FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

A partir de ce weekend this journal begins its third decade! Here's my sister Heidi's scrumptious chocolate cake to celebrate.

TODAY'S WORD: JOYEUX ANNIVERSAIRE!

    : Happy birthday!

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse
On Saturday this language and life blog celebrates its 21st birthday. Just think...if it were American it could legally drink. If it were French it could now drive a 7.5-ton vehicle. But having been born and bred, né et élévé, in France, this journal is some sort of wine-spitting hybrid. De toute façon, as we’ve discovered over the years, there are cooler ways to mark an occasion than by inebriation or barreling down the road in a Big Rig. 

Could anybody tell me just what those are? 

Only kidding—je rigole! I would like to shower this brief update in a thousand thanks, mille mercis to you for tuning in each week and giving me a reason to show up and write, whether or not la muse is present. Heureusement, creative inspiration isn’t mandatory when addressing someone who loves and supports you. I am blessed to receive your care and enthusiasm and this is what keeps me trucking into my 22nd year. You, dear reader!

You have taught me spelling and grammar. Helped edit and publish my stories. Sent cheers in happy times and condolences in sad ones. Voted for the right wine label or book cover or city (when it was time to move on). You have been subscribed for days or years and perhaps never reached out, yet your faithful subscribership has built this journal's foundation. Quietly or not, you are there, keeping me on top, in tune, and in touch with the creative thread of my days in time to weave the story of this French life one post at a time. 

COMMENTS
To leave a comment, click here. I would love to know how you found this blog and for how long you have been reading! 

Both cake photos are from the archives. The cake, above, was for my son's birthday. He is now 28! My sister Heidi made the first cake for Jackie's 21st (she is now 26). This journal began when the kids were 5- and 7-years-old. The blog archives help jog my memory!

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to the French and English words

joyeux anniversaire = happy birthday
soufflons la bougie = let's blow out the candle
à partir de ce weekend = beginning this weekend
né et élévé = born and bred
de toute façon = in any case
je rigole =  I'm kidding
mille mercis = a thousand thanks
la muse = creative inspiration
heureusement = happily
pareillement = in the same way
remarquez (imperative) remarquer = come to think of it
bien amicalement = warmly

REMERCIEMENTS 
Thanks in advance to readers sending in a blog donation for the first time, and to my returning patrons listed below. Your support keeps the wheels of this digital journal turning, and I am truly grateful!

Peter J.
Chris K.
Carla W.
Duncan M.
Tammy S.
Suzanne D.
Laurence S.

”For NZ. . . have a nice glass or two of vino for us.” —Suzanne D.

"Kristi, thank you for your charming, honest and inspiring column which always is a pleasure to read. I've studied French since college and love hearing about your insights into French culture. Amicalement, Carla!"

VIDEO CLIP
The following video of Ricci (our new dog) was posted on Instagram. You may need to click over to the site to see it.

Random photo: Fishermen working together during boat maintenance season in La Ciotat. See you next week with more words and stories from France. Meantime, thank you for sharing this post with a friend!

From the Mediterranean to Nouvelle Zéalande--Jean-Marc will be a traveling winemaker once again. After making wine in Italy (Sicily), The United States (Oregon), and around France, ce vigneron will now experience a longtime dream of blending grapes in New Zealand! We would like to thank Whitehaven Wines for this amazing opportunity! Read my husband's update, below, for more details.

Cheers,

Jean-Marc
[email protected]

COMMENTS
To leave a comment, click here. It is a real pleasure to read your notes and stories. Merci!

Jean-Marc and our newest family member, Ricci, pose in front of a local Kayak stand here in La Ciotat. 

REMERCIEMENTS
Sincere thanks and appreciation to readers who sent in a blog donation this past week. Your support helps me continue developing this blog, which is more than a creative outlet: it is a place to learn, reflect, and exchange.   

Clare W.
Wynn C.
Laura S.
Linda H.
Lynne K.
Leona A.
Audrey R.
C-Marie P.
Nackey P.
Patricia N.
Georgia H.
Graham C.
Maureen D. 
Natalia, Rod, & The Mignons 

"Ricci is precious!! Thank you for the pictures!! God bless!!" C. P.

“If poets made more money, I'd support you more often--I love your column and feel great fondness for you and your family, and now your new dog, Ricci.” Lynne K.

Family portrait: Max, his grandmother Jules, Izzy, and Ricci.

Ciao from Ricci! See you next week (or, for the latest photo, follow me on Instagram)

UN BERGER = SHEPHERD

After one year and three months sans chien, we are overjoyed to announce the arrival of our newest family member: "Ricci". She is a 3-year-old Mini Australian Shepherd and she hails from une ferme in Aveyron. 

Ten days ago, at a party, I was chatting with Corinne about her mini Aussie. "We love those dogs," I said, "but aren’t they a bit nervous?" Corinne, visibly gaga about her Berger Américain (as they are called in France), assured me le tempérament depends on the owner. With that in mind, I began to dream about these lovely dogs once again…

By the next day, Jean-Marc was combing through ads on Le BonCoin when he came across "Penny" a 4.5-year-old BAM (Berger Américain). Before we knew it, we were headed 5 hours north to a cow and cannabis* farm, where the busy owner was phasing out her dog breeding business. She had two adult females available: Penny and her 3-year-old cousin, Ricci. 

We had come all this way to see Penny, but understood right away she was not for us. "We live on a busy street," I explained. "We can't have a barker...the neighbors would not like it." Behind the chain-linked fence, there was another dog, who was a lot calmer and she was making eyes at us. "Who is that?" I asked.  

"C'est Ricci."

“Could we please see her?” With that, the gate was opened and both dogs bolted out, running circles past the chickens, over to the barn, and back. Ricci came when the breeder called her and I took her into my lap. She was thoughtful and calm for a moment and I knew, of the two dogs, she was the better bet.

My daughter had cautioned me to only take the dog if there was un coup de coeur - a lighting-strike attraction. This sort of put the brakes on things as I was not instantly enamored. I was, in fact, full of hesitation. But I couldn't be sure, either, if I wanted to leave without Ricci. We had come so far...we could make this work...fingers crossed this wasn’t a mistake. One final thought sealed the deal: Grandma will love her no matter what.

"We don't have a leash," I said.

"She's never been on a leash," the farmer replied, adding she was very sorry there might be some fleas….

"Assis!" I said to Ricci, to get a closer look, but the little shepherd did not respond.
"She doesn't know any commands..." the farmer explained.

Because this seemed like a risky transaction, and considering the upcoming expenses (sterilization? vaccination?) I negotiated the price down as far as possible. I reasoned, privately, that if we returned home and there were no surprises with this adult dog (hip replacement surgery?--I'd heard horror stories), I could eventually send a donation to the farmer to make up for any losses on her part.

Ricci now in the passenger’s seat, on my lap, I picked off as many fleas as possible during the 6-hour ride home. Our seat was also soaked in saliva, even so, the long voyage went better than expected. The closeness helped form a kind of bond, but, after reaching her new home, Ricci was running into walls. She didn't understand door-windows, and banged right into our porte vitrée. The "dog bed" concept threw her as well. And the flush of a toilet, the vacuum, the garbage truck…just about any sudden bruit had her running for cover and making puddles around the house, in the bed, and on the couch. The former “Berger” from Aveyron may as well have been dropped off on Planet Mars.

She’s been on high alert since landing here near the beach in La Ciotat. There will be so much to learn for her and for us, but thankfully, everyone in our family is smitten by cette petite Louloutte, and ready to help.
"I'm Max! You'll be seeing a lot of me," my son said, taking her calico face into his hands and gently caressing her. And when she freaked out on the leash with me, Max's girlfriend, Ana, tried a different approach by first presenting the leash for Ricci to sniff. Gradually, Ana was able to coax her out into the garden, with Max cheering her on.

Grandma Jules is over the moon and inspired "Reece is so paintable! I’m just crazy about her!”
“Mom, her name is ‘Ricci’, that’s Ree-Chee like the perfume Nina Ricci... (but "Reece" is sweet, reminiscent of the peanut-butter cups I loved as a kid).

“I'm going to call her Chi-chi,” Jackie already decided, via video chat as we all gathered for Ricci's first night home.

Ana calls her "Ma Petite Puce," a popular term of endearment in France (but also appropriate given Ricci was teaming with fleas.). On day two Ana returned to help give Ricci a chewable medication for the fleas, the ticks, and any potential worms. And it worked immediately. 

What a whirlwind two days it has been since bringing Ricci home: loads of laundry, retraining, shopping (leash, bed, food, toys), and agitated sleeping. But we've enjoyed every minute. Speaking of time, that coup de coeur Jackie insisted on may not have been instant, but it came after a leap of faith.

Whether a coup or a leap, all that matters is that our dog is here. Bienvenue, dear Ricci. We love you already!

COMMENTS
To leave a comment about our new dog, or any sort of advice on welcoming an adult farm dog to the city, click here.
Will Ricci's startle reflex calm down? Will she continue to make puddles when scared? Advice welcome and appreciated.

FRENCH VOCABULARY 

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc and me pronounce the French and English terms

sans chien = without dog
une ferme = farm
Le Berger Américain = Mini Australian Shepherd 
le tempérament = disposition 
la porte vitrée  = glass door
le bruit = noise
mon loulou, ma louloute = affectionate term for pooch, pup
ma petite puce = my little flea

*Le cannabigérol est un composé de la plante de chanvre. Cannabigerol is a compound found in the hemp plant.

REMERCIEMENTS
Thanks in advance to readers considering sending in a blog donation for the first time. Your contribution will go a long way not only in backing this journal but also in encouraging me to keep writing. Your support means a lot, and I'm truly grateful. Amicalement, Kristi

Ina D.
Kim S.
Mike P.
Kristi S.
Paula P.
Jackie W.
Catherine L.
Randolph C

“Thank you for these blogs. They are very helpful.” Kim S.

 “Merci Kristi. I love your charming stories.” Catherine L.

In the car during the ride home from the farm in Aveyron and, finally, on an evening walk on the beach here in La Ciotat.

Amidst fragrant parasol pine trees, see the charming blue umbrellas, lower right, in front of a highly sought-after restaurant and its terrace over the sea. Hiking down toward this turquoise paradise we had no idea it was a "no clothes" cove...  Too late, there was no turning back--not when we'd reserved a table at Chez Jo a week in advance!

To View All Photos, click here to visit the blog

TODAY’S WORD: "se rincer l'oeil" ("to rinse the eye")

    : to get an eyeful, to see too much of something

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Last week we traveled back to the area of Cavalaire, for our 29th lune de miel. Our destination was a little over an hour's drive from home, and we made it there by 11 a.m. Jean-Marc kept asking me if I recognized the surroundings, but it had been 20 years since we took the kids here. "Look, there’s Fort Brégançon. Maybe Bribri and Manu will invite us for lunch?" Jean-Marc smiled toward the Presidential vacation residence (and now I can vaguely remember him saying the same when Chirac was president). 

La Plage de Cabasson (with a view of the medieval fortress out at sea) is beautiful at the end of September and its crystal clear waters were almost warm. We walked to the far end of the beach to spread out our towels and put up a large parasol. It felt so good to get into the Mediterranean and wade up and down the shoreline while Jean-Marc snorkled near the rocky outcrop. Drying off, we left our serviettes on the beach and enjoyed lunch at La Cabasse, where I toasted to Jean-Marc: so far this had been 20 sur 20--a top score for his well-planned itinerary. Bravo!

View of Fort Brégançon from the mainland, at Plage de Cabasson.

We'll skip talking about our quirky hotel but it may have been a herald for Day Two.... which was set to be the highlight of our trip. Our son Max insisted we go to La Plage du Layet to eat at the incontournable “Chez Jo”. We decided to again bring our towels and parasol for a “free” spot in the cove, and then splurge on lunch at the gourmet restaurant. But as we made our way down into the beach, any excitement about our plans quickly turned to panic when we passed a sign along the path that read "PLAGE NATURISTE"....

"A naturiste beach. Are you kidding me?"

"I had no idea," my husband swore.

"I can't believe this! The restaurant is part of une plage naturiste!"

"We can go somewhere else if you want!" Jean-Marc was as surprised as I was.

I was more annoyed than anything, and that energy made me stubborn: “No! I don't want to go somewhere else!” I wanted to be near the restaurant our son had raved about, where we had made reservations well in advance. There was no backing out now. We'd figure it out when we arrived! 

Hiking around the last bend I saw the restaurant to the right, and to the left a blur of skin...de la peau à gogo.

"Bonjour," I said to the waiter. "We have reservations for lunch. But we'd like to go to the beach first. Do you rent matelas?" We had not planned on springing for lounge chairs, but this was an emergency! Designated chairs could be our ticket to more conventional digs in this unconventional cove.

"Yes," he smiled, pointing to the rental chair area. But none of the clients were dressed there either. Not a single thread anywhere to be seen.

"We'll take those two," I quickly decided, indicating the last two chairs nearest the restaurant. I dropped my bag on the sand and exhaled. I'd already decided I was not stripping down. I'd rather feel the embarrassment of being the only suit-wearing wuss at the beach (and what a suit--it was the same one I brought to Morocco, out of respect for the culture. It covered a lot of ground)!

Forming a human shield, Jean-Marc took the chair nearest the crowd and surprised me by keeping his swim trunks on. (In solidarity? I'll never know for sure.) Next, he grabbed his snorkel mask and confidently strode out to sea, disappearing into the water.

Alone, I fussed with our towels and pretended to be completely at ease as the odd one out. My eyes darted left, then right. Groups of unabashed senior citizens stood along the shoreline, casually chatting. I wanted to get into the water, too, but not if it meant The Walk of Humiliation. My paranoid side was certain the naturists were having a good laugh at my expense. Well then, let them. Qu'ils rigolent!

I shot up and walked with dignity across the shore, and fell quickly into the water. Swimming out far enough, I turned to look back at the beach and got quite an eyeful: sitting, lounging, reading, chatting, and strolling, there was the flock of nudes. And here, dans son maillot uni noir, ONE BLACK SHEEP. 

And what is a black sheep if not a rebel? The thought was amusing enough to carry me confidently through the awkward experience--in time to bare all in a lively story for you today. So hats off (and almost everything else) to the unintended adventures Life brings us.
  

Post Note: What a relief to see everyone put on their clothes for lunch (up until the last minute I couldn't be sure about the restaurant's dress code). After lunch, one other bathing-suited couple showed up, thank God!, and quickly put down towels near ours. Finally, a family of four arrived, and they were quick to sit near us too. 

As for any naturistes who may be reading this now...I hope you are laughing along with me. I leave you with a good address—La Plage du Layet in Cavalaire—for the next time you visit the south of France. Allez-y! 

COMMENTS
To leave a comment, click here. Thanks in advance for your comments or corrections. I appreciate it!

Loved visiting the town of Lavandou, and the message on the door "Soyons heureux"--Be Happy. Do you think this one would make a good postcard for the La Carte Postale collection?

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc and me pronounce the vocabulary
se rincer l'oeil = to have an eyeful
la lune de miel = honeymoon
Bribri et Manu = Brigitte and Emmanuel Macron
le parasol = beach umbrella 
la serviette = towel
l'incontournable = must see
la peau = skin
à gogo = galore
le matelas = lounge chair on the beach
Qu'ils rigolent = they can go ahead and laugh
le maillot uni noir = black one-piece

REMERCIEMENTS 

Thanks in advance to readers considering sending in a blog donation for the first time. Your contribution will go a long way not only in backing this journal but also in encouraging me to keep writing. Your support means a lot, and I'm truly grateful. Amicalement, Kristi

Jim B.
Vicki B.
Julie S.
Janet D.
Linda F.
Jennie J.
Linda Kay F. 

“Joyeux anniversaire de marriage! Love your mom’s comment.” Linda F.

"Merci beaucoup Kristi et Jean-Marc! I’ve been looking forward to reading this memoir for over a year and have finally made time." Jennie

Provence Wine Tour near Aix. The weather was spectacular for Jean-Marc's most recent vineyard visit to Chateau Ferry Lacomb in Trets-en-Provence. Many thanks, Louis, Janet, and John for reserving a specialized French wine tour with Jean-Marc. It was lovely to meet you! 

If you are still thinking of moving to France, click the book cover to read about an American family who moves to Nice.