent show including piano pieces, other singers, a guitar piece, and one particularly memorable hula hoop show.

The day became night, and we migrated inside. Manon and a friend did a clarinet/beat poetry session, and one extremely talented friend did a mime performance, bringing participants from the audience in to be his miming orchestra as he conducted. Then we spent the evening dancing traditional french dances (I'm terrible--I never take pictures of the dancing, because I'm too busy participating).

There were also a few nice touches throughout the day/night . . . a well-wishers tree, that you could write poetry or messages to the family on. And a candy jar, where you could take a piece of candy, and a piece of paper, and write a poem, a piece of life advice, a joke, or a game on, wrap it up, for the family to enjoy later on.

Definitely a lot of thought went into this day--by the family, but also by their wonderful friends.

At 1:30am it was time for me to leave the party and the dancing, and cycle in the dark back to where I set up my tent. To bed at 2am, my alarm woke me four and a half hours later to get up and cycle the 24 miles back to Pamiers . . . avoid having a heart attack or falling off of my bicycle when a scary yelling woman came out of the corn fields with a gun (she was following hounds, and hunting foxes, I think?). . . and arrive with a half hour to spare, then begin the train trips back to Montpellier. What a weekend. Thank you to Dany, Stéphanie, Manon, and Louna for a wonderful wonderful day! And congratulations!!!