Arrived two days ago in Pau, southwest France. Pau has the small and efficient airport Anne and I came into before shooting off with Father to the house they share slightly outside the little village of Castillion Debat. The weather was, and continues to be what I had hoped for in England. Rain, bit of wind, 50-60'F, wonderful winter weather in my opinion. "Weirdo" you call me? Sure, snow is pretty and white christmases are supposedly better christmases, even though and it must be said that wee baby Jeesus didn't have one. Anyway, keep the snow in the mountains where it's useful, the sky grey and the temperature in the region where one appreciates roaring fires, whiskey and heavy sweaters.
So, the house here, called Bel Air confusingly just like another one down the road, has all the exposed wooden beams, stone work and wrought iron fittings that belong quite happily in a cozy little country house. The exterior is charmingly disheveled, and the interior is roguishly crooked, all of which reminds one that the house has been here long enough for the ground to have moved beneath it, and has been lovingly restored, maintained and expanded by Anne and Andy.
The main hallway leads into a rough finished work zone, a labyrinth of barny attached buildings, and a attack bat guarded wine cellar The place used to have a forge, make wine, insult English, fight Germans, Romans and Visigoths before making love long into the night. Well, that's what it would tell you anyway, if it could. There are old farming implements and machinery, the most notable of which is an old steam driven hammer, used to pound hot metal into useful things.
The house is perched, as with the village, at the top of one of the higher points in the surrounding area, looking down at surrounding hills, valleys, fields and woods. In the evening, low lying fog creeps up towards the house from the valleys, shrouding the landscape in a attractively eerie, think mist.
Christmas and New years parties are being held here and preparations are being make for nice things to eat and drink.
I've been running around the countryside in the mornings for excersise. Jet lag is fading, but I'm still waking up at weird times of night.
Initially, the only French I was able to remember from high school, was a gracious apology for not being able to speak French. More vocabulary has been forthcoming, but Arabic words keep rising from mind to tongue.
More soon, and pictures- a tout a leur-
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