The First Mushrooms in our Wood

When Relationnel arrived in Blois on Thursday evening, he immediately went up into the little wood behind the house which is part of our property and reported that there were some white mushrooms that he wanted to check out next day when it was light. So next morning, I put on my thick walking shoes and we went up to explore. We were delighted to find a whole basketful of what looked like wood mushrooms (agaricus silvicola).

Agaricus

However,  since there is a risk of confusion with other agarics, he naturally wanted to make sure they were edible, particularly as they had turned a slight yellowish colour when picked. We had already been careful to pull them out completely to check there was no volva on the end.  The volva is a ruptured, sack-like covering at the base of the mushroom’s stem which is mainly present in poisonous mushrooms.

Checking for the aniseed smell

Relationnel got out his reference books to check. The most distinctive thing about agaricus silvicola is its aniseed smell, which our mushrooms were lacking. Although he was not able to identify the species, he sensibly said we would throw them away. That is one of the first rules of wild mushroom picking as some are deadly.

Parasol mushroom

However, it made me want to go mushroom picking so after lunch, we set out with Mei Lun to search the forest where we found quite a lot of summer ceps this year. We put on our “mushroom eyes” and the first ones we came across were parasol mushrooms (coulmelle in French) from the Lepiota family.

Cep hidden under the autumn leaves

Relationnel spied the first cep and called Mei Lun over to look. Even knowing it was there, she found it hard to see it among the autumn leaves. Once the leaves were removed, she could see it clearly.

Cep after leaves have been removed

We kept searching and Relationnel and I found quite a very reasonable number of large ceps, including a double one!

Double cep

Mei Lun got increasingly frustrated, regretting that she hadn’t brought her other glasses! She saw lots of other mushrooms, but each time, they were inedible. I reassured her that she was already well on the way to finding a cep herself. Whenever I found one, I called her over so that she could see them in-situ and memorise the vegetation. Imagine her delight when at last she found one herself!

Mei Lun finds a cep!

That night, Alain cooked up a lovely fresh line-caught bass which went perfectly with the parasol mushrooms and ceps.

Monday’s Travel Photos – Paestum

Paestum, which is about 85 K southeast of Naples, is the home of three major Greek temples dating from the first half of the 6th century B.C., two dedicated to Hera and one to Athena. We were there in early June 2010 and it was one of the highlights of our trip. It’s also known for its painted tombs and the museum near the temples contains frescoes, statues and earthware taken from the tombs. We also had an unforgettable meal in a somewhat non-descript restaurant nearby.

Temple of Hera
Temple of Athena
Temple of Athena
Second Temple of Hera
Arena at Paestum

Ceiling diver from painted tomb

 

Chariots and Pâté in Blois

Miraculously, the sun has come out so I suggest to my Australian friend Mei Lun, who’s staying with me for a few days, that we go into Blois for coffee and maybe find some ginger tea. It’s warm for late October – 15°C – and the sky is bright blue, certainly not time to be working!

Half-timbered houses in Blois

We park on the “Mail” along the Loire River and walk into the centre of town admiring the half-timbered houses in the sun. Mei Lun remarks on how clean everything looks. It’s almost 12 so most of the shops are shutting up. We’re in the provinces after all. We go past the most amazing collection of shopping trolleys. There’s a black one that says Le Chariot de Maman. “Are they really called chariots?” says Mei Lun. And I suddenly realise how funny the name is!

Chariots in Ambiancestyle.com

We arrive at the tea shop in time. The man behind the counter is very welcoming and finds us the tea we are looking for. We wander around looking at all the wonderful things connected with tea and coffee in the shop, including some Chambord biscuits, which are the local speciality.

Tea shop in Blois

We walk towards Place Louis 12 where “The Clipper” has great lounge chairs but awful coffee, so I discovered a few days ago. Much better for an apéritif which is accompanied by some great tapas. There are a few market stalls. A lady calls us over, vaunting her wares. She has various sorts of pâté, local honey and Cheverny wine. She suggests we taste the wild boar and prune pâté, explaining it comes from Sologne, which is the big hunting area around Chambord castle which you may remember from my bike ride with Jane in the summer.

Our slice of wild boar and prune pâté

It’s delicious so we ask for a slice. She then suggests that we try another one – duck foie gras and truffle pâté (not to be confused with foie gras), saying she only has two left and that she’s willing to cut it in half if a whole one is too much. I remark on her excellent sales technique which makes her laugh. We try the pâté and it’s divine but I’m thinking about those extra holiday kilos so I check that it will keep until Relationnel arrives on Thursday. It will, so we buy half. It turns out she’s there every Tuesday and Thursday so I promise to come back another time.

Le Marignan on Place du Château in Blois

We climb the many steps up to Blois castle and come out on the esplanade. I had planned to go to Les Forges du Château which opened at the beginning of the summer, but it’s closed, so we go down to Le Marignan, which is near the Maison de la Magie. We order our coffees, which are not too bad and enjoy the sun, with the beautiful façade of the castle as a backdrop. And I’m so glad that we found our beautiful Renaissance home in Blois!

Verrines – another French culinary speciality

You may remember my post on Café Gourmand last month in My French Life, the global community of French and francophiles connecting like-minded people in English & French . In this month’s post, I’ve talked about another wonderful French culninary speciality – the verrine.

Verrines – another French culinary speciality

At about the same time that the café gourmand became popular in France, another wonderful speciality appeared – the verrine. You may already know the word terrine which is a recipient made of terre, or clay; it has also come to mean the contents, usually a pâté.

Well, the verrine is both a glass recipient and its contents, generally about the size of a shot glass. Read more

 

Using an iPhone in Paris- woohoo! – Learning French … an ongoing love affair – Expats Blog Award 2012

It’s Wednesday again, and I have two blogs by fellow Australians to present and an award to announce. Teena Hughes from A Night in Paris, explains how to use your iPhone in Paris while Jill from Gigi’s French Window, a brand new blog,  shares her love of all things French and gives tips on learning French. I am also delighted to announce that I have been nominated for the 2012 Expats Blog Award by expatblogs.com which is a wonderful way to discover new blogs by expats across the globe.

Using an iPhone in Paris- woohoo!

by Teena Hughes from A Night in Paris, a Francophile who shares her week-long adventures in Paris in summer, taking readers off the beaten track to meet with locals, laugh & enjoy

A wonderful thought, but if you’re bringing your iPhone on holidays (from outside France, like the Optus network in Australia) you need to be aware of a few things. Here is a small section of the map of Paris showing the City of Paris WIFI hotspots (more info further down the page). Read more.

Learning French … an ongoing love affair

by Jill from Gigi’s French Window, French ponderings from an Australian who must have been French in another life

Where did my love of all things french come from……..? well, learning the french language at High school (many universes ago!) must have had something to do with it..my poor poor teacher..most of the students showed no interest whatsoever in her class..but moi? … well I sat at the very front..’ecoutez..ing and repetez …ing ‘ as I was told..I was sold on it at 13. Read more

Expats Blog Award 2012

Expats Blog, a “home for all expats abroad”, unites expat bloggers with their latest blog posts, blog reviews, expat interviews & contests. Their news team presents daily topical news items from around the globe. Every year, they “trawl the net dishing out awards to the very best expat bloggers” they can find for each country. They have gold, silver, bronze & runner up awards to the top 5 blogs in each country.

This year, Aussie in France has been included in their nominations. One judging criterion will be the reviews left on the listing on the Expats Blog website. It isn’t the only judging method, but it indicates that the blog has loyal readers and shows their feedback.

Some of you have already left your comments (and I am very touched by the lovely things you have said). If you have not already done so and would like to support Aussie in France, just click on the Expats Blog Award logo on the right and scroll down or click on http://www.expatsblog.com/blogs/526/aussie-in-france. Many thanks for your wonderful support.

 

The Wonderful World of Home Exchange

If you’ve been following my blog recently, you will have noticed that most of the places we stayed in Australia were home exchanges. Our first swap was last February in Madrid. Since then, all our exchanges have been with Australia – two simultaneous and four non-simultaneous. Two have included a vehicle, which is an enormous boon when you consider the price of renting a car.

View from the front window in Launceston

Apart from the question of cost, one of the great advantages of house swaps is that you get to be a local. When you’re lucky enough to meet the owners (not always possible in the case of simultaneous exchanges), they can explain the ropes and give you tips on things to do and places to visit. Otherwise they can leave useful information.

Relationnel was particularly appreciative of having a glimpse of Australia from the inside. In the past, we’ve either stayed with friends or motels or rented holiday accommodation which is not quite the same as living in someone’s home during their absence. The general spaciousness, the kitchen equipment, the video installations and the laundry facilities impressed him the most. I had problems with the heating (or rather the lack of heating!)

View from the living room in Coles Bay

We are no doubt not very representative of French people in general, but our television in Paris is concealed behind a large armchair as we very rarely watch it. It’s quite big but nothing like the size of the ones in most of the homes we stayed in. Our exchangers must have been a little disappointed to see our somewhat basic video installations. In Blois, we don’t even have a TV because we are too far from the centre of the town to have international channels. However, we expect optic fibre to be installed within the next two years.

Welcome fireplace in Hobart

We noticed that everyone in Australia has kitchen tongs so we bought a set for Blois for our Australian visitors. We have some in Paris but I never remember to use them!  Fridges are much bigger in Australia, for one thing, and no one seems to use lettuce driers which are standard equipment in most French households. All the barbecues were gas or electric.

Armidale house from the front

A laundry room is very rare in France and there are pratically no washing machines here that use cold water, which is why the cycles are so long (the machine heats the water). We had problems using some of the machines in Australia because theywere often programmed for cold water only and it took me a while to realise where the problem lay. Here, you can choose between 30°, 40°, 60° and 90°. Some of the machines are enormous in Australia – 9.5 kg – which is wonderful for washing sheets and towels. Also, you only have to put them out on the line for a few hours to dry. It’s far more complicated and time-consuming here!

Just one part of the garden in Armidale

In France, I have always had central heating. In Paris, our apartment is grossly overheated because we are on the 4th floor and even if we turn off all the radiators, the hot water coming through the pipes easily takes the temperature up to 23° or 24° instead of the regulatory 19°C. But the most important thing is that central heating means that all the rooms are evenly heated.

Armidale house from the back

In Tasmania, where it was still very cold, particularly at night, there were usually no radiators in the hallways, bathrooms and toilets although there were heated overhead lights in the bathroom. Since the rooms were often quite big with open-plan living spaces, it meant that the rooms were often chilly. In Hobart, though, we had a fireplace, which was wonderful. I do admit it’s far healthier to have less heating – I’m just not used to it!

View in Terranora from the back deck

In three of the houses, we had the most splendid views and I was only sorry that our simultaneous exchangers were deprived of the wonderful view of the Palais Royal gardens from our balcony because of renovations. One of the houses had an absolutely stunning garden and the rooms were furnished with antiques. My nephews, aged 5 to 10, who were staying with us, thought it was a castle!

Kitchen view at Terranora

I’d like to say thank you to all our exchangers who gave us the opportunity to stay in their lovely homes. This post is not a criticism in any way – I’m just pointing out interesting differences between French and Australian homes that we observed.

Monday’s Travel Photos – Brisbane, Australia

When I was growing up in Townsville, North Queensland, which has a current population of  200,000 (80,000 back in those days), Brisbane, the State capital and my mother’s birthplace, which now has over 2 million people (600,000 in my childhood), was the “big smoke”. I found it confusing more than anything as I followed my mother, always a keen shopper, through the busy streets. It was not until Black Cat spent a year at the University of Queensland in 2006 that I could say I really visited it.

Today, I think it is a lovely and very dynamic city, with its own special atmosphere. I particularly like the south bank area along the Brisbane River right in the centre of the city.

Kurilpa solar-powered bridge in Brisbane
A bird’s eye view of Brisbane buses from the overpass to South Bank
A bougainvillea walkway on South Bank
Streets Beach, a unique, man-made swimming beach overlooking the Brisbane River
Goodwill Bridge for pedestrians, cyclists and inline skaters

 

Back Home in France

By the time we leave Australia, I am starting to feel less of a foreigner. I can understand most of what people are saying and know what to do in a restaurant or a bar. OK, so I still can’t recognise the coins but Relationnel is looking after that most of the time anyway. We arrive back in Paris on Sunday, after a 13-hour flight from Hong Kong, one suitcase less, six kilos heavier between us (4:2 in my favour of course), tired and frazzled.

Dreary Paris street

Outside, it’s cold and rainy. As we come back from the airport in a taxi, I try to imagine an Australian arriving in Paris for the first time. What would they think of all that mournful suburbia on either side of the motorway? We arrive from the north, of course, and even though the buildings become more Parisian and less ethnic as we near the centre, the empty Sunday streets are hardly enticing.

Scaffolding on the balcony

We climb the four flights of stairs to the apartment and open the door to the living room. The balcony renovation is not finished. We didn’t expect it to be, but the gloomy day is made even worse by the scaffolding in front of the windows. Not to mention the layer of stone dust. We put down our single suitcase and wade through the mound of mail including 30 copies of Le Monde, buoyed up by a couple of colourful postcards but depressed by the bills.

The fridge is empty so I add a bottle of sancerre and we set out for the Saint Eustache market in the rain. We cheer ourselves up by buying our favourite spéciales oysters and fill the shopping trolley with vegetables and chasselas grapes which are the only fruit we eat from September to November. I then go and buy yoghurt, fromage blanc and butter from the little supermarket while Relationnel takes the heavy trolley back home and up the stairs.

Spéciales oysters & sancerre to cheer us up

After delecting the oysters, we crawl into bed for the rest of the afternoon, emerging about 6 pm in a jetlag daze. It’s 3 am in Australia, the worst time for waking up. I still feel lightheaded – you know that sort of spaced out feeling when you first arrive after so many hours of travelling. Relationnel busies himself putting things away and doing things at the computer, annoyingly chirpy, while I recline hopelessly on the sofa incapable of doing anything except look at my iPhone from time to time.

We have a light dinner of fresh plaice and spinach and I try desperately to stay awake until 8.30. Amazingly, I sleep until 6.30 next morning, admittedly with a few wakings but I manage to go back to sleep each time. It’s depressingly dark and still rainy but the jetlag haze seems to have cleared.

Early morning view from my office in Blois

After reading my emails and checking out my Facebook and Twitter accounts :), I start the urgent translation due that day (my clients very nicely waited until I came back from holidays instead of getting someone else – there’s nothing worse than getting back from 5 weeks’ holiday and having no work). At 8 am, I hear the first workers arrive on the scaffolding.

“It’s not so bad. I can put up with this”, I think, until they turn on the radio. Loudly. A woman’s voice appears and there is loud discussion. I can hear every word they’re saying. A drill starts, followed by hammering. My concentration disappears completely. How can I possibly come up with advertising material for anti-aging cosmetics with this in background? It’s depressing enough to know that I never remember to use any of these miraculous products.

Temporary office in Blois at night

When Relationnel comes home at lunchtime, I tell him that I am definitely going to Blois next day. But I hum and ha all evening because I really don’t want to go there by myself for a week. Next morning, I get up at 6.30  again (hoping this won’t become a habit – it’s dark outside) thinking I might stay in Paris after all. At 8 am, the workers arrive and I buy an on-line ticket for the 12.38 train. The only thing that consoles me is that my friend Françoise is picking me up at the station.

Pokies and Casinos in France and Australia

One of the things I noticed in Australia were the “Pokies” or poker machines. We ate on several occasions in surf lifesaving clubs and pubs that had whole rooms of one-arm bandits. In France the only place you’ll find a bandit manchot is in a casino which is strictly reserved for adults. And casinos are always in coastal towns or spas. There is a place called the Casino de Paris but it’s actually a music hall! There’s a chain of supermarkets called Casino as well.

Pokies at Coogee Beach Palace Hotel in Sydney

The closest casinos to Paris are in Enghien-les-bains and Forges-des-eaux, both of which are spa towns. Then there are the ones on the Norman coast such as Deauville and Cabourg. I’m not a gambler so I haven’t been to many casinos. I did go with a friend to the one in Cabours many years ago though. It was very chic and select and we stood around and watched people playing roulette and blackjack, like in the movies. I was taken to the casino in Townsville in North Queensland but it wasn’t quite the same.

During our family reunion, one of the women present was talking about her father who came to stay with her while looking for work. One day, she discovered that he was spending his share of the rent money at the bookies! Another woman said that her father had clocked up an enormous debt on his credit card before he died which is a bit like gambling on your life, isn’t it?

It made me think about why the Australians are such gamblers. I don’t know any other country where casket tickets (lottery tickets if you don’t come from Queensland) are so popular, for example. Even though they have a large selection in France, usually bought in a tobacconist, the following is much smaller. I might add that all French lottery and lotto tickets are sold by the government-owned Française des Jeux (FDJ).

Bar & tobacconist in Blois selling lottery tickets

And look at Melbourne Cup Day which must be one of the most celebrated horse races of all times. It seems odd to me now that in a Catholic school, betting was actually organised on that day and the nuns were just as excited about it as the pupils! When Black Cat was doing her student exchange in Brisbane, she joined the crowds at the Ekka races in Eagle Farm in Brisbane, dressed to the nines in one of her own creations.

So, what is my conclusion about gambling in Australia? It seems to me that the early settlers and subsequent immigrants were gambling their future by packing up and leaving to go Australia. They all hoped to strike it rich, and many did, but maybe the others had to find some way of achieving the riches they hadn’t found and gambling seemed the only way.

Black Cat dressed up for the Ekka races in Brisbane

We won a car when I was a child and you know what my father said ? “Oh dear, that’s a nuisance. It’s ruined my chances of winning the lottery”. And my father was not a mercenary man by any means. Casinos, pokies, casket tickets, the Melbourne Cup – what do you think about Aussies relation to gambling?

French Tours: Beware Madame la Guillotine – It Pays to be a Friend – The Old Woman without a Clue

While I was on holiday in Australia, I didn’t have time to read my favourite blogs so I have a lot of catching up to do! This Wednesday, Abby Gorden from Paris Weekender, posting on My French Life, reviews a wonderful iPhone app on the French revolution which begins at my very doorstep, Mary Kay from Out and About in Paris explains the advantages of being a “friend” of Parisian museums and Bread is Pain laments about her inability to assimilate all those French verbs while her knowledge of France increases in leaps and bounds.

French Tours: Beware Madame la Guillotine

by Abby Gorden from Paris Weekender, posting on MyFrenchLife, a global community of French and francophiles connecting like-minded people in English & French

When My French Life™ asked me to review Time Traveler Tours new ‘Beware Madame la Guillotine’ iPhone app, I eagerly agreed. I was not going to pass up a chance to learn some history while having fun, outdoors, on the go.

The app is not quite a self-guided walking tour and not quite a book on tape. It’s something in between and at the same time something more. It’s jam-packed with history and interesting tidbits. It’s interactive. It’s easy to use. I had never owned an iPhone until about 15 hours before I embarked on the app-guided tour, but I still found it easy to navigate. Read more

It Pays to be a Friend

by Mary Kay from Out and About in Paris, an American by birth, Swiss by marriage, resident of Paris with a Navigo Pass for the metro that she feels compelled to use

(Friday afternoon) 

It’s less than an hour until my father-in-law’s train pulls into Gare de Lyon and I’m in a panic. It’s not that the apartment is a mess or that we don’t have any food, it’s that the elevator is broken.

The good news is that we could bypass the long lines of people huddling under their umbrellas in front of the Musée d’Orsay on Saturday afternoon because I’m a friend, “une amie”, of the museum. Read more

The Old Woman without a Clue

by Bread is Pain, a 30-something American living in the Rhone-Alps, and slowly eating and drinking herself through the country

I’ve been taking yet another French Intensif Course, this time at the University, and until today it has been an exercise in humiliation.  Everyone in the class is about 12 years old 20 years old and have been studying French for anywhere from 2 to 8 semesters.  They can reel off subjunctives and infinitives like it’s nothing.  When we had a session in which we described Fairy Tales, they were flawlessly reciting the plots to the Lion King*, Cinderella, and Pinnochio…and then there was me, the old lady without a clue (har har).  I could get the words out but not the correct grammar. Read more

 

from the Tropics to the City of Light