A Day in the Life

Normally, church bells are the only sound one hears at night in Bédoin. While we have spent time in other small towns of le Midi (southern France), where the awful clanging wakes you up all night long, these bells have a daintiness about them. Good thing, too, since we live just down the hill from the church! The bells continue the age-old tradition of telling people what time it is. Twenty-four hours a day, they sound once for each hour and then, curiously enough around here, repeat a few minutes later in case you missed it! The bells also sound one time on the half hour. But at seven a.m. (as well as at noon and seven p.m.—I imagine indicating matins, angelus, and vespers), the bells ring many times, so that is usually when I begin my day.

Ray generally goes out for a walk first thing, even though until lately it’s been quite dark at that hour of the morning. He’s gotten to know the people at the tabac (more like a convenience store than just a place to get tobacco products), where he buys the paper. While he’s out, he sometimes stops at one of the four town boulangeries to pick up viennoiseries, such as croissants, pains au chocolat, or my personal favorite triangles aux amandes (a version of almond croissants).

During the week, I usually start my day by blogging or reading the newspaper. In fact, one day in Libération, I saw an ad from a Parisian professor who was in urgent need of a bilingual philosopher to translate his communication on Rousseau to be given in Denmark in March...right up Ray's alley. So, we’ve spent a lot of time the past few weeks working on that.

Some mornings we catch part of Télématin, France’s answer to The Today Show. Their host of twenty something years, William Leymergie, and his crew report on a wide variety of subjects—the news, weather, book and film reviews, recipes, and the like, plus a standard feature about history. There are always many references to the U.S.—our politics and culture, of course—with several English words (like “yes,” “very French”…) thrown in. It’s still cool knowing English, I guess.

Both Ray and I devote most of our day to our research, spending a lot of time reading—Camus for him and Fred Vargas for me. We have to watch the clock, or listen to the bells, though, to be sure to get to Shopi before 12:30, if we need food for lunch. Otherwise we fall victim to yet another tradition: the practice of businesses closing for several hours starting around noontime for lunch and la sieste. (This is true, by the way, for most stores—from banks and the post office to bakeries, etc.) We’re in Shopi a lot. Not having a car is a great stress reliever in so many ways: it really slows you down, since you have to walk everywhere; you don’t have to worry about where to park or the fluctuations in the price of gas; no agitation fighting traffic. But you also have to carry everything home that you purchase at the supermarket. And you have to remember to bring your bags because none are provided and there are usually not even any cardboard boxes available.

If we have time, we like to go out for a walk mid-afternoon. Saturday, for example, we spent about an hour walking past vineyards and old farmhouses (des mas) at the foot of Mont Ventoux. We feel the sun getting stronger and seeing wildflowers starting to bloom gives us hope that spring is just around the corner.