The Other Bonjour Effect…

Many people, including yours truly, have written about the importance of starting any social (or commercial, or casual) interaction in France with the word “Bonjour,” ideally followed by “monsieur” or “madame.” (The great Polly Platt, author of French or Foe? told her readers that “the form is rigid.”) In the first chapter of Julie Barlow and Jean-Benoit Nadeau’s excellent book, The Bonjour Effect: The Secret Codes of French Conversation Revealed, the authors explain thoroughly, and very interestingly, the reasons for why this is so important. (The chapter title gives an intriguing clue to one of the reasons: “I Greet, Therefore I Am.” )

I often explain to my students that in France, this obligatory and very pro forma greeting also carries the implication that “I am greeting you, therefore you exist too!” And in my book, Demystifying the French, I sum up the importance of saying bonjour to everyone you encounter as being “just part of treating someone like a human being in France.”

Unfortunately, failing to do so can also be seen as a way of dismissing, ignoring, or insulting your fellow human beings.

So. Not knowing this rule often causes unsuspecting and unaware-of-this- rule Americans (and I suppose other foreigners) in France a lot of trouble. It is a trap constantly waiting for us to step into; and time and time again, we do. I continue to do so now, even though I know very well how important it is. (In Demystifying the French, I give some advice about what to do when you inevitably forget, and how to repair the damage.)

And while many of us foreigners therefore view this very strict rule of French etiquette—as well as others–as something of a nuisance, these niceties do have their benefits.

About a year ago, my son and I had been invited to a post-grape-harvest celebration by our friends who own the pressoir in our village. As we approached the pressoir I explained to my son that it is expected on arriving that you greet everyone who is there with either a bise (the famous French air-kiss, cheek to cheek), or a handshake. (And yes, it is not always easy to know which of these two forms of greeting should be used: but for now, it doesn’t matter because of COVID. Because we are not supposed to be doing either of these things for the time being…the President of France has said so!)

In any case, my son said, “Really?! Every person there?” “Yes,” I said, as I ignored his incredulous look, and steeled my reserved, Scandinavian Midwestern self for the ordeal.

On arriving I took a deep breath and held out my hand, or offered my cheek to each person I encountered on the way inside, following the cues they offered. My son followed me inside, gamely playing along.

Later in the evening, a perfect stranger came over to us and shook our hands, and offered us a friendly Bonsoir as he made his rounds of the room. After he had (quickly) moved on, my son looked at me and said, “Well. I can’t do it myself. But it is kinda nice…”

Indeed it is “kinda nice,” to be acknowledged as a living, breathing human being, by other living, breathing human beings, once you get used to it.

Last week I had another surprisingly moving experience with the bonjour effect. I had to have surgery for cataracts. It’s kind of a scary thing to have surgery on your eyes, really, no matter how much you trust the surgeon. I did trust my surgeon, and the anesthesiologist, with whom I had an online consultation the day before the surgery, during which he let me know what to expect, step by step, throughout the procedure. But I was still a bit nervous, especially since I knew I would not be rendered completely unconscious for the operation. (I prefer to not be at all conscious for these kinds of things…)

On arriving at the hospital early in the morning, and after making my way past the front desk and up the elevator to the opthamological unit, I was directed to “me patienter” in a waiting room. The first thing I noticed was that the window was slightly open, letting a warm, gentle breeze into the room; and that out the window was a lovely view of Parisian rooftops. The second thing I noticed was that there was a handwritten note on a chalkboard: it said “Nous prenons soin de vous…” (“We (will) take care of you…”)

This made me feel better, a bit more relaxed. Not too much later, I was clothed in sterile scrubs and on my way to the staging area for the operating room, and then climbing onto an operating table. The anesthesiologist stopped by to say a quick, warm bonjour (of course!) And then I was being wheeled rapidly into the operating room.

That is when the unexpectedly rich meaning of bonjour in this new context came alive for me. For as I was being wheeled down that hallway, which seemed to me a blur of gray and metal surfaces moving past me quickly, with cold, bright lights above me, a procession of warm, friendly faces above bodies in blue scrub suits moved past me in the other direction. I don’t know if these warm, friendly faces belonged to the people that would be part of the team attending to me during the surgery, or if they were just passing by on their way to somewhere else. What I do know is that as each of them passed by me they turned their faces in my direction, and said, in that lovely, lilting French way a warm, friendly, encouraging “Bonjour!” And in the context of that little scene, it seemed to me that each of their faces was full of color: the colors of human life–a variety of skin tones, eye colors, eyebrows, lips, teeth set in friendly faces!–standing out against the grays, the metal, the harsh bright lights above. And every one of them was wishing me well, giving me courage, letting me know that they (or someone) would take good care of me…

I felt so very blessed, and cared for in that moment. Soon after I was given the drugs that would (apparently) render me not fully unconscious, but relaxed enough that it didn’t matter. The anesthesiologist, who by now felt like a close friend, was there: so was the nurse I had met upstairs, the one who put drops in my eye. The doctor appeared; he applied his surgical expertise to my eye; and now, a week later, I am able to see so much better than I had been able to do for months before.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that powerful bonjour experience. It was very memorable.

Can it help me remember to always say bonjour to the people I encounter in my everyday life in the future?

Well, maybe…I’ll keep trying!


Janet Hulstrand
 is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “
A Long Way from Iowa.”

September 26, 2020 at 9:11 am 2 comments

Shuttling between Paris and Champagne

One of my favorite activities in Paris: sitting in a neighborhood cafe with a good book and either a cup of coffee or a glass of wine.

I’ve been lucky enough to be shuttling between two of my favorite places in France (and I guess therefore in the world) this month: Paris, and “my” little village of Essoyes in Champagne.

It’s only about 2 1/2 hours from Paris to Essoyes, and I usually do most of that trip by train, either from Troyes or Vendeuvre-sur-Barse. So it really can be done as a day trip, and occasionally I have done that, for example to attend my friend Adrian Leeds’s Après-Midi meetups in the Marais. My timing was lucky this month, in that I was able to attend the first in-person Après-Midi to be held at the Café de la Mairie since the lockdown began last spring.

Adrian has been conducting Zoom meet-ups since May: this time the guest speaker was the wonderful Cara Black, who was talking about her latest book, Three Hours in Paris, which is a thriller set in 1940, in newly-occupied Paris. Cara lives in San Francisco and was not able to come to Paris as planned (because most Americans–understandably–aren’t allowed into France for now 😦 ), but she got up at 6:00 in the morning so she could Zoom with us for our afternoon meeting. Her new book is fascinating! It deals with the (historical) fact that when Hitler came to Paris in June 1940, he left again quite suddenly, abruptly, and inexplicably. Why did he do that? was what Cara wondered, and from that wondering she has created a fascinating novel about an American woman, a sharpshooter from Oregon, who is assigned the task of attempting to assassinate him.

It is always good to be in Paris, and September is a particularly fine time to be there. Everyone is back from wherever they had gone this summer and (almost) everyone seems to be adjusting to the new rules for wearing masks, keeping physical distance from each other, and observing les gestes barrières. Most people are wearing masks, and most of them are wearing them correctly. (The most common infraction is not covering the nose–not good enough, people!) Consequently, it is not an infrequent sight to see two friends encounter each other on the street, one of them walk right by the other one, and then stop short, turn around, and say, “Oh, I didn’t know it was you!”

On one of the days I was in Paris I was stuck inside working on a project I needed to do. It was a gorgeous day outside, I could see that, but I wasn’t out in it, enjoying it. Then I began to think about various things that were concerning me, and before not too long I had slid into a not very positive state of mind.

So I decided to pull myself together, and “snap out of it.” I got my work project to the place I had promised myself I would; I went off to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription I needed; and then I found a table at a sidewalk cafe, where I ordered a kir, and then just sat there for an hour, watching the world go by.

There are very few of the mundane worries in life that can’t be made better by spending an hour just sitting in a Parisian cafe, with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. And so that is what I did. And it worked!

Pinot Noir Grapes…from last year…

In Essoyes, the vendange has come and gone. It’s not saying anything new to say that 2020 has been a challenging year for almost everyone around the world. And that goes for the vendange as well.

I’ve written about the vendange in Essoyes in the past, for example here and here. There are good years, and there are bad years: this was NOT a good year for my friends and neighbors who make champagne. After a very hot, dry summer the harvest was both early and short–it began during the third week in August and was over before September 1, for most vignerons only about 8 days I think. Our friend from the pressoir in Essoyes came by to say a quick hello after it was over, and explained some of the reasons that “we’re all going to lose money this year.” The drought was one problem; COVID was another. There were others too, too complicated to go into here.

So the vignerons are hoping (fervently) that people will buy champagne. The sooner the better; the more, the better. You don’t need to wait for the holidays. Or a graduation, or a wedding. (One of the problems, of course, is that so many of those events have had to be cancelled this year.)

So why not just celebrate the fact that–so far–you have come through the pandemic and are still here to enjoy champagne? Vignerons work hard–very hard!–throughout the year, and this year especially, they need our support.

Enough said. This is, of course, up to you. Just sayin–this year the vignerons of France could use your help.

I have not said anything about what is going on in my home country. Suffice it to say it is deeply concerning, and it makes me both sad and worried. Most Americans abroad can send their votes back home very soon if they not already been able to do so. I am hoping that a massive voter turnout will make a difference, and will help us take the first steps toward getting to a better place than we are as a nation right now.

Stay safe everyone. Wear those masks, keep those distances, wash your hands, don’t touch your face.

Prenez soin de vous!


Janet Hulstrand
 is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “
A Long Way from Iowa.”

September 13, 2020 at 11:56 am 2 comments

The lovely ringing of the bells in France…

L’Eglise St. Remy d’Essoyes

I have in the past mentioned how much I love the ringing of the church bells in France generally, and in particular the ringing of the church bells in “my” little village in Champagne.

I have also promised to expand upon this topic someday, and I have chosen today as the day to do that.

Before beginning I should probably say that there quite a few questions about this topic that I don’t yet know the answers to. And so I would invite anyone who can provide additional perspective or knowledge on the subject to please feel free to do so by commenting below.

Some of the things I wonder about are 1) Why recently the church bells in our town are ringing much more frequently than they used to–for example, every Sunday morning, not just the Sunday mornings when a mass is being celebrated here. It seems to me this started sometime into the period of confinement, or it might have even been during the beginning stages of déconfinement. In any case, lately, every Sunday morning, usually around 10:30 the bells begin to peal and they peal for a lovely 10 minutes or so. And then they peal again, maybe about 45 minutes later. 2) I would like to know how to learn more about the various patterns and meaning of the ringing. I have learned to recognize the tolling of the bells calling mourners to the church before a funeral, and I have been told that the ringing of the bells at 7 am and 7 pm each day is called “Angelus,” and that it is an ancient pattern of bell-ringing that is a call to prayer for Catholics, to pray a particular prayer commemorating the incarnation of Jesus, which includes a Hail Mary.

L’Angélus by Jean-Francois Millet. (Musée d’Orsay, Paris)

Before starting to write this post I looked to see who else had written on this topic to learn what I could from them. I did so a year or so ago and found this really interesting post written a few years ago by an Australian woman. I find this post interesting for the perspective and information she received from locals in the village where she was vacationing, when she asked the about the patterns of the ringing of the church bells there.

This time I found another post, this one by an American woman, also written a couple of years ago. I found this post interesting for the change of opinion this woman experienced when she first encountered the very frequent (and quite loud) ringing of the church bells in the French town she was vacationing in.

Like many people, at first she found the ringing (which continued through the night) annoying. But eventually she came to appreciate it to the extent that she actually missed the ringing of the bells when she had returned home to Huntington Beach, California.

I have never been bothered by the ringing of the bells; au contraire. I should probably add that like the husband of the woman from California, sleeping through innocent ambient background sounds is not a problem for me: therefore, the sound of bells ringing through the night does not interfere with my peaceful slumber.

But, as the Californian woman herself eventually came to feel, I find the regular ringing of the bells–not just on the hour, but on each quarter-hour also–to be comforting/grounding/orienting in a deep and fundamentally human way.

I think perhaps what bothers many people about this bell-ringing is that it is a regular and–some might feel unwelcome–imposition of the outside world into each of our individual private worlds–the one that exists in our minds. And I will readily admit that it indeed does do that.

However, far from resenting this imposition, I find it a very healthy and pleasant reminder that my own internal world, much as I value, respect, and protect it from all manner of unwelcome outside intrusions on a pretty much constant basis, does exist within a much larger world–a world formed by a local, national, international human community. In that regard, I find the ringing of the church bells, though an imposition, unlike many of the sounds that surround me daily in the 21st century, a very welcome one.

I am not a Catholic, but I feel lucky to be included in the daily reminders that Catholic churches around the world offer all within hearing that there is a power greater than and outside ourselves that we can benefit from remembering and calling upon, if we so desire; that we are surrounded by people, not only in our own local communities, but around the world who have a need for and appreciation of such reminders; and that whether we choose to listen to them or not, to appreciate them or not, these church bells, with their lovely musical sounds, will go on ringing through all manner of the chaos, worry, and strife that also surround us constantly.

I was going to say that they ring on “no matter what.” But in fact, I learned through my recent research, that the bells of France did stop ringing during World War II, from the time of the Occupation of the country until the moment of its liberation nearly five years later. That silence surely must have been a sad absence of sound for the French people: and the return of the ringing of the bells when they finally sounded again, incredibly joyful.

I wish I could share with you with the lovely sound of the ringing of the church bells in Essoyes, but my audio tech skills are just not there yet. So instead I will share with you the ringing of the bells from Sacre Coeur in Paris from a few months ago. Although one of the joys of church bells in France is that they do not all sound exactly the same, not at all; yet, in a general way, the sound is quite similar. And to me at least, deeply comforting.

Stay safe, stay well, everyone. Wear those masks, wash those hands, prenez soin de vous


Janet Hulstrand
 is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “
A Long Way from Iowa.”

August 28, 2020 at 10:11 pm 6 comments

An Interview with the Author of Sense the Vibration: Hidden Stories

Sense the Vibration: Hidden Stories is a collection of five short stories set in an imaginary town. These stories provide a glimpse into the lives of women in cultures where prevailing social customs as well as legal restrictions keep them trapped in very limiting roles. The author of these stories grew up in such a culture, and has chosen to publish them under a pseudonym to protect her family from prejudice and ostracism. She answered my questions about her book via email. Here is our exchange. Janet Hulstrand

Janet: What made you want to write this book? Who did you most want to reach through these stories?

Seraphina: The purpose of my stories is to bring attention to the plight of women who are living the restricted lives described in them, as well as to urge men to respect women as equals.  These stories reflect what some women and children experience in extremely backward, paternalistic societies in many parts of the world. It is also a plea to parents to educate their daughters, and abandon outmoded and cruel traditions.

Janet: What was most challenging about writing these stories? What was most rewarding or satisfying?

Seraphina: The biggest challenge was to not sound depressing. Accordingly, I avoided dwelling on women who did not, or could not, summon up the courage to struggle against unreasonable strictures, but who actually were subdued or crushed by them.  The rewarding part was writing about women who bravely challenged the old-fashioned customs to better their lives. These women are inspiring.

Janet: What do you hope your readers will learn from reading these stories? Is there any particular awareness you would like them to gain?  Are there any actions you’d like them to take?

Seraphina: Certainly, the hope is that readers will become aware of these cruel conditions in many parts of the world, and provide sympathy and resources to support the resistance these women are putting up against centuries-old male dominance. There are many resources one can support, for example charities that support shelters for abused women,  or law practices that specialize in defending abused women pro bono.

I also hope that men will read these stories with an open mind.    

Janet Hulstrand
 is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “
A Long Way from Iowa.”

 

August 21, 2020 at 6:05 am Leave a comment

Drought, and wasps, and COVID, oh my!

The promise of rain, but no rain. The clouds are still beautiful, though…

I do not like to dwell on the negative, so this post is probably going to be rather short, and lacking in detail 🙂

Let’s just say it has been a better summer for wasps and a certain very nasty virus than it has been for some of us.

On the other hand, the “some of us” I am referring to are still very richly blessed compared to most people on this suffering planet of ours. And the annoyances we have been dealing with this week are really just annoyances. They are not tragedies, they are not catastrophes, they are not even illnesses.

People who are dealing with annoyances rather than catastrophes or tragedies or illnesses are by definition lucky people. And so, I am going to try not to complain.

Not even about WASPS!!!! (French lesson of the day: guepes: obnoxious little beasts in any language, grrr… 😦 )

By way of focusing on the positive I’ll mention that my sons and I enjoyed another very fine meal at La Guingette des Arts in Essoyes this week.

A wonderful meal shared at La Guinguette des Arts, Essoyes, au bord de l’Ource.

Also, the vendange begins sometime this week, which always brings extra excitement to the villages around here.

I don’t think it’s been a very good year for the farmers around here either, though. Vignerons and everyone else too… 😦

It is just too dry.

Well lest I continue carrying on in this vein, let me close with another positive thing. And that is my lovely pink mask, my favorite one, which was lovingly made by local volunteers during the period of lockdown last spring for the citizens of Essoyes. And since it looks like we all will be wearing our masks even more than before, it is nice, very nice, to have such a pretty mask to wear.

So merci beaucoup de nouveau, aux ces braves benevoles anonymes d’Essoyes qui ont fabriqués ces beaux masques pour nous. Your generosity is uplifting.

In a time when such things are very welcome.

Mask up, everyone! This too shall pass, we just gotta get through it…


Janet Hulstrand
 is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “
A Long Way from Iowa.”

August 15, 2020 at 7:52 pm Leave a comment

Interview with Renée-Michele Payne, Author of Every Time We Say Goodbye

Suzanne and Jean, a handsome young couple, meet and fall in love in the vibrant artistic atmosphere of Nancy in 1928. They marry and move to Paris, which is for Suzanne a dream come true. But their marriage is far from trouble-free, and even before war comes to Europe, much of their time is spent apart. The story of their love affair, which is enduringly passionate, but ultimately tragic, is played out on an international stage from Paris to Tangiers, Morocco, Spain, and various locations in France, as well as prison camps in Germany and escape routes through the Netherlands and Belgium.

A novel inspired by a true story,“Every Time We Say Goodbye” is a compelling story of sacrifice, love, and suffering, rich in period detail. Ultimately it is a story of phenomenal courage, of fierce devotion to country and freedom, of the resiliency and endurance of love. It is also about the devastating and persistent intergenerational wounds of war. I recently interviewed the author, Renée-Michele Payne, about the background of her book, and the process of writing it, via email. Here is our conversation. Janet Hulstrand

Janet: What inspired you want to write this story? And how long did it take you? 

Renee: I worked on this book for about 20 years. In 1997, my mother and I were at a department store in the Washington area, when she noticed an elderly woman sitting in a chair at the counter of the beauty salon. My mother approached her, and called out her name. The woman looked up at her, and said: “Forgive me. It was the circumstances.” They cried together for a moment before the woman was called away, for her appointment for a facial.

That was the woman on whom the character of Suzanne is based.

Ever since I learned the details about the couple who was the inspiration for the characters in my novel, I have wanted to write their story. I wanted to solve the mysteries that surrounded them: about the choices they made, their successes and failures, and how the tragedy of the Second World War changed their future together.

The young writer that the character of Jean is based upon had received many positive reviews for his first book, which was a collection of poetic musings. He was asked to write critiques of new publications for many well-known literary journals. An artist painted his portrait, Henri Martinie snapped his photo. The book was translated into Italian, and it was reviewed in the United States, in the Saturday Review. Yet, in spite of an announcement of new works to come, he published nothing after 1930, two years after his early success. Why? What could have happened? I wanted to know.

Another reason I wanted to tell his story was my reaction to what one of the critics had written: that the young writer had to be great, or be nothing. In a factual account I read of a prison escape that “Jean” had helped to engineer, a version of which is detailed in the novel, one of the freed prisoners called him “a pure hero,” the kind of man with whom the Resistance would do miracles to free the country from the jaws of the occupiers and their collaborators. That line brought me to tears. I didn’t want the legacy of such a man to be “nothing.”

At first I was hoping to write a biography, but there were too many gaps that were impossible to fill in through my research, so I decided to use what I already knew, and was able to find out, as the framework for a fictional story, and imagine the details.

The character of Suzanne presented another mystery. As in the book, she changed her identity during the war, and cut off communication with her family. I remember her as a shadowy figure, appearing and disappearing in our lives. My mother loved her, and would tell me stories about her. I mourned her absence from my life. I wanted to know why she had made the choices she did. Was it a result of the trauma of the war? Or was it due to a character flaw? Whenever my mother met someone from her past, they would ask about “Suzanne.” She was clearly someone to be remembered.

I changed the characters’ names for reasons of privacy. I never met the model for Jean, as he was killed before I was born, but the stories I heard about him were the impetus for my research. At the beginning, I knew little about his role in the Resistance, or where he had lost his life. I formed the character not only from the stories I had heard about him, but from the countless queries I sent out, and the research I did.

Unfortunately, most of his family had already passed, and the distant cousins I managed to find knew nothing about him. I was able to obtain a copy of his book, and I was excited to see that it was dedicated to a friend. I began buying multiple copies of his books, and learning about his circle of friends from the dedications he had written in them.

I learned about the place where he had died from the Center for Jewish Documentation in Paris. That also gave me his birthdate. When I received that information, he became alive for me. As in the novel, he was a young writer, born in Paris to a Jewish family originally from the Alsace-Lorraine region. He was the youngest ever to receive a doctorate in letters from the University of Caen, in 1924, at the age of 21, a fact that was reported in several newspapers at that time. His book of poetic musings was published in 1928. In 1930, he married a young Jewish woman from Morocco. She began to study mathematics and physics, and later she worked in a laboratory in Paris.

When the war broke out, Jean joined the fight. He was captured and sent to a prison camp in Germany, from which he escaped. He then joined the Resistance. It was after D-Day, but still in June of 1944 that he was arrested and executed. Suzanne did not learn of the location of his death until a few months later. He was buried initially in the cemetery of the town where the execution took place. Sometime later his body was moved, but I have been unable to find the location of his final resting place.

Janet: What was the hardest thing about writing it? The saddest? The most rewarding? 

Renee: The hardest part of writing the novel was the creation of believable three-dimensional characters who would spark and maintain the interest of readers. The saddest part was learning about the traumas and tragedies that befell them at the hands of the Nazis. The most rewarding part was learning each new detail, receiving each new document with another clue, and meeting members of the French Resistance. I also was able to visit the town where Jean and the other résistants were executed, and made a good friend in the president of the local veterans’ association there. My family and I were welcomed to a special ceremony to commemorate V-E day, the day the Nazis were expelled from Europe. That indeed was very special, and rewarding. The president of the veterans’ association was a retired baker. Every year after our visit, he sent us a box of homemade chocolates. I was privileged to know him and his family, and I was touched when his wife called me to tell me of his passing. He was a great man, and a hero of the Resistance.


Janet Hulstrand
 is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “
A Long Way from Iowa.”

August 5, 2020 at 6:52 am Leave a comment

Summer in Essoyes

Essoyes on a summer evening. Photo by Phineas Rueckert.

I don’t really think of Essoyes as a tourist town, but it is, among other things, a wonderful place for tourists to visit. This is partly the legacy of Alain Cintrat, who has just ended 20 years of public service as our mayor, and partly the legacy of his mother. Of course there were many other people involved in making their dream of memorializing the history of the Renoir family in Essoyes come true; but if not for their dedication and determination over a period of many years, it would probably not have happened.

In any case, it did happen, and as a result Essoyes has become a lovely and very interesting place for tourists to visit, along with the many other lovely villages in this part of southern Champagne, very near the Burgundian border.

So it was that, just before the quatorze juillet, I noticed that the village square was suddenly full of cars, the physically distanced lines outside the bakery and in our little grocery store were longer, and there were lots of tourists strolling through the town. (You can tell which ones are the tourists: they are the ones wearing sporty casual vacation wear, walking at a very leisurely pace through the streets of the town, rather than on the sidewalks. This is irritating only when you are trying to drive a car through those narrow streets, but it is irritation tempered by the knowledge that having tourists come here is a good thing for Essoyes. It is…)

The rate of COVID cases has begun to tick up in France again, and France is responding. Everywhere you go there are signs reminding people what they can, and in some cases must, do to help protect themselves and others, and slow the rate of infection. In Essoyes, starting in August there will be testing available once a week in the community center. And everyone is hoping that, if everyone continues (or begins!) to follow the recommended guidelines for containing the virus, we can avoid a second wave that would be worse than the first. I suspect health care workers are hoping that more than anyone, let’s try to help them out with that, everyone, shall we?

And so, life has returned more or less to normal–well, to the “new normal”–at least for now. For our family that means raspberry tartes for July birthdays–and we celebrated two of them in our home this month.

Happy Birthday, Phineas!

The tartes at lunch were followed by a delicious meal at La Guingette des Arts, on the banks of the Ource River, which flows through the center of Essoyes. (The photo at the top of this post, by the way, taken by “the birthday boy” that night, is not retouched. Believe it or not!) And here’s a photo of him enjoying his escargots at La Guingette.

There will be an organ concert in the church in Essoyes this weekend. How exciting is that? (After nothing happening in the churches for such a long time? Very!)

Wishing everyone a safe, happy continuation. Stay well. Stay safe. Prenez soin de vous.


Janet Hulstrand
 is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “
A Long Way from Iowa.”

July 29, 2020 at 6:01 pm 2 comments

Merci, M. le Maire d’Essoyes

 
 
 
Maire d’Essoyes depuis 2001, M. Alain CINTRAT ne s’est pas présenté à la mairie en 2020. Il a ensuite été élu conseiller municipale dans la liste électorale de notre nouveau maire, M. Thierry MERCUZOT, et continuera de s’engager au service du commune d’Essoyes dans ce role — celui aussi important. 
 
 
Son service en tant que maire désormais achevé, j’ai pensé que ce serait un bon moment de réfléchir sur son mandat, et de lui remercier de tout ce qu’il a fait pour notre commune. Alors, en janvier, je lui ai envoyé plusieurs questions, et il m’a répondu par mail. J’ai pensé de publier ce poste juste après les élections municipales, au mois de mars, mais à cause de la crise sanitaire, le deuxième tour a été reporté et son mandat prolongé pendant quelques mois. Enfin, voila ses réponses à mes questions envoyées en hiver :
 
(An English-language version follows the original, which was conducted in French.) Janet Hulstrand  
 
Parisien de naissance, j’ai grandi à Essoyes, qui est mon village même si j’aime Paris ou je vais toujours avec grand plaisir; c’est le berceau d’une partie de ma famille qui y réside encore en partie.
 
J’ai grandi à Essoyes, j’y ai travaillé, je m’y suis marié, et j’en suis devenu le maire en 2001. Mes parents m’avaient ouvert la voie: mon père en plus d’un travail très prenant s’était engagé dans les pompiers, il en est devenu le chef, j’ai suivi sa trace en étant moi même pompier, et je lui ai succédé comme chef du centre de secours.
 
Ma mère a toujours été portée vers les autres, c’était naturel chez elle, la maison était ouverte à ceux qui en avait besoin pour remplir des papiers, pour des aides diverses, ou pour se faire faire une piqûre à une époque ou il n’y avait pas d’infirmières. Elle a été conseillère municipale, je pense qu’un de ses regrets a été de ne pas être maire. Elle a compensé en créant avec quelques passionnés l’association Renoir, elle s’est investie avec toute la fougue qui la caractérisait. Aujourd’hui ce qui existe autour de Renoir c’est en grande partie grâce à elle.
 
 
M. le maire Alain CINTRAT (a gauche) et sa mere (a droit)
 
J’ai suivi la trace peut-être inconsciemment, c’était naturel; quand on m’a proposé d’intégrer le conseil municipal je n’ai pas hésité. C’était mon devoir de travailler pour ce village qui a accueilli ma famille et ou nous nous sentons bien; j’ai la chance que mes enfants puissent y vivre. Je n’avais pas d’idées préconçues, je n’avais pas de plan, j’apportais ma pierre à l’édifice sans ambition autre que celle de participer activement à la vie d’Essoyes.
 
Je suis devenu maire naturellement; j’étais passé de conseiller municipal à adjoint, puis 1er adjoint. Maire était la suite logique, c’est une fonction lourde, prenante, qui demande beaucoup de disponibilité; c’est surtout une fonction passionnante au service des habitants. Je crois qu’il faut aimer les gens pour exercer cette fonction, car c’est parfois (meme souvent) ingrat; il faut savoir faire abstraction des critiques, il ne faut pas attendre de remerciements, ce qui va bien aux yeux des habitants c’est normal, par contre dès que quelque chose ne plaît pas, la critique est là. Il faut être fort pour être maire.
 
Le quotidien est relativement simple: c’est de la gestion, il faut gérer le personnel, animer l’équipe municipale. La plus grande qualité pour être maire est à mes yeux d’être visionnaire: il faut savoir ce que l’on veut pour Essoyes dans les années futures, préparer des dossiers, lancer les études, demander les subventions demandent beaucoup de temps. Il ne peut pas y avoir d’improvisation, un mandat de six ans peut paraître long mais c’est très court pour des dossiers de plus en plus complexes à monter.
 
Un village qui perd des habitants est un village qui meurt à petit feu, c’est le constat que j’ai fait quand j’ai été élu maire, j’ai mis toute mon énergie à inverser cette spirale négative et si je dois aujourd’hui être fier d’une action que j’ai mené c’est celle ci. Essoyes gagne des habitants c’est suffisamment rare pour être signalé.
 
C’est une fonction enrichissante que j’ai exercé avec passion mais qui demande un engagement personnel important, il faut parfois être fort c’est le maire qui annonce les mauvaises nouvelles (par exemple les décès), et qui gère les situations difficiles–incendies, accidents…
 
 
 
Le conjoint doit accepter cet engagement permanent au service des administrés.
 
Je m’apprête à quitter cette fonction sans regret: il faut que des idées nouvelles émergent, c’est nécessaire pour continuer à progresser.
 
 
ENGLISH-LANGUAGE VERSION (translated by Janet Hulstrand)
 
 
Mayor of Essoyes since 2001, M. Alain CINTRAT did not run for mayor this year. He was recently elected as a member of the municipal council, along with the team of our new mayor, M. Thierry MERCUZOT. So he will continue to be involved in serving the commune of Essoyes in this also quite important role.
 
But, since his term of service as mayor is now over, I thought it would be a good time to reflect on his years of leadership, and to thank him for all he has done for our community. So, last winter, I sent him some questions, and he responded to me via email. I had thought to publish this post just after the municipal elections in March, but the pandemic caused everything to be prolonged, including the mayor’s term of service. Now, at last, here are the answers he wrote in response to my questions back in January.
 
I was born in Paris, but I grew up in Essoyes, which is my home, even though I love Paris, and I always love going there; it’s the home of some members of my family, who still live there.
 
I grew up in Essoyes, it is here that I worked, I was married, and where I became mayor in 2001. My parents prepared the way for me: my father, on top of a very demanding job, was a volunteer firefighter, and he became the chief. I followed in his footsteps, becoming a firefighter myself; and I also followed him as chief of the centre de secours.
 
My mother was always engaged with others, it was natural for her: our home was open to those who needed help filling out paperwork, or various other things, even to have a shot given in a period where there were no nurses in town. She was a member of the municipal council; I think that one of her regrets was to never have been mayor. She made up for it by creating, along with several other enthusiasts, the Renoir Association, and she gave to it all the energy that was characteristic of her. What exists today in Essoyes about the Renoirs is in large part thanks to her efforts.
I followed a path more or less subconsciously, it was just natural: when it was proposed that I run for municipal council, I didn’t hesitate to do so. I felt it was my duty to work for this village that had welcomed my family, and where we had done so well. I’m fortunate that my children can live here. I didn’t have any preconceived notions, I didn’t have a plan, I just added my stone to the building, without any ambition other than to participate actively in the life of Essoyes.
 
I became mayor also quite naturally: I went from municipal council member to deputy, then first deputy. Mayor was a logical next step. It’s a heavy responsibility, very demanding, and it requires a lot of availability; above all it’s passionate service to the residents of a village. I think you have to like people to do this job, because it is sometimes (even often) thankless: you have to know how to take criticism, you can’t expect thanks, when things go well, the people accept it as a matter of course; on the other hand, as soon as they don’t like something, they’re critical. It takes a strong person to be mayor.
 
The daily duties are relatively simple: it’s a question of management, you have to manage staff, and inspire the municipal team. The most important quality in a mayor in my opinion is to be visionary. You have to know what will be good for Essoyes in the coming years, prepare documents, launch studies, request grants. It all takes a lot of time. It can’t be improvised: a term of six years may seem long, but it’s actually very short given the more and more complex dossiers that must be prepared.
 
A village that is losing inhabitants is a village that is dying bit by bit. That’s what was happening when I became mayor. I have put all my energy into reversing this downward spiral, and if I can be proud of anything it is that. Essoyes is gaining inhabitants, which is rare enough to be noteworthy. It’s been rewarding work that I have done with passionate engagement; it requires significant personal dedication. Sometimes you have to announce bad news, or manage difficult situations: fires, accidents.
 
 
 
The mayor’s spouse also has to accept this constant personal engagement in the service of the town. I’m ready to leave this position without regret; it’s important for new ideas to emerge: that is necessary for things to continue to progress.
 

Janet Hulstrand
 is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “
A Long Way from Iowa.”
 
 

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