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~ A fairy-tale cottage by the Seine in Normandy

chaumierelesiris

Monthly Archives: December 2011

The World on our Christmas Tree

17 Saturday Dec 2011

Posted by chaumierelesiris in Travel

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Christmas, Christmas tree, decorations, Travel

When traveling for pleasure we like to find local decorations for the Christmas tree. It’s a way to remember some of the interesting places we have visited. It’s also a great excuse to buy tourist tat without making seriously expensive mistakes. My parents did the same, and their tree is heavy with adventures. My favourite is the wooden cosmonaut they picked up at Moscow airport in 1971. He hangs on the tree, a reminder of a vanished era of aspiration and confrontation.

Here are some of the decorations on our tree this year.

This glamorous shopping lady is from Colorado. She has always struck me as overly stylish for the Rockies–perhaps she is taking in the après ski scene in Aspen. We found the hand-made lace angel next to her in Tallinn, Eastonia. Tallinn’s old town is beautiful and  perfectly sized for a weekend visit if you can just manage to avoid the stag party crowds. The tango dancers are from Buenos Aires, where we watched equally craggy dancers dipping and spinning around the streets of La Boca.

Indian TigerPinnochio from Orvieto

I wonder if the Bengal tiger is wearing lipstick, or is that the remains of dinner around his mouth? He roars fiercly at the snowmen and santa decorations. We found the sweet-faced Pinnochio in Orvieto, a hilltown in Umbria, Italy. When I lived in Italy as a child I worried through Christmas that the old witch Befana who visits on the Ephiphany would bring me the coal that naughty children get instead of gifts.

Christmas tree decoration from GuatemalaViking Christmas Tree decoration from Iceland

The little ladies are from Guatemala, where we marveled at the Mayan ruins in Tikal.  In Iceland we stayed at the isolated Hotel Budir on the Snaefellsnes peninsula. No vikings in sight there, but it was easy to imagine elves emerging from the mysteriously shaped lava rocks all around.

Crown Christmas tree decorationCowgirl Christmas tree decoration

This crown above and the chandelier below are English, from the Victoria & Albert Museum shop which sells unusual and unique Christmas decorations. The cowgirl is from Texas and I love her sparkling belt buckle. I’m not sure she does much cow herding in this outfit: maybe Daddy owns an oil well.

Supreme Court Christmas tree decorationChristmas Tree decorations from MOMA and V&A

My brother clerked for a time at the Supreme Court, and he arranged for us to take a tour and hear the justices hand down a decision. It was amazing to be there and watch history in motion. The blue Matisse blue bulb is from MOMA, New York and the green bulb is from Hawaii’s National Tropical Botanical Garden.

We think of the tree a work in progress, with many gaps to be filled. There is one gaping hole that I’d like to fill quickly. We spend so much of our time in France and yet have nothing to put on the Christmas tree. So please help me – where is the best place in Paris or Normandy to find Christmas decorations? And what are the most typical French Christmas tree decorations?

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Britpop Revisited, and a French Connection

12 Monday Dec 2011

Posted by chaumierelesiris in Culture, Food, France

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Blur, Britpop, cheese, France, Le Touquet, London, Music, Walking

Last week I wrote about taking an autumn walk in Normandy, and shortly afterwards I came across this column on walking. Writing in the Telegraph, former Blur bassist Alex James ponders the pleasures of walking–seemingly a whimsical luxury in our zippy 21st century lives. He puts it rather well:

There is no better way of seeing the world, or yourself, than walking. Nothing really ever happened then and nothing really happens now. Once we saw a stoat. Sometimes there is a dead thing. Walking is a feeling more than what happens.

I seem to have been walking a serendipitous path myself this week. No sooner had I read that article, than I found myself at a launch party in East London curated by none other than Alex James.

The evening was filled with excellent music and cheese, James having re-invented himself as a gentleman farmer and cheese-maker. One of his cheeses is marvellously named after New Order’s Blue Monday, and his book about this unusual career transition, All Cheeses Great and Small, comes out next year.

There is a French connection here and we’ll get to it in a moment.

With Alex James popping up all over the place, I pondered how little I know about Britpop. I was away from the UK at university and working in New York during the early Britpop years. Social Distortion, Liz Phair, Pavement and Nirvana were the alt rockers du jour. Had I missed one of the most important cultural moments of my youth?

A colleague, who has always struck me as more PPE than pop, surprised me with his enthusiastic recommendation of James’s account of the Britpop years, Bit of a Blur.

So I picked up Bit of a Blur, and discovered that James is quite a fan of France. He studied French at Goldsmiths (where he was a student alongside his mate, artist Damien Hirst). Years later, in an effort to sober up and find some focus, he learned to fly, and developed a fondness for  Le Touquet, which I’ve written about here. He regularly flew himself from Elstree to Le Touquet, which took about 40 minutes in his Beechcraft Bonanza. Here he explains what he likes about Le Touquet.

Coasting in at France, Le Touquet, Paris Plage, is the second town on the right. In days gone by it was the exclusive playground of the rich and famous. More recently they huddle together at the southern end of France on its grisly private beaches and within its gated communities. It’s all the same people you see in New York and London down there. Northern France, and particularly Le Touquet, are a well-kept secret. The expansive beaches are deserted and the whole place has a natural glamour…..There are chocolate shops, a casino, and silly things to rent and do. There are restaurants galore and hotels from the grand to the grounded.  After a while, I began to like the cheap hotels. They have the most character. Luxury looks the same in Le Touquet as it does in Leeds. You lose all sense of luxury if you never step outside of it. We all need a bit of rough with our smooth.

I couldn’t agree more with his assessment of the south, and of the relative charms of Northern France.

Now here’s what I’ve been wondering. What are the French pop music movements I have missed? I remember listening a lot to Air’s Moon Safari in the late ’90s. Has France had its own version of Britpop?

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An Autumn Walk

03 Saturday Dec 2011

Posted by chaumierelesiris in Les Iris, Normandy, Things to do

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

autumn, Boucles de la Seine, Normandy, Pony, Walking

Our village sits on a gentle hill stretching up from the river. The newest houses (there are few of them, and these are the only ones which aren’t thatched) sit on higher ground, next to the forest. The hills are part of the Boucles de la Seine national park and  are densely forested. There are walking paths leading up from the village into the forest. We put the children in tall, strong Hunters before we explore the hills. There are many nettles, as well as wild mushrooms which the locals collect. There are views of the village and across the Seine.

Eure, Normandy

We last walked up the hill in October. It was a bright, crisp day – the best of autumn in Normandy. The path was covered in chestnuts which had dropped from the trees. This tree was resplendent with bright red berries.

Normandy, October

Not so long ago, the village was agricultural. As recently as the early 1980s, cows were kept at our cottage. Our “garage” is a cinder block cowshed, complete with stalls and mangers. The owners took the cows along the road to graze in fields. Today, the villagers are teachers and small business owners, or weekending Parisians. There are few homes with animals – a few chickens, and here, along one of the paths going up into the hills, these tiny shaggy ponies who peered at us from under their long hair.

Pony, Normandy

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