From my tiny little writing desk in Montpellier, I tap away on my keyboard, allowing the words to spill out and make their own sentences freely, whatever they may reveal.
It is late afternoon on Sunday, and the cool dark of night is creeping through the air, even though it is just after five. I am burning a candle from my favourite florist au nom de la rose, the sky outside my window is a dark, thick grey. The outside light is gloomy and dull, but the candle beside me illuminates my workspace, glowing its soft but strong warmth.
Pictures, photos, words and memories blue-tacked on the wall above my laptop screen dance and flicker between light and shade while the candle’s playfully throws its light about. I’m back in my beautiful little sanctuary, my home away from home… finally.
Gosh there is something so comforting about jumpers, leggings, slouchy socks, slippers, unbrushed hair and a makeup-less face, endless cups of tea and vegemite toast, a whole day with the camera switched off and no sightseeing to tick off the list or people to talk to or things to remember and be inspired by. As amazing as that all was, and is, today, this little spot in the world, quiet and still, is my happy place.
My limbs feel heavy and weary, my eyes are glassy and overworked from taking in so much beauty over the past weeks, my heart is a little twisted and out of sorts from so much emotion and such big days of adventure, but my fingers, they are so very eager to tap tap tap away and pour out these words; to tell you the story of my recent adventures. There is so much to say.
I’m looking at my calendar pinned to the curtain…November already? My days in Europe are numbered. I have now got just three short weeks left in Montpellier before a travel finale in Italy, then back to Australia.
Two weeks ago I couldn’t begin to imagine getting on that plane and going back home, but now, I think about home and feel nostalgic, I miss it, I miss everyone I love and i’m kind of almost feeling ready. As much as I love this side of the world, there’s something about home that is irreplaceable.
So, where have I been? I have just returned from sixteen nights in Paris, Brussels and Amsterdam with a certain beautiful man/best friend in my life, Tim. And before that was a couple of weeks in the UK, namely London and Edinburgh with my dear friend Becca. I’ve snapped hundreds upon hundreds of photos and I have soaked up so many enchanting moments and experiences… many of which I will share in the coming posts. Now that I have my writing desk back, and some spare time, that is.
But for now, all my love, and umm… aren’t these flowers breathtaking?
They were a special gift from beautiful above-mentioned man amid our travelling adventure. I can’t tell you how many times I have wandered past this florist over the past months and wished for a bunch. A whole, dreamy bunch, just for me! I’ve never received anything so beautiful.
I’ve kept some dry buds to treasure and they’re scattered on my nightstand.
So i’m in my last week of basically a solid past month of travel, venturing through gorgeous London, freezing Edinburgh, enchanting Paris, waffle-tastic Brussels and after a short train trip this afternoon, five final nights in (adjective pending) Amsterdam.
At one time or another, every language student finds himself or herself at a precipice. A certain ‘coming of age’ point of no return, when all of a sudden there is a insatiable desire to seek that which lies far beyond the safe nest of grammar points and verb conjugation.
Follow the curiosity, and your command of the language can never again return to its same, innocent self.
This petite bowerbird flew from her nest very early, by ordering herself a copy of The Complete Merde (for the unflown, that is, The Complete Shit).
I might be a little ambivalent when it comes to perfecting my je fais, tu fais, il/elle fait and so on, but when it comes to this extracurricular shit, I pass with flying colours.
Who wouldn’t love a book that’s divided into the chapters such as:
Common everyday musts
The absolute musts
What an idiot
I don’t give a damn
The body and its functions
Weighty matters of love and sex – national obsession number 1
The no less weighty matters of food and drink – national obsession number 2, and
Merde Encore (that is, diagrams of French finger sticking and sign language)
So what’s in my new vocabulary?
thingummyjig: un bidule
to not understand a damn thing about: ne piger quedale à
to be up shit creek: être dans la merde
to take oneself very seriously: ne pas se prendre pour de la petite merde (lit. to not take oneself for small shit)
to think highly of oneself: péter plus haut que son cul (lit. to fart higher than one’s arse)
to be full of energy: péter le feu (lit. to fart fire)
little twerp: un petit merdeux / une petite merdeuse (m/f)
to have a screw loose: avoir une case de vide (lit. to have an empty compartment)
love at first sight: le coup-de-foudre (lit. the bolt of lightning)
out of sight, out of mind: loin des yeux, loin du coeur (lit. out of eyes, out of heart)
It sounds a bit suggestive and really has nothing at all do with the purpose of this post, but when I randomly noticed Tickle my France-y on the bottom of my new nail polish bottle it just had to become the title.
After such magical recent weeks, i’ve certainly been thumped with a massive reality check these past two days – in the form of a ghastly snotty-tissued phlegm-plagued bed-ridden kind of headcold. But considering all of the air-pressurised plane trips and germ-spreading train/metro/bus transport types i’ve been constantly using these past few months, I am pretty darn impressed that my immune system has held out so valiantly until yesterday.
I despise feeling so rotten but I know it’s only temporary, so two pyjama days it has been, with an endless supply of Dilmah tea, vegemite toast, a really good book and an addictive new TV series i’ve been introduced to called Breaking Bad. Tonight i’ve started to feel better, so back to the glorious Montpellier sunshine it is tomorrow! (And maybe school).
While i’m here, I thought i’d share some happy snaps of Leg 2 of my adventure with Mum – 3 days in Montpellier, showing her this gorgeous town I can call home right now… and can’t help but fall more in love with every day. x
Another little part of my french life is fresh flowers.
When I first settled into my house, the first thing I bought to make it feel like my home, was a fresh flower and single-stem vase. It brought life and colour to my unlived-in room, it made the space feel like it was mine. And it has become a bit of a habit.
Whenever i’m not travelling, I always go to my local florist Les Floralies par Muriel et Bernard (14, rue du Fabourg de la Saunerie) and pick a fresh flower for my room.
For Mother’s day in May, not long before I left for France, Dad and I took Mum out for a nondescript Sunday brunch. Mum opened and enjoyed her less-than-exceptional presents, we ordered our not-so-out-of-the-ordinary food and unremarkable coffee.
Except, when the coffee was delivered, a little Eiffel Tower was perched on the tray. The waitress insisted that Mum keep it, and she was totally (rightfully) stumped. Mum held this peculiar object in her hand awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with it, and not quite sure what it really meant. She was even more confused as to why neither Dad or I found this whole scenario even a little bit strange.
Then, I handed Mum her final present. Now really confused, Mum unwrapped the plain brown paper with caution. Inside, there was shock, there were tears, there was total disbelief, laughter and possibly the most significant surprise that had ever been sprung on her: one plane ticket to Paris and a three week Mother-daughter adventure planned for September, to coincide with her 60th birthday.
And as it turned out, Denise, one of Mum’s dearest and oldest friends (the friendship is old, not Denise) was also going to be in Paris at the same time!
And what an adventure it was. It’s something I don’t even have words for – but I do know that incredible Europe aside, our time together was priceless, and even more magnificent than the beautiful glittering La Tour Eiffel by night. I also know it’s not something we could have done a few years ago. We ventured harmoniously and side by side as travel partners through Paris, Montpellier, Nice, the Cinque Terre and we ended up in Milan, closer than ever before.
It was more than I dreamed it could be.
Love you Maman x
Highlights from Leg 1: Paris, below (the rest to come).
I promised you a glimpse into my everyday French life, and is there no better way than to begin with an inventory of my french pantry?
In truth, I would not normally have the patience to produce such a menial dissertation, but having just purchased most of these items after returning from travel to a depressingly empty food cupboard, it was easy enough to capture.
Let me start by saying this: French food is amazing. Not only is it cheaper than in Australia (throughout summer I enjoyed almost daily punnets of framboises (raspberries) for 1.5€ a pop) it’s fresher, more flavoursome, comes with the dirt and leaves attached and just looks sexier.
THE STAPLES
Andros orange pressées Orange juice. Unremarkable and not particularly noteworthy, but it’s always in my fridge.
BIO boisson au soja nature
If you know me, you’ll know I can rant about France’s absence of soymilk on cafe menus until the cows (tofus?) come home. Obviously, I keep the stuff as a permanent fixture in my pantry, with occasional BYO soy milk requests at cafes, so I can enjoy my sometimes-lattes in peace.
Bordeaux la cave d’Augustin florent
If there wasn’t wine in my cupboard, i’d hardly be living la vie Montpellierien. I like this one because it is 375mL, therefore Em-sized and can be enjoyed over a night or two without too much tipsyness.
Boursin fromage ail & fines herbes
Becca, this one’s for you. This cheese is more than cheese. Accidentally discovered in the Adelaide Central Markets somewhere during the second year of uni, I have never looked back. I don’t look twice at Brie when there is Boursin at my fingertips.
Grand Fermage beurre demi sel
I can’t believe it’s not butter. Oh, but it is. It’s also aux cristaux de sel de mer de Noirmoutier, that is, with salt crystals from an island called Noirmoutier, not far from Nantes in France.
Haricots Rouges
Plain old kidney beans. Their presence appeases Mum, a constant worrier for her vegetarian, iron-deficiency-prone daughter.
Mélange gourmand
Pre-washed mixed lettuce, which is really quite unfrench, but it’s the only way to buy lettuce for one. Buying it soily and whole always leads to soggy brown mush in the fridge before I can chomp my way through it.
Oeufs frais fermiers
…de poules élevées en plein air, pondus en Pays de Loire (by free range [lit. open-air] hens laid in the Loire Vallery, France).
Sauce tomate aux 4 légumes
Pasta sauce when i’m too lazy to make my own (and it’s so good that I haven’t since I discovered it).
Thon à la catalane
Also a mother placater, tinned tuna in a sauce tomate et légumes (tomato and vegetable sauce).
Thé vert menthe
I bought this assuming it was peppermint tea – and I was wrong. My guess is spearmint, but i’m not really sure. It’s a strange flavour and I am not a fan. It has remained untouched and probably will until I clear my pantry and leave.
Yaourt Brassé à la vanille
The dairy I don’t drink in milk I make up for with this yoghurt. This one is my favourite – you can see specks of Vanilla bean throughout. It’s creamy and yum.
Yaourt Activa saveur coco
I discovered coconut yoghurt at the Cinque Terre last week – it was available for breakfast alongside the more typical strawberry/vanilla tubs and I was intrigued. It tastes exotic and i’m giving it a go for a while.
NECESSARY IMPORTS
Brookfarm macadamia muesli
Next in line to soymilk, my other point of content with France is the lack of decent muesli. The ‘nicer’ ones here always seem to feature chocolate, which I can’t conceive consuming for breakfast. Mum thankfully brought this one over, and so for the next X days, I will be savouring my breakfasts.
Dilmah ceylon gold
Nothing beats Dilmah. Um… Do try it!
Maggie Beer spiced pear paste
I’m not sure what the French would think about serving paste with their stinky fromage, but a little bit of Maggie atop a hunk of non-boursin cheese is something I won’t budge on.
Miel de la chataigneraie (honey of the chestnut grove)
This isn’t really an ‘import’, but it does fit ‘necessary’. Somehow, it mysteriously came home in my handbag from a recent fancy breakfast at Hôtel Plaza Athénée for Mum’s special birthday in Paris.
Patak’s Madras curry paste
To my delight, I found this in my local Monoprix, but as it’s not really French I decided it should go on the imports list. Chickpea curry made with this paste is heavenly.
Twinings Pure Peppermint
I picked this up in London after the aforementioned Thé vert menthe disaster.
Vegemite
After 3 sad weeks sans Vegemite, my stores are now replenished.
(Haighs Chocolate should be on this list, alas nobody has sent me any..)
SWEET STUFF
Kusmi Tea Kashmir Tchai
This tea is big in France – and i’m a doting fan. Trés delicious flavours meets trés delicious packaging.
Les macarons – Ladurée
A treat from Paris, and no treat can trump macarons from Ladurée. I am fickle when it comes to deciding on my favourite. My heart lies somewhere between purist Vanille, exotic chocolat pure origine de Madagascar (pure origin chocolate from Madagascar) and delicate pétales de rose (rose).
Pépites Fraise
These are simply tiny squares of 100% dried strawberry and apple. My snack of choice for planes and trains has always been a kit-kat, but after finding these, I haven’t looked back.
Petit écolier
The biscuit of France. In fact, I think they’re pretty universally known these days.
x
My Dad said I should be apologising for my shameful lack of posts over the past three weeks, and I have to agree. I’m sorry, dear readers! The world has just swallowed me up and i’ve been having too much fun to write about it.
I haven’t shown it, but I am grateful to have all of you. And i’m beyond stoked by what Google Analytics is telling me – increased readership despite my Absence Without Official Leave? That’s hardly congruent, i’d better lift my game.
So… what’s been happening? Me, I have just arrived back home to Montpellier after three blissful weeks travelling with my beautiful Mum. Life has been a flurry of suitcase packing and unpacking, long days exploring, culture contrasted with consumerism, incredible scenery, amazing local food, colours to photograph, so much laughter, countless idyllic moments, daily philosophical chats over our 5 o’clock G&Ts and memories that I know will be cherished for more than forever.
For the next few days, I must bury myself under my heavy, unreplied-to inbox & freelance projects that have been patiently waiting for my attention, but when I emerge, I actually have a couple of travel-free weeks ahead to enjoy my everyday French life and perhaps attend some french school.
No Ann-Marie, I have not been officially expelled as yet. (For those not in the loop, a family bet has been established, with two opposing parties predicting my expulsion, or non-expulsion from said language school due to my appalling attendance).
Regardless, I have every best intention to share more of my French life with you.
Love x x
To my incredible father, a compassionate, loving sage,
A contemplator, mathematics master, a man who is wiser than he lets on,
Who bought me flowers every single Valentine’s day until there was someone in my life to take over,
Who willingly gives up countless fingers of toast at breakfast (it always tastes better)
Who fills up my petrol without me asking (or sometimes even noticing)
Who has given up Mum for 18 days so we could have ‘girl’ time in Paris/Italy.
To the man who always supports my wildest dreams and farfetched ambitions,
(Turning public parks into twilight dining rooms,
Hanging one thousand paper cranes from the ceiling of a bedroom,
Hand-folding hundreds of wedding invitations until 3.30am,
Hanging artworks with pegs and string while balancing on ladders propped on lofty stairwells,
Driving me across the city in peak traffic to the printers while I madly finish work on my laptop,
Being my all-day taxi for the first wedding I photographed, just so I could focus and breathe,)
You ground me with the practicality and reality to somehow make these crazy endeavours all tangible.
You have always been there, not once have you let me down.
It doesn’t go unnoticed.
To the humble, witty, patient, thoughtful, loving, harmonious musician, mon papa gentil.
I can’t wait for summer hits of tennis, late nights watching the Australian Open, Without a Trace re-runs, Cibo’s with Pappa and reclaiming at least a few toast fingers when I return home.
I love you with all my heart,
(and I promise to look after Mum)
Come play in Emma Kate Creative's bowerbird nest of words, colours and loveliness. Here you will find behind-the-scenes snippets of creative projects, dreams and ideas collected in the pursuit of living he{art}fully.
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