FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

A basket of "boules" beside the door of this old stone cabanon. On most family get-togethers, a game of pétanque follows the meal. 

TODAY’S WORD: RENVERSER

  : to knock over, to spill

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

“Down The Hatch: A Vintage Bottle of Champagne + A Deep Well = A Lost Treasure”

On Friday we left the seaside and drove 45 minutes north to the countryside of Fuveau, where Jean-Marc’s aunt lives in a cozy stone house beside an ancient puits. As most of our extended family was away en vacances, this was a small potluck gathering with its delicious “chacun apporte quelque chose” menu. Collecting a few tartes tomates from our car, Jean-Marc was especially happy to be arriving at "La Clapouille" as memories of his childhood—weekend visits in which his grandmother, aunts, and father gathered—gave this place a remarkably soulful feel.   

We added our French tomato pies and some American chocolate chip cookies to the buffet of fromages, charcuteries, and conserves (Aunt Marie-Françoise’s confit d'oignons was delicious over sliced baguette), and sat in a half-circle to catch up on each other's lives. Beyond, the sun began to set behind the rolling collines where rabbits and wild pigs still roam.

Setting down a plateful of petits-fours, I watched Jean-Marc wander over to the old stone well. He was followed by Geneviève’s son, Pierre. I knew exactly what the cousins were up to, “The Sunken Bottle” being among my first memories of La Clapouille (that, and getting disgracefully drunk when meeting Jean-Marc's family for the first time...).

The Sunken Bottle had nothing to do with my inebriated state (that’s another story). As for la bouteille, some 50 years ago, when this serene property was no more than a well and a cabanon, Aunt Geneviève (who owned the rural parcel), family, and friends would drive here from Marseilles to picnic and spend the day exploring. There was the river, below, and the lively étang where a teenage Jean-Marc, his siblings, and cousins delighted in fishing for les écrevisses.

Before several more villas cropped up, the scent of wild thyme, rosemary, and sarriette in the garrigue was intoxicating, and the aunts and their mother enjoyed gathering the herbes sauvages. Afterwards, they made their own flavorful mixes for seasoning. If lucky, each family would return to the city with little gifted bottles of handpicked herbes de Provence, for use on everything from ratatouille to French fries. That is how I received my first fiole (I still remember the little glass bottle) of this precious concoction.

On one such weekend picnic, someone put a bottle of champagne in a bucket and lowered it into the old well for chilling. But when later the family tried to retrieve it, the bucket was renversé and the bottle tumbled down the chute with a splash, to settle at the bottom of the well.

Since that time the picnics have continued and Geneviève built a lovely home across from the well and moved to Fuveau (where she opened a droguerie). She also began some projects on the land, including a terrasse ombragée, which was created by joining the well to the small cabanon via a tiled roof and a patio. It is there, on that terrace, that we sat watching the latest treasure hunters hatch a plan to rescue the vintage bottle of champagne.

As our son Max joined the cousins to toss a weighted rope down the shaft, another aunt, Marie-Claire (“Michou”) told about the time Max’s grandfather Gérard braved the “descent inside the well”, only he clambered back up before touching the surface of the water (some 5 meters down). Each generation (our Max now being the third) has pursued the pétillant “prize” but so far all efforts have been in vain. (And even if my son is nearing 30, I have expressly forbidden him to climb into the seemingly bottomless pit). 

Though it is amusing to watch my French family huddle around that well, figuring out how to reach the sunken treasure, it’s also a little sad to think they might soon succeed. Quel dommage! For the stranded bouteille is part of the soul that is La Clapouille, the palpable âme Jean-Marc senses each time he returns--it is wholesome, or the whole sum, of every happy and carefree moment spent with his late father and aunts. He has transferred this joyous réverénce to our son, who practiced his first giddy baby steps on the ground above the sunken champagne.

So I will keep my fingers crossed behind my back that no one outsmarts the well or the bottle, and that future generations will continue to gather around the chute, in creative pursuit.

I leave you with a short video clip of the cousins. You can hear our Max sharing his ideas for retrieving that bottle. Can you understand what he is saying? Enjoy and "see you" in a week!

Amicalement,

Kristi

COMMENTS
Thanks in advance for your comments which are the icing on the cake of this edition! I love to read your words and learn so much from you (including spelling and grammar--so don't hesitate to send in a correction). Extra credit if you tell us where you are writing in from. And a gold star if you mention the weather conditions :-) Click here to comment.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc and me read the French and English below

les boules = boules (game of pétanque)
le cabanon = stone hut
renverser = to spill, knock over 
le puits = well
en vacances = on vacation
chacun apporte quelque chose = each person brings something
la clapouille = from “clapier” or rabbit hutch
le fromage = cheese
la charcuterie = charcuterie, cold meats
le confit d’oignon = onion confit
la colline = hill
les petits-fours = finger foods
la bouteille = bottle
l’étang = pond
l’écrevisse = crawfish
la sarriette = savory
l’herbe sauvage = wild herb
les herbes de Provence = herbs of Provence
la fiole = vial
la droguerie = hardware store
la terrasse ombragée = the shady patio
quel dommage = what a pity
pétillant = sparkling


Love these little daisies at Aunt Geneviève's house.

REMERCIEMENTS
Un grand merci to the following readers who recently sent in a blog donation. Your contributions not only support this journal, but they also motivate me to keep on keeping on writing through summertime. Thank you! --Kristi

Sally R.
Holly RS
Sheryl W.

"Thanks for the wonderful blog, Kristi, always a joy to read. . . All the best, Holly"

“Thank you for many years of “French Word”…sharing your life in France and keeping me in touch with my French, having retired from teaching 23 years ago!” —Sally R.



I am bookending this edition with some boules--la pétanque being a favorite game for family and friends. Read about another family reunion in Fuveau, with photos, here

Game of boules (off to the right). Can you see the orange measuring tape dispenser? Handy for measuring across the jack (little yellow ball) to the boule.