FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

Jean-Marc and Kristi, center, surrounded by longtime friends.

Tuesday Night was my husband's big night and this was no time to stress. So I took a deep breath, asked readers for ideas about how to chill before a social event when you are an introvert and you don’t drink, and received some excellent tips in return. Next, I dressed to the nines and headed to Marseilles with mon cheri for his epic farewell dinner. With the help of his friends and investors, Jean-Marc was saying goodbye to his wine shop, Le Vin Sobre (the commercial name of his wine company "Glou-Glou").  Read all about it in his own words (in French and in English) below.

TODAY'S WORD: "GLOU-GLOU"

- An onomatopoeic noun-turned-adjective imitative of both the sound of liquid leaving a bottleneck and of the rapid gulping of said liquid, glou-glou leads a small pack of recent French lexicographical imports driven by the surging global interest in French natural wine... A glou is what Anglophones call a “glug”; a wine that is glou-glou is one that invites glugging. -Spruge.com

You'll run across the term glou-glou just about everywhere in France (and now elsewhere) if you are into wine, as my husband is. But just what exactly is glou-glou and how do you use it? I liked this simple explanation from Mashed.com:

"It's the kind of wine you can sit back and relax with friends and just enjoy — it's glou-glou."

Autumn Excursion in France: "Women in Burgundy" - An adventure designed especially for "Wander-ful Women!" September 20 to 30, 2023 - Includes seven nights in Burgundy and three nights in Paris. Click HERE for details.

CELEBRATING FRIENDSHIP AND WINE AT CHÂTEAU BEAUPIN
by Jean-Marc Espinasse

After selling my wine shop in January, I managed to gather the friends who accompanied me on my adventure at Vin Sobre La Ciotat for a farewell dinner.

I chose to have this dinner in Marseilles at Château Beaupin, a magnificent 19th-century mansion located close to where most of us grew up. In fact, almost everyone present has been friends for over 40 years, and everyone was delighted to discover this place, which is both mysterious and well-known.

It has recently been restored, and last year, Chef Sidi, whom I know through our son Maxime, cooked outdoors on braziers. The season wasn't yet warm enough to consider an outdoor dinner, but I had hoped to have the aperitif outside. Unfortunately, it was raining, and as the 24 guests arrived, our dining room became quite cramped.

By magic, the mistral returned in the early evening, giving us a wonderful red sky for the sunset and allowing us to extend the champagne aperitif.

For the occasion, I brought bottles that had a strong connection to me. Domaine Rouge Bleu (our first vineyard), the Ephemera cuvées that I now vinify with friends, as well as Château Ferry Lacombe, where I had my first job, Domaine du Banneret of my cousin Audrey, Château de Pibarnon in Bandol... and I enjoyed explaining the history of each wine to the guests.

The meal was convivial and delicious. And since everyone knew each other, there were changes in seating from the table plan I had established, which I found delightful.

Before I knew it, it was already midnight, and the first guests were already leaving. I would have liked to prolong this, but I was really happy to have been able to make it happen, to bring together my friends associated with Vin Sobre.

This morning, when I woke up, I was still happy thinking about this evening and I said to myself that we should continue to organize this event with my friends, even though the adventure of Vin Sobre La Ciotat is well and truly over. So, I will look for another equally symbolic place and hope to organize a new event to continue to keep Glou Glou alive, despite everything.

Chef Sidi Salhi, who went to school with our son Max, talked about the food and preparation. We had fresh, seasonal asparagus, a délicious purée de céleri rave, fish (I believe it was turbot), spring strawberries, and a rich chocolate cake for dessert. Miam!

Sidi, about to grill some local dorades on the brasero. 

Everything went beautifully. I'm already dreaming of another dinner get-together at this historic batisse in Marseilles. How about you? Would you like to join us? Maybe we can arrange it for this blog's 25th anniversary? It's good to dream!

LEAVE A COMMENT 
To leave a comment or to read the comments, click here. If you like, include the city where you live (it's always interesting, especially for my Dad who is reading from Palm Springs!)

FRENCH VOCABULARY

As Lili the Cat looked on, Jean-Marc brought out some of his most meaningful bottles to share with friends at the dinner.

Jean-Marc toasting to his friends and family. Thanks, Isabelle J., for this photo.

REMERCIEMENTS
Following the "Dogs on Board" edition, Ahoy! and special thanks to these readers for their helpful donations:

Betty D.
Pat C.
William C.
Michael P.
Nancy A.
Cathy S.
Joan S.

Jean-Marc, right, and friends at one of the wine shop's events. Read on for some big news regarding my husband.

TODAY'S PHRASE: "se lancer dans l'inconnu"

    : to strike out into the unknown

EXAMPLE SENTENCE & AUDIO FILE
Listen to all the French words in today's story by clicking on the sound file below. Then scroll to the vocabulary section and check your comprehension.

Click now to hear the audio

Se lancer dans l'inconnu, c'est un heureux cocktail d'enthousiasme, d'inconfort, de peur, de fierté. On est déstabilisé, parce que nos repères changent. Il y a cette forte sensation que tout peut arriver. To strike out into the unknown is a happy cocktail of enthusiasm, discomfort, fear and pride. We are destabilized because our reference points change. There is this strong feeling that anything can happen.
-from the blog Ouvrir Une Porte

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

A New Chapter in Chief Grape's Life

I have just returned from another stick hunt and boy did I hit the foraging jackpot today! C'est dommage Jean-Marc was not able to join in on the fun. He had to leave early for work and miss our morning stroll.

Raindrops began falling as I arranged all the wooden bâtons on our steps for drying. I quickly snapped a picture to cheer my husband. He is not as sparked as I am for each found stick, but that's because joy hasn't come easy for him this past year. Still, he is happy when I am happy and these days we are shooting for each other's happiness. A target worth aiming for wouldn't you say? If only we had fully comprehended The Happiness Secret sooner. Tant pis...

It is never too late to be what you might have been.  
Il n'est jamais trop tard pour devenir ce que nous aurions pu être.

Thank you, George Eliot, for that hopeful thought. I will share it with my husband on this, the eve of a major change in his life. And now, sans plus attendre, some big news: Jean-Marc has sold his wine shop! The complicated transaction has kept him suspended in a Never-Never land for 9 months. But now he's been delivered, or almost. (His last day at the shop is January 5th.)

So the start of the New Year corresponds to a new chapter in our lives. While Jean-Marc is itching to move somewhere, anywhere, I am digging my feet in this time. But I will try to keep open-hearted, about further changes, as he strikes out into the unknown unsure of what's next. 

Se lancer dans l'inconnu...
And now a question for you, dear reader. Did you strike out into the unknown later in life? Will you share, in the comments here, the positive changes that happened to you during/after a middle-age crisis? Did you switch careers? Move out of the country? Learn a new skill?

Did you live the truth in George Eliot's words, It is never too late to be what you might have been? Or did you discover that who you might have been was there all along?

As we pause to think about who we are becoming, I'll bid you good day. Madame Who I Might Have Been is itching to go outside and enjoy another exploratory ramble through the neighborhood. Instead of sticks, I could switch it up...and collect smiles this time (my mom's favorite sport: "Smile and see who smiles back at you!"). Ah, evolution!

Amicalement, 
Kristi

Don't miss the book A Very French Christmas, "this collection encapsulates the holiday spirit and proves that the French have mastered Christmas."

FRENCH VOCABULARY
se lancer dans l'inconnu = to strike out into the unknown
c'est dommage = it's too bad
le bâton = stick
tant pis! = never mind
sans plus attendre = without further delay
Il n'est jamais trop tard pour devenir ce que nous aurions pu être = It is never too late to be what you might have been.

Read about the opening of Jean-Marc's wine shop. Click below.




Sweet of the Week, No 3: French Yogurt Cake. Need an easy cake for Christmas? Simply spruce up this simple French yogurt cake! Add cranberries and pecans to the mix or candied orange and chocolate. This dessert became our go-to gâteau the day my brother-in-law, Jacques, made it for one of our family gatherings.  Yogurt Cake Recipe here. Enjoy and un Joyeux Noël to all!

Did you know that "GR" of  “GR20” is an acronym for “Grande Randonnée” or “long hike”? Today, Jean-Marc recounts his recent adventure along this mythical footpath, one of the most difficult treks in Europe—located on the beautiful island of Corsica.   

In books: Granite Island: A Portrait of Corsica.

TODAY'S WORD: la randonnée

    : hike, trek, ramble, walk

OUR GR 20 TREK IN CORSICA by Jean-Marc Espinasse

After a day by train on the famous Corsican Micheline, a ride by cab and a short walk, we arrived at our refuge in Asco. Nicolas and I leave the next day at dawn for our first stage of the trek. Except for the first half hour which is relatively flat, this hike comes with very strong positive and negative changes in altitude. We pass our first and only névé to cross the Col de La Pointe des Eboulis after 5 hours of effort. There follows a short traverse on a ridge from where we can already see our refuge at the bottom of the valley. But if the ascent gives our hearts and breaths a workout, the descent is much harder for the muscles and the refuge that we had seen a few hours ago is still far to reach. It is thus after 10 hours of walking over stones, without trees and in full sun that we reach our first destination. Just before that, bathing in a small natural spring water bath was a well deserved reward.

The next day, our legs were very heavy for a segment with 1,000 meters of positive altitude difference. Before that, we crossed a beautiful Alpine forest with a few streams allowing us to refresh ourselves. After four hours of walking, the final climb of 900 meters was very difficult but the fresh air, the idea of the traditional Corsican omelette and a cold beer at the finish line motivated us to reach the highest refuge of the GR 20, at almost 2000 meters.

The following day was the longest segment. We started very early and walked more than 26 kms through different mountain landscapes, forests and green plains, passing by beautiful wild horses, still taking advantage of lakes and rivers to refresh ourselves during our breaks. On arrival at the Manganu refuge, we asked the keeper for information because our initial itinerary for the next day was to double a segment in order to reach Vizzavone in the evening and take the train to Ajaccio. Antoine told us that it would be very complicated because the next two segments are "Alpine" and therefore very steep. Other hikers coming in the opposite direction (the GR 20 is done in both directions) also advised us not to try this adventure, especially since we were tired after three days of intense walking and little sleep. Finally, we learned that there was a possibility to leave the GR 20 to join another path leading to a lake accessible by car and from where it is quite easy to hitchhike to Corte, which we managed to do in 10 hours and which allowed us to take the train to Ajaccio.

These four days of walking were physically demanding, especially since we were both, for very different reasons, very badly prepared. They also allowed me to think without too much anxiety about my personal situation, which was certainly very different from that of a year earlier when everything seemed to be smiling.

Last year, I had already done half of our first stage 2022 and, on my way back to Asco, my starting point, I got injured a few minutes from the finish, spoiling the end of my stay. This year, when I passed by the place where I was injured, I told myself that this accident was in fact the first of a very bad personal phase that has led me to face a difficult psychological situation today.

So, as I passed by this place, one year to the day after my accident and at the very beginning of our 2022 hike, I also made a wish that this would signify the end of this bad cycle and that better days are now to come.

(Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator)

ORIGINAL FRENCH VERSION OF JEAN-MARC'S STORY

Audio File: click here to listen to Jean-Marc read his story aloud

Après une journée en train par la fameuse micheline Corse, en taxi et une petite marche, nous arrivons à notre refuge de Asco. Nicolas et moi partons le lendemain à l'aube pour notre première étape. A part la première demie heure relativement plate, cette randonnée est avec de très forts dénivelés positifs comme négatifs. Nous passons notre premier et seul névé pour franchir le col de la pointe des éboulis après 5 heures d'efforts. Il s'ensuit une courte traversée sur une crête d'où nous apercevons déjà notre refuge en bas de la vallée. Mais si la montée fait travailler le cœur et le souffle, la descente est bien plus dure pour les muscles et le refuge que nous avions vu il y a quelques heures est encore loin à atteindre. C'est donc après 10 heures de marche dans les pierres, sans arbre et en plein soleil que nous atteignons notre première destination. Juste avant cela, se baigner dans une petite baignoire naturelle d'eau de source fut une récompense bien méritée.

Le lendemain, les jambes étaient très lourdes pour une étape de 1 000 mètres de dénivelé positif. Avant cela, nous avons traversé une belle forêt Alpine avec quelques cours d'eau nous permettant de nous rafraîchir. Après quatre heures de marche, la montée finale de 900 mètres de dénivelé fut très difficile mais le bon air frais, l'idée de la traditionnelle omelette Corse et une Bière bien fraîche à l'arrivée nous a motivé pour rejoindre le plus haut refuge du GR 20, à presque 2 000 mètres d'altitude.

Le jour suivant fut la plus longue étape. Nous sommes partis très tôt et avons parcouru plus de 26 kms à travers différents paysages de montagne, forêts et plaines verdoyantes, passant à proximité de magnifiques chevaux sauvages, profitant encore des lacs et rivières pour nous rafraîchir lors de nos pauses. A l'arrivée au refuge de Manganu, nous avons demandé des informations au gardien car notre itinéraire initial du lendemain était de doubler une étape afin de rejoindre Vizzavone le soir et prendre le train pour Ajaccio. Antoine nous a dit que cela serait très compliqué car les deux prochaines étapes sont "Alpines" et donc très cascadées. D'autres randonneurs venant en sens inverse (le GR 20 se fait dans les deux sens) nous ont également conseillé de ne pas tenter cette aventure, d'autant que nous étions fatigués par trois jours de marche intense et peu de sommeil. Finalement, nous avons appris qu'il y avait une possibilité de sortir du GR 20 pour rejoindre un autre sentier amenant à un lac accessible en voiture et d'où il est assez facile de faire du stop pour aller à Corte, ce que nous avons réussi à faire en 10 H et qui nous a permis d'y prendre le train pour Ajaccio.

Ces quatre jours de marche ont été éprouvant physiquement, d'autant que nous étions tous les deux, pour des raisons bien différentes, très mal préparés. Ils m'ont aussi permis de penser sans trop d'anxiété à ma situation personnelle, qui était certainement bien différente de celle d'un an plus tôt où tout me semblait sourire.

L'année dernière, j'avais déjà fait la moitié de notre première étape 2022 et, en revenant à Asco, mon point de départ, je me suis blessé à quelques minutes de l'arrivée, gâchant ainsi la fin de mon séjour. Cette année, lorsque je suis passé devant l'endroit où je m'étais blessé, je me suis dit que cet accident était en fait le premier d'une très mauvaise phase personnelle qui m'amène aujourd'hui à affronter une situation psychologique difficile.

Alors, en passant devant ce lieu, un an jour pour jour après mon accident et au tout début de notre randonnée 2022, j'ai aussi fait le vœux que cela signifie la fin de ce mauvais cycle et que les jours meilleurs sont maintenant à venir.

***

Besides wild horses, JM and Nico encountered cows, goats, and wild pigs along the GR 20...

In Books: The Corsican Brothers by Alexandre Dumas

Trekking the GR20 Corsica: The High Level Route: This guidebook describes the classic GR20 trek, a north-to-south traverse of the rugged mountains of Corsica, renowned as Europe's toughest GR long-distance route.

All rocks and no trees for shade: Jean-Marc and Nicolas hiking the GR 20 footpath in Corsica


Mediterranean Plunge. Jean-Marc cooling down in a creek along the GR 20 trail. Read another post from Corsica, France's "Island of Beauty" where we went for ou 23rd anniversary (this week we celebrate our 28th, Waouh!). Pictured below: a blossoming caper plant and view off the coast of Corsica.

One of the many "points d'eau" Jean-Marc talks about in his update, below. The English version follows and the entire story is available on sound file, below.

Today's French Word: "le défi"

    : challenge, dare

Sound File: Click below to listen to Jean-Marc read his story.  Note:  Jean-Marc repeats a few of the sentences in this long recording (where an error was made).

Click here for the audio File

JEAN-MARC'S UPDATE IN FRENCH

Dans deux semaines, je vais parcourir une des plus belles randonnées d'Europe : Le fameux GR20. Ce magnifique sentier traverse la Corse en diagonale, partant au Nord Ouest de cette "l'île de beauté" (Calenzana) pour arriver au Sud Est, à Conca.

La plupart de cet itinéraire est en haute montagne avec une incroyable diversité de flore composée de chênes, châtaignier et le maquis Corse, de faune et même au mois de Juin, il est fréquent de traverser des névés surtout dans la partie Nord du parcours. Je pars randonner avec mon meilleur ami, Nicolas, avec qui j'ai lié mon amitié pour la vie suite à un voyage inoubliable en mobylette à travers la Corse, alors que nous avions tout juste 15 et 16 ans.

L'année dernière, pour notre première partie du chemin, nous avons marché 5 étapes, chacune dure environ 8 heures et malgré la difficulté des importants dénivelés positifs et négatifs (qui font encore plus mal aux jambes), la beauté des paysages, les nombreux points d'eau pour se rafraîchir et l'excitation de marcher sur ce sentier mythique permettent d'oublier la souffrance.

Nous partons aux aurores pour éviter la chaleur et arrivons à chaque nouveau camp en milieu d'après midi pour déguster une omelette, une Pietra (bière Corse) avant une petite sieste, un dîner au coucher du soleil et quelques heures à essayer de dormir dans la même tente.

Il y a un an, j'étais en pleine forme physique et mentale. L'idée de ce périple, dont nous avions trop souvent repoussé l'organisation, me faisait frissoner de bonheur. Je garde un souvenir impérissable de cette semaine passée en pleine nature où j'ai gravi le plus haut sommet de Corse : Le Monte Cinto.

Aujourd'hui, les temps ont bien changé. Je traverse une période mentale très sombre et je ne suis sûrement pas assez prêt pour affronter physiquement ces épreuves sportives. Mais je ne louperai pour rien au monde ce magnifique défi car si je sais bien que je vais souffrir, je me dis aussi que si j'arrive à parcourir ces 5 étapes, je serai plus fort pour affronter tous les sommets psychologiques personnels qui m'attendent à mon retour.

Merci pour vos encouragements,
Jean-Marc

ENGLISH TEXT
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator

In two weeks, I'm going to hike one of the most beautiful trails in Europe: The famous GR20. This magnificent track crosses Corsica diagonally, starting in the North West of this "island of beauty" (Calenzana) to arrive in the South East, in Conca.

Most of this itinerary is in the high mountains with an incredible diversity of flora composed of oaks, chestnut trees and the Corsican maquis, of fauna and even in June, it is frequent to cross snowy slopes especially in the northern part of the route. I will be hiking with my best friend, Nicolas, with whom I made a lifelong friendship after an unforgettable trip on a moped through Corsica when we were just 15 and 16 years old.

Last year, for our first part of the trail, we walked 5 stages, each one lasts about 8 hours and despite the difficulty of the important positive and negative changes in altitude (which make the legs even more painful), the beauty of the landscapes, the numerous water points to refresh ourselves and the excitement of walking on this mythical trail allow us to forget the suffering.

We leave at dawn to avoid the heat and arrive at each new camp in the middle of the afternoon to enjoy an omelette, a Pietra (Corsican beer) before a little nap, a dinner at sunset and a few hours trying to sleep in the same tent.

A year ago, I was in great shape physically and mentally. The idea of this trip, which we had postponed too often, made me shiver with happiness. I keep an imperishable memory of this week spent in the middle of nature where I climbed the highest summit of Corsica: Monte Cinto.

Today, times have changed. I'm going through a very dark mental period and I'm certainly not ready enough to face physically these sporting events. But I will not miss for anything in the world this magnificent challenge because if I know well that I will suffer, I also say to myself that if I manage to cover these 5 stages, I will be stronger to face all the personal psychological summits which await me at my return.

Thank you for your encouragement,
Jean-Marc

Book: Trekking the Corsica GR20: Two-Way Trekking Guide: Real IGN Maps 1:25,000

Jean-Marc at the top of Monte Cinto, June 2021


Jean-Marc and Nicolas

Learn a host of new French words as I poke fun at my husband in today’s billet. Don't miss the sound file, where Jean-Marc pronounces all the vocabulary in French and in English. Photo taken in the magnificent Parc du Mugel, here in La Ciotat.

Today's Word: Taquiner

    : to tease, to kid, to joke, annoy, poke fun at

What is Taquiner? 
Having fun irritating, annoying (someone) in small things and without malice.
S'amuser à irriter, à contrarier (quelqu'un) dans de petites choses et sans méchanceté.

Audio file, click to hear all the vocabulary in French and English. Then check your comprehension with the words list at the end.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse
When our regional newspaper, La Provence, published an article about une écrivaine ciotadenne d’origine américaine, my husband had a field day teasing me. “Les gens vont te reconnaître quand tu marches dans la rue! People are going to recognize you when you walk down the street!”

Mr. Taquin could needle me all he wanted, the tables were about to turn... and I wouldn’t be the one wearing dark sunglasses...

It all began while out on a morning walk, when a complete stranger called out:
“Bonjour, Jean-Marc!”
“Who was that?” I whispered, as the man passed by.
“One of my customers, ” my husband answered, thinking nothing of it.

Ici arrive les groupies (Here come the groupies)
Next, our accidental idol was spotted at the supermarket after a woman did a double-take when we walked in. “Bonjour, Jean-Marc!” she demurred, dropping some fruit de la passion into her dainty market basket. This was only the beginning of le deluge. Ever since he opened his wine shop, Le Vin Sobre, Il ne passe pas inaperçu! He does not go unnoticed by the locals.

C’est lui la vraie vedette (He's the real celebrity)
The other night we were on our way to the flat rocks by the shore to enjoy the sunset, when a couple began waving… “Rebonjour!” Jean-Marc responded. Evidently, he’d seen them earlier. “Do you know my wife? Jean-Marc said, by way of introduction.
“Non,” they admitted. They didn’t.

Ce n’est pas grave. No hard feelings, I mean, it wasn’t as bad as the last time we were stopped. “Tu connais ma femme?” Jean-Marc said to the man with the golden retriever. Before the man could respond I nodded my head, Oui...but the other answered, “Enchanté. Nice to meet you!”

Harrumph! Talk about being invisible! Maybe it would be good to stand out after all? Speaking of stand out… WHO was that jogging past us now?

“Coucou, Jean-Marc...”
“C’était qui?” I elbowed my husband, watching the avion de chasse fly by.
“Encore une cliente. Elle s'appelle Célia.”
“Célia? Mon Dieu! I’d better spend some time at our wine shop instead of remaining holed up at the house all day, in pantoufles.
As if reading my mind, our local celebrity added, “T’inquiètes pas Ma Chérie. C’est toi mon avion de chasse! Don't worry, Dear. You are my dreamboat!”

On our latest outing, Mr. Visible and I managed to make it all the way to the phare without any fans calling out his name.

“Personne ne t’a reconnu ce matin! No one recognized you this morning!” I snickered.
“C’est un miracle!” my husband laughed, adding: “But then not all of my girlfriends say bonjour when they see me walking with my wife….”

Pfft! Ah well, he could rib me all he wanted. At least HE noticed me. In nearly 20 years of blogging, I can count on two fingers how many times I’ve been stopped in public. As for my husband, C’est une star!

FRENCH VOCABULARY
le billet = post
une écrivaine ciotadenne = a writer from La Ciotat
d’origine américaine = of American origin
un taquin, une taquine = teaser (one who teases)
le déluge = the inundation
rebonjour = hello again (for the second time today)
le phare = lighthouse
taquinerie = teasing
Il ne passe pas inaperçu! = he doesn’t go unnoticed
ce n’est pas grave = no big deal
un avion de chasse = very beautiful girl or woman
la pantoufle = house slipper

...And the word "canon" (from the title of this post). Can you guess the meaning? Answer here (along with a pretty picture of my Mom).

Language/cultural note: Rather than saying bonjour to the same person twice in one day, the French will say, “rebonjour.”

REVERSE DICTIONARY
to have a field day with something = faire ses choux gras de [qch]
to needle = embêter
to turn the tables on somebody = prendre sa revanche sur
to snicker (US), snigger (UK) = ricaner
celebrity = la vedette
evidently = visiblement, il paraît que

Our local star. I hope you enjoyed the humor in today's billet, or post. It was fun getting back at Jean-Marc after all his taquinerie! P.S. Here, our accidental idol is wearing a light blue jacket available at Jules Melquiond Sports, in Serre Chevalier!

Enjoy one more teasing story in the post "Six-Pack Abs", and learn my husband's tip for a chocolate bar stomach (and why the French call it that!)

Unlike the French, Smokey dressed up and celebrated St. Patrick's Day. A few more pictures here.

Today's Word: le ravin

    : ravine, a deep or seemingly bottomless chasm...

Audio File: Click here to listen to Jean-Marc read the last sentence in his story, below.

A BILINGUAL STORY  by Jean-Marc Espinasse

(English version follows, below)

Puisque que la météo avait prévu de la neige dans les Alpes, je me suis décidé à partir tout seul ce weekend pour faire de la randonnée en profitant de cette première neige fraîche de l'année. J'avais déjà utilisé notre petit Jimny 4X4 pour venir dans les Alpes alors qu'il neigeait et j'avais pu vérifier que cette voiture avait une bonne tenue de route dans ces conditions là.

Mais ce soir, la neige était très glissante et vers minuit à presque 1 km de mon arrivée finale un petit animal a traversé la route. À vrai dire je ne sais pas si j'ai mis un coup de frein ou si j'ai mis un coup de volant pour l'éviter, ce qui est sûr c'est que la voiture est partie en travers et qu'elle est entrée dans le ravin. Vous pouvez imaginer l'effroi et l'horreur que j'ai vécu, ne sachant pas, pendant cette chute, si ce ravin était pentu, s'il était long, s'il y avait des arbres , une rivière... bref je me suis véritablement vu mourir. Cette descente infernale dans ce ravin n'a duré peut-être que deux ou trois secondes mais pour moi elle a duré une éternité.

La voiture est miraculeusement restée sur ses quatre pneus puis elle a stoppé net. Heureusement j'avais ma ceinture de sécurité et j'ai été franchement étonné de savoir que j'étais en vie, sans aucune blessures. J'ai réussi à ouvrir la portière malgré la neige je me suis rendue compte de la chance que j'ai eue puisque la voiture n'as pas fait de tonneaux dans ce ravin très pentu. Il m'a fallu 30 minutes pour grimper, à l'aide des branches de buissons, les 15 m de dénivelé enneigés et rejoindre la route où un ami était venu à mon secours.

Après une très mauvaise nuit de sommeil je me suis réveillé sans courbatures et j'ai trouve les personnes qui m'ont aidé à remonter la voiture sur la route. Il a fallu un tracteur agricole avec un treuil, un porte-char pour amener le tracteur sur le lieu le travail et enfin un camion avec plateau pour pouvoir mettre la voiture accidentée dessus et l'amener chez le garagiste. Trois officiers de police sont également venus pour couper la route pendant cette opération délicate. Après avoir attaché la voiture aux câbles, le très puissant treuil du tracteur a réussi à la remonter au bord de la route sans aucun souci. Quel a alors été mon étonnement de voir que la voiture n'était pratiquement pas accidentée et que le moteur a démarré au quart de tour.

Le soir de cet accident, il y avait un tirage du loto historiquement élevé. Je n'ai pas joué à ce jeu mais j'ai quand même eu l'impression d'avoir gagné le gros lot. Je n'ai eu aucune blessures, la voiture n'a pas eu besoin d'être réparée et j'ai finalement pu profiter de cette neige fraîche, à l'origine de mon accident mais qui a également amorti et évité le pire dans ma course folle au sein de ce ravin.

ENGLISH VERSION

Since the weather forecast had called for snow in the Alps, I decided to go alone this weekend to hike, taking advantage of this first fresh snow of the year. I had already used our little Jimny 4X4 to come to the Alps while it was snowing and I had been able to verify that this car had good handling in these conditions.

But tonight the snow was very slippery and around midnight, almost 1 km from my final arrival, a small animal crossed the road. To tell the truth, I don't know if I put on the brakes or if I used the steering wheel to avoid it, what is certain is that the car took off sideways and so entered into the abyss. You can imagine the dread and horror I experienced, not knowing, during the fall, if this ravine was steep, if it was long, if there were trees, a river ... in short I truly saw myself dying. This hellish descent into the abyss only lasted maybe two or three seconds, but for me it lasted forever.

The car miraculously stayed (upright) on its four tires and then came to a stop. Luckily I had my seat belt on and I was frankly amazed to know that I was alive with no injuries. I managed to open the door despite the snow and realized how lucky I was since the car did not roll over in this very steep ravine. It took me 30 minutes to climb out, using the branches of the bushes, the 15 m of snow-covered vertical drop, and reach the road where a friend had come to my aid.

After a very bad night's sleep, I woke up with no body aches and found some people who helped me get the car back on the road. It took an agricultural tractor with a winch (a hoist), and a tank loader, to bring the tractor to the area and finally a truck with a platform to be able to put the damaged car on it and take it to the garage. Three police officers also came to cordon off the road during this delicate operation. After having attached the car to the cables, the very powerful winch of the tractor managed to raise it to the side of the road without any problem. I was astonished to see that the car was hardly damaged and that the engine started at a quarter-turn (of the key).

On the night of this accident, there was a historically high lottery drawing. I didn't play this game but still felt like I had won the jackpot. I had no injuries, the car did not need to be repaired and I was finally able to take advantage of this fresh snow, which was the cause of my accident but which also cushioned and prevented the worst in this mad race into the abyss.

 
Jean-Marc enjoying the snow.

Our golden retriever, Smokey, and one of his many sticks. In today's story, Jean-Marc searches for the perfect bâton along the sentier to Fontenil, high up in the Southern Alps. Read along and learn a dozen useful French terms including a funny word for perfectionist...

Today's Word: le bâton

    : stick, cane, staff
    : le bâton de ski = ski pole

Sound file: Click here to listen to Jean-Marc read the following sentence in French and in English.Un alpenstock est un long poteau en bois avec une pointe en fer, utilisé par les bergers pour voyager sur les champs de neige et les glaciers des Alpes depuis le Moyen Âge. Les alpinistes francophones appelaient cet objet un "bâton". An alpenstock is a long wooden pole with an iron spike tip, used by shepherds for travel on snowfields and glaciers in the Alps since the Middle Ages. French-speaking climbers called this item a "baton".

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Le Fignoleur (The Perfectionist)

On a hike with Jean-Marc in Le Parc National des Ecrins, I discovered my husband's rare perfectionist side. This quirky behavior began after he picked up a fallen branch and, snapping it in two, carefully fashioned a walking stick. Advancing along a trail of faded pine needles, my guide reached for another branche d'arbre, examined it thoughtfully, and tossed the one he had been using.

Tu veux que je t’en fasse un? Would you like me to make you one? Jean-Marc offered.

Non merci. I needed both hands to fall on as we advanced up the rocky ravine, even if I felt surefooted in my tightly-laced bottes de randonnée.

C'était dommage, Jean-Marc remarked, to have missed the changing colors of the beautiful mélèze trees. The leaves on these conifers were now a dull brown, but there were other vivid scenes to enjoy: the clear blue sky and the candy red berries on the trees in the fields we'd passed earlier, where the moist earth was upturned by wild sangliers in search of bulbs. 

"I didn't know there were wild pigs in the Alps...." I said, reaching to pick up one of the bulbs the boars had left behind.

Eh oui, my Montagnard replied, wrestling with yet another found branch. His foot pinning it down, he pulled one end of the branch until it snapped in two. Voilà! As he measured it against the previous stick, until the length was to his liking, I was about to tease him for such fastidiousness. Instead, curiosity won out. I wondered, was there a specific term for this stick Jean-Marc was so obsessed with? 

"C'est un bâton," Mr. Finicky answered. Such an ordinary word compared to these synonyms I would later look up, like alpenstock or trekking pole or shillelagh! 

"A good one should come up to your chin. Comme ça," Jean-Marc demonstrated, leaning against his latest find. "High enough to balance a pair of jumelles...." Too bad he had forgotten those binoculars. On second thought, Jean-Marc was so intent on finding the perfect bâton, he couldn't focus on much else—though he didn’t miss the chamois, when it clipped past, some 200 meters below us. Regarde!!

The fawn having disappeared from view, my husband began smoothing out the “handle” of his (6th? 7th? 8th?) bâton, using the rough bark of a larch tree to saw the tip. Running his fingers over the edges, Ça y est! It looked like this would be the one!

I watched my mountain man set off now, down the canyon, over a deep bed of crunchy autumn leaves. And it made me smile to see him stomp down with his feet, and tap the ground with his bâton, rien que pour le plaisir, just for the pleasure of hearing the sounds of fall. 

FRENCH VOCABULARY

le bâton = stick
le sentier = path, way
le fignoleur/la fignoleuse = perfectionist
la branche d'arbre = tree branch
bottes de randonnée = hiking boots
c'est dommage = it's too bad
le mélèze = larch tree
le sanglier = wild boar
le montagnard = mountain dweller
les jumelles = binoculars
le chamois = fawn, goat-antelope
Regarde! = look!
ça y est = that’s it
rien que pour le plaisir = just for the pleasure

I regret not getting a picture of Jean-Marc with his beloved bâtons! For the moment, our roving perfectionist is busy finishing up his chapter, dotting every i and crossing every t, in hopes you will follow along with his (and our) vineyard story.

A scooter in St. Tropez. Look closely at the sagging object my husband is carrying. Meet Mr. Sacks, Jean-Marc's lovable sidekick. The photos in the following story were taken over the years....

Today's Word: la sacoche (sah-kohsh)

    : handbag, saddlebag, purse, bag

from the Italian saccoccia, or "little pocket"

la sacoche en cuir = leather bag
la sacoche d'écolier = school bag
la sacoche à outils = tool bag
une soirée de sacoches (Canadian expression) = girls' night out, evening with girlfriends

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE... by Kristin Espinasse
Ode to Mr. Sacks

I couldn't believe my ears when Jean-Marc, packing for his business trip, mentioned: "I'm not taking my sacoche with me." 

Vraiment? My husband might as well have decided to leave an appendage behind--son bras droit, for example, the one he uses to lift his wine glass. That is how vital his trusty, takes-with-him everywhere sacoche is to him.

What with increasing restrictions for carry-on and check-in, Jean-Marc's dear sidekick, Mr. Sacks, is the latest victime of airline cutbacks!

Poor Mr. Sacks! I've never felt sorry for the old bag before. Mostly, I've felt envious. Mr. Sacks is the one who goes on all the business trips with my husband. Mr. Sacks goes to all the local wine tastings while I sit at home guzzling tap water.  

Mr Sacks in Paris... the one on the left. (Make no mistake, the other bags mean nothing to Jean-Marc!)

Mr. Sacks in Ventimille, Italy, watching locals play boules, or pétanque.

I do pity, Mr. Sacks, now that his saggy little body is pouting in the corner of my husband's office. This is the first time in his 12-year-old life that he's collected dust. Normally he's on the go....

Mr. Sacks cruising the island of Cres, in Croatia. Just kidding, Jean-Marc would never put Mr. Sacks in this predicament (water). This brings me to the next point...

Regularly I am asked to hold on to Mr. Sacks while my husband sprints off to use a public restroom or when (as pictured above) he is practicing a sport. "Tu peux prendre ma sacoche?" He asks. And I always grumble, not wanting to hold the heavy "third wheel". Apart from tractor wrenches, he even keeps wine bottles (for his tastings) in there...


Mr. Sacks (on the floor, next to the bucket spittoon)

Some refer to Mr. Sacks as a "man purse".  That always makes me snicker. Hahahahahaha! Man Bag!!! Sac Homme! I point at Mr. Sacks. But Mr. Sacks isn't laughing... 


Me, babysitting Mr. Sacks in Malta in 2017. Jean-Marc purchased the leather bag in une maroquinerie  in Draguignan, years and years ago. It was love at first sight.


Jean-Marc's got that guilty look on his face. He's always holding hands with Mr. Sacks instead of with me--and he knows it!  While others worry about the other woman, I have to worry about the old bag!


Mr. Sacks is with him on bad hair days...


And on good hair days... at the beach in Sainte-Maxime.


And especially on family days!
 

Visiting the healing waters at Lourdes. Can you spot Mr. Sacks?


Mr. Sacks in Burgundy... with the winemakers...

But old Mr. Sacks, as you can see, is beginning to sag. I worry that items inside him will begin to fly out of his slouching pockets. I especially worry that money will fall out. For this reason, I sometimes follow close in Jean-Marc's wake as he goes about his errands. I am stumbling along behind him swatting my arms back and forth prepared to catch those banknotes that might come flying out of that sagging bag. 

Mr. Sacks is coming apart at the seams, which just goes to show even sacks have middle-age crisis.

Over the years I've tried to get Jean-Marc to consider buying a new bag. Nothin' doin'! "But it's a hazard," I argue (a financial hazard at that! Just think if money really were flying out of that bag). 

"I'm keeping my bag!" my husband always argues back.


A couple of weeks ago Jean-Marc announced with an ear-to-ear grin: Je l'ai fait réparer, mon sac. He had brought Mr. Sacks to the leather mender's, in town. The guy did a wonderful job, Jean-Marc told me, adding that the man was nearly 90 years old. 

Any ill will or harsh feelings I may have felt regarding Mr. Sacks flew out of the picture (as those bank notes might have...). My heart smiled thinking of the wrinkled man sewing the wrinkled bag, one soul giving life back to the other, each content to be of service for as long as they were needed or wanted.



FRENCH VOCABULARY
vraiment = really
le bras = arm
droit = right
tu peux prendre ma sacoche = can you take my bag?
la maroquinerie = purse, bag, and luggage shop
le sac homme = man purse 
je l'ai fait réparer = I had it fixed
mon sac = my purse 
Oh dear. Here is Mr. Sacks on the little island of Porquerolles, with Jean-Marc and his formidable mop-spear. I hope you read about this confection--Jean-Marc was very proud of it--in the chapter "Lance".


Mr. Sacks in Caltagirone, Sicily... can't you see him sniffing the pretty flowers? Voilà, for this edition. If you feel like one more story, read about the time I found a heart-stopping message inside of Mr. Sacks.

In case you're wondering: my husband gave me permission to write the following story! Here he is with his tattered and sagging sacoche. (side note: the bag has been on its last leg since 2004, and just keeps going and going and going!) Photo taken in 2010 in Caltagirone, Sicily. 

fouiller (foo-ee-ay)

    : to rummage through something (a pocket, a drawer)

Audio File: hear Jean-Marc pronounce the following French sentence: Download MP3 or listen to Wav file

À l'hôpital d'Orange j'ai fouillé dans la sacoche de mon mari. At the hospital in Orange, I rummaged through my husband's bag.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE... by Kristin Espinasse

Several weeks ago, after rushing Jean-Marc to the emergency room, I was asked by the night shift nurse to provide my husband's papiers d'assurance. Zut! I was afraid the nurse would ask for those! 

They had to be in here somewhere.... I set Jean-Marc's sacoche on the counter, unbuckled the tattered leather flap and began searching for some papers—the kind my husband would have folded and stuck into his wallet... or maybe in a side pocket? After a few fruitless attempts at locating the insurance documents, I tapped on the glass divider window to alert the nurse.

"When you find them," the nurse persevered, "pass them to me here." As he spoke, he pointed to a little cutout in the glass wall, through which I could transfer the needed paperwork.

"Il n'y a pas le feu!" the infirmier assured me. No, there was no rush. An emergency room visit in France could last three hours or more! That ought to be enough time to go through the entire contents of Jean-Marc's sacoche, which was something between a briefcase and a men's purse. My husband has a mobile office inside that bag! and room for a bottle of wine or two, which he tucks inside whenever he visits his cavistes in Marseilles or Paris or Portland. Finding those papers inside Ali Baba's* bag was going to be an adventure!

Entering the salle d'attente, I noticed a handful of other accidental insomniacs. Like myself, they had found themselves here in the middle of the night because of an accident or illness of a loved one.  The gray-haired woman, seated alone, looked distraught—though the young twenty-something women with the toddler running between them seemed bored. I took a seat next to the man with the dark mustache and beard, facing the pretty young women.  I wondered whether they knew each other? To whom did the child belong? The brunette or the blond? Was the man the grandfather?

No time to play connect-the-dots, I needed to find those insurance papers! Still, I couldn't help wondering what sort of catastrophes had struck the others' loved ones? Perhaps, they were wondering the same about me?

Only a dislocated shoulder, I would assure them... if perchance they happened to ask. When they didn't, it was the least I could do to maintain a cheerful demeanor to reassure them. On second thought, perhaps I looked a little too happy as I sat there rifling through my husband's bag?

Perhaps they thought I was taking advantage of my husband's absence... to go searching through his private affairs? That's it, they think I am snooping! 

After all, no sooner had I sat down in the waiting room than I began rifling through the manly sacoche. Obviously it was not my own. They knew it was my helpless husband's! In their eyes I might be nothing more than an insecure housewife taking a cheap shot at uncovering some sort of double-life of the man who had disappeared into the emergency room!

 Just when I began to suspect—and even invent—a few more condemning thoughts coming from the others in the salle d'attente, my eyes fell on a little piece of paper inside my husband's bag. As I studied the scratchy handwriting the room around me disappeared completely. Gone were the paranoid imaginings, gone was the connect-the-dot curiosity. A bigger question began to form in my consciousness.

Just what was this? My heart thumped slowly as I pulled out the flimsy piece of paper, letting the bag fall aside. 

I read and reread the handwritten notations which appeared on a cut-out piece of paper (wallet-sized) which seemed to be part of an official document; it read:

Je soussigné (here, my husband had written in his name, in all caps)... exprime par la présente mon choix de la crémation après mon décès. Je demande que mes cendres soient (here my husband had filled in the blank line to read "...que mes cendres soient) déversées dans la Méditerranée"... to which he specified "(Marseille)."

I (here, my husband had written in his name)... presently express my choice of cremation after my death. I ask that my ashes be (here my husband had filled in the blank line to read "... that my ashes be distributed in the Mediterranean sea"... to which Jean-Marc specified "Marseilles)."

A few fearful and mysterious moments passed before I regained awareness of where we were in the grand scheme of things: we were OK—especially HE was OK (only a displaced shoulder!), and this was just some sort of carrying card—a cremation card (did we even have these in the States?), dated September 2004, a card that I had not seen before, for whatever reason. But everything was all right. Any such events were in the far future... only, some of us had thoughtfully left instructions in the event of....

 My poor dear husband, ever so responsible! Though I was surprised by the carrying card, I was not surprised by Jean-Marc's instructions. I might have guessed. I only wish I had the courage to write some instructions of my own, and to imagine as beautiful a resting place one day, far off, with him. Yes, the Mediterranean!

***

Post note: Aside from the sea, I had always imagined we'd be buried near to each other, something that may no longer be ecologically friendly or feasible? Though, I hate the thought of drifting away from my love!

Comments

Voilà -- difficult topic tackled! Is this too creepy or upsetting a subject to talk about? Would you be willing to write your burial (drifter?) instructions on a carrying-card? Have you? Do you know what your parents' wishes are? Your spouse's? Your significant other's? Are you too superstitious to talk about it?

Thanks for sharing here in the comments box.

P.S. I finally found the insurance papers! They were next to Jean-Marc's organ donor's papers from France ADOT. In addition to those, I found Jean-Marc's Carte Nationale de Donneur de Sang Bénévole. 

FRENCH VOCABULARY

le papier d'assurance = insurance paper

zut = darn!

la sacoche = satchel, bag

la salle d'attente = waiting room

Il n'y a pas le feu (Il n'y a pas le feu au lac !) = there's no rush! (literally "there's no fire on the lake")

un infirmier, une infirmière = nurse

un caviste = wine seller

Ali Baba (from the popular French expression une caverne d’Ali Baba, or "vast collection of things")

Chris visited us a few years ago and I meant to post her photo... getting to that now! Next time we'll get a close-up!   Left to right: Jean-Marc, Chris's cousins Elizabeth, Heather, and David, Chris's hubby Fred, Kristin, Christine (that's Chris!), and daughter Laura