FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

"Le Colorado Provençal" in the Lubéron National Park (SE France)

le nombril (nohn-breel) noun, masculine
  1. navel, belly button

Terms and Expressions:

le contemplateur de nombril = navel-gazer
contempler le nombril = omphaloskepsis or to contemplate one's navel, to navel-gaze
se regarder le nombril = to look at one's navel, to be overly interested in oneself
se prendre pour le nombril du monde = to think the world revolves around oneself

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Proverb:
Au-dessous du nombril, il n'y a ni religion ni vérité.
Below the navel there is neither religion nor truth.

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A Day in a French Life...
On Saturday morning we reached "le Far West Français."* Instead of Stetsons and spurs, we sported Panamas and penny loafers. A vrai dire,* some among us--and not all--wore such incompatibles (and I won't hide my glee at catching the French commit a garment gaffe). Les Français, who are apparel-adroit for most occasions, are sometimes thrown off hanger in matters of sportswear. But back to our story...

"Le Far West" is just another name for "le Colorado Provençal," which is just another appellation for part of the splendid national park of the Luberon. Surrounding towns in this part of southeast France include Apt, Cavaillon, Menerbes, Lacoste, Lourmarin, Bonnieux, Saint Saturnin les Apt and Saignon--the last of which being where we would hang our hats at the end of the day.

We left our cars in the village of Rustrel and stopped in to a closet-sized épicerie* to buy bananas, apples, two boxes of cookies and enough water for a dozen adults. The twelve trekkers mentioned are our traveling pals who happen to live in or near our village here in the Var. This périple* to the neighboring department of the Vaucluse marked our 4th annual voyage together.

A ten kilometer parcours* was chosen and we stayed on track by following les balises bleues.* Hiking at the same pace, but in ever-changing-ever-tchatching* clusters, we advanced into the palette of Provence; "palette" for the two-dozen or so shades of ochre which are visible throughout the canyon (hence the name "Colorado Provençal").

We marched along the limestone path, flanked by fields of budding lavender and wheat, toward the colorful cliffs. Soon, the fragrant maritime pine and chestnut forest engulfed us. When temperatures rose les nombrils* got exposed as t-shirts were lifted or altogether eliminated. Three-quarters of the way into our trek we pulled off to the side of the trail for a welcome repos.* Out came chilled white wine and the boxes of cookies.

Another group of hikers filed past us, slowing only to say "Bon appétit," reminding me that we were nowhere near the Colorado of my childhood but most assuredly in France--the only place on earth where complete strangers will stop to enthuse, "Enjoy your meal!"
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Words in a French Life: "...a heart-winning collection from an American woman raising two very French children with her French husband in Provence, carrying on a lifelong love affair with the language."

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*References: le français (m) = French; à vrai dire = to tell the truth; une épicerie (f) = grocer's shop; le périple (m) = voyage, trip; le parcours (m) = trail route; la balise bleue (f) = trail or road marker; tchatching (Franglais from the French verb 'tchatcher') = to chat; le nombril (m) = navel; le repos (m) = rest