I'll Believe it When it Happens

Major news. It does appear that our internet is really and actually about to arrive. I ordered it on the 24th of June, so it's only taken 5½ weeks. Almost instant! My delayed appointment with the "what is my telephone number" man started well with a call to say he'd be there at 2pm. Of course 2pm came and went, as did 3pm. At 3:30 I happened to see a man wandering around looking lost in the square and asked him if he was a telecom man. Oui! He had a 2 minute look, then disappeared for an hour. We thought that's about par for the course, and we'd get another time on another day. But no, he did reappear and finally came upstairs with a bit of paper containing our number.

The daft thing is that physically installing and connecting a new line costs 39€, but simply finding the number of an existing line is 69€. No real surprise though. The next trick was to let Free know the number, so they could arrange for the connection and the FreeBox to be sent. You might expect there would be an email address to send a note to. No. How about a web page with a box to fill in. No. Perhaps you could talk to somebody. No. You can send a fax though they charge you for the connection time. I suppose a registered letter would do it too. The only real option is "Eve", a horrible automated phone-in system. My French does OK with people, but a scratchy high-speed automated voice was too much for me. So we waited overnight, hoping that the number would be fed back through the system. About mid-morning the "follow your progress" page changed, our new (old) number was there, and our box was getting ready to be sent. Awesome! By now, the line is active, the box is on its way to the courier, and all in the garden is looking rosy. I wonder what the next glitch will be.

We won't know ourselves when it is all in and working. I have a decent amount of work on, all of which needs connection from time to time to NZ, and Karen is spending a lot of time on the internet doing research for her book. Both have been very tricky. We've also missed being able to Skype family and friends in NZ, Oz and the US.

Other than that, we are settling in to life here now we are back to just the two of us. We shop far more often than in NZ, fruit maybe three times a week, bread every day, main groceries perhaps weekly, with a top-up midweek. Part of the difference is that French produce is sold ready to eat right then and there, and you can't buy a week's worth and expect it to be in good condition at week's end. How's this for a gorgeous fish display in Carrefour...I'll have half a shark please, and four tentacles.

Almost every night here, one or other of the bars has a band outside. Last night it was a French Irish one which sounded rather fun, so we headed on out to find it and spend half an hour or so listening.

Karen had a bit of a shock today. We'd bought a cheap set of scales and tried them out for the first time, expecting some increase. Karen went a bit quiet (actually a stunned silence would be more accurate), finding she was some 5 or 6 kg up on her normal. What she had failed to notice was the large male foot that had snuck in, under cover below her skirt, and was adding 5 or 6 kg! The good news is that all is well and we can continue to eat pastries.

C'est la Vie

Another cracking hot day today. The 21 degrees for our early morning run at 7:30am was still too hot for John. I'm lucky that the temperatures don't worry me at all. I either have a higher tolerance of pain or perhaps I am just more 'bloody minded'. I guess that is how I tackled triathlons. Anyway, a quick (cold) shower and off to Perpignan to escort Sally safely onto her train to Lille. She is spending the next week with our nephew Nick, his French wife Emma and their young son Jack. I'm sure she will have a ball. She had a pretty relaxing time here, with the Feria possibly being a highlight, along with the trip on the Petit Train Jaune.

I thought I would just add some random photos below to illustrate some of the stuff that's been going on.

Sardanes dancing on the street. Everyone joins in, but not us.

People Towers

A typical lunch

Sally enjoying an ice cream after our Petit Train Jaune trip

The temperature today outside Bar Pablo. It is hotter still in our church square.

John's current collection of salamis

I obviously have to take far more photos of John, because he's not featuring enough!

Fred's is Tops

Dinner last night at Atelier de Fred. It was superb, and checking it out afterwards on TripAdvisor showed 5/5 for 40 of the 41 ratings, so other people think so too. No surprise as the welcome was great, the service friendly and helpful, and the food excellent. Several cuts above anything else we have tried in Céret. It's tricky picking a good place to eat, as they do change, and there are so many. At the moment the pick has got to be Fred's. These desserts were superb...

Two days ago we went up on Le Petit Train Jaune. We picked a day that looked less likely to thunderstorm in the afternoon, and got it right. Into Perpignan on the 1€ bus, out to Villefranche-de-Conflent on the 1€ train, then into the queue for the Petit Train. It paid to get the tickets in Perpignan so we were up front in the queue to get the pick of seats. We chose not to be in the open car on the way up, but directly behind it where there is an outside platform. Quite a different trip to last time, as the meadows heading up to our stop Font-Romeu were in full bloom and really attractive.

The train times have changed a little (I think) so we only had enough time at the top for a stretch before jumping back on for the return. We thought we'd try the outside car, which was fun but very hot. We had plenty of time to wander round Villefranche, have lunch and later have a coffee and a bit of a read in the main square. Most pleasant. By the time we got back home we were all pretty tired - with all the various travel legs it is quite a day - 7am to 10pm.

Another outing today Thursday - up the valley to Arles-sur-Tech. It's an attractive and clearly very old town. Very different to Céret in that it seems a lot older and less touristy, but unfortunately the main road cuts through it and detracts a lot from it. We loved the cloisters of the Abbaye Saint Marie, and lunch at Les Caves Mouragues was excellent. We are better off in Céret, as there is so much on, and we are half an hour closer to the coast and Perpignan.

I suspect it has been our hottest day yet with 35.9 outside as I write this at 6pm! We have managed to keep the apartment comfortable by keeping an eye on the inside and outside temperatures and closing and opening the windows to suit. Sorry NZ readers, but I am forced to include this...

Some frustrating news on the comms front. We were booked to have our phone line sorted on Wednesday, but got a call early in the morning saying sorry, because of the thunderstorms our appointment had been delayed a week. I managed to get it moved forward Monday, so a small win, and a good test of my French skills. Talking on the phone is so much more difficult than face-to-face. We have also suffered 2 days of feeble internet, and I have been forced to use my phone for connection, but a reboot of next door's box has improved things again. It will be SSSOOOO good when we get our own fast connection.

We are very pleased with the way our French is coming along. We have reached the point where we have conversations with locals, rather than just do prices and orders. Karen can understand most conversations and is getting very good on written French. Having the confidence to actually talk about things means we hear and use far more French, which makes us better at speaking and understanding, which means we talk more...

Wobbly Times at Home

It's been an odd day today. We've been avidly watching geonet.co.nz to follow the amazing swarm of earthquakes centred not far south of Wellington. Another two of 4.2 and 4.5 just now! It's strange being so far away and not being part of it.

The major concert of the Sardanes Festival will start in 40 minutes, as long as the evening rain stays away. We are looking forward to our grandstand view once more. I'v enjoyed the sardanes weekend more than last year, perhaps as I can recognise some of the dance patterns a bit more, and can see how horribly difficult it is despite looking very simple at first glance.

We finally managed to actually see the events we intended to yesterday. We've found ourselves at so many "free" things that have a charge, or events that simply never appear either when or where (or both) they are meant to. This time we hoped to see the castellar human castles, and did so. We followed that with the parade of sardanes teams heading to their competition, straight past us while we were having a nice birthday meal for Sally at Can Jordi.

Had a haircut from Sylvie yesterday. Wow. She got a bit carried away. Note that a No.6 cutter in France is way closer than a No.3 cutter back in New Zealand. I won't be needing another cut this side of xmas! Nevertheless I had a most enjoyable time talking with her about all sorts of things, in French of course.

A nice quiet morning today. After watching another round of sardanes at Place des Neuf Jets, we escaped for a pleasant coffee in the sun at Bar le Pablo. It is a pleasure just sitting quietly people-watching with a café or a rosé (same price by the way).

Une catastrophe! The concert is being moved into the church, so we won't be able to see it. Merde. Our best view of the year and we are going to miss out.

How Aussie Politics Affects Us in France

We've had a couple of fraught days on behalf of our daughter Bella. On Wednesday Kevin Rudd (recycled Aussie PM) announced that the current regime of Fringe Benefit Tax arrangements was to change with immediate effect. Bella's company's reason for existence was more or less wiped out instantly, so on Thursday the staff were told 74 of 150 would lose their jobs the next day.

Early this morning we had a cheering call from Bella that she had made the cut and still had employment. A great relief to us, her and no doubt Nic. One tiny downside was that if she'd lost her job, she might have come out to see us, however we can wait!

Normally we keep pretty well away from news, just looking online at the Nelson Mail every few days to keep some vague handle on what is going on. It's one of the nice things about being here. NZ and Aussie politics are so far away as to be meaningless, and we can't understand French politics, so it all works out well most of the time. It's amazing how much time it saves not having news to watch. At the moment, the only TV we watch is a couple of hours of Tour de France in the afternoons, otherwise it is reading.

Preparations are well under way for the weekend's Sardanes dance festival. We will have 3 days of ear-piercing oboes, strange slow circular dances and lovely costumes. It will be fun like all the festivals, but from experience we know the high-pitched oboe gets to you after three days. The best bit is the concert on Sunday night straight down below us, where we can drink our wine and watch for free from our balconies. The seats have been waiting for days, and the stage went up today.

Our apartment is the top level of the middle building (3 windows, 2 are lit)

I've just had a call from either France Telecom or Free to arrange a time to have our telephone line checked. I coped really well with the language and set a time and date with them, so Free can go ahead and deliver the FreeBox that will give us internet and wifi (and automatically an absurd 195 channels of French TV). There are a couple of English-language news channels and we can add BBC news for the silly sum of 0.25€/month. At some point I will get up on the roof and shift the satellite dish so we can pick up some more channels from the UK, but we don't feel any urgency at the moment. Having decent internet will be a great relief. Sitting doing work with the laptop balanced on the dishwasher (best wifi reception) is not all that much fun.

Another win on the telecommunications front is that my phone has decided it will accept texts from New Zealand, a mere fortnight after I ticked the various boxes online to tell it to do so. A good supply of patience can be very useful to have in France. New Zealand deserves its reputation as a very easy place to do business - so much can be done instantly, online or by phone, when the equivalent here is letters, many phone calls, and poorly designed websites.

We walked up to Hermitage San Ferreol this morning. Seemed quite a long way up today, but seemed a very long way down. We've had afternoon rain for the last week, and the humidity has risen, though temperatures have begun to drop too. A good thunderstorm this afternoon again, but back to clear skies.

Property Hunting

At 10am today we had organised to view another property with one of our real estate agents. Or so we thought. It ended up that we viewed probably about 12! Sally came with us and thoroughly enjoyed the expedition. Some of the places were two or three apartments on different levels within the same building. These places tended to be completely stripped and replaced with white walls, white ceilings, completely bare and 'sans' kitchen. We wrote these ones off pretty quickly. However, some of the other apartments were quite interesting, including a small one bedroom (with outdoor terrace) just across the square from us. The agent's theory was that if we bought it, visitors could have their own little self-contained apartment, otherwise we could rent it out. One complicating thing was that the baker is resident on the ground floor of this building and we thought any visitors would find the aromas from it far too disturbing (salivating). We also want a larger two-bedroom place, not two one-bedroom abodes.

We were, in fact, extremely taken with a four level apartment building on a street very near to ours. It had been completely renovated, including being rewired, replumbed, new paintwork, modern ensuites accompanying the three the very large bedrooms, and an amazing large roof terrace with 270 degree views over the town and surrounding hills. The only stumbling block was the price, unsurprisingly. If we had decided that we were looking for a more permanent home here we would definitely have pursued it. We aren't at that point (yet?).

So, all-in-all, we are still focussed on the option of extending upstairs above our own apartment. We were hoping to catch our builder yesterday afternoon to ask when we might expect our devis (estimate) but he wasn't in a particularly receptive frame of mind. The reason was that we joined up with him to attend the funeral of our friend Manu. We were extremely surprised that a couple of hundred turned up at the church below us. It was the first catholic service either John or I had been to, and it was fine. The service only lasted 30 minutes, then everyone (as is the tradition here) filed past the bereaved family in single file to pass on their condolences. Severine gave us both big hugs and I think she really did appreciate us being there. We like to think so anyway. Our builder, who had probably grown up with Manu, was pretty upset so we thought it was probably not the best time to talk about building work.

With the three hours of house-viewing in the morning, quickly followed by the funeral, John and I felt reasonably overwhelmed and thought it best to head to Bar Pablo (our builder had the same idea) for a demi of rosé. It was still only 4pm but what the heck. We were soon joined by our Aussie friends who were flying out to Santorini the next day and wanted a farewell drink with us. We were joined by Sally and then another couple and didn't get home until 8pm. A home-cooked meal at 9:30pm rounded off a tiring day.

Tasty Toro

A quiet day, after a lovely quiet night. A long swim at the public pool this morning was a real pleasure, with the air temperature getting to 30 degrees before 11am. John and I did some work in the afternoon while Sally had a 'nana' nap.

We found out this morning that our friend Manu had died on Saturday night. We bought a bouquet of flowers and took them around to Severine. She welcomed us with open arms and a few tears, then asked if we wanted to see Manu! John fairly promptly said 'yes' (what else can you really say) but it took me very much by surprise. Severine duly opened up the door to Manu's room and there he was lying on the bed a metre away. Of course he looked very grey, and still (obviously!), and it shook me up a little. However, we soon said goodbye and John took me off for a stiff shot of caffeine.

Home to a glass of wine and then we unanimously decided it was time to try a restaurant in town. The only problem was that most were closed for the day, in recovery mode from the weekend. We finally found one just around the corner from the church and sat down at 8:10pm, with two other tables having a total of 6 diners. We ordered straight away and waited expectantly for our demi of red wine, which finally arrived at 9pm. 10 minutes later our entrée arrived and 15 minutes after that our main. John chose cuttlefish and salad but Sally and I got into the real spirit of the weekend and had toro (bull). Hence, the photo below shows toro on the hoof, and the lowest photo shows toro on the plate. It was delicious, extremely tender, and gave a good kick (no pun intended) of iron. My dosage of iron has been lacking of late, principally because we're not eating much meat.

Actually, I tell a lie. None of the toros that raced through the streets, and subsequently saw battle in the arena a few blocks away, were on any menus that night. It is government law that all bulls from bullfights are cremated. Apparently the stress causes the meat to be very tough anyway, which seems a reasonable response to being stabbed with sharp objects in the back of the neck. There are now only four bullfighting rinks left in France where the bulls actually fight to the death. Céret is one of them. In all the others, the matadors merely pluck rosettes from the bulls' horns to demonstrate their agility and daring.

Post Feria and Still Alive

Wow, what a weekend. It's quite hard to convey in words what we have experienced over the last 48 hours. Sally arrived in time to experience the Feria and has really enjoyed it, especially experiencing the crush of the huge number of people having a lot of fun, dancing, joking and really enjoying themselves. The amount of booze is amazing. Dry July doesn't get a look-in here in Cerét at Feria time. Here is part of the supply for just one of the 30-odd bars...

It is quite stunning to all three of us that so many thousands of people (mostly young) can have so much fun, drinking included, but we never came across any cross words, arguments, fighting or spewing. The approach to drinking is so very different here. Everyone has fun, but they don't seem to get tanked. The emphasis is more on having fun with friends, and dancing. The contrast with young people getting together to drink in New Zealand couldn't be greater!

The church square below us fairly hummed (more like shook) with music until 4am on Saturday and Sunday mornings, but we actually managed to sleep pretty well, with ears well plugged up. Continuous bands playing up and down the main streets, displays of Brazilian, Spanish and local Sardanes dancing, a huge market day on Saturday morning, bull-running on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, bullfighting for those interested, capped with a magic fireworks display on Sunday night for Bastille Day have combined into a stunning weekend. 

The bull-running was particularly exciting. On Saturday the woman 'cowboy' was run into a barrier by one of the bulls. Her boot was torn off her foot and left implanted in the barrier while she grimly hung off the side of her horse until she regained her balance 100m later. She was the boss of all the cowboys and a pretty tough character, but she looked pretty shaken all the same. However, yesterday's bull-running surpassed that. Somewhere along the route one of the cowboys parted company with his horse and ended up with a badly damaged arm, if not broken. The riders are incredibly good, extremely well-versed in herding the bulls and are extremely vigilant. They all have particular stations to keep before, beside and at the rear of the bulls. For all that, accidents can happen and do. 

Last, but not least, the odd male macho will attempt to run with the bulls, and this is permitted. The cowboys keep a good eye on them. However, two very wobbly drunks decided to walk the last part of the route and seemed pretty oblivious to their peril. At the end of the route, near where we were standing, one of the drunks managed to clamber up over a barrier and wobbled to safety. The other, however, decided to plonk himself down on the ramp of the truck that the bulls are herded up into by the cowboys. The guys on the roof of the truck, who open and close the truck doors, waved the guy to get away but he seemed very content just sitting there. The inevitable happened. The bulls appeared at the far end of the street, careering around the corner, and the guy just sat there facing them. It was like watching slow motion. The guy sitting on the truck ramp at one end, with three bulls charging at him from the other. The crowd was yelling at him to get up but he seemed quite oblivious to it all. 

The amazing thing was that the bulls seemed to try and go around him instead of through him. However, I watched as at least one of the bulls seemed to go over the top of him. He was pretty flattened, and the emergency medics rushed to him extremely quickly. He could very easily have been gored and died on the spot, but there was no blood and we saw one of his hands moving so he wasn't dead. He might have had the odd hoof or two planted on his over-large belly, but was certainly knocked flat on his back and stayed there. The medics eventually got him onto a stretcher and I guess he went to hospital. It was all a bit surreal watching it. Just HAD to have a shot of caffeine after that, so Sally and I had a coffee. John had missed the drama because he was back at the apartment doing some work. Sally and I managed to subsequently catch an awesome Spanish guitar group, drumming group and finally some upbeat Sardanes dancing before going back home. We are now feeling fairly Feria-ed out.

Earlier Sunday morning we went on a 2½ hour walk up around the Les Hauts de Ceret (heights of Ceret) loop, having a picnic lunch on the way back down. It was very pleasant, and gave Sally some great views of the valley out towards the sea. getting away from the constant noise was nice for a bit! However getting back to it was fun too.

The finale for the Feria was fireworks at the rugby stadium. It was simply spectacular  It ran for a full 15 minutes, with multiple fireworks going off all the time. Best we have ever seen we think, and an amazing effort for a town of only 8000 people.

Feriaaaaaaa!

We’ve reached the biggest event of the year for Céret, even bigger than the Cherry Festival of late May. The Feria is a mix of drinking, bands, drinking, DJs, drinking, bull running, drinking and even bullfighting, oh yes and drinking. Every large space becomes the home for a sports clubs bodega (bar) which consists of some 20 or more metres of bar selling beer, sangria, pastis and more at 2€, and water and wine at 1€. It’s the major annual fundraiser for all the local sports clubs, and a whole lot of noise and fun. There will be 20-30 of these bars through the centre, so imagine the amount of drinking that will take place. From 8 each evening there are 9 brass bands moving about the streets, plus 8 orchestras, followed later on by DJs from late in the night until 4am! It is a riot of serious revelry, something many locals try to escape from. We enjoyed it last year though we did escape for a day to the Tour de France which happened to be close. Sunday will bring an additional feature – a major fireworks display for Bastille Day.

It began during the week with preparations taking place. First the banners, then all potentially damageable town features get barriers and cane protection. Temporary steel public urinals get attached to convenient buildings and plugged into local taps.  When I say public, I don’t just mean for the use of the public, but public in terms of they are right in view where people walk past. Wednesday is when the bars begin to be moved in, with Thursday a mad days of trucks and deliveries. People everywhere setting up the temporary bars, erecting barricades, bringing in bar and cooking equipment. This morning was the delivery of the alcohol. The bodega below us in the church square (can you imagine a New Zealand cathedral having a bar set up at its front door?) had three flat-deck trucks of beer kegs delivered, and that is just the beer, and for just one of the dozens of bars. it is very social with the guys putting things together, their wives helping and providing food while it happens, and the kids all playing together in the square. Needless to say, our scoot has been moved out of the centre of town to a quieter spot (it doesn't like the noise).

Action began last night with a “spectacular” at Place Henri Guitard. A 20-strong group consisting of a brass band, singers and five female dancers played from 10pm to at least midnight, and probably another 1½ hours after. They were superb. Seriously good equipment with great lighting, smoke, massive sound and an unbelievable number of costume changes. They started with rock and roll songs, with great backing and good singing, and always the dancers. Really polished and a good start to the festivities.

Sally Arrives

Having checked out the roof space again, and seen the amazing views we just might be able to get, we spent some time on Wednesday looking at what else we could do. We looked at 3 places, all quite different. The first was fascinating, and revived our desires to do up something, as it was a pair of old village house separated by a courtyard. The size was generous - three levels of 36 and 34m² respectively - but the amount of work and money required would have been excessive. The other two were both city apartments, but were a little characterless compared to where we are, and the views we have out our windows each day are hard to beat. So nothing there that really comes close to what we could end up with.

While we were looking at houses, my mother Sally was winging her way across the Mediterranean into Barcelona, then talking the multi-stage route to Céret as we did. We were meeting her in Perpignan and took the opportunity to go in a good bit early to have a look at the city, something we haven't really done justice to before. The historic centre proved to be much larger than we knew, and full of pedestrian streets. It's an attractive area, very much in daily use rather than being a tourist trap. Have a look at the date on this massive lock...

To Karen's delight, the annual French sales are on, and every shop had a lot on sale - from 30-60% off. By the time we met up with Sally back at the train station, we had a surfeit of bags hanging off us. Hummpph.

Sally had arrived in very good form, less tired than we had been. Her train was 30 minutes delayed, but we had a decent gap until the 1€ bus, so no issue. Back home by 10pm, a little late and a little tired but not an issue. Sally chose to come for the Feria, the main festival. It will be very interesting, and very loud.

Excited Little Bunnies

Excited little bunnies is not referring to the meal of rabbit that we ate last night. We had arranged for our builder (Antoine) (who worked with us last year) to have a look at the attic space above us and discuss the work that needed doing. His summation, in three words, 'pas de problème' (no problem). We won't need an engineer, we now have the name of a master-of-works who will be able to see the applications through the national and local planning offices, and everything we wish to do is achievable, for a price of course. We spent an hour together, including clambering out onto the roof from the adjacent apartment, and discussed all the issues.  

Antoine is a great guy and we trust him to do a good job. He certainly proved himself in the work he did for us last year. He is about to renovate the apartment downstairs we think to the same plan that we had him do for our apartment. We showed the new Parisian owners through our apartment a wee while ago and think they want to replicate what we have done rather than use their architect son's plans. Antoine also completely rebuilt the apartment upstairs and knows the building inside-out. 

The next step is to get his estimate. It will either make or break the project. Onto his price we have to add the cost of the master-of-works, two planning consents, notaire for the legal paperwork, purchase price of the space from the body corporate, plumber and electrician, cost of materials that we install ourselves, e.g. plaster, paint, tiles etc. The total cost has to stack up, or get close to stacking up to the extra value the new bedroom and terrace will add to our apartment as a whole. I hope Antoine comes back with a price soon because we are pretty excited about the possibility. The views from up on the roof were wonderful, including a clear view of the famous Catalan mountain Canigou. This view is from half a level up above our proposed terrace, which will look due west directly at Canigou (under the clouds). Here's hoping...

A Sublime French Meal

Saturday was a memorable day for us, for a number of reasons. We did the usual market run for fresh fruit and vegetables in the morning followed by a café. Work on the laptops for both of us in the afternoon before we togged up in our scooter gear and headed out to Laroque-des-Alberes. We spent an hour with our Irish friends (who had recorded 40 degrees on the thermometer attached to their house earlier in the day). Next off to our new French friends who we had met briefly at the market the following week. Considering we had only talked for a maximum of five minutes, and even then across other people seated at our table, it was amazing to get an invitation to their house in Laroque. I think one of the main reasons was because they had been to NZ, including Nelson, in February this year and were keen to talk to NZers.

Well, what a time we had. They are an interesting couple, mid-60s, no children and very widely travelled, very well educated, ex-teachers in language and literature and speak about 5-6 languages between them. We had some very interesting discussions about language and Miquèl would often give us a word in Catalan, Languedoc, French, Spanish, Occitan. Pascale, his wife, comes from Basque country in SW France.

We first spent a few hours in their pool (30º) or basking in deckchairs at the side as we chatted away, then sat down to 1. an apero (a quite sweet Banyul Ambré aperitif wine) and nibbly dishes of cured duck and tapenade. An hour later we moved to the outside table and feasted on the following courses 2. escalivado (sliced, fried and baked red pepper, onion, anchovies, eggplant), 3. lamb and sauced potato slices, 4. salad, 5. cheeses and bread, 6. gateau and 7. a cup of tisane. The meal took over four hours and was extremely pleasant. Miquèl and Pascal are extremely easy-going and easy to chat with. We finally left just before midnight. It was quite fun scootering back at night. They emailed us photos of their house surrounded in 80cm of snow two years ago - it completely covered the spa and surrounded the pool.

Winter 2011 in Laroque-des-Alberes

Sunday morning was pretty slow, working away quietly. Monday we tackled the local swimming pool and found that if we arrive about 11am most people have worn themselves out after the 10am opening and there are very few in the one lane designated for swimming lengths. So, we happily splashed away, and I added on some aquajogging while John worked on his tan. At 2pm we had an appointment with another real estate agent. We went through his file of properties on offer and have organised to view three on Wednesday morning. We don't think any are suitable but are keen to see what you get for your money.

Next, it was meal time again. This time we visited our nearby Aussie friends, who had also invited an English couple. These English have been permanent residents in the Ceret are for over 10 years. Peter excelled himself by cooking lapin (rabbit), which was superb. Another late night but only two minutes walk home.

Off on the Bikes

A late night home but up earlyish this morning for our first cycle adventure of the year. After a lot of faffing around pumping up tyres, tweaking brake pads and other maintenance, we didn't get away until 10:40am! However, soon on the road up our valley and onto the side road which sidles along the hillside to the village of Palalda. It took about an hour to get there I guess, with a fair amount of grunt involved. Cruised down to Amelie-les-Bains on the valley floor for a much needed pastry and espresso. Cycled the valley road home and back for a late lunch. We did this route last year and really enjoyed it. Next trip we want to venture out into the countryside again.

The weather is coming along a treat. It's currently 29.4 degrees as I write this at 2pm. For the first time we have closed up our French windows for the afternoon to try and keep the inside temperature down (25 degrees). We'll open up again about 6pm-ish. The weather seems to have finally settled and we are loving the blue skies and solid sun. We have all the windows wide open every night.

Searching for another house, already

It's 7:10pm and we have just done a circuit of the main street but obviously we are too early to sit down and have a meal. The restaurant we want to go to (for our second meal out since we got here)  currently has its own owner and waiting staff eating at the outside table, so I guess we have to wait for them to finish so we can sit down and get served ourselves. Not to worry. Will just munch on another apricot in the meantime. Here it is - well worth waiting for...

Today has been an interesting day. We visited a few real estate agents and ended up checking out two apartments and one stand-alone villa near the centre of Ceret. We are still canvassing the options for upscaling here, whether by buying a two or three bedroom renovation project, or expanding into the space above our existing apartment. We've discounted everything we viewed today, but will be seeing more agents tomorrow. Scanning the websites online hasn't produced anything that has tugged at our heartstrings, unless it is way over our budget of course. It's looking as though the future course of action is going to be either renovate upstairs and add a terrace and second bedroom to our place, or just settle down with what we have. Unfortunately that means guests will have to continue to put up with a pull-out sofa, and we won't have any outside space. Anyway, we hope to know one way or the other soon.

This afternoon we went to visit Manu Vargas, whom we bought this apartment from. He is seriously ill, with perhaps only a few days or weeks to live. He gives us a cheery wave from his bed but can't do much else. We are actually going now to see his sister, who is looking after him, rather than Manu. Poor Severine has already seen three brothers die, including nursing the one who died in February this year, her mother who died last year, and now her cat turned up its paws and keeled over yesterday. She is having a really tough time looking after Manu and I think likes our visits and a chance to talk. She wants us to keep coming back so we will. We don't think Manu has many friends, being basically a self-inflicted drunk and chain-smoker but he is a nice guy and was always keen to talk about New Zealand with us.

Yesterday was a fairly quiet day after our morning run. John has been working away and I've been working on my French. Two of our Aussie friends came around for apéro last night and we had a good old yarn. 

Forgot to mention that we had a wedding in the church beside us on Saturday - the first since we've been here and no doubt the first of many more to come. Our renters only saw one wedding in the entire 10 months they were in our place. The bride looked gorgeous, as did all the little pageboys, pagegirls and extremely elegantly dressed attendees.

Time seems to rattle along so quickly. We are two days behind on this again. Yesterday was a very sporty day, beginning with a run (plus a few weights for me) and then a swim (and a bit of aquajogging for moi) at the local pool. It's the first time we've been since it opened earlier in the week and we thought the water might be quite cool but it was divine. Unfortunately there were no rope lanes out - they will appear from next Monday morning apparently. We did a few lengths anyway in amongst the kids jumping off all around the edges of the pool and then settled down to a serious 15min stretch of sunbathing. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. So nice. 

In between our bouts of exercise we visited two more real estate agents (nothing on the books but they will stay in touch) and John did a heap more work and I beavered away on my French.

In the evening we heard some jazz emanating from the main street so went out to have a look at 9pm. Most evenings there is live music outside one or other of the cafes/bars, mostly going to midnight. It's rather lovely hearing it wafting in through our windows, except when the singer is seriously off-key. Tonight the band was extremely good, in fact we think it was the best we have ever heard here. The cafe had extended its seating out into the street (the rare car could happily skirt around it) and band put on a great performance. We sat down at one of the tables, ordered an espresso and listened for an hour. A couple of kids put on some spectacular impromptu salsa. The band was made up of five oldish guys, with the lead singer/guitarist probably being in his 70s. The keyboardist in particular was incredible. 

A Little More Connected

An unexpected bonus this evening. The couple who'd rented our apartment had some difficulty with the TV towards the end of their stay, some of which would have been caused by the trees in Place des Neufs jets getting their new leaves and blocking the satellite dish, but also some issues with receiving French television. They'd even got somebody to check the aerial, so we assumed the missing TV channels were permanently missing. This we've been missing out on Wimbledon (since last week) and the Tour de France, since the weekend.

However.....I thought I'd have another check of the TV tuning, and lo and behold, by picking the right settings we now have all the normal FTA French channels coming in clear and strong, including both the tennis and the T de F. I'll still move the satellite dish when I find the time so we can pick up a few English-language stations (so we don't forget how to speak "proper").

We've been into Perpignan today to pick up a few things not in the local stores, and to check out what we thought were the national sales which start on 1 July. I had seen a mention in one paper that in the Pyrenees-Orientales the sales wouldn't start until Wednesday, but all the websites stuck with 1 July. The paper was right! We'll probably go back in on Wednesday, as we want to change the cooktop from a horrible slow heavy-element one to induction so we can cook Asian food, to replace a portable hard drive that has stopped working, and to look for some walking boots. The scoot behaved well, though as previously it won't idle properly.

Temperatures have lifted. It is forecast to sit in the 30s for 3 or 4 days this week, which is a tad too hot. On the plus side, the pool opened today for 2 months. Last evening we walked up to Hermitage San Ferreol - an hour in the heat - to listen to a free flute and guitar concert. Thoroughly enjoyed the walk up, but the concert wasn't free despite more websites saying it was. We happily sat down on the church steps just outside the doors, ate our bread, cheese and salad, drank a beer we had lugged up, and listened to the concert anyway. Couldn't have been better.

On our return into Céret, we were treated to some beautifully dressed Spanish dancers performing, essentially for themselves. Really lovely. There are always little things like this going on here.