Life in Prayssac is tranquil. Work the garden. Tend the llamas. At the end of the day I like to hop on the bike and take a dive down a cave.
5/26 - France - Drive to Prayssac
Drive from Anlhiac to Sarlat and stop
Off for coffee,
Talk about serial killers,
Then back in the car winding down
South.
The sky is gray, rainy.
The fields are empty.
Climb up Domme just in time for the
Church bells
Then down the other side
to a town
I can’t remember.
Have a lovely lunch of eggs, cheese
More coffee.
Stroll thru the medieval garden there beside the church.
I go to pull up some weeds
And am yelled at by the gardner
Bon jour bon jour
I use spray for the garden
You pull and spread seeds
Just look, only look
No touching just look
I spray all the garden.
Then arrive in Prayssac. La Bouyssette. Our new home for the next two weeks.
Off for coffee,
Talk about serial killers,
Then back in the car winding down
South.
The sky is gray, rainy.
The fields are empty.
Climb up Domme just in time for the
Church bells
Then down the other side
to a town
I can’t remember.
Have a lovely lunch of eggs, cheese
More coffee.
Stroll thru the medieval garden there beside the church.
I go to pull up some weeds
And am yelled at by the gardner
Bon jour bon jour
I use spray for the garden
You pull and spread seeds
Just look, only look
No touching just look
I spray all the garden.
About 20 km north of Prayssac we stop in the little village of Les Arques where French sculptor Osip Zadkine worked. Interesting fellow. Had a Futurist-Cubist vibe going. There’s a museum where his studio used to be, his sculptures scattered through the square, in the church, beneath the alter in the crypt.
Then arrive in Prayssac. La Bouyssette. Our new home for the next two weeks.
5/25 - Anlhiac France - One last run
On the eve of our departure one last run through Anlhiac. All day the skies have been dark. Strong winds. Rumbles of thunder. Start running in the evening and near the road to Genis, rain finally hits us. We duck beneath an awning and watch it wash across the countryside.
5/22 - Anlhiac, France - Ronnie Caryl
In the evening we travel to Genis to see Ronnie Caryl perform at St. Christophe’s bar. Ronnie Caryl is a guitar player and used to work with Phil Collins. To repeat, Phil Collins had a guitar player and I saw him play in Southern France. No, I am not making this up.
We pull in and the square is full of cars, the bar full of life – Folks young and old smoking hand-rolled cigarettes, holding plastic cups of beer while children race through the crowd. We meet a young French woman also working as a farmer. She says the work makes her tired but then she knows she’s alive.
Near midnight, Ronnie takes the stage with his band right behind him. He is large and they all have ponytails. Something like Jerry Garcia with a lizard for a keyboard player. After fumbling through a few verses of “Mustang Sally” everyone takes solos.
How strange: to be in a French town full of French people, watching them dance to shaky covers of American music played by a bar band. I suppose it was refreshing to be in front of live musicians again. But it was also surreal and a little upsetting. Iowa’s open mic night as an American export, following me to France like the monster follows Frankenstein. Ronnie plays well into the night, far later than I care to remember. For the record, there was no “In the Air Tonight.” Though quite a funky version of “I Can’t Dance.”
We pull in and the square is full of cars, the bar full of life – Folks young and old smoking hand-rolled cigarettes, holding plastic cups of beer while children race through the crowd. We meet a young French woman also working as a farmer. She says the work makes her tired but then she knows she’s alive.
Near midnight, Ronnie takes the stage with his band right behind him. He is large and they all have ponytails. Something like Jerry Garcia with a lizard for a keyboard player. After fumbling through a few verses of “Mustang Sally” everyone takes solos.
How strange: to be in a French town full of French people, watching them dance to shaky covers of American music played by a bar band. I suppose it was refreshing to be in front of live musicians again. But it was also surreal and a little upsetting. Iowa’s open mic night as an American export, following me to France like the monster follows Frankenstein. Ronnie plays well into the night, far later than I care to remember. For the record, there was no “In the Air Tonight.” Though quite a funky version of “I Can’t Dance.”
5/21 - Anlhiac France - Digging up an overgrown garden
Visit with S. and her husband, S., an American couple living outside Exideuiel. Locals say that gypsies once lived in their home, used the first floor as a dog kennel, let their children play on the roof. We work the overgrown garden and limbs of plastic dolls come up in the dirt. As I’m digging, Katie shears a bay leaf hedge and the air smells like crème.
When the work is finished, we head inside to share a delicious meal, discuss American writers and the dangers of French real estate. I’ve forgotten how valuable it is to sit down with others at the dinner table. Such a satisfying form of communication.
When the work is finished, we head inside to share a delicious meal, discuss American writers and the dangers of French real estate. I’ve forgotten how valuable it is to sit down with others at the dinner table. Such a satisfying form of communication.
5/20 - Anlhiac France - Gherashim Luca
Travel to Saint-Yrieix-la-Perche with Katie, Leni and S. Visit an exhibit of Gherashim Luca’s Fluxus artwork then listen to Michael Lonsdale read his poetry. All in French of course which turns the evening into one long sound poem for me. I dig it. The collage work, especially.
Afterward, there is dinner and I have pizza. Always pizza. Still different from America of course - European pizza is thinner and made for one person, uncut. Still, I have to laugh at myself for moving here and eating dishes not too far off from what I’d have in the states. No place for vegetarians at the French dinner table, I’m learning.
Afterward, there is dinner and I have pizza. Always pizza. Still different from America of course - European pizza is thinner and made for one person, uncut. Still, I have to laugh at myself for moving here and eating dishes not too far off from what I’d have in the states. No place for vegetarians at the French dinner table, I’m learning.
5/17 - Anlhiac France - Town Ramble
To be fair, Anlhiac has 300 people living here and of those 300 I've only met a few. Still. Of those few. I must say, they can walk impressively long distances.
Today was the Town Ramble. A yearly event in which those that live here take a rocky and gorgeous stroll thru the country together. We meet at 9 am in the center of town. Then head into the woods. Then re-emerge 4 hours later. Grand total : 12 kilometers. The paper even took a picture. Somewhere tomorrow, there will be a happy group of French folks with my beard and sunglasses interrupting the back row.
After the walk, everyone has lunch together in what used to be the school. As we eat, a set of dark haired brothers patrol the dining room, weild plastic guns and execute tables full of grown-ups. They serve bowls of rice and macaroni salad. Pork. Sausage. More meat I don't really recognize. Then unveil such a smorgasbord of home made desserts that I can't help but stuff myself.
Today was the Town Ramble. A yearly event in which those that live here take a rocky and gorgeous stroll thru the country together. We meet at 9 am in the center of town. Then head into the woods. Then re-emerge 4 hours later. Grand total : 12 kilometers. The paper even took a picture. Somewhere tomorrow, there will be a happy group of French folks with my beard and sunglasses interrupting the back row.
After the walk, everyone has lunch together in what used to be the school. As we eat, a set of dark haired brothers patrol the dining room, weild plastic guns and execute tables full of grown-ups. They serve bowls of rice and macaroni salad. Pork. Sausage. More meat I don't really recognize. Then unveil such a smorgasbord of home made desserts that I can't help but stuff myself.
5/11 - Anlhaic France - Day trip to Perigeux
Up at 6 45 for our second bike ride to Excideuil. This time to catch a bus that will take us into Perigueux, the region's capital some 45 kilometers southwest of Anlhaic. In the morning, it is quiet, there is little traffic. As I'm pedaling I try not to topple over and go back to sleep in a ditch.
Arrive by 7 30. Find the bus stop and park the bikes beside a restaurant. In the distance, Excideuil's church chimes 'Ode to Joy' in a key that is off and makes the song sound broken. We have time to kill and so Katie finds the bakery while I stumble around the castle. At 8 o clock the bus pulls up to the corner.
Read Raymond Carver and watch the country side roll by. Small towns, green fields. A man in his garden, peeing. I find it impressive that this trip is forty five miles long and only costs me two Euros. By the time we reach Perigueux it is close to 9 o clock.
We're dropped off in the middle of town, right outside a movie theater showing Madagascar 2. I suggest we ditch the history tour and nod toward the marquee. Katie has never seen Madagascar 1 and anticipates the plot will be too hard to follow.
What we think of as Sunday in America is more like Monday in France and so many of the shops are closed today. Still, as we squeeze thru the city's narrow streets there are a few shops that stay open, lure us in with fresh baked bread products dangling out open windows. I try to imagine an analog of this back home and come up with gas stations and bags of Wonderbread hanging above cigarette racks. I am still very glad to be here.
Perigueux dates back to before the Roman empire and is known for its immaculate cathedral of St. Front as well as the remains of a Gallic temple and amphitheater.
Also, for the conspicuous amount of airline traffic forever streaming overhead.
Lunch at a cafe. K has pasta carbonara. M has vegetarian pizza. After-meal espressos for both. Quite good. We board the bus back to Excideuil and find it filled with noisy kids heading home after a long day of school. Think, sitting in a kindergärtner's chair and trying to retain your dignity.
Afterward, the grueling uphill trek back to Anlhaic where we collapse on the couch and instantly fall asleep.
Arrive by 7 30. Find the bus stop and park the bikes beside a restaurant. In the distance, Excideuil's church chimes 'Ode to Joy' in a key that is off and makes the song sound broken. We have time to kill and so Katie finds the bakery while I stumble around the castle. At 8 o clock the bus pulls up to the corner.
Read Raymond Carver and watch the country side roll by. Small towns, green fields. A man in his garden, peeing. I find it impressive that this trip is forty five miles long and only costs me two Euros. By the time we reach Perigueux it is close to 9 o clock.
We're dropped off in the middle of town, right outside a movie theater showing Madagascar 2. I suggest we ditch the history tour and nod toward the marquee. Katie has never seen Madagascar 1 and anticipates the plot will be too hard to follow.
What we think of as Sunday in America is more like Monday in France and so many of the shops are closed today. Still, as we squeeze thru the city's narrow streets there are a few shops that stay open, lure us in with fresh baked bread products dangling out open windows. I try to imagine an analog of this back home and come up with gas stations and bags of Wonderbread hanging above cigarette racks. I am still very glad to be here.
Perigueux dates back to before the Roman empire and is known for its immaculate cathedral of St. Front as well as the remains of a Gallic temple and amphitheater.
Also, for the conspicuous amount of airline traffic forever streaming overhead.Lunch at a cafe. K has pasta carbonara. M has vegetarian pizza. After-meal espressos for both. Quite good. We board the bus back to Excideuil and find it filled with noisy kids heading home after a long day of school. Think, sitting in a kindergärtner's chair and trying to retain your dignity.
Afterward, the grueling uphill trek back to Anlhaic where we collapse on the couch and instantly fall asleep.
Anlhaic France - 5/7 - Cycle to Excedeuil
A hilly bike ride to Excedeuil. Going down is much more fun than coming back.
Anlhaic, France - 5/6 - till/plant/walk/run
Over the past few days I have:
Tilled two patches of ground in preparation for sewing. The soil is thick here. Closer to clay. I unearth with a pitchfork then smash down all the clumps.
(Casualties ? Yes. One wooden rake handle.)
Together, with Katie planted a long row of corn, a set of herbs, two lemon leaf trees...
Walked thru the countryside exploring, exploring.
Running again. Follow paved roads that turn into dirt, into rutted two tracks that disappear in a field. I jog past and the cows near the fence stop to survey my form.
Tilled two patches of ground in preparation for sewing. The soil is thick here. Closer to clay. I unearth with a pitchfork then smash down all the clumps.
(Casualties ? Yes. One wooden rake handle.)
Together, with Katie planted a long row of corn, a set of herbs, two lemon leaf trees...
Walked thru the countryside exploring, exploring.
Running again. Follow paved roads that turn into dirt, into rutted two tracks that disappear in a field. I jog past and the cows near the fence stop to survey my form.
Anlhaic France - 5/3 - Harvest Willow branches
Leni is building a willow bench and we head down to
the river for bendable wood.
the river for bendable wood.
Anlhaic France - 5/2 - Thiviers Market
In the morning we head west to the outdoor market in Thiviers. Booths full of fresh produce, fresh breads and artisan cheese. The weather is wonderful and so we wander off thru the city. Stop in to a pâtisseri. Munch on an éclair that, with each bite, dismantles all memories of Dunkin' Donuts from my mind.
Afterward, we reconvene at a coffee shop. Talk about what it means to be happy, what it means to be content. In the corner there is a flatscreen showing Eminem on MTV. As we leave, we cut thru the market and walk past a tent with roasted chickens slowly spinning on rotisserie.
Afterward, we reconvene at a coffee shop. Talk about what it means to be happy, what it means to be content. In the corner there is a flatscreen showing Eminem on MTV. As we leave, we cut thru the market and walk past a tent with roasted chickens slowly spinning on rotisserie.
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