Ah oui, I’m definitely back in France . . .

…actually I’ve been back for almost a month, but, as usual, time escaped me.  I started to write this post a week or so after I moved into the new apartment, then other things battled for my attention– unpacking, an article to write and the vendange–more about that in future posts.  Now, although it seems almost as though I never left, there are still almost daily reminders of how much I have yet to learn about living in France.

So, picking up on the subject of this post– I knew I was back when the automatic teller machine at the Credite Agricole in Pezenas ate my debit card.  I went inside the bank and in French, rusty from four months of disuse, tried to explain to the teller.  Come back tomorrow she told me (at least I think that’s what she told me, my comprehension had also suffered) and bring your passport.  Since I already had identification, I wanted to ask why I couldn’t just have the card back maintenant, but I was already exhausted from the exchange plus I know a little more now about how French bureaucracy works.

So that was a Thursday.  Friday, I thought about driving back to Pezenas, about 25 minutes away, but spent the day unpacking  and shopping for groceries at my old friend the Super U.  Love the wine and cheese, hate the financial transaction–I gave the clerk my American credit card which is supposed to work in France but doesn’t always–if it’s raining in Belgium, for example, a black cat crossed my path the night before, or Hollande wears a blue tie. I think it was Holland’e fault this time, it usually is. The clerk shrugged, shook her head and handed back the card.  I gave her cash, the last euros I had in my billfold. Saturday, I thought again about going into Pezenas but it was market day and the place would be a zoo–also I wasn’t sure whether Credite Agricole would be open.

Monday, as I drove to Pezenas I rehearsed what I would say to the teller–I had it all written down in my notebook which I carry everywhere.  But Monday, et voila, the bank is closed.  As I walked back to my car, I met up with someone I know–French.  He shrugged when I told him the bank was closed.  Perhaps because it was open Saturday, was his best explanation. I think it might have been Hollande’s tie.  Tuesday, the bank was open and I got my card back.

Lessons about living in France that I’ve learned the hard way and should actually write up and post on the fridge:

•DO NOT drive long distances on Sunday or at night when low on gas:  24 hour stations only take French credit cards and since there is no cashier on duty money won’t work.  I discovered this ages ago, but apparently it hasn’t quite sunk in. Running on fumes, I found an Intermarché but, while everyone else was pumping away, I was stuck until the woman at the next pump took pity on me, accepted my 20 euros and paid for my fuel on her credit card.

•DO NOT run low on food or wine, especially wine, on Saturday then wait until Sunday afternoon to buy more. Nothing is open after noon on Sundays . . . well except for Jardinland, a chain of nursery supply stores because of course you never know when you absolutely have to have a geranium or a bag of potting soil. Just don’t try making a meal out of it.

•DO have cash on hand when shopping, just in case it’s one of those days — black cats, rain in Belgium, etc.

•DO NOT spend too much time wondering why things work the way they do in France.  Just shrug. C’est la vie.


After four months of a semi vagabond existence, it felt very good to gather my belonging from the various places they’d been stored and to unpack my suitcases. The apartment is still a work in progress, but feels enough like home that I’ve been able to do some work.  Quite a luxury to have a separate study–it’s been so long since I’ve worked from anything larger than the corner of the bedroom or living room that I hardly know what to do with all the space.
I’m also enjoying the new village.  Like Montpeyroux, Laurens is wine making  village–one of seven, including the actual village of Faugeres, that constitute the Faugeres apellation.  There’s an interesting web site — http://www.e-britain.co.uk/laurens/pictures.htm–which has a lot of old pictures of the village including one of my street, rue de la Tuillerie.  Also a link to some more recent views: http://www.mairie-laurens.fr/index.php?page=photos.
 And, ta da, some pictures of my dwelling–I’m up with the pigeons on the third floor.



A barbecue in the grounds of a beautiful old building where art and music classes are offered. The sky looked a bit threatening even before dinner was served, but midway through the second course, it started to rain. Unperturbed the diners, lots of Brits among them, just opened umbrellas and went on with the meal. Stay dry and carry on!
  IMG_1800 IMG_1801
Flew into Barcelona in late August and spent a few days in the Spanish countryside, about an hour from the city.Blackberries ripening,lavender and thyme in the hillsides. A month earlier, I’d been in Minnesota– black cows and fields and fields of corn. In Spain, smaller fields of corn and caramel coloured cows with bells around their necks. Very cute, but a little camera shy.  The bells sounded nice though.
All my bags are packed, I’m going away
Waiting here at JFK
Oh man, I hate to fly.
So many brats, obnoxious and loud
A wailing, screaming fighting crowd
Please god they don’t sit next to me.
But security will open in an hour or two,
Cross my fingers they’ll let me through,
Then I’ll be on my way.
I’m leaving on a jet plane
Tomorrow morning I’ll be in Spain,
Oh man I need a drink….

That’s it for now, much more to write about, but I’ll save it for future posts. à la prochaine fois.

By La vie en France

2 comments on “Ah oui, I’m definitely back in France . . .

  1. Hi Janice,

    Glad you got back to France OK. Deanna filled me in on your CT. stay. Got a few laughs over wine hearing about Joe & his big kayak adventure.

    Love you Blog.
    Big Hugs,

  2. Thank you for the chuckles — at your expense! Like a song I can’t get out of my head, I think Hollande’s tie will be on my mind now for a while:) When it comes to culture shock, I see how something as simple as knowing what is open what days could be a bit distressful. I look forward to reading more of your posts. PS I live on the third store of my condo building also. I will envision you in the French parallel universe!hehe

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