16- 21 June
It’s always something to travel to the other side of the world but to get to the exact antipodes of Waitangi, on Chatham Island Chathams and only took an afternoon from Toulouse
Martine and Arlette were both there to meet me, people who were last at my place not all that long ago. Arlette had just received the news that her second great-grandchild had arrived. Antoine. The trip from Millau to Alzon takes you up the hill, over the plains (causses) and around the corners through the forest and there you are, in a pretty little village with not very many inhabitants but a fountain, church and Mairie, as one would expect. With a backdrop of forest.
I stayed at Arlette’s place (though her real home is in Marseille, of which more later), with a window looking out over the stream. Nearly all the houses in Alzon are old, picturesque or both. Arlette’s is both. With Jasper the dog for company, I was well set up.
The Sunday after my arrival the elections for deputies were on – the last in the series of things that happen during elections here. The whole village plus others that have comeback to the village to vote from there all turn up to the Mairie to take their two pieces of paper from which they will choose one. No ticks or crosses here but still heaps of ways to invalidate a vote. Like writing on it who you’d really like, or in fact writing anything on it. How I know this is that at 6pm or so we all gathered in the Mairie while the votes were counted. This was a very official process, with three people (of which one was Martine) counting the votes as they were called out. One person to take the envelope out of the ballot box, another to open the envelope into which people had put their folded paper, handing the paper to the Mayor and the Mayor reading out the person chosen. Every 10 votes for one person meant a check-point but luckily all our people reached the number at the same time. Bingo!
In Alzon, as for the country at large on election night, there was a 53-47 split. Then we had to wait for the results to come in from outlying communes, and that turned the tide a bit but I don’t remember the numbers any more. I do remember that champagne was shared that night and that about half the village was NOT happy.
For the midday meal, we went to a restaurant in Le Vigan, the nearest town and where the kids go to high school. Rémi and Dédé feature in the photos but you may also be able to see in one of them the Thalassa documentary on New Zealand
For the rest of the time I just ‘lived’. I really enjoyed seeing the gardens. This year the winter was exceptionally warm and gardens are weeks ahead of themselves. The gardens are all more-or-less in one area and well sited for the sun and shelter. Even if people (like Arlette) don’t live there all the time, the garden is still well tended. Arlette’s daughter and son-in-law spent a day there weeding on their way back to
I took Jasper down to Bernadette’s sheep farm, where the sheep are milked for the Société of Roquefort, that very beautiful, creamy blue cheese. Bernadette has been to NZ twice and we are always pleased to see each other. There’s a picture of her picking cherries for us from a ladder but sorry – her smiling face is turned away.
Annie from Le Vigan, who had visited us in NZ when her daughter lived in Nelson paid a flying visit before she left for Paris
I made my pilgrimage to Le Vigan, as I love the little museum there. I love the windows that show you how a different way of life grew out of the type of rock your village was situated on (granite, schist or limestone). I also love the 13th century bridge next door which you will find more pictures of in the photo selection.
On this visit, I realised that just at the time when we were starting to clear forests for farms, the forest at Mt Aigoual were being replanted. They had been totally cut out by various land users-peasants who wanted to grow cereals, shepherds who wanted pasture, wood for the fires of the glass factories and for general usage. But when the rains came –disaster. Flooding in the valleys and the plains. In the 1850s, 60s and 70s more and more progress was made and nowadays the forest is a vast sponge for the inevitable rains.
I hadn’t realised either that the silk factories had been working so recently. Started in the XIII century with the weaving of material, continuing in the XIVth now with the production of silk from silkworms, silk production reached its height in the XIX century and slowly declined. It was not until 1964 that the last factory closed. And only this year that the stocking factories which were its legacy will be shifted or closed.
The stationery shop at Le Vigan, run by François and Dominique Courtin, who also came to NZ , were just in the throes of a final sale, as they have sold the business and are going to manage two gites (holiday cottages) that they have set up in a hamlet above Alzon. They will probably get most of their clients in the summer but they are actually going to be open all year. They’ve converted an old farm and its outbuildings into living quarters for themselves, a 2 bedroom gite and a 4 bedroom gite. At 540 and 640 euros per week they are not cheap but do offer something pretty special in terms of getting away from it all.
Oh, and I got my hair cut (etc) at Le Vigan too. Everybody thought it looked much better. As it should.
On the way back we ventured into the hills where there are some lovely little villages, some in excellent repair.
For my day in Montpellier , see Montpellier
and for most of the photos, see
http://picasaweb.google.com/101628277989220379025/Alzon